Back from Croatia yesterday night. Was out by midnight, and rushed a presentation for lit. class today this morning. Treated self to mini yummy apricot and chocolate pastries and some kinda chili beef Chinese food after that. Istanbul was bombed by terrorist last Saturday so, there's an alert going on to those who are going on the Turkey trip this month. Hmm...I think I'm glad that I'm not going, with a Malaysian passport in a American crowd, even if it is in a tour-like group. But then again, I would like to see Turkey someday, and I suppose if God wills, I will. Anyhow, I think I've saving my parents a lot of worry by not entering a potential 'war-zone.'

Croatia
Janos and two CCA (I assume) students, Tomas and Zsofi, arrived at the dorm at 7.30 am last Friday and off we (Allison, Jen and I) went to Croatia. The ride over was a little awkward cause they talked in Hungarian and we in English, and when we tried to form a larger conversation, a few sentences in English would be trailed off in Hungarian, asking for translation, and soon, the two groups would separate, talking as talking would go. But we were tired from a late night up before and slept most of the way. By the time I next opened my eyes, we were in Pecs. Janos thought it would be nice to show us around the town. But we told him about our Pecs experience and decided that was not necessary. We found that there was a Reformed Church and also a 24-hour Tesco right nearby the place we had stopped to rest on the broken benches that cold cold night...so near yet so far. We could have had full tummies and warmth if we had kept walking then, but oh well, I wouldn't trade that Pecs experience for another...I suppose. Anyhow, we went to Kakisc (KA-kish) near the Southern Hungarian border to see the place where Ars Longa Foundation had one of their many summer camps for kids and youths, which Janos was invovled with. This would also be the place the Pig-killing Festival would be at in two weeks' time, and I saw the pig that would be killed...there were piglets and thery were cute but I still ate pork for dinner that night (it was a Hungarian speciality) even though I said I would never do so ever again. The campsite was a rundown animal farm area (now with chickens and pigs, and fruit and nut trees). The foundation gave it to a couple from the village, the curators to take care of the grounds and animals, in exchange, any profit the couple gets from harvest would be theirs to keep. This is a way the foundation helps to provide job opportunities for the locals there. Not much, but some. Unemployment is a big issue in small villages, they are very cut off from amenities and are too small to both with, economically.
We were talking in Geza's home the next day about the long history of Hungary and how after so many years, the people still know the original customs and all that (whether they lives in the cities or the villages), where else, the American heritage has been much diluted, just because it is a country of immigrants, who did not manage to retain their culture into their new world. I suggested that the lifestyle and routine would of course be different, depending on which area one lives in (urban or rural), and that would dictate how much of the original cultural practises are retained. Janos said intersepted me just enough to add in, "If they are employed at all," when I said "kind of job they have" which struck me as something I don't think about everyday.
Anyhow, back to Kakisc. We went there, and there was an enthological museum set up there, had exhibitions of the different patterns of graveyard tombstones (rather, wood) that marked the different villages, and the mourning clothes, legal documents and paperwork of the people here and its leaders. Anthropologically, this area is interesting because of the different dialect they speak, and, lanaguge being the main source of distiction in the culture here that leads to the different way of life. We went down road and planted seeds in a plot of land bought by the foundation. There was a rundown house there, no heating or indoor running water. No bathroom. Just an outhouse and a pipe outside and a well with non-drinkable water. But soil was rich--we planted chestnuts, walnuts, plums and peaches. We dug a shallow furrow, and lined the seeds up about two inches from each other. Whatever grows would be dug up again when it starts to shoot and germinate, and replanted further apart from each other, to get rid of the bad seeds. I never felt more awakened or alive. Joel and I were talking on the overnight train to Krakow abotu GBRs, how the exhiliration of finding and being with the right girl reminds you and gives you the feeling of being alive, so say the phrase, "I never felt so alive!" Well, that's the feeling I got when outdoors, forgetting the cold with the exercise of working and fresh air (ah, the countryside) :P My mum would get a kick out of this: I hate gardening and never did any at home, but now, after years of being out of the garden, planting doesn't seem so bad and as long as I'm wearing think gloves, the incests are ok (the earthworms were HUGE!!!). The students gathered around a fire Janos made and ate out lunch--the bread, meat and cheese and apple. As we were about to leave, the familiar tinkling tune of an ice-cream truck was heard in the air, and this rather small ice-cream van came rumbling down the road. It was below freezing, in a village that had only one road and folks unemployed (lived off their small plots of land and odd jobs). As international relations business major Tomas put it, "They mustn't how learned microeconomics." I suppose you can find ice-cream trucks in every nook and cranny of the world.