Wyoming.
Part 3
Elitza
Kotzeva
Wyoming
's Big Horn Basin : Huge deserts. All the colors from yellow
to dark brown that the imagination can bear. The painter has
touched this scenery with its black brush here and there depicting
cow herds – the only inhabitants of the field. Mountains tightening
a chain around them. Forests full of wild life. Tiny settlements
with working people. Most of them in the farming – the business
of surviving in Wyoming . We met Danny, a farmer from Basin.
He welcomed us in his home and together with his three-year old
son told us his story.
We thanked Danny for the interesting evening we spent together and hit the road… back to Missouri . We had a long trip ahead of us but it was to be promising time full of interesting talks on what we had seen in Wyoming . Our imagination was well fed with the impressions from the unique landscape of the Big Horn Basin , its cowboys, their stories, local farming, the wild animals and the feeling that I was the first Bulgarian some of these people have ever seen. I remembered the reaction of an old lady when I revealed my origin. She said: “Here I see with my eyes that though from Bulgaria you are a nice girl too,” and gave me a big hug. I smiled to myself and kicked with my imaginary spurs the modern horse we were riding – our small car.
Wyoming engraves the visitor with its small but long-lasting gifts. It gives you a fresh breath of nature, a free eye for the vastness and opens his ear for the past of the Wild West.
Wyoming.
Part 2
Elitza Kotzeva
The village of Meeteetse is situated in the western part of the Big Horn Basin in Wyoming. It has only 386 inhabitants and three museums preserving the cowboy history and crafts of the area. The Director of Charles Belden Museum, Paige Paisley, gave us valuable insights on the history of Meeteetse:
Paige Paisley,
smiled at us “good-bye” and sent us to explore the heart of the Big Horn
Basin – the city of Cody. There I was to feed my imagination with the stories
about another cowboy – the famous Buffalo Bill. His name actually was William
Cody and he “willingly loaned his surname to the city.” The Buffalo Bill
Historic Center served as a real feast to my hunger for stories. This huge
museum offers hours of trips through the history of the West which take you
in a world with a taste of a fairy tale.
The surroundings of Cody invite you on a similar trip through the past of the
city. The Buffalo Bill Dam is a metaphor of the man taming wild nature. In
1910, when its construction was completed it was the world's highest dam. The
Buffalo Bill Dam is on the National Register of Historic Places.
I was surprised by the number of places whispering stories about the past of the area around Cody. However, there are some of them that make it onto the National Register but don't belong to the places in which an American takes pride. An example of such a desolate place is Heart Mountain Relocation Center. Even if you know where exactly this National Historic site is situated you will still have difficulties finding it. The only sign on the main road has an arrow pointing to the left. After you follow it, a mile later you will find the same sign. Since this time the arrow had to point to the right no bigger effort was made than just turning it upside – down. The arrow is in the right direction, but the driver must read it upside-down. In case you have successfully struggled your way to the place, you can leave yourself in the hands of this silent story. The background of the beautiful volcano-like peak of Heart Mountain provided the setting for events during the WWII. At that time Heart Mountain was the third-largest city in Wyoming. What is left there now are three shacks and a wooden table in the field. Between 1942 and 1945 about 10,700 Japanese Americans were detained In Heart Mountain because of the fear that they threatened national security. The silence in the buildings was in accord with the silent blank spot in the American history. Only the occasional whistle of the wind would penetrate through the graded windows just to hint of the shame. There was no one to interview in Heart Mountain Relocation Center.
From
Missori to Wyoming and back on a Horse with an Engine
Elitza Kotzeva
I started exploring Missouri with stories about cowboys from the fiction books of my childhood. I first met America and its people in Missouri. Then I decided to follow the traces of the cowboys and the famous outlaws to Wyoming.
On our way to Wyoming we passed through the state of Kansas – a nice bare state in which one can drive hours without even reaching a fast food restaurant. Those who are heading for a distant place like Wyoming would better pass though Kansas during the night. Thus, they will avoid the feeling of the never-ending field and save the daytime for Colorado.
Colorado excites the traveler coming from Kansas with two views: the dim outline of the Rocky Mountains looming in the horizon and the unexpected urban landscape of Denver. Put together in the same picture both views are amazingly contradicting. Especially to the traveler bound to the deserts of Wyoming, who is already prepared to see huge lands with just a few people. When you are traveling to a land that finds no correspondence in your memories the feeling of expectation is so overwhelming that even Denver on the background of the Rockies cannot impress you.
Finally, on the third day since we started we passed the border of Wyoming. People say that you see more cows than men there. I was prepared to see more farms than anything else. The first place that we visited was the city of Laramie. It did not strike me as a farmers' settlement. The city has even an incredibly beautiful University campus. On the lawns in front of the buildings one could see students surrounded by preaching Mormon boys. This was a definite sign that I was already in the West.
The endless fields started unfolding. Barley fields gilded by the rays of the afternoon sun; bare hills of rocky dry mountain ranges in the distance; screaming-blue sky – as endless as the straight road spreading in front of the traveler. Our little car looked like a lost ant on its search for the ant-hill. My guts remember the feeling of standing in front of the Great Pyramids. This huge human creation evokes reverence and makes all your fibers shake in respect to the ancients. It also offers a thrill with the thought that this might not be human creation, suggesting that somebody out there in the Universe might be observing us. The fields of Wyoming instill in you even stronger sensation of minuteness in front of the Godly created world. It is a meeting with the Creator – the only one who could throw so much land on one place and leave it bare in his challenge to humanity.
Our three-day long travel from Missouri finally reached its destination point – the Big Horn Basin. The Big Horn Basin is a huge flat territory embraced by several mountain ranges. To the east spread the Big Horn Mountains, and to the west Absaroka Mountains - the doorstep of the Yellowstone National Park. The Big Horns have their name after unique sheep specie with big horns which lives in the mountains. The basin is a storehouse of prehistoric dinosaurs and animal remains. This is a place where history and present live together. The ghosts of the infamous cowboys still inhabit the settlements.
We stopped in
Meeteetse, a village situated along the Greybull River, the point where the
open range ends. The small village is known as the place where the outlaws
used to meet. In the center of Meeteetse you can see the well-known Cowboy
Bar. We entered it. The Cowboy Bar Menu written like a newspaper depicts
the atmosphere in 1896. “The dimly lit beer room was crowded and among the
drinkers were Daniel Weller, a small rancher on Poverty Flats, Blind Bill
Holihan, ranch hand and Mavericker , Henry Rivers, and Parker's friend, Isaac
Winkle, an older rancher on the lower Greybull. Mr. Winkle, in 1894, would
be among the five prisoners to travel with Butch Cassidy in the prison wagon
to the Wyoming State prison in Laramie.” The visitor cannot help imagining
himself among these people. The same newspaper states that the well-known
cowboy Butch Cassidy was arrested outside the Cowboy Saloon in June, 1894.
The notorious Tom Horn and Kid Curry used to be among the frequent visitors
of the place. It gave us goose-bumps to imagine how Tom Horn is sitting at
the other side of the table stating as he once did there: “Killing men is
my specialty. I look at it as a business proposition, and I think I have
a corner on the market.” I bet I was the first Bulgarian who had a beer there
in the Cowboy Saloon in the mystical presence of the cowboys' ghosts.
On
How Eastern Europeans Came across American Culture or American Culture
Came across Eastern Europeans
Elitza
Kotzeva
When Communist regimes collapsed in Eastern Europe in 1989 Western culture started penetrating these countries. Bulgaria, Romania, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, and Eastern Germany opened up their borders. People could watch Western television, listen to Western radio stations, and consume products imported from Western Europe and America.
It did not take a long time and American culture started invading our little space. It was everywhere. We began buying it because we liked it. We liked it because it was different. It was a symbol of change and it whispered of freedom. Until that time Western European and American culture were prohibited in Eastern Europe. People were not allowed to know what was happening beyond the Iron Curtain. During Communism you could not watch foreign news or listen to foreign radio stations unless you wanted to taste life in the Communist concentration camps.
After the change McDonald's and KFC restaurants started popping up like mushrooms after a rain shower. American and European movies stepped forth and shaded the Russian war sagas. Hollywood became a word with meaning. The Beatles were no longer known, according to communist dictionaries, as the band that sang against the government. They started singing about love again. Levis became a brand that people wore, rather than a concept from scientific articles about the invention of the denim. Coke made its way on to the shelves among the lemonade, and the red color on its label meant something else in Eastern Europe for the first time. Paradoxically, its meaning changed from political regime to freedom.
American culture was promising freedom: the freedom to freely consume. The only freedom it could offer. It's not difficult to teach nations about the creed of consumption. It is difficult however to teach people how to consume when they don't have the proper means for this. Soon it was clear that Eastern Europeans cannot be fully Americanized, not until they became real consumers. American culture was misled in its intentions of invasion. The problem stemmed from misunderstanding of the reality that people in these countries wanted to consume based on their needs. American consumption is not dependent on needs. It goes much beyond them. Consumption in Eastern Europe could not even satisfy people's needs. American culture whispered of freedom but this freedom was still a dream.
Today, several years after the first meeting between Eastern Europe and American culture, the picture is like this: people buy as Americans but live as Eastern Europeans. They wear Levis and Nike but also read poetry. They eat occasionally at McDonald's but spend their time in authentic local restaurants. They watch American movies but read also Pushkin. They know about the Great Depression but remember the Literary Renaissance too.
American culture came into Eastern Europe to symbolize freedom. It is still there, but now it symbolizes the American Consumer Angst. The only question left in this context is whether America is going to let other culture ever influence it. My grandchildren will probably give you the answer.
Bulgaria
through the Eyes of an American
Elitza
Kotzeva
Today I will take you on a trip to my country through the eyes of an American. Dr. Brian Ellison, a political scientist from the Southwest Missouri State University, will tell you about his stay in Bulgaria.
There are quite a few Americans in Bulgaria. Most of them are either Foreign Service Officers working for the State Department, or teachers employed by a local college or school. Brian Ellison belonged to the second group. He was a Fulbright Senior Scholar who taught at Sofia University – the biggest state University. I asked Dr. Ellison how he discovered Bulgaria:
Brian Ellison: It was interesting to me. I didn't know anything about Bulgaria before. I was so extraordinarily impressed with Sofia. I just thought it was a wonderful place. After I went to Turkey for six weeks I realized that Bulgaria was the place to be in the entire region.
Bulgaria is situated in the Southeastern corner of Europe. It is part of the Balkan Peninsula and borders with Turkey, Greece, Macedonia, Serbia and Romania.
Brian Ellison: Eastern Europe - it's full of trolley cars, cobble-stoned streets, and Gypsies with donkey carts. It was an incredible cultural experience: mosques, churches and beautiful, beautiful people.
Brian Ellison: It was a little bit from everything. It was so startling to be in Europe and see things written in Cyrillic.
Living in a place like Bulgaria is so different than living in Missouri, or any other place in America. An American can witness this.
Brian Ellison: One of the most interesting things about living in Bulgaria is the social freedom. The night life is fantastic, the people are fun. There is lots of relaxation. As apposed to living in America there are outdoor cafes everywhere and it's interesting that at three in the afternoon in an outdoor café in Sofia you cannot find a place to sit down.
Brian Ellison: People are not fretting about 24 hours per day trying to make money. They are just relaxing with their friends not having to worry about all of the hustles Americans have to worry about. It was just extraordinary refreshing and a nice pace of change to me as an American.
The differences between Bulgarian and American life are everywhere.
Brian Ellison: You can live in Sofia, a city of approximately 1.2 million people, and you simply don't need a car. You can go downstairs and buy anything you need within a block which is really a nice way to live.
Bulgarians are Balkan people who have their unique traditions and peculiarities. An American observes:
Brian Ellison: Bulgarians writ large are certainly different than Americans. One of the things that strike you first when you're living in Bulgaria is that they don't have the Anglo-Saxon sense of propriety or of politeness. Bulgarians are not very big on saying “please” or “thank you”. They are very nice people, they are very kind people, but this type of overt American politeness that Americans have is not part of their culture.
Brian Ellison: My favorite thing from the Bulgarian lifestyle is when they socialize with their friends and family. It's really fun to eat a big Bulgarian meal, although to an American it might become tiring because it lasts five hours. They get together in the evening; they begin with a salad; they drink rakia – the local drink - and they talk and eat. It's a completely different from the American “let's have some fast food, choke it down and go back to our business” sort of mentality. That's what I really like about Bulgarians.
An American is also amazed by the Bulgarian social life.
Brian Ellison: Bulgarians have a nicer social life than the Americans have because Bulgarians put a premium on their friendships, a premium on their relationships. They'd skip on work in order to be with their friends, they'd skip on work in order to be with their families because that's what matters to most of the Bulgarians, while Americans put a premium on work. We work hard and I am not trying to discount Americans – we are among the hardest working people on the planet. We are amazing people and we have an economy and country to show for that but it's really refreshing to see people focus on each other instead of just stuff, and careers, and cash.
My last question to Brian Ellison was how an American feels after having lived in Bulgaria.
Brian Ellison: If I was to go anywhere in the world now, I'd go to Bulgaria. It's a beautiful country. It's a country that reminds me of North Carolina. It's got beautiful mountains, beautiful scenery, amazing beaches. It has sort of everything.
Foreign
Languages
Elitza Kotzeva
Different nations
laugh at different things. British humor is terribly alien to the rest of
the world. So it is sometimes with Bulgarian humor. People laugh at things
that are unusual or are ridiculously strange to their understanding and way
of living. Trough national humor one can learn what is usual and normal for
different peoples. I decided to explore what people think of foreign languages
in America.
Once I told a Bulgarian joke to an American friend. It failed to amuse him.
The joke goes like this:
A car with foreign plates pulls over close to a couple of passengers. The driver asks one of them: “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” The perplexed passenger answers: “I don't understand, I am sorry!” The driver asks again: “Parlez-vous français?” The passenger: “No. I'm sorry!” The driver: “Parla Italiano?” The passenger: “No. I'm sorry!” The driver mumbles to himself something and quickly drives away. Then the passenger turns to his companion and satisfied says: “You see. He was fluent in three languages and still could not get the information he needed!”
I, the joke teller, was laughing and my American friend, the listener, smiled silently out of politeness. The awkward gap between my chuckle and his silence made me contemplate again the differences between Bulgarians and Americans. Why isn't it ridiculously strange to an American that somebody does not speak other languages? Why don't the two passengers from the joke seem strange? Don't these people see they are at a disadvantage and not the driver who speaks several languages?
People need language mainly to communicate. Americans don't have to worry about this because nowadays English is spoken all over the world. One can get along speaking English at the places where an American businessman or a tourist would go.
However, language is more than just a means for communication. It is also a tool for learning about other cultures. One gets to know how people think, how they live, what they appreciate through the way they communicate in their vernacular language. People process the world in a unique way, express it through their language and then read it through the same language they have created. Therefore, knowing a foreign language means being able to get acquainted to other cultures.
Apart from big cities like New York Americans in general don't speak many languages. The most popular language in the US is Spanish because of the growing Hispanic population. In Missouri – in the heart of the US – it isn't compulsory to study foreign languages in high school.
On the other hand, Bulgarians have two foreign languages as compulsory subjects in high school. Today English is preferred because of its international popularity. Still, children study also German, French, Spanish, Italian, Russian; even minor languages like Polish, Czech, Serbian, Turkish, Danish, Hindi ... You hardly meet a young person in the streets who cannot communicate in another language. One reason for that is that the Bulgarian language is not as popular as English and people study it for communication purposes. Why then, you ask, do Bulgarians study other languages and not only English? People in Europe show interest in another culture by studying its history, literature, traditions and language.
Why don't Americans study other languages? Aren't they interested in the way other people live? Or, is it the case that the American educational system teaches students to be more utilitarian than intellectual?
When you ask a Bulgarian whether he knows about something – whatever it is, his answer would vary from: “Yes, of course!” to “Mm..yes, a little bit.” He would never straight away admit that he doesn't know what he is asked about. He might even continue the conversation not by cleverly staying on the surface, but even bravely digging into details. Even if the truth is that simply he has never heard of the discussed thing.
When you ask an American whether he knows something he is never afraid to say “No” when he doesn't. He is not ashamed to be honest when he does not know anything about an issue or a topic. No matter what the question is – it might be about the most famous celebrity or a location of a famous country.
Why is this so? Why would an Eastern European pretend that he knows all about computers, for example, when he works behind the counter in a grocery store, and an American would honestly say he hasn't heard of Lady Diana? I think the explanation is rooted in the educational systems of our societies.
The Eastern European
educational system is built on the idea that upon graduation from high school
one should have profound knowledge in all fields, from Natural Sciences and
Math to Literature. The knowledge a Bulgarian gets as a freshman in high
school in Math, for instance, equals the knowledge an American acquires as
a University freshman: they both solve trigonometric equations. The expected
scope of knowledge and analytical skills from a high school kid in Eastern
Europe are often unrealistic because of the high requirements and the short
time span. Still, the kid is expected to manage in all those areas and as
a result to gain competences in many fields. School life has taught him that
being knowledgeable is what life requires more than anything else. Therefore,
by admitting lack of knowledge in a certain area an Eastern European admits
that he is not well educated and feels ashamed. He would always try to conceal
his ignorance by pretending or by actually knowing a little bit from everything.
An American could never consider himself poorly educated and be ashamed when
he does not know something. He knows that one cannot know everything. Moreover,
you don't need to know everything in order to be well educated.
Why doesn't it bother the American if he doesn't know anything about an issue he has been questioned? American high school is largely vocational and teaches school kids skills to help them do well in life. After all, Americans care mostly about having a nice profitable work that will allow them to live a calm and wealthy life. Why do they need to know more about issues outside their fields? Broad knowledge does not raise their salaries. Only skills and relevant knowledge do so.
The American educational system focuses on specialization and skill training which produces experts in a confined area, whereas the Eastern European system hinges on broad knowledge which results in well-educated people with no practical experience.
Next time when you ask someone: “Do you know the formula for the nuclear reaction?” and he responds positively you will know that he is either a nuclear engineer or a Bulgarian.
Paces
of Capitalism in Post-Communist Bulgaria
Elitza Kotzeva
Having a house in America or at least in Missouri is normal. No matter where you live – in the city or in the village. It is simply how most people live. Having a house in Bulgaria, my country, is normal if you live in the country. In urban areas it is a matter of prestige. In Bulgaria you have a house in the city only if you are rich enough to buy a patch of land, to fund the project without a loan, including the construction of the house. Of course, you have to furnish it afterwards. In a post-communist society not very many people can afford that.
I said post-communist society – yes. I am so grateful to my destiny that I was able to witness a change of political regimes. And I realize it just now – when I meet people who have never lived in another type of political system. I am able to compare – the greatest gift by destiny – to compare not only between two political systems in one country but with the American political system too.
Very few young people in Bulgaria remember exactly what it was to be part of the students' communist organization, not because you wanted to, but because it was the duty of the good school kid. Nowadays teenagers cannot even imagine what kids their age used to do only 14 years ago in their spare time. I remember reading an article about young skaters from Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, who skate every day in front of the monument of the Russian soldiers – one of the most respected places in communist Sofia. The children were asked whether they knew what the monument represents – a place where they spend hours every day. Nobody could give an answer. In the interview they admitted that their memories from the communist period stretch only to recalling of most popular lemonade produced at that time or the euphoria during the national celebrations and parades. After all, the oldest Bulgarian teenagers were three when Communism fell in Eastern Europe in 1989. In their understanding of Communism most of them are probably closer to the American teenagers rather than to a Bulgarian from a generation before. They have grown up with MTV, Coke and fast food restaurants. Globalization has taught them how to speak English and they cannot even imagine that only 14 years ago Russian was compulsory in schools. The modern shopping malls that differ just slightly from the American ones have nothing to do with the state grocery stores from my childhood, where the choice was not bigger than the one in the fridge of an old lady from Harlem. Not one of those young Bulgarian kids knows how our mouths watered and our eyes broadened when our fathers brought home a present in the evening – just like a Kinder Surprise chocolate egg, which our Dads would also skip lunch to pay for. The next day would be even more thrilling when we went out to show off with the toy from the chocolate egg in front of other kids, who tried to imagine what the chocolate tasted like.
Buying is the way of living in America. People buy things and feel happy. I recently heard an American saying that the only time she feels alive is when she is shopping. I believe her after what I have seen myself in this country. This is one of the features of the modern world that delineate the rights to choice and consumption. My childhood however remembers the long lines for bread and cheese in front of the grocery stores. The products were not sold for money but for coupons that were given to people in advance – the same amount to everyone. Everybody was by paper equal to the others in his needs and consumption because equality made unity possible and Communism relied upon united peoples.
I remember a children's song that was telling about the shopping windows stocked with tangerines, only available around New Years Eve. I remember also my grandpa who loved so much his granddaughter staying in line for hours in the winter frost to get a bag of tangerines for her. I remember savoring the taste of tangerines in my memory long after we have eaten them.
Nowadays kids from Eastern Europe don't know how lucky they are because they have never seen the desire in the eyes of a kid at the sight of a simple piece of chocolate.
Communication “alla
Americana”
Elitza Kotzeva
The story I am going to tell you today is probably the most important one because it will be about meeting Americans, the people who made the country look in the way it is. However, meeting you in a city like Springfield is difficult. Citizens communicate only in the context of the huge urban infrastructure. You can meet people here at two places – either in shopping malls and fast food restaurants, or in the streets.
“Streets” is still a concept too vast for what I mean. People meet here people mainly driving. You get to know your fellow citizens by waving at them when they yield, nodding at them when you agree to let them go before you, stretching your mouth when cussing at them, getting out of the car when they …crash into yours. Oops, then you really meet them. And you might be even surprised that they - whose faces are so unknown to you, are .. your neighbors.
Everywhere people
have language of politeness. In Eastern Europe we do too. But there is nothing
like the language of the American greeting smile. An American would flash
at you his smile whenever you cross his vision. In the beginning it is so
strange that you look around to see whether there isn't anyone else behind
you who he knows. After the first couple of times when you have misbehaved
and failed to react correctly, you start realizing that this is his “hello” to
you. He has just performed the first part of his greeting. The second part
comes with the question “How do you do?” One can enjoy its different variations
from the well-articulated “How do you do?” to the one-word “Howdy?” As a
person who is trying to adequately take part in the conversation and be polite
- obviously a very important thing in this country, an Eastern European would
answer with a non-prepared long phrase. Something like: “Well, I am ok today,
I had several meetings with ..and then..mm..” The person who you are talking
to would be first, quite surprised by that unusual and lengthy answer, then,
he would be mad at you – obviously someone not well-acquainted to the norms
of politeness, who moreover is wasting his precious money-worth time. The
face with a cheesy smile will curdle into an amazed look.
Actually, by answering with “ok” an Eastern European does not want to say I'm
not so well. He means that everything is just perfect, fine. After all, that's
what every electronic menu asks you to do: to choose “no” if you are displeased
or “yes” if you agree and are happy with the offered option.
As a final result
your first attempt to respond to the polite question “How are you?” will
make you think whether the people you meet are really interested in what
they ask you or it is just a simple “hi”. If so, why do they waste so many
words in saying just “hello”? Do they want you to believe that they are really
interested in your mood, health state, career situation…
Ok, (I'm sorry - fine) from a certain point on I become just fine and my status
of happiness and well-being increases. That's just.. fine.
Once you get over the “Howdy” issue, you are just doing great. Still, there are some other situations for which even my Eastern European gregarious nature, is not quite ready. You would comfortably sit in a fast food restaurant and try to talk to your friend you came with. You already know one thing for sure: people are not exactly interested in you beyond the extremes of politeness. So you feel free to talk and well-isolated by the other visitors in that place. However, every time you or your friend says something personal aloud, some old lady from the table behind would wittily comment with her mouth stretched in a painful smile. Well, what is your option, but to answer with the same painful smiling stretch of your mouth? Then everybody is happy. We have had our sweet small communication – a duty of the good citizen. The talk was truly wonderful and amazed everyone with the extent to which we got to know each other.
By the way, do you know my neighbor? If you meet him, tell him to mow his yard better next time because it does not look well on the border of my perfect yard.
American
Drinking Age Law
Elitza Kotzeva
In my first meeting
with Missouri I was not surprised by the way people live – it is still similar
to the European living. I was surprised however by the rules that constitute
the American life. Different rules lead to different perspectives. I will
give you an example of that by telling you a story from my first night out.
May I see your ID card, please!, the guy in front of the bar struck me with
that question. I started fishing for my passport in the bag. It took me a while
before I received the cold American beer that saved me from the humid hot weather
of Missouri.
Let's move in space and try to peek into a bar in Eastern Europe. The bartender
is asking a kid in front of the counter:
“How many beers does your daddy want? Ok. Here you are. Can you manage on your
own?” The four-year old boy embraces the big bottles and starts waddling to the
place on the beach where his father is enjoying the East European sky.
The two situations depict two polarized worlds with their legitimate choices for youth education in alcoholic consumption. The argument of the American approach is that only when a person is above 21 can he responsibly handle a drink. The Eastern European approach is based on the idea that responsibility comes with experience.
What happens when people from these two polarized cultures meet? An American friend visited me once in Bulgaria – a country with well-established drinking patterns. He was below the American drinking age of 21. He was absolutely astonished and fascinated by the fact that he could have alcohol without even his ID card. He ended up badly that night: my Bulgarian friends and I who were his age had to carry him back to the house because he was so drunk that he could not walk. The option of drinking no matter how old you are made him so free that he having lived in democracy-ruled America let himself indulge in the freedoms of our small non-democratically proclaimed world.
We Eastern Europeans believe that a young person realizes the true harm of alcohol by experiencing its evil impact himself. An Eastern European adolescent is either taught by the family how to drink moderately or by his friends. This allows the young individual to experience himself the effects of alcohol. It does not mean that young people are taught to disrespect laws and indulge in drinking. European law does not allow anyone to exhibit intoxicated behavior in public. One should be responsible for his behavior no matter whether he consumed alcohol or not. Thus we teach responsible drinking.
Still, drinking
patterns in Europe vary. Northern European countries are more reserved in
their drinking laws while alcohol consumption is part of the cultures in
Southern Europe. Some European countries allow minors accompanied by a parent
to enjoy a glass of wine with their meal in a restaurant, normally beginning
at the age of 12. The Professor of Family Law at Southern University – Maurice
Franks says that in France, Germany, Italy and Spain, a young adult of 16
may buy wine or beer unaccompanied by a parent, whereas the drinking age
for distilled beverages in Europe and throughout most of the non-Islamic
world is 18.
An Italian boy admits for BBC: “I have grown up respecting alcohol because
my parents never hid it away as some kind of evil that you can't touch until
you're 18.”
There are several
questions that overwhelm me every time I think about the minimum drinking
age laws in the US.
A 21-year old American has exercised the responsibility to drive, pay taxes,
buy a house, vote, get married, buy a lottery ticket, serve in the military,
and be treated as an adult in the United States Court System since the age
of 18? Is he expected to be able to drink alcohol moderately and responsibly
for the first time at 21?
The fact sheet of the Alcohol Policies Project run by the Center for Science in the Public Interest says that in 2001: “81 percent of teenagers and 57 percent of adults reported that alcohol companies target underage persons or teenagers with their ads.” Why do alcoholic ads target adolescents since they are not legally allowed to buy alcohol?
Finally, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services in its fact sheet on Enforcing Underage-Drinking Laws released in August 1999 reports: There is no doubt that underage drinking is a major public health problem in the United States. In 1998, about 10.4 million current drinkers were between the ages of 12 and 20. Do the Americans truly understand the Biblical story of the forbidden fruit?
The facts speak for themselves about the effectiveness of the U.S. minimum drinking age laws enacted in 1984.
Elitza Kotzeva
The roaring sounds of the plane made me ponder, as any monotonous sound does.
I was embarking on my discovery of America .
Everyone discovers America in one way or another. However, there are just a few among them who approach it with the believing eyes of a new-born child. I was one of them!
I landed in New York at JFK airport. On my flight in I did not see the Statue of Liberty! Pretty strange, considering that all the American movies that take place in New York have a helicopter hovering around this cold woman with a fire torch in her hand symbolizing the American freedom – that flame giving so much life even to the cement body. At least I knew I was already in a place guarded by the symbol of liberty!
My first conversation on American land made me reflect on the importance of the Statue of Liberty. I had to stand in a long line in order to have my passport checked. There were all kinds of nationalities around me. The line for non-U.S. citizens was the place where even Biblical stories like the one about the Tower of Babble are altered and find a new outcome. All the Frenchmen, Russians, Italians, Chinese make their utmost effort to speak English, molding their mouths in funny ways. I had to do the same thing – to show that I was eligible to step on the land of liberty.
The woman who was checking the passports looked like a foreigner too. Later on I realized that “foreigner” is actually a vague word in American English. After having scrutinized my passport very carefully she began hailing me with questions – what was the purpose of my visit?, where was I going to stay?, did I intend to work?. She decided that I didn't look very trustworthy, despite all my efforts. The woman looked up, her well-practiced short glance examining me in attempt to freeze my foreign blood. In a cold voice she asked me to show her… my money! This was an icy shower on my already liberty-tuned being. The question made me think that only selected people see the Statue of Liberty and I was not among them. At least not yet.
My next destination was St. Louis , Missouri . Quite a few people in Europe would be extremely jealous to know that I was to visit the land of… Indians. Yes, you heard it correctly – the land of Indians ! European kids from my generation grew up with the fiction stories about the Wild West. I could not resist recalling the state of Missouri in the way I learned about it from the books by the all-kids'-favorite author – Karl May. I remembered a passage where I first saw St. Louis in my imagination. It goes like this:
I stayed in St. Louis only long enough to turn over my measurements for the railroad, and to fit myself out with some much needed clothing, and a new Henry rifle, and then Swallow and I started again for the West in search of new adventures, and to rejoin our Apache friend.
Like Karl May's character, fiction or not, I was starting for Missouri in search of new adventures.
On the flight out of New York again I did not see the Statue of Liberty. From that moment on my imagination had a serious mission: to find the new American symbol of liberty. Maybe it would be in Missouri ?
The plane to Missouri was smaller than the ones for international flights. The flight attendant was also a small woman with an indistinguishable accent which scared me. I could not catch a word in the flow of syllables she recited in the way she had probably done a hundred times before. She approached me once asking whether I wanted something to drink. I could not understand her at first. She awarded my bewilderment with a weird look.
Fortunately I was sitting next to the window. Several river basins were cutting the mossy skin of the hilly land. The villages underneath seemed to me like small clusters of sea shells ordered by children. All the houses looked almost alike from above, forming a well-arranged decoration on kids' sand castle. The neighborhoods were so neatly arranged!
Two big rivers were curving their way somewhere to the horizon. One of them should be the Mississippi river – I was sure of it!
We had to buckle up. The plane was about to land. I was so eager for my first meeting with Missouri .
I couldn't wait to see the world out there. I passed the doors ready to embark on my new adventure – discovering America and its symbols through Missouri .