I have been journaling a bit on my own this morning…as well as looking over some of my personal entries from this past week, and it is apparent how certain environments deny one the ability to live in a way that they would typically chose. I just returned last night from backpacking, during which it became official that have-been necessities like make-up, shaving, mirrors, convenience, and predictability have transformed into frivolity. At home, the lack of all of these would be enough to drive me mad, but I am falling in love with the comfort of simplicity, and becoming a master at the art of making a pair of clothes and a shower last at least three to four days…

While in Istria we stayed at a vineyard right off the coast of the Adriatic. It was one of those places I wished I could have experienced with my mom. It was divinely simple: clean starched sheets, wood-floors, countless little nooks to curl up in with a novel . We spent our evenings sipping local wine and eating homemade hot walnut bread with olive oil. Our conversations ranged from Foucaultian theory to joking about how a cruise ship passed me while I was skinny dipping in the Adriatic (a private experience, until captured by a group of Asian tourists on their camcorders.)

We then traveled to Slovenia by bus…which would have been pleasant if only our driver had not had a fetish for Britney spears, which he insisted on playing the entire five hour ride. But the hostel that awaited us in Ljubljana was by far worth the wait. Once an old military prison, it has been transformed into a hostel by a group of artists who have decorated it in modern batik. The rooms have bars on the doors and windows, which I must say makes one feel very safe at night…Ljubljana resembled a hybrid of Disney world, Venice and New England. Everything was entirely too charming and made Zagreb seem something along the lines of a Charles Dickens novel in comparison…however, I think the very strangest part of the whole trip was when coming back to Zagreb, I felt like I was coming home. We headed to our local spot for a beer and popcorn before I returned to my home family who awaited me with hugs and kisses. It is nice hear, but by no means central Europe. The streets are filed with gypsy children, the city is disorganized, and the “nice” spots are little hole in the wall bars and restaurants. My comfort here startles me, but I cannot think of any time I have been so content with my surroundings.

While in Ljubljana we met with individuals working at the peace institute who spoke on a variety of issues, however, none have drawn me in so much as that of the situation of gypsy women and children. This group is disproportionately vulnerable to sexual violence and trafficking because they are severely discriminated against, and lack a recognized nationality beyond nomad. As I continue to ponder what I will research, I keep in mind that I intend not only to research, but also give back to community I will work with. I fear that at the end of the day I might not discover how might their condition can be changed, or how they might they be empowered. Am I being to idealistic? Is it actually possible to shift a long cemented paradigm? I am still not certain the angle I will take, but I am beginning to identify a need, that while I realize I am inadequate to fill, I will try anyways. The other day someone told be that according to the laws of aero-dynamics, a bumble-bee should not be able to fly…but it does not know that. I want to forget my limitations; because I yearn to do what I know is greater than myself.