Monday this week, the International Law Society, in conjunction with the Office of Career Planning held an even giving students a look into certain career paths in international business.
Guests included Eve Sharon Associate General Counsel of Ask.com and Christine Huffling, Associate for Winston and Strong LLP.
The attorneys agreed that the practice of international law in US companies is generally an advisorial roll in transactional or arbitrational law.
Though they mentioned that being bi-lingual made certain tasks easier they stressed that English is the lingua franca of international business.
Helping the integration of Common Law American lawyers into Civil Law European systems for either long term or short term work was also said to be, somewhat counter-intuitively, quite easily. The panel agreed this was likely due to the fact that there are few ways to maximize profit in an integrated international market system. This isn't to say that litigation is similar or familiar only that the substantive law governing business isn't wildly divergent.
The biggest and most well received revelation of the night, by far, was when Ms. Sharon informed us: "Forget everything you know from law school."
History, Holocaust and Humanity - An Afternoon with Survivor Ben Stern
Recently, USF School of Law was honored by Ben Stern, survivor of eight concentration camps including Auschwitz and Dachau, who spoke of his experiences living through and living with the Nazi holocaust of Jews during WWII.
To a packed and diverse lecture hall, Mr. Stern delivered his history in a steady and measured tone. His gravitas was duly complemented by the frankness of his account and punctuated by points of unguarded emotion which rolled over the attendees in a deluge of shared sorrow. Strangely, however, almost surreally, the talk wasn't only anguish and tears - Mr. Stern deftly found the humor in tragedy, relieving the afternoon's gloom with points of much-needed light.
Yet as powerful as the imagery and compelling the story; as amazing was Mr. Stern's personal survival against incomprehensible adversity the acts of barbarity and hate which he recounted are unfortunately mundane. It isn't to say Mr. Stern didn't suffer, nor that his words were not important. Yet midst the vast cornucopia of memorializations of Nazi atrocity Mr. Stern's story doesn't find its efficacy in its history alone.
The question is, then, begged of what purpose is a speech about the past by the person who experienced it? Of what purpose is a history if history has no purpose? Why bring this empty exercise to a law school?
While the reason for Mr. Stern's retelling, indeed the reason for retellings by all survivors who wish to speak and are heard may not be readily understood, it was, and is, readily seen during the act of retelling. In this context History's effect is not simply in its existence but in its transformative affect. For just as Humanity's deep revulsion following the Jewish holocaust found effect by informing Nuremberg and the future of international humanitarian law, the revulsion felt by the audience informed their futures, indelibly.
Sadness, anger, sorrow and hate are empty concepts until experienced - a fact attested by the often surprised, often desperate and even fatalistic expressions of Mr. Stern's as he relived the events of his past. Yet it was not only Mr. Stern's face which showed these emotions. Concomitant with him was the audience: gasping, tearing, knowing and drawing breath in a unison of shared experience.
"These things that happened" he spoke while grasping his trunk, "they are in me. I swallowed them and they make me up."
Survivor's retellings aren't important for the factual content. They're important so that the audience, through live co-experience, can, in a sense also swallow those experiences and take them in, and though while comparatively they can only but
be informed by these experiences to a degree, they still are, in future, made up of them.
"Never again" is the pleading cry of victim survivors but through experiencing a survivor speak it becomes the aspirational declaration of all.
"Never again" speaks to the need to have, pursue and preserve justice once found and is, therefore, of fundamental interest and of fundamental import to the law, it's students and practitioners.
To a packed and diverse lecture hall, Mr. Stern delivered his history in a steady and measured tone. His gravitas was duly complemented by the frankness of his account and punctuated by points of unguarded emotion which rolled over the attendees in a deluge of shared sorrow. Strangely, however, almost surreally, the talk wasn't only anguish and tears - Mr. Stern deftly found the humor in tragedy, relieving the afternoon's gloom with points of much-needed light.
Yet as powerful as the imagery and compelling the story; as amazing was Mr. Stern's personal survival against incomprehensible adversity the acts of barbarity and hate which he recounted are unfortunately mundane. It isn't to say Mr. Stern didn't suffer, nor that his words were not important. Yet midst the vast cornucopia of memorializations of Nazi atrocity Mr. Stern's story doesn't find its efficacy in its history alone.
The question is, then, begged of what purpose is a speech about the past by the person who experienced it? Of what purpose is a history if history has no purpose? Why bring this empty exercise to a law school?
While the reason for Mr. Stern's retelling, indeed the reason for retellings by all survivors who wish to speak and are heard may not be readily understood, it was, and is, readily seen during the act of retelling. In this context History's effect is not simply in its existence but in its transformative affect. For just as Humanity's deep revulsion following the Jewish holocaust found effect by informing Nuremberg and the future of international humanitarian law, the revulsion felt by the audience informed their futures, indelibly.
Sadness, anger, sorrow and hate are empty concepts until experienced - a fact attested by the often surprised, often desperate and even fatalistic expressions of Mr. Stern's as he relived the events of his past. Yet it was not only Mr. Stern's face which showed these emotions. Concomitant with him was the audience: gasping, tearing, knowing and drawing breath in a unison of shared experience.
"These things that happened" he spoke while grasping his trunk, "they are in me. I swallowed them and they make me up."
Survivor's retellings aren't important for the factual content. They're important so that the audience, through live co-experience, can, in a sense also swallow those experiences and take them in, and though while comparatively they can only but
be informed by these experiences to a degree, they still are, in future, made up of them.
"Never again" is the pleading cry of victim survivors but through experiencing a survivor speak it becomes the aspirational declaration of all.
"Never again" speaks to the need to have, pursue and preserve justice once found and is, therefore, of fundamental interest and of fundamental import to the law, it's students and practitioners.
Salvadoran LGBT Activist William Hernandez
No ILS event should be considered complete without a certain amount of cross-cultural recognition, learning and understanding, and happily this event was no exception. Before the speaker approached the podium or issued even a single word to the 50+ assembled students and faculty, those in the front would have heard one of his translators comment that a meeting in which food is also served would be considered quite rude, indeed, in Venezuela. It wasn't meant, nor was it taken as an insult or negative criticism. Her comment, honest, non-patronizing, and fearless, and presented with an eye to educate, was to set the tone of the entire event.
Representing the faculty, Professor John Adler introduced Mr. Hernandez - whose NGO, Entre Amigos, represents the rights of gay, lesbian and trans-gender people in El Salvador - likening his efforts to promote human rights to the American Civil Rights Movement and HUELGA.
Following the translator's lead, Professor Adler frankly noted U.S. complicity in the Salvadoran civil war of the 1980's, the divisiveness of which infects the country still. Current U.S. efforts to deal with Salvadoran gang violence in Los Angeles (MS 13 and the 18th Street Gang) has resulted in the gang members simply being deported to San Salvador. Adler noted how the ultra-violent gang initiations are often practiced against LGBT people. Finally, the Church's vociferous anti-gay stance and homophobic instructions to the populace result in law enforcement's apathy in protecting LGBT people from violence and bigotry - indeed, law enforcement is sometimes complicit in the attacks themselves.
The legacy of the civil war, the influence of the L.A.-based gangs and the opinion of the Church have created a "perfect storm" of hatred and homophobia. It is in this nexus that Mr. Hernandez, called a "hero", tries to defend the rights of LGBT people through his organization.
Entre Amigos is the result of joint efforts of activists in San Salvador and San Francisco. For the last 16 years it has operated under the threat and exercise of violence against their efforts. The organization has been raided seven times in the last five years and Mr. Hernandez' life has been threatened.
Entre Amigos focuses on the defense and promotion of human rights related to sexuality, including monitoring government actions and sponsoring legislation. They also focus on voluntary sex and sexual health education initiatives within the gay community.
The main objective is to contribute to the development of and improve the quality of life for LGBT people in El Salvador who suffer the constant abrogation of human rights. Last year 24 people were murdered because of sexual identity.
In El Salvador, said Hernandez, the concept of "hate crimes" does not really exist. He likened the murder/dissappearing of LGBT people to the "dissappearings" of the civil war period - rejecting and purging the unwanted. Law enforcement is also apathetic to LGBT needs and participates in the brutalization of the population.
Compounding the problem is the rampant self-hate of the population. LGBT people suffer ridicule when they turn to authorities for help. There is no record of violence against lesbians (while there is against men/trans women) but this is due to the fact that lesbians file no complaints because: 1) Men are the front-persons and 2) many lesbians suffer sexual abuse and denial of services so therefore 3) women are loath to turn to men for help.
However, as bleak as the situation may seem, it is not entirely hopeless.
Entre Amigos has developed expertise in two points: 1) public policy, 2) non-clinical attention to HIV/AIDS. They work with gay men, sexual workers, people whose freedoms have been revoked, university students, people living with HIV/AIDS/TB, the "mobile community" of the displaced, the police force and the general population.
There are still lack of resources to train officials and create sexual diversity ideals and the lack of interest of the police to investigate hate crimes is a big road block. The NGO has, thanks to their limited funding, trained a group of policemen in pertinent issues. However, the disinterest of police chiefs deters those officers who are trained to help, even if they want to. Still, it is a neccessary and important progressive step.
Additionally, though LGBT issues are challenged politically by, for example, the Christian Democracy Party, legislation has been sponsored by the NGO resulting in May 17 being declared as the day against homophobia in El Salvador. Additionally, they've coordinated a "ministry agreement" against discrimination of LGBT in hospital services, and as of May 13th of 2010, sexual orientation or gender discrimination is a crime by Presidential mandate.
While Empre Amigos has had marked success, there is still much work to be done. Following the promulgation of the above Presidential mandate against gender discrimination, an upward surge of violence against transexual women in which the police were culpable, combined with a rash of anti-gay sermons, death threats and physical intimidation of NGO workers indicates a backlash against the progress of the human rights work in which Entre Amigos and others are engaged.
Representing the faculty, Professor John Adler introduced Mr. Hernandez - whose NGO, Entre Amigos, represents the rights of gay, lesbian and trans-gender people in El Salvador - likening his efforts to promote human rights to the American Civil Rights Movement and HUELGA.
Following the translator's lead, Professor Adler frankly noted U.S. complicity in the Salvadoran civil war of the 1980's, the divisiveness of which infects the country still. Current U.S. efforts to deal with Salvadoran gang violence in Los Angeles (MS 13 and the 18th Street Gang) has resulted in the gang members simply being deported to San Salvador. Adler noted how the ultra-violent gang initiations are often practiced against LGBT people. Finally, the Church's vociferous anti-gay stance and homophobic instructions to the populace result in law enforcement's apathy in protecting LGBT people from violence and bigotry - indeed, law enforcement is sometimes complicit in the attacks themselves.
The legacy of the civil war, the influence of the L.A.-based gangs and the opinion of the Church have created a "perfect storm" of hatred and homophobia. It is in this nexus that Mr. Hernandez, called a "hero", tries to defend the rights of LGBT people through his organization.
Entre Amigos is the result of joint efforts of activists in San Salvador and San Francisco. For the last 16 years it has operated under the threat and exercise of violence against their efforts. The organization has been raided seven times in the last five years and Mr. Hernandez' life has been threatened.
Entre Amigos focuses on the defense and promotion of human rights related to sexuality, including monitoring government actions and sponsoring legislation. They also focus on voluntary sex and sexual health education initiatives within the gay community.
The main objective is to contribute to the development of and improve the quality of life for LGBT people in El Salvador who suffer the constant abrogation of human rights. Last year 24 people were murdered because of sexual identity.
In El Salvador, said Hernandez, the concept of "hate crimes" does not really exist. He likened the murder/dissappearing of LGBT people to the "dissappearings" of the civil war period - rejecting and purging the unwanted. Law enforcement is also apathetic to LGBT needs and participates in the brutalization of the population.
Compounding the problem is the rampant self-hate of the population. LGBT people suffer ridicule when they turn to authorities for help. There is no record of violence against lesbians (while there is against men/trans women) but this is due to the fact that lesbians file no complaints because: 1) Men are the front-persons and 2) many lesbians suffer sexual abuse and denial of services so therefore 3) women are loath to turn to men for help.
However, as bleak as the situation may seem, it is not entirely hopeless.
Entre Amigos has developed expertise in two points: 1) public policy, 2) non-clinical attention to HIV/AIDS. They work with gay men, sexual workers, people whose freedoms have been revoked, university students, people living with HIV/AIDS/TB, the "mobile community" of the displaced, the police force and the general population.
There are still lack of resources to train officials and create sexual diversity ideals and the lack of interest of the police to investigate hate crimes is a big road block. The NGO has, thanks to their limited funding, trained a group of policemen in pertinent issues. However, the disinterest of police chiefs deters those officers who are trained to help, even if they want to. Still, it is a neccessary and important progressive step.
Additionally, though LGBT issues are challenged politically by, for example, the Christian Democracy Party, legislation has been sponsored by the NGO resulting in May 17 being declared as the day against homophobia in El Salvador. Additionally, they've coordinated a "ministry agreement" against discrimination of LGBT in hospital services, and as of May 13th of 2010, sexual orientation or gender discrimination is a crime by Presidential mandate.
While Empre Amigos has had marked success, there is still much work to be done. Following the promulgation of the above Presidential mandate against gender discrimination, an upward surge of violence against transexual women in which the police were culpable, combined with a rash of anti-gay sermons, death threats and physical intimidation of NGO workers indicates a backlash against the progress of the human rights work in which Entre Amigos and others are engaged.
Still, Mr. Hernandez remains dedicated to his work, explaining, "LGBT issues are not about marriage or adoption, it's about lives."
Accountability in Haiti
Hey ILSers!!
Thanks to everyone who came out last night to ILS's signature event "Accountability in Haiti," co-sponsored by Human Rights Advocates, Students for Law and Global Justice, Journal for Law and Global Justice, and USF Law's SBA!
The event went off without a hitch, beginning with an introduction by Julianne Cartwright Traylor from Human Rights Advocates. Next, Nicole Philips from the Institute for Justice and Democracy in Haiti (IJDH) introduced our keynote speaker, Brian Concannon, Jr., the executive director of IJDH. Brian spoke about the importance of accountability in haiti, and untangled the myth that "Haitians are better off now, after the earthquake, because of all the aid." He showed the comprehensive report IJDH wrote entitled "We Have Been Forgotten," which was co-written by our very own USF Law students!
After Brian's keynote address, Nicole moderated a panel with the USF Law students. Darya Larizadeh started us off with a discussion of the human rights violations in Haiti, namely the rights to food, water, shelter, and sanitation among others. She explained that not only Haiti's government but donor state governments need to be held accountable for these violations. Next, a vibrant Ben Lewis discussed the lack of accountability mechanisms for NGOs, IGOs, and CSOs. He suggested that even though their intentions are good, these organizations still need to be monitored in their distribution of aid and support.
Ryan Smith then talked about the forced evictions and land rights accountability. He explained the dire situation for the over 1.5 million Internally Displaced Peoples (IDPs) living in camps on private property, and the tension between the IDPs and the landowners. Last but not least, Elizabeth Leone shared her knowledge on gender based violence in the IDP camps, stressing that the lack of lighting, privacy, and security has led to multiple rapes that often go unreported, due to a lack of a justice-dealing mechanism.
After the students shared their experiences and knowledge, we opened the floor for a Q&A. Members of the audience were from all over, including private journalists, USF Masters students, other Haitian human rights activists, and USF Law students. When it was time to hand over room 100 to classes, we moved to the terrace room.
The night ended with a lovely reception in the terrace room, catered by Swankys. It was delicious! Everyone had a chance to ask any further questions, mingle, and generally enjoy the beautiful warm San Francisco Night. Overall, the event was a success!
If you missed this event, you can read the report here: http://ijdh.org/archives/14633. Hope to see you at the next one!
The Prague Blog
Kate Emminger
USF Study Abroad Program: Prague, Czech Republic
July 11 – August 2nd, 2010
The Prague Blog
Written by Kate Emminger
Tuesday, July 13th, 2010
"May I suggest the purchase of a fan?"
We arrived to Prague safely, and spent the first few days getting settled and recovering from the tourist frenzy of last week's travels. Prague is beautiful but HOT. Everyone says it's a heat wave, but since Sunday it's been two temperatures: hot and hotter. What's worse than the heat is the intense humidity – we sweat just sitting in class. Professor Talbot recommended the purchase of a fan, and we whole heartedly agree, but every store we visited was sold out. We finally found some this afternoon, and mine's been buzzing in my room ever since.
My first few classes here in Prague have been enjoyable. Every morning from 9am to 1pm I take two classes at the Charles University Faculty of Law. This session it's "International Law and Legal Ethics" with USF's Professor Tuft and "International Law in US Courts" with USF's Professor Brown. I'm looking forward to both as they are seemingly practical applications of International law. In Dublin I confirmed a suspected interest in international law; hopefully these classes will keep sending me down that path.
I'm having a hard time making sense of my first impressions of the Czech Republic; I feel as if I'm struggling to interpret local culture. Granted, I've only been here a few days – but it's infinitely different than Dublin and the States. I do know Prague seems to be a city that enjoys art for art's sake. When walking down the road, the buildings are ornate to the point of distraction. Statues, flowers, shapes, paintings and sculpture decorate the buildings that line the cobblestoned streets. The buildings are vividly colorful and well maintained. At times I feel I'm walking through a movie set. Rumor has it Walt Disney modeled Disneyland after Prague and, though unverified, it wouldn't surprise me.
This evening we went to Letna Gardens, which is atop the hill on the opposite side of the river. We climbed to the top and stood beneath another example of Prague's love of art - a giant metronome sculpture. The metronome stands where the biggest European statue of Joseph Stalin once stood. It was 90 feet tall and looked directly over the city, apparently as if "Uncle Joe was always watching over you to see whether or not you were a good communist". To some, the metronome represents the heartbeat of the city, but others say the metronome represents time ticking by – a symbol of the time lost to communism. There's certainly a macabre air here, though I'm having a hard time putting my finger on all the places I'm picking up that feeling. We wandered a bit through the park – the area around the metronome is now a skateboard park – and ended the night at a beergarden. Here, we learned our first (and perhaps most important) Czech word – pivo (beer).
Wednesday, July 14th, 2010
A Many Layered Celebration
Tonight we celebrated the 20th Anniversary of the study abroad collaboration of USF and Charles University. We all dressed up in semi-formal attire and were escorted to the Carolinum, which was the very first building of the University, founded in 1347. (Charles University was the first University in Central Europe and is the 15th oldest University in all of Europe). We'd been given little notice about this anniversary and weren't really sure what the ceremony was all about. When it began, I was surprised by the solemn tone. We were seated in the auditorium and an organ played as five men processed in – two Charles University deans, the faculty coordinator of International Programs at Charles University, the US Ambassador to the Czech Republic and USF's Dean, Jeffrey Brand. There was a surprising formality to the entire ceremony as the organ played both the Czech national anthem ("Where is my Country?") and the Star Spangled Banner. As I listened to the speeches of each diplomat, my quick-thinking skills deduced this program started the summer of 1990 – only one year after the fall of communism here. Suddenly I understood the formality of the ceremony and why the collaboration of USF and Charles University was so important. Charles University had literally just been liberated from communism, so I would imagine how eager, delighted and perhaps even honored it had been to host USF students. I can barely imagine life under communism - having my culture and choices dictated to me for 40 years. Similarly, I can't imagine the elation these people must have felt when they could finally claim back their own unique culture and reach out to the rest of the world to share. The ceremony ended and I thought to myself Bravo to the Czechs at Charles University for swiftly putting these cultural exchange programs in place and bravo to USF for seizing the opportunity.
Sunday, July 18th, 2010
Le Tour de Czech
I had been told of the fantastic biking conditions of the Czech Republic, but I wasn't sure if I'd have the time or resources to take advantage of them. Luckily one of my classmates, Ruben, is as avid a cyclist as I am. So this weekend we rented bikes, packed our bags and headed to the countryside for an overnight bike trip. We left Friday afternoon and cycled 40km to the little town of Chocerady. We spent the night there and on Saturday we got back on our bikes for the final 40 km to Kutna Hora. Besides the fact that our rented bikes were far from ideal, the entire experience was amazing. You get an unparalleled intimacy with the countryside when traveling by bicycle. Had I done this journey by car, I wouldn't have appreciated the cultural details of the Czech Republic outside of Prague. Just little things – like the signs posted at the entrance of every town – no matter how small – and the exact same sign crossed with three diagonal red lines indicating the town had ended. There were public water pumps in some towns so we would stop to pump them and drench ourselves, welcoming the cooling water. We rode up and down rolling hills, through fields of grain and corn, alongside rivers and into the sunset.
While riding in the dusk on Friday night, I had one of those moments that sears itself to the inside of your brain. It had been a long, hot ride on a difficult bike and we were about 2/3 of the way to Chocerady. We had been climbing a gradual yet painful incline when finally the road began to even out. An eventual descent began and we rode through the most beautiful country scene. To my right, there was tall graceful grass lining a field of wheat. The field was a gently rolling hill so that just beyond it, the sun appeared to fall off the edge of the world. The lighting from the sunset was soft and pink, with a few strands of cloud setting off purple and blue tones. To the left side of the field was a quaint farmhouse and I pictured a family inside enjoying the watercolored scene. To the left of the road were more rolling hills, patchworked and alternating lush green grass, amber waves of grain and furry bursts of trees. I glided down the hill, drank in the cool night air and felt thankful for the experience, my health and my travels.
We arrived in Chocerady around 11pm - a smidge later than planned. We had booked a hotel room but had a hard time finding it in the dark. Upon arrival, we had passed "Pension Jaro" ("Hotel Jaro"), which had a terrace bar where some locals were clearly having a good time. We abandoned our original reservation and stumbled into the closed lobby (they clearly didn't get many late night walk ins) to see if we could get a room for the night. A woman saw us and walked in from the terrace. She spoke only Czech but after a series of pantomines and iPhone translations our room was booked. She gave us a quick tour and luckily Ruben communicated with her well. I followed them both like a lost puppy. Several times she would show us something, Ruben would pantomime an English word in return and the lady would say "nonononononono". They would both smile and move on to the next location, leaving me utterly confused. It turns out the word for yes in Czech is "ano" – so she was saying "yesyesyesyesyes", but it sounded quite the opposite. We paid 700 crowns (about $35) for an enormous apartment room, dropped our stuff, locked our bikes and showered before joining the locals on the terrace for dancing and live music under the stars. After a few 10 crown beers (50 cents!) we went to bed.
The next afternoon we arrived in Kutna Hora and checked out beautiful St. Barbara's Cathedral. Before hopping the train back to Prague, we toured the Bone Church. This is a church decorated with over 40,000 human bones – femurs, skulls, hips, fingers, knees… you get it. It's quite the place - one part indicative of the underlying morbidity of the Czech culture and one part just weird (our local Czech friends agreed). The story goes that back in the day there was a graveyard surrounding the church. A dude traveled to Jerusalem and brought back a handful of soil from Jesus' crucifixion site and sprinkled it in the graveyard. Word got around about it and soon everyone wanted to be buried in this graveyard. Some years later, a plague broke out and the graveyard was so overwhelmed that they began piling the bodies outside the church. One 'creative gentleman' eventually used the piles of bones as decoration in the church and the rest is history. Literally every surface of the church is covered with either human bone sculptures or human bone garlands. The vibe in the church is dank and disturbing (surprising, I know) but fascinating nonetheless.
Wednesday, July 21st, 2010
"Hello fans of fun and adventure!"
Today our Czech hosts took us to the "the first and the only one bob-sleigh track in Prague". We took the subway out to Prosek and spent the afternoon at a beergarden and bobsled course. This was classically Czech to us for a few reasons. First, there was the ever presence of cheap pivo. In the states, a place that encouraged people to slide down steep metal tracks on plastic sleds at speeds of up to 58 mph would likely not be given a liquor license. In the Czech Republic? Of course there's beer! ... which leads me to the second reason it was a quintessential Czech experience. Here was this steep metal track wrought with danger – rumor had it a young girl had actually died on the track – yet there was not a single warning sign or release. Our Czech guide even told us they keep the ride open in winter when the track is icy. This lack of caution is typical of the Czech Republic. When we picnicked last week at Vysherod, the best view was just beyond the guardrail, so everyone hopped the guardrail and picnicked on that side. Similarly, we tried to attend an outdoor music festival but it was so jam packed with people on the sidewalk, you literally couldn't move. There were a few security guards, but otherwise no crowd control. We're not sure if this attitude comes from a culture where personal injury litigation has no weight, or if it's a remnant of the lack of customer service post communism. Either way it's such a strong cultural difference that it makes me wonder of Czechs impression of us when they visit the States. We must seem crazy fearful of danger and risk – which perhaps we are.
Friday July 23rd, 2010
"Don't ask why"
I'm finding myself constantly amazed by Czech art. From the architecture and sculpture to the glasswork and posters – such care and passion is taken in its creation. This afternoon we went to the Alfons Mucha museum, and last week we went to a Mucha exhibit at the Municipal House. Mucha was the father of art nouveau. His work is ornate and beautiful, and his goal was to connect with people through beauty. His fame began when he made posters for Sarah Bernhardt in Paris. He was instantly a sensation and went on to create many more posters but also champagne bottle labels, cracker tins, dishes, newspaper prints, paintings, stain glass windows and even the money for the first Czechoslovakia. Looking at his work, I was once again struck by the idea that this culture reveres art and beauty for its own sake but also for its political purpose. Mucha's last great work was the The Slavic Epic, a gigantic 20 piece installation painting depicting the history of the Slavs. He made it as a gift to his homeland. The 150th anniversary of Mucha's birth is this year. To celebrate, the current stamps are a reproduction of Mucha's work. Even this small piece of modern culture conveys a greater love of art – the postcard stamp is about 2 inches long so that it covers almost half the postcard address space. Beautiful? Yes. Practical? No.
Last week we also visited the Jan Saudek gallery near Old Town Square. Saudek is a Czech photographer and his work is incredibly beautiful, but very provocative. He often explores themes of sexuality, gender, body image, the passage of time, and age. While not overtly political, his work is raw and stimulating. When we first arrived in Prague, we were taught that the Czech Republic is made up of two sections – Bohemia and Moravia. To be completely honest, I never knew that Bohemia was an actual region of the world. I've associated the word "bohemian" with art, music, love and peacefulness – a la Moulin Rouge. Upon learning Bohemia is an actual place, I wondered how the cultural connection between the actual location and my American impression of the word came to be. The cultural reverence of art provided some evidence, but I recently read a section in my guidebook that confirmed it. It said that when you compare the Czech Republic with other Eastern European countries, the Czechs choose art as the method of communication and unification. The epitome of this was the fall of communism. In Poland, shipworkers rammed into communist ships and violently won their freedom. But the Czechs had a revolution so smooth and peaceful it's called the "Velvet Revolution". This name is descriptive in and of itself (and artfully beautiful), but the Czechs have unabashedly admitted it was inspired by the band the Velvet Revolver. So, while other countries resorted to violence, Bohemia (and Moravia) embraced peaceful means with art and music the preferred political expression. Another great example of this is the Lennon graffiti wall in the Mala Strana neighborhood of Prague. Here, some locals painted a wall with a large mural of John Lennon, whom they revered for his message of peace and love. Seeing it as a rebellion (and hating Lennon), the communists painted over it. But every time they painted over it, someone else would repaint Lennon's picture. Eventually the communists gave up and the graffiti wall dedicated to Lennon is still there today. There is also a TV tower in Prague that was built by the communists as a symbol of their power. It is the ugliest building for miles. But instead of knocking it down when the regime went out of power, the Czechs commissioned an artist to "claim it as their own". The artist decorated the tower with huge black crawling babies that look like ants when seen from far away. However, viewed close, you'll see the babies don't have faces. Instead the heads are smooshed into what looks like a vertical USB drive. I think the tower is my favorite example of modern Czech culture – the struggle of communism conquered by the love of art and an acknowledgment of its rebellious, political possibilities all the while draped with a the slightly morbid, creepy undertone.
Monday July 26th, 2010
Germans vs. Czechs (not like that…)
Another lovely weekend a la Praha. Saturday we had a relaxed day exploring Mala Strana and Prague Castle. We wandered by another fantastic example of Czech art – the "Piss Sculpture". The Piss Sculpture features two robotic sculptured men who are pissing into a pool in the shape of the Czech Republic. They spell out literary quotes with their pee, and you can text a message for them to spell out. Again – dark, humorous, political art.
On Sunday three of us hopped on the train and went to Dresden, Germany. It was exciting to add another country to this trip's list (7 and counting!), but it was also fascinating to compare German culture to Czech culture. The starkest contrast was that we found the Germans to be much friendlier than the Czechs are. Our experience with Czechs is that they are kind and caring, but very standoffish. For example, we spent an evening at a relatively empty bar last week. The bartender answered our chatty questions and made sure we had water before leaving but otherwise he left us alone. In Germany, a woman sold us our tickets for a bus tour and then asked us a multitude of questions about where we were from, what we were doing in Prague and how long we were going to be in Germany. The privacy of the Czechs isn't surprising – in the world of communism, if you said the wrong thing to the wrong person it could cost you dearly. This, logically, resulted in a stark division of personal and public life. The culture of communism also seems to have affected customer service in the Czech Republic. For example, when we visited the Saudek gallery, we overheard a conversation at the door of the exhibit that went like this:
Czech lady who worked at the gallery: I'm sorry we are closed.
American tourist: But it says you close at 7:00pm and its only 6:35pm.
Cz: It's a very big exhibit and I must close.
Am: please, I'll be quick.
Cz: no, it's a very big exhibit – come tomorrow.
Am: But I leave tomorrow morning, this is my last chance.
Cz: No, I sit here all afternoon and no one comes by. Then, I'm about to close and everyone want to come in. (She's referring to us – we came in at 6:15pm) Goodbye. (She then turns to us, as we are walking around the shop). I close now. I must catch my train. (We leave.)
There was not a drop of apology in this women's voice. At first I wasn't sure if it was an isolated experience, but a lack of customer service repeated itself over and over and over. We stopped at the Municipal House Theater one day to ask about purchasing tickets to "Carmen". I went to the box office to inquire. Upon doing so, the gentleman said to me was "Not Carmen here." but he looked at me with a mix of disgust and disdain as if to say "You imbecile, don't you know you are in the wrong place?". Turns out the ad was for the theater across the street. We also experienced this in restaurants. One time the waitress came over with her usual accordion cash wallet to have us pay the bill. We handed her the money and she said, "10 crown please". We look at her in confusion because we had given her plenty of money to pay the bill. The bill had amounted to 201 crowns, so we hand her a 1 crown coin, thinking she didn't want to make change and the language barrier was keeping us from understanding. "Is this ok?" we said as we handed it over. "No, it is not ok because I do not get tip. 10 crowns please." Granted, she was only asking for a 50 cent tip, but the brusque attitude was quite an affront to our ideals of customer service. We've spent a lot of time discussing why this is probably so and decided that, once again, it's probably a remnant from communism. Under communist rule, there is no possibility that if you work harder or do a better job, you get more. So everyone is sort of "on their own". Further, the shopkeepers actually had the power in the communist regime. Everyone had a ration but shopkeepers could really give you whatever they wanted. I'm sure they've come leaps and bounds since this time, but it's an attitude that still exists and results in quite a bit of culture shock for us Americans.
Anyways, Dresden was lovely. It's a town that was completely decimated after World War I and has mostly been built back up to its original splendor. We took a bus tour and learned the history of the city, sat in a beergarden eating pretzels overlooking the river and hopped the train back home in the evening. On the train back, we went to the café car to buy water and snacks. The total came to 45 crowns and I handed the man behind the counter a 50 crown bill. He looked at me straight, pointed to my hands, and said "No. 45 crowns". He wanted my coins so as to avoid giving me change. I gave in, and as we walked away I turned to my friend and said "Well, we must be back in the Czech Republic."
Sunday August 1st, 2010
Nascledano, Praha
My time here in Prague has finished and I can't believe this adventure is ending. I'm sad to see it end, but looking forward to the comforts of home. My last few days in Prague were filled with studying, finals and last minute sightseeing. It amazes me how much there is to do in this country and in this city. I can walk down the same street ten times and on the eleventh time I will see something I had never noticed before. And I've mainly been in Zone 1 – Prague has over 14 Zones.
On Thursday night we all went out for a traditional Czech dinner. I ordered smazeny syr (a traditional fried cheese dish), one friend had goulash with bread dumplings and another had pork knee served to him skewered on a stick. I've gotten used to Czech cuisine, but as a semi-vegetarian, I've eaten so much cheese here I think it's become part of my DNA. Dinner was lovely and we spent some time laughing about the many cultural mishaps we've had here. My favorite stories have to do with Czech language confusion. Initially, one friend had the impression that the Czechs were very big on manners. She explained that every time a waiter brought something to her they would say Prosim. Prosim means "You're welcome" so she assumed the server was being sassy, insinuating she should have said thank you. It turns out Prosim is sort of a multi-purpose word. It can mean "you're welcome" or "please" or "if you please" or "excuse me". So the waiters weren't being sassy about her lack of manners, but rather were showing their own manners by saying "if you please" when they served her. We all laughed about our ethnocentrism… Another friend kept seeing the word "Herna" in neon lights at bars. He translated it and found out that the word means literally "a drowned man" and was the name of a sausage dish. We assumed the dish was so popular bars advertised it everywhere. We later found out it really meant "gambling", which makes a lot more sense.
I'm sad to leave Prague, but I have to say I never felt entirely at home here. Don't get me wrong, I loved my time here and Czech culture fascinates me ... but it didn't sit with my soul as much as other places have. Perhaps it's the language barrier preventing me from feeling at home. Or perhaps it's the underlying morbid tone that I don't jive with. (More examples: the other day we ate at an executioner themed restaurant and every hour the astronomical clock goes off as the figure of "death" rings the bell reminding us all of its omnipresence.) Perhaps it's that my humor – which is how I usually relate to people - doesn't really translate. Or perhaps it's that the private nature of the people made me feel I was always bothering someone. I'm sure I would feel differently if I had stayed for a longer time and truly assimilated – there's actually a large expat community here - but I can't say I immediately felt at ease.
These past 7 weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions, but it amazes me of how many things translate from country to country. In every new place I've been, I've drank coffee, bicycled, flirted, celebrated beer, got lost in translation. Each new location brings a new culture but the same humanity and the same basic desires – to have some liberties, to make a living, to learn, to grow, to feel safe.
I listened to a "Radiolab" podcast the other day that surveyed people asking if war would ever end. 9 out of 10 said we would always fight each other like animals and war would never end. I've always been sentimentally optimistic, so I can't say I ever would have been part of that 9. But being here, I keep thinking of the massive strides the global community has made in the past 50 years recognizing and codifying human rights. So if human rights really are universal and intrinsic to our human dignity, then every culture will continue to struggle for the same basic rights. And as that happens and as our world continues to shrink, I can't help but think that the global community will be able to join together to enforce these basic human rights, no matter where a violation occurs.
I know that sounds hugely Polly Anna of me. But I don't think it's far fetched. And, I do think there are people in every culture who would agree with me. Because while the idea of a "Polly Anna" doesn't necessarily translate - the feeling of hope certainly does.
Last Week in Cambodia
It's hard to believe so much time has passed by since arriving in this country! Experiences thus far have included:
1. Seeing Phnom Penh + Silver Pagoda's infamous diamond, emerald, gold, stone and million other Buddha statues
2. Learning about the Cambodian legal system (or what seems to be the Cambodian legal system)
3. Working at IOM (which, I might add, is a POWERHOUSE in the international NGO community)
4. Visiting the provinces (Sihanoukville, Siem Reap, Battambang)
5. Observing "the largest religious monument in the world"
6. Riding on the back of a motorbike in absolutely crazy traffic
7. Having my wallet stolen out of my purse
8. Being towed out of the mud by a dinky fishing boat that had a dying motor and a small hole filling it with water
9. Attending a totally Khmai-speaking Christian church
10. Singing old R&B songs like "Slow Jam" by Monica + Usher with my 3 American classmates (all girls) and one Khmer taxi driver (male)
11. Eating dog at a North Korean restaurant
12. Dancing on stage at the US Embassy's 4th of July party
13. Haggling over $1.00 for $3.00 scarves at the Russian Market
14. Visiting a prison and interviewing Cambodian juvenile offenders
15. $8 1-hr massages (in the hugest pair of PJs I've ever seen in my life!)
It's been an amazing and dreadful, uplifting and heartbreaking, crazy and down-to-earth adventure. Thanks for the memories and thanks for this world-changing opportunity. I definitely encourage all Americans to come out to Cambodia at least once and experience life from a different perspective.
P.S. JAMAL! What ARE you talking about in your last post? Too smart for your own good, sir, too smart!
1. Seeing Phnom Penh + Silver Pagoda's infamous diamond, emerald, gold, stone and million other Buddha statues
2. Learning about the Cambodian legal system (or what seems to be the Cambodian legal system)
3. Working at IOM (which, I might add, is a POWERHOUSE in the international NGO community)
4. Visiting the provinces (Sihanoukville, Siem Reap, Battambang)
5. Observing "the largest religious monument in the world"
6. Riding on the back of a motorbike in absolutely crazy traffic
7. Having my wallet stolen out of my purse
8. Being towed out of the mud by a dinky fishing boat that had a dying motor and a small hole filling it with water
9. Attending a totally Khmai-speaking Christian church
10. Singing old R&B songs like "Slow Jam" by Monica + Usher with my 3 American classmates (all girls) and one Khmer taxi driver (male)
11. Eating dog at a North Korean restaurant
12. Dancing on stage at the US Embassy's 4th of July party
13. Haggling over $1.00 for $3.00 scarves at the Russian Market
14. Visiting a prison and interviewing Cambodian juvenile offenders
15. $8 1-hr massages (in the hugest pair of PJs I've ever seen in my life!)
It's been an amazing and dreadful, uplifting and heartbreaking, crazy and down-to-earth adventure. Thanks for the memories and thanks for this world-changing opportunity. I definitely encourage all Americans to come out to Cambodia at least once and experience life from a different perspective.
P.S. JAMAL! What ARE you talking about in your last post? Too smart for your own good, sir, too smart!
The Pace of Change
Dear Dean Brand,
History proves (if it proves anything) that hastily drawn plans or quick, zealous prosecution of even the most articulate plans leads to naught but disaster. Please see, The Great Leap Forward, the Patriot Act and The Producers - though not the producers of The Producers.
Of all our living Presidents, I think my favorite by far is President Bartlet. Of what genius was that man possessed what imbued such empirical wisdom though he served only seven years in the West Wing. To paraphrase our greatest living President, all positive change happens only slowly.
Indeed as I sat swatting flies at the Extraordinary Chambers a few weeks ago, awaiting the signature of a judge to grant me top secret access to the case files - and therefore validate my existence - I had ample time (five hours in fact) to contemplate those words.
History proves (if it proves anything) that hastily drawn plans or quick, zealous prosecution of even the most articulate plans leads to naught but disaster. Please see, The Great Leap Forward, the Patriot Act and The Producers - though not the producers of The Producers.
Many weeks ago now I was asked by some guy who claimed to be a Dean of a law school what I thought to be the crime of the Khmer Rouge. I didn't have a cogent answer then....and don't have one now, but perhaps an attempt can be made. In fact, I find the individual crimes committed by the CPK cadres to be of nothing but the most mundane kind.
Murder, torture, rape, slavery, and humiliation are but typical expedient brutalities - the too-oft sought refuges of Mankind's imaginations.
Even if we are to compile those small acts into larger transgressions of a general morality, turning them into, say, something we might call genocide or crimes against humanity, we are amply supplied of heroes and demons who prove the supposedly exceptional to be anything but.
That our most celebrated forebears - Scipio, Alexander, Elizabeth, Peter, Karl, etc. - are for their parts guilty of sanctioning murder, torture, forced marriage, and slavery; that men are yet boiled alive and suffer other horrors in obscure political corners; that the efficacy of torture is today debated within even humanity's most enlightened, and law-abiding societies is that irascible stain upon Mankind's hand which renders our greenest histories red.
If then, the individualizing title, "The Crime of the Khmer Rouge" cannot be supported by even widespread and state-sanctioned terror, what can it be supported by, if anything?
It is my ironically ill-contemplated belief that the one thing that best creates a crime deservedly preceded by the agnominal "the" is the abandonment of a patient civil society in favor of unthinkingly zealous pursuits of machinations based on arbitrariness, cliquishness, and invented revenge.
If such a thing sounds undramatic, you're right. But often the most innocuous sounding phraseology has marked the most terrible of crimes: Xeres' "discovery of Peru", Stalin's abhorrence of "silk gloves" and that phrase which now belongs to the ages, "Arbeit macht frei." I would argue similarly, that the crimes which these phrases denote are made salient not because of murder and mayhem of whatever scale, but because they mark points where men otherwise of conscience and dignity made the innocuous turn to expedient machinations predicated upon irrational notions - the antitheses of the patience of civilization.
In this way, they are properly discussed as extraordinary examples of crimes "contre la société civile."
Ignoring the basic begged question of what Justice is (and, of course, the question of whether it is possible to find), the smaller yet equally natural proceeding question is what type of justice the Extraordinary Chambers will mete to counter these extraordinary crimes.
That justice is, I think, the creation of a legal apparatus in total opposition to that of Democratic Kampuchea. It is the insistence on due process; the requirements of evidence; the preservation of the fundamental rights of the accused to face his accusers and the evidence before him. It is the time taken to ensure these things hold true in the face of the pressing desire for action and result.
In short, it is the creation and preservation of those things upon which men and women can rely to mount rational defenses against the anti-social.
To borrow from and add to a statement of that man who claimed to be the Dean of a law school: It is the salvation of humaneness, humanity and, civilization.
The Court must, therefore, eschew to the largest extent possible the characteristics which mark the opposite and most especially therefore, that thing which informs it: haste.
Gotta run,
-J
Contemplating my Own Death, Hopefully Death by Steak (7/5 - 7/11)
It was another short week in the office as everything was closed on July 9 for Argentina’s equivalent of July 4th (the 5 extra days must have been lost somehow, due to the metric system perhaps). The shortened work week has meant that between the world cup and national holidays there has been 3 days the office has been closed in my 4 week placement here. I’m going to miss this when I go back to the US. To celebrate the short week, Jersey, Geoff and I went to a reputable Parilla in Palermo called La Cabrera. We went early to try to beat the crowd (arriving at 9pm) but there was still a wait. I attribute it to the large amount of English (people of England) tourists there eating way earlier than the Argentines normally do. We had some fantastic steak and wine that came with about 2 dozen traditional small plates sides somewhat reminiscent of going to a Korean barbeque place. After gorging ourselves for a few hours we returned to the apartment with the intent of taking a short nap then going out after 2am but I quickly succumbed to my food coma with no chance of resuscitation.
We slept in the next morning to enjoy our day off work and then the three of us walked down to the Congresso Nacional. It was very cool to see the building that houses the national legislature. It was apparently modeled after the US Capitol, however it had a somewhat more European flair that I would describe as somewhat more French and Baroque. However, I study law, not architecture so I’m not quite certain how accurate of a description that really is. After being impressed by the building (the dome of the US Capitol is better...I’m just saying....) we sat in a café and watched the world pass us by for a while. Although it seemed somewhat appropriate to visit the Congresso Nacional on Argentina’s independence day, we were apparently some of the only ones who thought so as the whole area was practically empty by Buenos Aires standards. There was even a small protest going on about the pollution in the river that even seemed minuscule. I guess even protesters were taking a holiday, but their brass band did play some impressive soccer songs.
Saturday morning, Jersey and I got an early start and ventured up to Recoleta Cemetery, where the rich and famous of Buenos Aires pay a pretty penny to spend the rest of eternity having their final resting place photographed by tourists. The narrow avenues were jammed packed with mausoleums of all kinds. Some were hundreds of years old and in disrepair, some extremely modern and built within the past few years. All were grandiose and extravagant, even the ones that were considered relatively modest by the cemetery standards. (One of the modest ones housed the body of Evita Peron.) Most of the mausoleums had windows or glass doors so you could look inside and see the coffins housed within. Some held just one, others had several stacked on top of each other and staircases leading down to lower levels which I assumed only contained more. All of this got me thinking about what kind of mausoleum I’d want if money was no object. I settled on just paying a famous designer/architect a ton of money to do something different/crazy. It could be awesome or it could come out ugly, but either way I won’t be the one who has to look at the thing so I figure "go big or go home."
After the cemetery we grabbed a lunch consisting of some excellent empanadas and then walked through the artesian market nearby picking up some wares from local artists to take home as gifts. We then took a million pictures by the Flor Generica. This is a huge silvery statue of a flower that reacts to the energy of the sun, opening in the morning, following it as it moves across the sky during the day, and then closing at night, just like a real flower. Then we checked out the Museo de Bellas Artes, a free fine art museum that housed Argentine and European masterpieces of all kinds. It made me long for more free Museums back home in SF!
On Sunday we planned to watch the World Cup Finals at home, but our cable AND internet went out literally as they were singing the national anthems. Knowing that there would be no one working to fix it due to it being Sunday AND the game being on, we were forced to watch the game at a nearby restaurant. That night Jersey and I returned to a great Parilla called La Brigada for steaks and Malbec. I’m REALLY going to miss the steak.
A Wee Blog by Katie O’Emminger
KATE EMMINGER, IRELAND
USF Study Abroad Program: Dublin, Ireland
June 13th – July 3rd, 2010
Saturday June 12, 2010
"A La Huie?"
Arrival very early this morning in Dublin after a red eye from Chicago post my San Francisco departure . . . Wandered off the airport shuttle with only a vague sense of where I needed to go. In a fit of "new arrival" stubbornness, I refused to ask anyone for help or directions. However, the luck of the Irish was already upon me as I stumbled in front of my hostel after walking straight for five minutes. I've decided to avoid the expensive campus housing for this leg of the trip, so I checked into the hostel that will be my home base for these three weeks. Everything seems fine there - free breakfast, free wi-fi, and literally two blocks from Trinity College, where class is held. I've some concerns about the close sleeping quarters – I share my room every night with 5 other girls, but I figure I can always change my mind mid-visit. I dropped off my luggage and ran out to explore, feeling exuberant about my new surroundings. I held my own for quite awhile; I started at the elegant cobblestoned entrance of Trinity, wandering through the the commerce of Grafton street and sat in the peaceful aged shade of St. Stephen's Green. Sadly, jet lag quickly took over and no americano could fight it off... Off to bed at 6:00pm. The 5 roomies were fine, though I did overhear some French girls enter the room to get ready to out to a pub. They whispered as they changed, but I heard them say in shock "a huit??" (translation: at 8:oo??) . . . how do you say "jet lag" in French?
Monday June 14, 2010
Flakey, Potted Salmon
The rest of the weekend passed pleasantly. I jogged along the quays of the River Liffey to The Phoenix Park, completed my first class's reading in Merrion Square and met up with my new classmates for some 'welcome drinks' at the Dakota. This morning class began. I'm taking "International Human Rights Law" with USF's Professor Leighton. Later next week, I'll take a one credit course on the "European Convention on Human Rights" with Trinity's lecturer, Dr. Ryan. I'm enthusiastic about this coursework, but we started class this morning with a rather convoluted chart of the United Nations. It made me wonder about how much I had to wrap my head around in only three week's time.
After class, I ventured back towards Grafton Street and sat myself at Avoca café to eat lunch and do my reading. I ordered a dish off the menu described as "flakey, potted salmon". Visions of pot pie swam in my head and hunger pangs floated through my stomach. The meal arrived - a glass jar of salmon salad, greens and brown bread. I had a vibrant feeling of culture shock, wondering "how do I eat this?". I slathered the salmon salad on the brown bread (the Irish love mayo) and wondered if people were watching me eat and laughing at my methodology.
Later in the day we took a walking tour of Trinity College, which is rich with history. History usually doesn't pique my interest, but something about walking among these majestic buildings, feeling the cobblestones through my keds makes me appreciate the age of the buildings as well as Ireland's vivid recent history. Our colorful tour guide stopped the tour in front of a George Salmon's bust on the main college green. Salmon was the provost of Trinity in the early 1900s, when the college didn't admit women. Salmon declared that "over his dead body would women would walk through the front gates of Trinity." The college board overruled him and admitted women in 1904. Salmon died a few weeks later. His grave is at Trinity. Our tour guide encouraged us (a mostly female group) to walk over his grave on the way to class. The Irish, I'm finding, have a great sense of humor.
Wednesday June 16th, 2010
The Right to Self-Determination
This morning in class we discussed the right of self determination. This right is one of the few codified in both the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, as well as the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights. As an American today, I don't often consider my human right to the government of my choice. However, the discussion was particularly powerful set against the backdrop of the Irish rebellion of 1916. Less than 100 years ago, men and women fought and died for the right to govern Ireland free of Britain's rule. Yesterday I walked by the Post Office building where the 16 revolutionary leaders read a proclamation to the Irish people about the Irish right to be free from England's reign. This rebellion sadly failed and 7 of the 16 were executed by the British as punishment for the uprising. As I considered whether ruling ones' own people should be a right recognized by all governments, I was struck by the youth of the country I'm visiting and their long struggle to seize this right.
Professor Leighton guided our class discussion about the difference between human rights and civil rights – human rights being those that we are entitled to out of our human dignity and civil rights being the ones our government decides to give us. The right to self determination, now so universally recognized, had to evolve into a civil right. But as Ireland illustrated, the right always existed as a human right – which is why centuries of people have risen against oppressive governments and demanded the right to rule their own peoples. It reminded me of the evolution of other rights in our country and how painful a struggle it can be for the oppressed. Consider the history of slavery, voting and segregation. Each resulted in a codified right because we, as a human race, kept striking out against the government - seizing the right over and over and over. Now, as our country watches the struggle for the right to marry and the struggle for the right to health, it's striking how human dignity does demand certain rights. Humans will continue to press on until those rights are recognized and properly handled by our government. The fight seems neverending, but studying the evolution of these rights is encouraging. Too often human rights activists don't actually witness the result of their painstaking efforts. But, thanks to the human rights activists of the past, we can enjoy the rights we have established - even if we are still struggling for more.
Friday, June 25th
Skeletons in The Car
This morning on my way to class, I passed by a parked van with a full size skeleton in the passenger seat. I laughed and, for the enth time, appreciated that the Irish sense of humor is prominent and robust. In my (albeit) limited experience, I find the Irish don't take much seriously for long; I love that. The man who works the front desk of my hostel will be muttering to himself one minute and cracking jokes with a guest the second. Often people approach us and ask, in a thick Irish accent, "Are you from the States?" "Yes," we reply. "Where in the States?" "California", we tell them - to which they reply heartily, "Me too!!". At first the line struck us as cheesy and fake but as we heard it over and over, we realized its simply an example of the Irish humor and tendency for tall tales. It brings to mind one of my favorite cultural clashes thus far. One day at a pub I began talking to a gentleman and complimented his pink collared shirt. He thanked me and continued to say, "It's funny, 5 of us arrived to work today wearing pink shirts, and we don't usually wear shirts to work." I gave him a puzzled look, wondering what exactly he did for a living that he wouldn't wear a shirt at work. After a roundabout of questions, we determined that in Ireland 'shirt' meant 'collared shirt', as opposed to 't-shirt'. When we finally figured it out, he got a disgusted look on his face (but a sparkle in his eye) and declared "What were you picturing us with hot oil and all?"
Sunday June 27th
The Vegas of Ireland / Silly Americans!
This weekend was an eventful one. On Friday we hopped a train to the Western Coastal town of Galway. We expected a getaway to a quiet, quaint fishing town. But Galway, as it turns out, is a huge Irish destination for Hen and Stag parties (aka Bachelorette and Bachelor parties). Not only were there three hen parties in our cabin on the train, but everyone we met that weekend seemed to be celebrating someone's wedding. The groups spanned every age group and included friends, bridesmaids, mothers, and even relative strangers. Costume themes were common and the best one we saw was a group of female sailors.
Despite the celebratory mood, it was easy to tell that the rest of Ireland is very different than Dublin. Dublin is cosmopolitan and (around Trinity at least), tourists are almost more common than locals. The Irish we met in Galway were incredibly friendly and quick witted. I told one gentleman that we came to Galway expecting a 'sleepy sleepy town' and he said 'no, galway is wakey, wakey." We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast and it was everything I stereotyped it to be. From the key that looked like it opened a secret garden to the owner, Joan, who clucked about us like a mother hen, it was perfection. On Saturday we took a day trip to the Cliffs of Moher, which took my breath away. People have been flocking to them for hundreds of years and once again I was struck by the rich history of this land. Our bus driver sang us a traditional Irish song and we took pictures of the beautiful countryside. We even passed a golf course that was covered with more sheep than sand pits - the golfers didn't seem to mind.
We came back Sunday morning and joined up with the group for a Gaelic football game. Gaelic football is closest to soccer, but really not like it at all. The players play with a soccer ball, but they are allowed to use their hands and pick up the ball to run. Similar to basketball, they can't run more than 5 steps without either dribbling it or kicking it off their foot. The goals look like field goals from American football, with the bottom part covered by a soccer goal net. Kicking a ball in the top part of the field goal results in 1 point and kicking it into the "soccer goal net" results in 2 points. As we sat watching in wonder and confusion, asking the most basic questions, the locals around us were actually pretty tolerant. I was reminded of a trip to Spain during high school when we went to a bull fight. A classmate started crying upon the death of the bull and the old Spanish man behind her pointed and laughed. Gaelic football wasn't nearly as brutal, but it did incite the pride and enthusiasm of the packed stadium, which was the size of any standard professional sports arena. We later found out that all the players in the league played as a hobby. They weren't paid, had separate full time jobs, and the entire stadium and league was funded out of private donations. Once again, I was reminded of the strong Irish identity and appreciated the rights of the culture.
Tuesday June 29th
Not like Lucky Charms?
This week is marked by a frantic need to coalesce all the information we've covered in class the last two weeks. The topics are fascinating and we're covering a lot of ground, but class is two hours every morning, and now two hours in the afternoon as my second class has begun. Add in nightly reading and it doesn't leave a lot of time to synthesize information. This week during the gap of time between my morning and afternoon class, my study group meets to outline at a local café or pub. Today we gathered at The Lombard, which is right across from the campus dorms at Trinity. The Lombard is a stereotypical Irish pub where you can truly tell the culture here revolves around these locations. In any moment, you can find patrons sitting at the bar, friends huddled around tables watching the World Cup, couples and families out for a meal and foreign students studying while taking advantage of the free wireless. In the States, The Lombard would be broken into four distinct businesses – a pub/dive bar, a sports bar, a restaurant and an internet café. The location makes a great meeting place and no one seems to mind if we sit there for hours, studying and enjoying a Bulmers, Smithwicks and/or Guinness.
This afternoon we rewarded our studious-ness with a trip to the National Leprechaun Museum. Yes, you read that correctly, the National Leprechaun Museum. Tourists and locals alike snicker when you mention it, but we thought it sounded like a fun experience – and it was. The museum was really a tribute to the heritage of storytelling and the preservation of Irish folktales. Our first tour guide bantered jovially and thanked us, as Americans, for babysitting the leprechaun. He explained that during the Great Hunger (the politically correct name for the Potato Famine), thousands of Irish immigrated to the United States. Being lovers of tall tales, the Irish would then tell tales of the leprechauns of Ireland, and soon the legend was stronger in the States than in Ireland itself. Case in point – as he said – is that "You Americans do St. Patty's Day wayyyyyy better than we do." He did say though that the story was a bit warped in the States. He went on to explain that we all think of leprechauns as little fellows, wearing green, with a green buckled top hat, red hair, big shoes, and a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. "Nope." He said. "That's wrong. That's the Lucky Charms mascot." We all laughed as he pointed to the box of cereal behind glass. He went on to explain that leprechauns were actually red capped shoemakers and could be found throughout the world in various folk stories and legends. We explored the rest of the museum – which was less gallery and more experiential – and posed on giant chairs with huge teacups that made us feel like wee leprechauns ourselves. At the end of the museum, we were deposited into a coffee and gift shop, which featured one of the highlights of our visit – a storyteller. The gentleman there offered to tell us a story and we allowed him his choice. The five of us sat there for twenty minutes in awe of the Irish folk tale he told. True storytelling is a valuable and fascinating skill.
Saturday July 3rd
Final Day in Dublin :o(
Our program in Dublin officially ended today, as we took our finals and said our goodbyes. I'm surprised to say that I'm really sad to leave Ireland. I didn't expect to like it here – I decided to attend this program because I needed the credits from USF and am interested in international law. Initially, I was disappointed at the lack of culture shock – Dublin is a very westernized city, and I'd hoped for exoticism and intrigue. But the real Ireland snuck up on me and I truly loved my time here. For the first time in my life, I've appreciated history; Ireland is rich with ancient and recent history. It's a land where you can trip over cobblestones and look up to a 16 floor state of the art building – each floor commemorating a leader of the revolution. You can tour the excavated walls underneath stately Dublin Castle and minutes later you can enjoy the commercial bustle of Grafton Street, listening to Jason Mraz played on a traditional flute by a street performer. The friendliness, sharp wit and quick laughter resonated with me in a way that makes me appreciate my Irish heritage. Truly the Emerald Isle is a land of joy and beauty.
Tonight I'm off to Athens, where I'll meet my best friend from high school who now lives in Israel. We'll spend a night enjoying the culture of Athens and then it's off to the beachy island of Santorini. I'll stop in Rome for two nights before heading to Prague for the second part of our program and two more classes on International Law. I'm hoping these locations will give me the exoticism that I initially craved in Dublin. But, post-Dublin, I understand that delight and fascination can be found even among the familiar.
Invading Maradona's Bedroom and President Kirchner's Office (6/20-7/4)
It was back to the grindstone as we started our first full week of work. I spent a lot of time this past week translating documents and working on research for one of the partners while I was in the office. The translating starts out slow but gets easier each time. I try to treat it a little like homework and I’m fairly certain is doing wonders to improve my Spanish. The research project I’m on can be trying at times as I’ve found that some of the issues I need to address are actually very rooted in accounting in addition to the strictly legal issues. However, I’ve been on the right track most of the week when I’ve had time to research and am hoping to compile most of what I have in a memo I can hand in on Monday to get some feedback.
On Friday, Jersey’s firm (Claria Trevisan) invited me to join Jersey in attending a lecture on sports law being held at the AFA (Argentine Futbol Association) training facility. Essentially it’s a giant complex outside the city where the national team lives and trains for weeks at a time leading up to major tournaments and matches. It became evident that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity as most Argentineans would give almost anything to step foot inside the place which, as a general rule, is closed to the public. I got to leave my firm a little early on Friday to make the trek out. In the modern and sleek facility we got to sit in the hall generally used for press conferences and hear about the AFA’s efforts to provide programs for disadvantaged kids. We were then given a tour of the facility which was probably the most exciting part of the afternoon. We got to see the gym, locker room, pools, physical therapy area, dining facilities, and living quarters. The highlight for me was definitely getting to go into Maradona’s room. It was a little surreal and it was great to see what he kept on his nightstand: 4 remote controls (but there was only 1 TV and no DVD player or stereo), a bottle of cologne, and a pack of Marlboro reds. We also got to see the whiteboards on the walls that still had their tentative starting lineup drawn on it left from before they departed for South Africa. We then got to sit through a lecture/Q&A regarding the FIFA rules and procedures for setting up matches. It was really fascinating to hear about all the prep work that gets done in and the planning that is sometimes done down to determining at exactly at what second teams will exit the tunnels, shake hands, etc. There were a lot of heated questions from the intimate audience of only 2-3 dozen people, especially regarding uniform colors, doping policies, and what sanctions should be brought against Mexico for their complaining about an Argentina goal by an offside player that had (wrongfully) been allowed in the last World Cup match. After returning to the city Jersey and I shared a huge Milanesa which is essentially a giant ham pizza, only the crust is replaced by a pounded thin chicken fried steak. God I love this country.
Saturday became a very somber day as Argentina was dismantled by Germany 0-4 in the World Cup, leading to their elimination. Rather than mope about not having a joyous riot in the streets to join Jersey and I took advantage of the free schedule to do a little sightseeing. We walked down to the Plaza de Mayo which is now most famous for the weekly protests there by the mothers/grandmothers of the victims of the “desaparecidos” (the people who were disappeared by the ruling junta during the Dirty War). We also made our way to the Casa Rosada, home of the executive offices of the federal government, including the president. When we got there we expected it to be like the White House where you can really just stand behind a fence and take pictures unless you have a congressman do some special arrangements for you. However as we got closer we found we could walk through the gate, then through the front door, then go on a free guided tour, then go into the president’s office to take pictures. Alas, Madame President Kirchner was not there at the time but it was pretty cool to just show up and have so much access.
On Sunday Jersey and I checked out San Telmo, the oldest barrio in the city. It was market day so one of the main streets running through it was closed off to traffic and was wall to wall people, vendors, and street performers (from your standard people dressed up crazy charging for pictures to entire 8 piece tango bands that had even dragged a piano out onto the street). So far it has been my favorite neighborhood as the cobblestone streets and old buildings gave it a much more charming old world feel. It was a nice change from the modern hustle and bustle of the city center where we are staying. We capped off our afternoon with a late lunch at a parilla called La Brigada where we had huge steaks that were cooked to absolute perfection. What better way to celebrate the 4th of July outside of the US than an decadent portion of red meat and garlic fries. I will definitely make it a point to gorge myself on as much steak as possible in our remaining two weeks as I think it will be the thing I’m going to miss the most.
Kevin LaPorte (not Sara Stillwell)
Dear Dean Brand,
I'm sitting here shirtless at the International Organization for Migration offices in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I was caught in an epic monsoon of biblical proportions while motorbiking to work today. I've got a towel wrapped around my waist, boxers underneath just in case, and the rest of my clothes drying on exposed piping in the bathroom. Now here I am, wondering how it came to this.
The security briefing at the UNDP did not tell me what to do in this situation. Which is not shocking, since the UN is also frightfully unaware of the recent epidemic of motorcycle gangs infiltrating the city comprised entirely of legal interns working for NGO's.
The ride home will be interesting...
Kevin LaPorte
Member, Room 305 + Paige moto-gang
I'm sitting here shirtless at the International Organization for Migration offices in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I was caught in an epic monsoon of biblical proportions while motorbiking to work today. I've got a towel wrapped around my waist, boxers underneath just in case, and the rest of my clothes drying on exposed piping in the bathroom. Now here I am, wondering how it came to this.
The security briefing at the UNDP did not tell me what to do in this situation. Which is not shocking, since the UN is also frightfully unaware of the recent epidemic of motorcycle gangs infiltrating the city comprised entirely of legal interns working for NGO's.
The ride home will be interesting...
Kevin LaPorte
Member, Room 305 + Paige moto-gang
Lavish Buses, Giant Inflatable Soccer Coaches, Mystery Illnesses and Actually Working (June 19-27)
It has been quite a busy week full of some major changes. On June 20 (Saturday) we spent our last day in Cordoba. This mostly involved packing up from our hostel and buying a replica Maradona jersey in local market area near Plaza San Martin. We then had a last meal of lomitos which I am now obsessed with. Essentially they are a sandwich that has a pounded thin piece of steak, with some lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise (usually house made or at least distinct at each place that makes it), and sometimes a fried egg. They are unbelievable and I am absolutely positive if a store that served them opened up near any college campus they would be full all the time. I’m going to file this one under “My Million Dollar Ideas.” They’re classier and tastier than a hamburger, but just as cheap and satisfying. They also great with fries. That night we caught the overnight bus to Buenos Aires, which was actually nicer than most planes I have been on. We had seats that laid all the way back to make beds (Geoff and I were an inch or two too tall to get the full effect). I got about the best sleep I’ve ever gotten on a bus or plane (still not great though). Interestingly enough most of the other passengers around me seemed to be part of a high school rhythmic gymnastics team so there were an inordinate amount of hula-hoops shoved into the baggage areas. There was also a “stewardess” (I guess that’s what you would call here) that served us a meal (somehow worse than airplane food) but the fact that there was meal service impressed me. They even came around after food to offer coffee, caramels and whiskey (there was also a movie). After hearing some stories from other students about bus rides while abroad and having taken long bus rides in Peru, I was amazed at how nice of a ride it was. We took the overnight bus because we were advised that there was literally nothing between Cordoba and Buenos Aires. The description proved to be dead on accurate from what I saw.
We pulled into the city just as the sun started coming up. We hopped in cabs and Professor Adler met us at our apartment which is very nice and probably more spacious than we need for the three of us. It is located right in the Centro almost equidistant from the law firms we will be interning at. We all immediately tried to nap to make up for the half sleep we all got on the bus. After a few hours of that we all got up and walked around some of the pedestrian shopping avenues (LaValle and Florida) in our neighborhood. These avenues were great chance to view the eclectic mix of architecture in the city. Zoning laws seem to be non-existent and old Parisian style buildings stand next to sleek modern stores and office, which stand next to ugly and decaying buildings from the 70’s. We stopped in a few stores and bought some things to supplement the limited supply of work clothes we had brought with us from the states. That night we joined Professor Adler and his wife at a nice little restaurant that was also a book store. We had great food, including probably the rarest steak I’ve ever eaten. Apparently my concern for them overcooking for tourists wasn’t as justified as I thought and next time I can order it a little more cooked than “azul.” Along with dinner was a live performance by a singer who sang songs from all over the word. He was an incredibly talented guitarist and it was a great way to spend the evening. After dinner we went out to hit the bars and luckily, after a little searching, probably found the only one easily walkable from our apartment that was busy on a Sunday night. Something about the name “Killkenny’s” just didn’t seem quite as genuinely Argentinean as we were hoping though.
Monday was a holiday so we took the opportunity to sleep half the day. Apparently Flag Day is a real holiday in some countries. I took the opportunity to stock up on some food etc. form the local groceries that seem to be located on every block and almost all run by Asian families. The next day we each went to meetings in the morning or early afternoon to meet with the lawyers at our respective law firms where we’d be interning. The meetings were held early because just about every office was closing at 3:30 to watch Argentina play Greece. My meeting went great. I got to meet the partners at Fiorito, Murray & Diaz Cordera in their new modern offices adjacent to Plaza San Martin. Thankfully, their English is even better than my Spanish and they seemed excited to have me. It’s a medium sized firm in Buenos Aires (12 lawyers including 3 partners) that, despite being relatively new, has a great reputation and was incredibly warm and welcoming.
After the meeting I there were people flooding to Plaza San Martin to watch on a giant screen set up there, but I was in no mood to celebrate an impending soccer victory in a suit. I made it home to watch the game with Geoff and Jersey and don my Maradona jersey and Argentina flag/cape. Much like Cordoba, the streets were empty during the game until Argentina scored, at which time the streets erupted in celebrations and noise for a minute or two before everyone ran back inside to continue watching. After Argentina’s 2-0 victory we joined the celebrations in the street and found our way to the Obelisk (picture the Washington monument except it’s in the median of the world’s widest avenue). Hundreds of people congregated there and within a few minutes, seemingly out of nowhere, a 40 ft tall inflatable bust of Maradona sprung up. We danced, chanted and partook in celebratory drinks under his watchful eye for hours until well after nightfall. At that point we returned home to rest up for the start of our internships the next day.
I don’t think the details of my first week of work make for good reading on a blog, but I was excited to be able to start a research project for one of the partners, Thomas Fiorito, regarding comparative practices of evaluating stock premiums in the US and Argentina. Although I did not really see myself being so intrigued by financial valuations and stock purchases, it has proved quite fascinating and I look forward to working more on the topic in the next few weeks. I also plan on making it the subject of the paper I will be writing at the end of this program. Otherwise a lot of my work has been focused on translating documents and editing translations that the other associates have made. It’s been trying at times but my Spanish has definitely gotten better for it. It is also very satisfying to be doing work that gives me a much better idea of the work the firm does, as well as my work product being used by the lawyers in house as well as being sent out to clients. Also of note is how warm, friendly and welcoming all the lawyers here have been, and the fact that an associate cooked me lunch in the office kitchen to welcome me to the firm.
Over the weekend we ventured out to the Palermo neighborhood to check out the nightlife. As was the case is Cordoba, nothing really gets started until 2am here. Palermo is called the SOHO Buenos Aires and is full of bars and restaurants frequented by the young people from the city and abroad. I see myself spending a lot more time there on weekends if I can keep brining myself to keep up with the crazy Argentina party hours. We found some fun bars and good food. I also attended a birthday party for one of the associates from FMDC in the Recoleta neighborhood the next day. It was just what I needed after a disappointing US loss to Ghana and exit from the World Cup. All the associates are my age (25-27) so it was a great opportunity to meet local people my age. Many of them had visited San Francisco before and were excited to meet someone from there. All the rest were also exceptionally nice and friendly. However, my lack of sleep from the night before soon caught up to me and I called it an early night. Sunday I was hit with the makings of a nasty cold after going out so much in the cold and rainy Argentine winter. I barely left the house and was content to drink OJ, eat soup, and watch Argentina beat Mexico 3-1 (technically should have been 2-1 but with these World Cup Referees goals aren’t always real, or are just completely ignored and called off). It will assuredly make for interesting water cooler conversation in the coming week at work.
The Pronged Approach
Maybe because I got to SE Asia about 1 week after finals were over, or maybe I've just been having too much fun... but, I can't seem to get myself to journal/blog/anything, no matter how hard I try.
But, here I sit, patiently awaiting Fall 2010 registration to open online (it's 11pm Cambodia time right now), and I can see that the pressure is on to write something witty and informative, so I guess now's the time.
Seeing that I traveled through Vietnam for 3 weeks before arriving in Cambodia and there's just too much to write about, I've decided to give a quick and dirty bullet-point list of the mind-opening, strange, moving, and sometimes funny things I've seen on my trip thus far:
- MOTORBIKES!!! (never, ever run across the street, just close your eyes and walk like a zombie).
- When there's a huge gust of dust-filled wind, a monsoon is sure to follow. I now know to never wear lip-gloss when there are dark clouds in the sky.
- Not sure why, but the locals in Vietnam sit at the smallest tables on the smallest plastic chairs I've ever seen outside of an elementary school. But, the second you cross the border into Cambodia, the chairs and tables are full-size. (Maybe Brian should have come to Cambodia instead.)
- When your bus gets a flat in the middle of nowhere in Cambodia, just go play "proper football" with the local kids... you will become an instant hero.
- The Cambodian Penal Code includes very specific definitions and sentences for things like crimes against humanity, genocide, crimes against the dignity of the person, and "cheating" which basically means the same as a dine and dash. Oh, and being a dead-beat dad is punishable up to 5 years.
- Although the US helped to draft the Convention on the Rights of the Child with UNICEF 20 years ago, the US (along with Somalia) has yet to ratify it, with or without reservations. Cambodia ratified it long ago, without reservation.
- Skin whitening is all the rage with the ladies.
- Cockroaches can fly, but they don't bite, so really, it's not a big deal.
- Inexplicably, all of the dogs in Vietnam looked the same, yet in Cambodia, they are all different.
- When a woman is raped in Cambodia, she and her family often take the "mediation" route and settle on a monetary payment from the accused instead of taking the case to trial. The reasons for doing this are very complex culturally and legally. But, a classmate compared it to Michael Jackson's payment to his accusers... so I guess it happens in the States, too.
- The baguettes and the pho are amazing here. But, I really miss Mexican food.
- I really like soccer now that I've seen the world turned upside down with excitement.
- Everyone who has the opportunity should go to Hoi An, Vietnam. It's like the Venice of Vietnam (although I'm speculating since I've never been to Venice). So perfect in every way.
- Earlier tonight, I saw an infomercial for bottled "Chicken Essence" which is consumed like an energy drink. I think I might stock up before next finals season.
That's it for now. I feel like I just updated my fb status a bunch of times. I have the feeling that the next post will be more detailed. Till then!
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