Sex, Forgiveness, and WASP Misdirection

So, this week many things have transpired which would all be interesting to blog about. Perhaps this weekend shall see more updates from me. For now, though, that which is pressing on my mind is a video which was watched in class today. It was called "Sex has a Price Tag," and was about what might be expected from a Protestant college. It was a woman speaking to a crowd of high school children about sex, and explaining why abstinence is a good thing.

The message of abstinence has been oft-repeated throughout WASP culture in the USA. Probably most of us, when we are young, have sat through an analogy in which the speaker relates our love to a box of chocolates, or a baseball card, or to duct tape--each time we do the deed, a little bit of our love, or our heart (whatever noun the speaker has chosen, really), is torn away or sullied. After a while, we meet the love of our life, and what do we have to offer them? Tatters, or mush, or tape covered in arm-hair.

Standard stuff. It's what we're all taught. I just happen to think that it's wrong. Don't take me the wrong way, though--I think that responsible and mature sex is fine, but that chastity and restraint are generally "safer." However, that age-old presentation on why we should abstain is wrong. It misleads us. It says, "You are worth only as much as your chastity/virginity/heart." It also automatically includes the notion that sex outside of marriage decreases what we have to offer--"a person may love with all their heart, but they've had sex before, so they're not as desirable in a relationship as the completely apathetic virgin." That's horribly misleading. It results in an unstable self-confidence; an easily-shaken self-confidence.

Being sexually pure is hard. It is challenging. Apparently, as a male, it is sometimes considered a weakness (I have never experienced that aspect of male culture, though, so who knows?). Sometimes people stumble. Sometimes we sin. Well, let's be honest--we sin all the time. However, we have a God who loves us. He has told us that we are forgiven. His son died for us to have this forgiveness. If God does not hold our failings against us, why should we evaluate others based on their failings? We Christians can rest in the knowledge that it is what we do that matters--not what we have done in our pasts. We don't need to feel sullied and broken due to our sexual transgressions. God has washed us white as snow. Yes, we should practice safe sex. We should be chaste and loyal within and without the bounds of marriage. What we should not do is to present chastity and abstinence in a manner which demeans those who are no longer virgins, or who do not regularly practice it. We do not know their reasons. Frankly, their reasons do not matter. God loves us for who we are in each moment. God loves us despite what we do. Our self-confidence should not be built on such flimsy and fragile things as our chastity, because that can be easily taken away. An identity built around such has no lasting strength in difficult times.

I'm not satisfied entirely with what I've written here, so I will come back later and edit it a bit. For now, though, it feels pretty good to get some of this off of my chest. 

Life Plans

I strongly suspect that at no point in my life have I ever experienced so many life-altering events in so short a time. At the time of my last update I was peaceably ensconced in a pleasant little world, bereft of anything more eventful than, well, deaths. Now, though, everything has changed.

No longer am I planning on attending graduate school to get a M.A. in European Studies--not immediately after graduation, anyway. It all changed on one fateful day in November.

Some may recall that last semester I took a course called "Introduction to Global Issues." My reason for taking it was the professor, rather than the subject matter. I had heard nothing but glowing opinions of her in my time here at college, and at the repeated urging of my friends, I decided to finally take a course with her. 

As anticipated, the course material itself was relatively straightforward. The information presented was not new excepting only its specificity-- I learned new terms, labels, and important individuals. Overall, I went to this class with the intention of enjoying myself and appreciating its international element. 

This fateful day was also largely affected by the fact that of late I have been exploring the precepts and ramifications of Christological Pacifism. These explorations have helped me to determine that I am, in fact, a pacifist, but I was not, at that time, so strongly convinced. Thus, I was reading A Faith Not Worth Fighting For in my spare time last fall; specifically, I was reading it last November. 

On this momentous November day, I was thoroughly entranced by the book. It is not an unusual occurrence for me to read whilst walking, and this day was no different. I walked into the classroom reading, and then I sat down reading, and I read, in fact, up until the very minute that the professor finally started to speak.

Right from the beginning it was apparent that this was not to be an ordinary class. She tended to begin our classes with a set of discussion prompts--questions to facilitate an interested and curious frame of mind. One of them was an inquiry into the nature of the main arguments supporting violence or condemning it, yet firmly within the context of Christian living. My hand shot up. After all, I had been reading a relevant book less than a minute prior. 

At her request, I answered the question to the best of my ability, while trying to keep my answer also brief--it is a very touchy and complicated issue, after all. 

The class went on, and the entire focus of the lecture was on conflict. As it happened, I was uncontested as the most globally-aware student in the course, so I was again able to participate in the discussion and summarize the conflicts which were ongoing at the time. 

This trend continued through the entire lecture. I stayed afterward to talk to the professor, and she told me something significant--she told me that if I was really so interested in conflict resolution, reconciliation, and peacemaking, then I should talk to one of her friends at World Vision. Prior to that moment it had not occurred to me that I would want to work for a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO). I had been set on going to grad school, after all! It was absurd. But, her idea stuck with me, and it resonated strongly. 

Over the next few days, several more isolated incidents occurred which all seemed to strongly indicate that I should seek a career in the field of International Development. I was absolutely aghast. Never in my entire life has anything seemed more clear to me, in fact--the sheer number of completely separated incidents which all led to various individuals telling me that I should work in development, or that I should look into peacemaking...either it is a conspiracy on a large scale, or I might actually be supposed to search for employment with an NGO. 

So, after that one talk with my professor, events began to snowball. I have since had many interactions with representatives of various NGOs, I have facilitated seminars and conferences on campus, and I have just returned from the Faith and International Development Conference out at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Perhaps I will write a new blog post about that in a few days. It would be refreshing to include my own opinion after the relatively objective article which I just wrote for the newspaper. Anyway, I digress. To return to my career change, I have actually just finished sending my resume of to a number of different NGOs. I have found a relevant job in Sarajevo which I want, and have already approached the organization to ask how I can work towards that goal. There are NGO leaders who know my name, and representatives who know my name, and I'm going to make sure that they know my college and my club. We are going to make a name for ourselves.

So, these last three months have seen a complete change of my plans, and it sits much, much better with me. To approach a profession in which I can tend to people--not their economic or medical needs, as I have learned that I am not qualified for either--to facilitate peace between them, has resulted in a strange and previously-absent sense of peace within me. Perhaps I have known subconsciously for a long time that I desired to make a career out of peace-building. Perhaps it stems from seeing the tensions between the Roma and the rest of Europe. Perhaps it is from seeing the tensions between Croats, Bosniaks, and Serbs. Perhaps it is from the United States and its saddening gun culture. Regardless of the reason, when my professor told me that I should approach a career in development, I realized immediately that it was the thing which I most wanted in the world, and it had just been granted to me. 

Life changes

Today is now Friday. In two days, I resume work after my two weeks off, and I will work, besides school breaks, all the way until the end of the semester (isn't it great?!). These past few weeks have been incredibly boring in some ways, and incredibly enjoyable in other ways. In fact, that's pretty much the story of my entire summer. Sometimes (who am I kidding? Always) we plan things and never get around to them. That fine and longstanding tradition has definitely been upheld this summer. I had hoped to brush up on my German this summer, and also to read a number of interesting academic books and various novels. I am sorry, Alexandre Dumas--I still have not gotten around to reading your full and unabridged The Three Musketeers. That classic novel isn't the only thing which I neglected this summer, and I do regret most of it. In particular, it would have been great to write that research paper on how gender perceptions affected hagiography (and vice versa) in the 13th century. Instead, I spent my summer playing a lot of games, interacting with people whom I do not normally spend time with, and having lots of fun Skyping my girlfriend. For the record, she is terrific and does really well with maintaining communication while we're long-distance. 

This summer featured a thrilling visit from the parents, followed by an even more thrilling rushed trip down to see my grandmother in the hospital so that I could see her one last time if she couldn't recover. I was visited on several occasions by good friends, and they definitely made this summer a good one overall. Even as it winds to an end and nothing has gone much as planned, this break was beneficial. It was restful, enlightening, and in most ways rather somber. Even the somber tone was a positive, though. There were a lot of things to think about, and even if I can't speak German much better now than I could at the start of the summer, I have figured out my views and thoughts and plans on a variety of matters, and have a better idea of why I am friends with my friends. For all of you who are reading this, the answer is that it's because you are awesome. You are terrific and inspiring to me. 

I am looking forward to a relaxing semester without strenuous classes (French might be my most challenging course) and with lots of time to spend with my friends and with Nora, who is definitely my favourite person in all the world by now. There will be lots of cooking, there will be lots of reading, there will be lots of music, and movie watching, and probably a lot of squabbling; in the end, though, it will all add up to a grand time. 

You're waiting for a train

It's been a long time. The last time I posted on this blog, I was a sack of mixed feelings, elated by a return to my home and confused by my feelings for a girl whom I was not meant to be with. Since then, I have changed a lot, and I like to think that it could be considered "maturing." I've gained a great deal of humility after getting dismal grades in my sophomore year of college. I changed the course I envisioned for myself in life as a result, going from the firm ground of a future career as a doctor to wildly uncertain and clouded future career as a historian. I've grown farther from some friends and closer to others. I am pretty sure I'm a lot more patient now than I was. And, I've fallen all over a girl whom I've known for years, and now can call my girlfriend. My life has been very, very blessed in these past two years.

The full scale to which my perspective has shifted, though, hit me this morning as I finished my second marathon of The Lord of the Rings trilogy a mere twenty hours after I had finished my first marathon for the summer. The story has always touched me in ways that nothing else has, but this time, instead of merely tearing up or getting misty-eyed as I  have in the past, I wept. I have almost certainly seen these films well over one hundred times by now, but this was the first time that I have ever openly wept while watching The Return of the King. It caught me off guard. For the first time, the emotions which I feel every time I watch or read the story saw an external outlet. I laughed in glee as Barad-dûr crumbled. I cried when Orodruin erupted in fire and ash and the heroes of the Morannon thought that Frodo and Sam were lost. When Frodo looked at Sam and said "It's gone. It's done." I choked out something between a sob and a laugh. The burden of the Ring-bearer was finally lifted, and his mind fully restored. The cheerful and caring nature of Frodo was once more evident, when had the Ring not been destroyed, that would have been perhaps the greatest loss. "I can see the Shire, Sam. The Brandywine River. Bag End. The lights in the party tree." This line completely did me in--for the first time. Never before have those words kindled such a fierce joy in my heart, and I had to get a third tissue at that point.

It was not the last time I was to be caught off-guard in the film, though; having cried already, I assumed that I would sob quite a bit when Aragorn said "My friends--you bow to no one." I was very emotional at that line, but not a tear was to be found. It's been quite a few years since I decided that my body makes perhaps the least sense to me of anyone, but it still seemed strange that I would not cry there if I was tearing up over every other line. Surely, then, I would at least cry in the Green Dragon--the scene which has always brought out the strongest emotions from any of the three films for me. But no, it was not until Frodo's heartbreaking good-bye in Mithlond that I sobbed again, and this time I cried well into the credits. It was probably around the time that I stopped weeping that I started to put together just why I was so emotionally unstrung watching the film this time. In the past, when I've watched the films, I've identified so strongly as a soul apart. At home in Slovakia, I was the son of two wonderful parents who were very much born and raised in the United States of America. I wasn't seen as fully Slovak, which is ultimately an undeniable fact. But when here in the USA, I am by culture and mindset a foreigner, as unfamiliar and alien to bi-partisan politics and to deep-fried food as any Slovak. It was only my fellow Third Culture Kids and I who could understand each other. They were the friends to whom I latched on most strongly. I always related to the scene of the four hobbits in The Green Dragon at the end of The Return of the King because it perfectly illustrates their sense of being foreign to their own culture. It was what I knew.

Over the last two years, though, I have matured. My friendships have broadened. Along with a general development of my own understanding of Christianity has come a greater value on love as that singular thing which is most important in this existence. Without even realizing it, I've added a lot of love and appreciation to my friendships over the last two years. To all of my friendships. Now, even though I still do feel like an outsider sometimes in the USA (okay, actually quite frequently), I have more friends to take comfort in. I have friends who are from the USA who understand me. No longer do I feel like the alien in the midst of the crowd. I have many, many people who love me perhaps even as much as I love them. I am fairly certain that at no time in my life have I enjoyed simply living as much as I do now. No matter what I do or where I go, I have people who care about me and who are dear to me.

It's my experiences with these wonderful individuals that I consider to be my greatest treasures; cherished memories of times both painful and marvelous. That's probably why Inception impacts me so strongly, with that which Cobb and Mal both hold on to so much being the experience of growing old together. Knowing that the line "You're waiting for a train," heralds the shared end of that time together makes it one of the most forceful lines in film for me. In the last few days I have been thinking a lot about my own experiences with my friends, and how marvelous it is to share someone's life with them and to watch with my own eyes as they grow and change. Mostly this recent surge in thoughts about experiences with loved ones is a result of a dream I had this past week, influenced largely by both Inception and The Tree of Life. At the point in which I became aware of the dream, I was a passenger on a train with my parents and one of my sisters. It was a second-class car, without cabins but still with seats which were quite nice. We were traveling through salt flats, which were broken up by fierce ocean waves which apparently made for good surfing. It was a pleasant journey. As we progressed, though, I began to recognize people on the train. At first, I recognized people from Houghton. Then I noticed a few people from Europe. Then a friend who was supposed to be in India. I realized that all of the people on the train were people from my life; people who had played roles both large and small. Some I had no more than passed on the street once in my past. Others have been instrumental in shaping who I am. I realized that we were all dead. As I had traveled through life with these people, so too I now traveled with them in death. It was a journey to the afterlife, and I realized that God had given me this one last experience--that most cherished treasure--to share with these individuals. It was a wonderful feeling. I really do hope that something along those lines occurs when I die, and that I can share that final journey with the people of my life. There was a feeling of great and overwhelming sorrow the arose in tandem with the wonder, though, for if I and all those with me were dead, then we could not share in the experiences of those who were still alive. That is, to me, the saddest thing about death. I would no longer participate in the lives of my loved ones, or even of total strangers. Almost as bad was the thought that maybe I had not been able to say goodbye, and to tell those who survived me just how much they meant to me. It was a journey of mixed feelings, with sorrow and joy equally great and neither exclusive to the other. When we reached heaven, I woke up. That dream has plagued me since, though, and led to this unusually extensive thinking about my friends. I wept when Sam and Frodo are on their outcrop of rock because Frodo has regained memory of his experiences. He remembers what it is to live and to share that with friends. When Frodo says goodbye at the Grey Havens, I cried because he is drawing to an end his shared time with loved ones. He is going on a ship toward his own eventual death, and so he says goodbye not to three mere hobbits, but to three whom he loves most in the world, and with whom he has experienced the world. Their shared joys and hurts and sorrows are over, and they are parting ways. I cried because I could not help but relate that to my own feelings on when I leave those whom I love on that final journey.

In the end, I cried watching The Return of the King this time because I love my friends dearly, and I saw that friendship mirrored poorly in the four Hobbits and what they shared together. Friends, thank you for being my friends and for sharing my life's journey with me. I hope that at the end we do get one final trip together.

Home Again

On June 01, 2010, after one year, nine months, and nineteen days, I returned home to Slovakia.

It. Was. Exquisite.

It felt so natural. I had to keep reminding myself to run around and see various places to see if they had changed, because it felt like home, and who does that when they're at home? o_O

I completely drained my bank account while I was there, but since that's what I've been saving for months in preparation for, I felt it was excusable. I bought a lot of stuff that will come out in full force when Slovakia plays in any sporting event that I'm cheering for. ^_^

The entire time I was in Slovakia, there was an undercurrent of sublime joy. It was perhaps the best six days since I left, actually. I drank somewhere between twenty-four and thirty liters of Kofola in those six days, which puts the daily average at around 5L....not inordinately high considering the deliciousness of the drink in question.

I caught a Blaguss bus from Vienna Airport to Novy Most, and since it was night, I could see Bratislava Castle from quite a few kilometers away--well before we reached the Austria/Slovakia border. The sight brought tears to my eyes--it's been so long. Heather Eccles met me at Novy Most, right off of the bus, and we walked right to the Slovak Pub, where I ordered Bryndzové Hálušky and Kofola. It was the most delicious meal I might have ever had.

I back to the Slovak Pub two more times before I left Slovakia, and I got the same thing every time, with the addition of garlic soup.

I went to Avion, Aupark, Polus, and Eurovea, I watched Robin Hood at Palace Cinemas, I went to Atak, and I visited all of my favourite parts of Old Town, including the place at the castle where my last few, great memories of Slovakia took place. I love my city, and I love my country. ^_^

I walked more in those six days than probably an entire week of Mayterm, and much faster, too. I also jumped up and down and waved my arm to the beat for nine and a half hours or so at Festival Lumen, where we saw Switchfoot. That was pretty awesome. :D

In very important news: I now have a Slovak flag hanging in my room.

The Very Last

May 28, Day 18, Venice

We got to Venice at around 05:49, and after a breakfast at 08:00 or so, we wandered the city, visiting various churches and whatnot. It was fun. All of the churches had tombs in them, though, so despite the fact that they all looked really pretty, they seemed more like mausoleums than places of worship. The wandering was fun, the churches were not.

We ran into the Houghton Arts Mayterm, too. It was really hilarious.

We ended up getting a bunch of free time in the afternoon, with which I did…nothing. It was great. ^_^

We did go swimming that evening, and that was a lot of fun. I enjoyed that muchly.

May 29, Day 19, Venice

We wandered Venice more, and ran into the Arts Mayterm four times. Lots of fun, but not much accomplished. We ended the day with a pseudo-serious ‘gathering’ thing with pizza. We exchanged some favourite moments, some favourite quotes, and for some of us, how we changed on the trip. It was the last day, but it didn’t feel like it.

May 30, Day 20, Venice

Officially, Mayterm is over. We are now on our own in Europe. We managed to feed ourselves a far more filling meal than has been our average lot over the last month in a very cost-efficient meal, and have been having a blast. Tomorrow, some go to Padua, some go back to the USA, some go to Istanbul, and some continue to lounge here in Venice. I'm getting incredibly psyched for the day after tomorrow, when I finally return to Slovakia. 1 year, 9 months, and 19 days after leaving.

From Montenegro to Vukovar

Day 10, May 20^th, Montenegro

We got up, ate breakfast, and then boarded the bus for Montenegro. It was a gorgeous drive—crystalline blue/green waters to the right, and mountains immediately to the left. It took quite a few hours, but it was so worth it. Montenegro is so beautiful. It’s all mountains, coastline, palm trees, and pine trees.

We drove through a place called Budva, which has apparently the highest number of millionaires per km² of anywhere in the world. It’s a coastal town which has a population of 16,094. It was absolutely breathtaking—we went into the mountains immediately behind it, so we had a view of it from a progressively higher elevation.

From there we went to Cetinje, where we got out and toured an Orthodox Monastery. It has the oldest library in the Balkans, having opened in the 16^th century. The books were incredible—one of them had 20kg of silver engraved on its cover. After being in Cetinje for a while (a few hours) we drove all the way back to Zaton Mali and went to sleep. After a really late, really good supper.

Day 11, May 21^st, Bosnia

After getting to sleep in an hour later if we wanted (I still got up at 06:00), we ate breakfast and then drove to Mostar, Bosnia. It took two hours or so. The border crossing was really strange—it was essentially a giant parking lot, on which one side was Bosnia and the other was Croatia. We parked and then passport control guys boarded the bus and checked our passports.

Mostar was overrun with tourists, but it was incredibly sobering anyway. Burned-out homes rested next to ones in pristine conditions, and signs were everywhere warning people against entering certain buildings on the basis of being structurally unstable. We passed tons of graveyards that had the date of death being 1993. It was really sad.

After being in Mostar for a few hours, we drove on to visit a dervish house not far off. It was mildly cool, but really it was just an old Muslim situated in an awesome place—right at the source of the Buna river. The river was a gorgeous green, and tasted so amazing.

From there, we drove on to Sarajevo, arriving at around 06:30 or so. At 07:00 we ate, and then we all crashed. It was exciting to have wireless, though.

Day 12, May 22^nd, Sarajevo

Today was fairly intense. It started off rainy and gloomy, and everyone was pretty down. We went to a museum and saw a few exhibits of Bosnia (ethnographic and Roman/Medieval eras). It was fairly interesting, but the guide had such a pro-Muslim bias it made everything a little more dubious.

After that we went and had lunch. It was kind of a sad lunch, though—the hamburgers were all undercooked, and despite my eating of my own, when I went to finish off someone else’s I found out that they had more or less the equivalent of lead in theirs. Something that did not react kindly and squish when it encountered my teeth. So I left theirs alone and ended up being hungry all afternoon.

After lunch we visited the Sarajevo Orthodox Cathedral and then the Catholic Cathedral. They were pretty cool, but nothing compared to other things that we’ve seen.

What was cool was the Bosnian Institute that we went to next. IT had a number of really interesting exhibits of artwork, but the guide herself was really interesting. She was born Muslim, but she has a Catholic name. As a result, people simply assume that she is Catholic. In reality, she is neither—she’s spiritually confused. She said that Bosnians are taught to be Muslims at a young age, the Serbs to be Orthodox, and the Croats to be Catholic. With such unforgiving teaching styles generating tension between people, she doesn’t predict peace for Bosnia for a long time. She does hope that it will eventually return, though. For years Croats, Serbs, and Bosnians lived side-by-side with no trouble. Nationalism was not helpful in this part of the world.

We had a ridiculously late supper today. It was like 20:00.

May 23^rd, Day 13, Sarajevo—Višegrad—Kraljevo

This was absolutely the most boring day so far. We drove from Sarajevo in the morning after church, all the way out to Višegrad, which took several hours. Višegrad itself was awesome, though. We were there for some two hours, in which we had no rain—it rained before we got there and after we left, though. I had prayed that morning specifically for sunlight while we were in Višegrad, because everyone was looking forward to it, courtesy of Bridge on the Drina by Ivo Andrić.

TheMehmet Paša Sokolović bridge was just as fantastic as all of us had thought it would be. It was so cool. There were lizards everywhere on it, though, and apparently someone saw a small snake, which is cool. We went to a restaurant where I didn't eat enough, so I was hungry all day.

In Kraljevo that night, we had an enormous meal. It was a massive salad platter for four people (so we had seven of them), followed by mixed-meat platters for everyone individually. It was so good—chicken, pork, and beef.

Sleep that night was on a partially full stomach for one of the first times on the trip.

May 24th, Day 14, Kraljevo—Žiča—Studenica—Beograd

We drove most of the day, but we stopped for two monasteries that were pretty cool. They werenćt the most impressive things I've ever seen, though.

We got to Beograd late in the evening, and our hostel was awesome—it was several floors of an old apartment building in the center of the city, and the halls were artistically graffitied and stuff. We had free wi-fi, hot showers, even one desktop per bedroom. It was fantastic. Dr. Pearse didn't like it, though, because they failed to deliver sterling performances in several key aspects, such as preparation.

Laura and I went for a very enjoyable walk to close our evening.

May 25th, Day 15, Beograd—Vinkovci

We wandered around Belgrade all morning, after breakfast was 35 minutes late. We listened to a lecture which portrayed a much brighter picture of evangelicals in Serbia than we got in Bosnia or Croatia, where Evangelicals are a very small part of the population. We got lots of ice cream, we got sour apple rings, and we walked around the fortress. It was pretty cool. Then we went to the Cathedral of Saint Savo, which was amaying—it is being refurbished, but it was still glorious. I felt like kneeling down and praying in it.

Then we got on the bus for Vinkovci, during which trip I got a massage to obliterate the knots that had viciously appeared in mz shoulder during the day.

We drove through Vukovar on the way, and that was really tough. There were tons of signs of war in it, and as we passed through I couldn't help but think about and shudder at the thought of neighbours killing each other—people who have lived side-by-side for hundreds of years, suddenly at war with one another. It was really tragic.

We reached Vinkovci, and stayed at a hotel in the back of a restaurant. It's a pretty nice place. The town layout is kind of confusing, and my mental map didn't work out as anticipated when I went for a walk later, because there was a dead end that I hadn't accounted for, so I didn't get us to where I thought we should have gotten. We got everything all sorted out, though, and made it back to the hotel in good order.

Bed followed soon after some of us guys watched the first half of Blood Diamond.

May 26th, Day 16, Đakovo—Osijek

Today we drove a lot, and we went to the Strossmayer Cathedral. It wasn't nearly as cool as the average church—in fact, I would say it was as much of a monstrosity as any pollution-spewing factory in a national park. The architecture itself was pretty fine, but the decorations inside—the paintings and patterns on the walls, the star-filled 'sky' on the ceiling, etc., all felt more appropriate for the bedroom of a small child than a location in which to worship God.

Osijek was kind of boring, really—we walked around, went to a museum, ate supper and then ate ice cream. That was all enjoyable in and of itself, but we didn't really do anything, ultimately. Nothing that pertains to our trip, anyway.

I rounded the night off by finishing Blood Diamond with the other guys, and then they all went to bed and I'm writing this.

May 27, Day 17, Vukovar—Venice

Today is going to be the long, miserable day—we're having our overnight drive to Venice tonight, and I can't sleep in moving vehicles. Anyway, I'm writing this while relishing the Angels and Demons soundtrack. We're going to go around Vukovar today, and I expect it to be pretty depressing and sad.

It turned out to be so, in fact. Many of the buildings were still bare ruins (not anything near the majority, though). What we saw standing were those which had been the least damaged in the fighting in '91. The others were mostly new buildings, replacing ones which were simply piles of rubble.

We saw a short video clip describing the months of 1991 during which Vukovar was attacked, and it was yet another portrayal of the events. We've heard from Croats, Serbs, and Bosnians about the Homeland War at this point--as I see it, the Serbs of Vukovar could almost be portrayed as equivalents of the Tories. Reconciliation attempts are slow, but ongoing--people who had lived together and worked together before the war attempted to kill each other (frequently succeeding) or tortured each other during it. Now, the survivors have to live with seeing each other every day, knowing what the other person has done. It's an incredibly sober environment.

After that, we had free time. Lots and lots of free time. Which I'm still using. We leave for Venice at 21:00, and it's 19:21 right now.