Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

Hearing about Kim Jong Il passing away almost immediately after a visit to the remaining Soviet architectures (with their red star decorations intact) on the streets of Vilnius and taking a clunking ride on the old Soviet era train carriages of the Warsaw-Krakow “Intercity Express,” was by all means, a surreal experience. Combined with reviews of some video footages of surprisingly genuine-looking mass mourning (more like mass crying) sessions in Pyongyang, and it seems like we are back at the old Second World. Indeed, even as the Baltic states and Poland, former bastion of Stalinist communism, transformed themselves into orderly capitalist economies and took up the membership (and the principles) of the EU, the physical and emotional signs of the socio-economic order that ruled the land barely twenty years ago are still very much deeply rooted and difficult to eradicate. Like their parents and grandparents, people here still emerge from their old Soviet concrete apartment blocks to

Whenever I am on the road, I have the tendency to let the adventurous and curious side get the best of me. Whenever I see a local restaurant, I go in to try out what the locals have for supper. Whenever I see a little alleyway leading down to a slightly run-down residential neighborhood, I take it to try to get the glimpse of local living conditions. And whenever locals try to have a genuine conversation with me, in however broken English, I respond positively by engaging them in their talks. Furthermore, I do understand that as one of the few Asian and American travelers out here in the relatively unpopular destinations of Eastern Europe, I do have the responsibility of representing Asians and Americans in a positive way through politeness, friendliness, and good-heartedness. The last, in my opinion, is especially important because there is an inherent need for foreign tourists to counteract the negative images represented by their national governments’ various actions. The local

In a little backpackers pub in Riga, Latvia three Belgian lawyers on a weekend trip gave me a brief lecture on their view of their country’s future over a glass of locally brewed Cesu beer. When I questioned them a bit regarding the potential of the country splitting in half, the discussion got a little sentimental. The three, all from Flanders, blamed the French-speakers from hijacking Brussels, the officially bilingual capital. Especially, they noted the influx of immigrants from Francophone Africa. They say that the increase of immigrants is leading to creation of new French-speaking suburbs of Brussels outside the Brussels Capital Region, in the surrounding Flemish territories. Traditionally Dutch-speaking towns and neighborhoods are becoming more and more Francophone, spurring a movement in French-speaking Walloonia to seek greater “coalition” with the capital, much to the anger of the Flemish. The Flemish resentment is further bolstered by the transfer of wealth, through soc

A young muscular Caucasian man tried their hardest to communicate to the staff at the ticket sales counter with his broken English. He was trying to confirm his bus going home from London's Victoria Coach Terminal to his home in Romania. It was his first time returning home from England for Christmas, and he was frantically asking me directions to his boarding gate as he dragged his massive bags across the crowded station. For millions like him, working on the other side of Europe for a higher wage, even as manual laborer (e.g. this Romanian is a construction worker), was made possible by the Europe cutting down border controls and treating other EU citizens as equals in every EU member state. A British citizen would remark that a presence of people like the young Romanian here is a reason for depressed wages, as the Eastern Europeans are willing to work harder for fewer pounds than the British. And with a few observations on the road, the traveler can confidently say that the

Exiting the main train station at Hamburg at 9pm a few days ago, the traveler was looking through the maps under the dim street lights to find his lodging for the night. Suddenly, an obviously intoxicated German girl approached me from across the street, asking first in German, and finding my incomprehension, then in English whether I had any alcohol with me. Even though I politely told her that I do not have any, the girl, finding out that I am from California, quickly forgot about the alcohol and began a twenty-minute tirade on how Germany sucks and she wants to move to California. In particular, she just kept on ranting about how much the weather is horrible in Germany, and even though she lived all her life in Hamburg, cannot tolerate the cold winters. But at that moment, the weather was still in the lower teens. Yes, the wind chill did make things a little uncomfortable, especially for the exposed hands, but otherwise, winter in Europe, so far, felt pretty bearable, and defini

The Nobel Peace Center in downtown Oslo is currently running an exhibition on displaced peoples and refugees around the world. In terms of countries represented, all the usual ones are on display. Yemen with its Somalians washed up on shore, Serbia with people displaced by the war in Kosovo, Georgia due to war with Russia, Congo with civil war refugees, Columbia with people suffering from drug wars...the exhibition seemed like nothing surprising until, in one uniquely decorated corner of the exhibition space, Norway was represented. And the Norway portion was the highlight of the exhibition itself. Norway? The host of the Nobel Peace Prize does not normally come across as a destination of refugees from anywhere, partly because it is so far from another zone of conflict or sources of poverty, and partly because, frankly, there is little that attract refugees. With a small job market and super expensive cost of living (perhaps on average the highest in Europe), refugees on the botto