What do you mean "last field studies?"

After weeks upon weeks of lectures with lawyers, explorations of police agencies, and solemn visits to synagogues, we met for the last field studies this morning. I cannot believe how fast this semester has gone. I distinctly remember getting dressed the morning of our first field studies. I remember filing into that little room in the embassy building. I remember Alex mentioning that he's Greek right in the middle of my question to Jay Truesdale. How can it already be the end? Especially when I don't want it to be...

For our very last trip, we visited the Holocaust Memorial Center. Unlike most other memorials, this center is funded by the Hungarian government. It is also purposely located outside of the Jewish quarter. The basic idea of these two aspects is that the Holocaust is not only a dark spot in Jewish history, but also in the entire nation's collective history. The idea is such a simple, seemingly-obvious one, but I have not seen it applied anywhere else except for in this Memorial Center. The building is beautifully understated from the outside. The inside, though, gives off the much darker side of things. The exhibit is not laid out as most Holocaust exhibits are, in chronological order. Instead, visitors walk through the "spiral of deprivation." It begins in 1938 with the initial deprivation of civil rights. The deprivation of property soon follows, then freedom, then dignity, and finally, existence. We have all visited a few Holocaust memorials and read various texts from that era for this semester's classes, but the topic has never been presented this way. It sheds new light on the subject, bringing the horror back into stark focus.

Visitors to the exhibit walk to an ominous soundtrack - the echo of moving vehicles in one room, the stomping of soldier's boots in another. At one point, I was so focused on reading a picture's paragraph-long caption that I didn't notice at first. Before my mind could even comprehend that it wasn't real, my heart sped up in fear. (I should probably also explain that Nell and I watched Children of Glory for Agnes' class last night - a movie documenting both the bloodiest water polo match and the 1956 Revolution. Courtney knocked on our door at one point, and I hesitated for about five minutes before she yelled "Let me in, it's cold out!") For a split second, there was just terror, no rationale, no reasoning. I knew it wasn't the Arrow Cross or the AVO stomping their way down the hall. I knew I was safe, I knew I was in no danger. This

knowledge doesn't simultaneously coincide with that gut-reaction, though. It's human instinct - there's fear first, and your voice kicks in later. I cannot imagine having that brief flood of fear last more than a few seconds. It did, though, for an entire nation. First with the Arrow Cross Party, then with the AVO and AVH. It's a feeling that I would never want to relive, not even for a few more seconds...

A series of white horizontal lines run along the museum's stark black walls. As the exhibit

progresses, one line in the collection will suddenly end while the rest continue. A few feet later, another ends abruptly. By the end, the walls only bear about five white lines. I had thought that this represented the gradual deprivation of rights. Little by little, the Jews, Roma, and other persecuted peoples had a bit more taken away from them. After looking over the website, though, I find it has a different meaning. Each line is meant to represent an individual life that was presented in the first room. By the end, most of them are gone - their lives taken by the atrocities.

I was incredibly moved and intrigued by the Memorial Center. I thought my visit to Auschwitz had taught me most everything, but I was wrong again. There were stories, photographs, memories there that I had never come across. The synagogue at the end was the most perfect finale. The exhibit is closed in with black marble walls and dim lighting, opening up into the gorgeously light synagogue. The domed ceiling lets you breathe for the first time in nearly an hour - a deep, heavy breathe that exhales all the darkness you just trudged through. Rows of glass benches reflect the light - benches marked with the names of victims who could have been sitting right there, had the Holocaust not stolen them away.

I'm not sure if it was just the bittersweet finality of this field study, or the incredible weight of the things we saw, but this was one of my favorite field studies. I held back on most of the tour, with the feeling that the words and photographs deserved much more attention than our guide was allowing them. By the end, I was pretty much on a tour of my own, constantly trying to catch up with the rest. But I didn't mind - sometimes, I just have to teach myself.

Budapest Great Synagogue

As the semester is winding down, the last few field studies have allowed us to explore bits of Budapest that we haven't ventured to yet. This past Wednesday, we visited the Dohány Synagogue in the Jewish quarter. The synagogue is an enormous display of Byzantine-Moorish style architecture. Two identical dome-topped spires are meant to symbolize the two columns of Solomon's Temple. The synagogue is the largest in Europe, and the second-largest working synagogue in the world. It was built in the mid-1800's and has born witness to much of Hungary's tumultuous history. (Like those in Parliament, Dohány stained glass windows were taken from their panes and hidden to protect from Soviet and Hungarian bullets.)

During WWII, a ghetto was established in the Jewish quarter. In essence, it was a waiting room - meant to round up the Jews before deporting them. Many found refuge in the Dohány, but the harsh winter of 1944 took many victims. Bodies were discarded in the synagogue's courtyard. Under Jewish tradition, cemeteries and synagogue's are built a distance away from each other. The dead and the living need to be distinguished from each other. In the dire circumstances, though, the discarded bodies were buried directly next to the synagogue. Many traditions, both of Jews and other persecuted people, must be put aside in times of desperation and destruction.

The inside of the synagogue is astounding. It seats about 3,000 people, so the sheer size

made me feel absolutely insignificant. Light from the rows of small chandeliers cast a glow on

the rows upon rows of pews. The Star of David is hidden among the architecture, in the stained glass windows, on the ceiling. The inside resembles more of a church than a synagogue. The pews are set up in rows, facing a pulpit at the front, instead of gathered around in a circle. An organ decorates the main wall - with an interesting history. Saturdays, or Shabbat, are a day of rest, according to Judaism. Jews are not meant to work on Shabbat. Ordinarily, I wouldn't consider playing the organ to be work. In the Catholic church I attended as a kid, most of the organ players were volunteers. In Dohány, though, they have to bring someone to play the organ, someone who doesn't practice Judaism.

Somewhere in our travels, we heard about Kosher elevators. Since Jews are not meant to use electricity during Shabbat, they cannot press any buttons on an elevator. To get around it, there are (very few) Kosher elevators, which stop on every floor and eliminate the need to press any buttons. The use of an outsider for the organ is a similar set of circumstances. I've never been a very religious person - raised Catholic, now agnostic - but the entire topic of religion is incredibly intriguing. At times, religions seem like a relic, since all the holy writings and instructions date back hundreds or thousands of years. In a world centered around technological development, though, it sometimes seems that religion is constantly struggling to adjust. The holy scripts were written in a time so incredibly different from the present, and there is really no way to rework them with changing times. Perhaps similarly, law has a tough time keeping up with technology as well. In contrast, though, laws can be discussed, revised, updated (slowly...). It's a realization that hadn't struck me until I walked through the synagogue's aisles.

We also visited the connecting Jewish museum on our trip. A guide took us through a collection of incredibly old Torahs, scrolls, menorahs, and other objects used by Jews in their religious practices. The last room commemorated all that the Jews endured during the Holocaust. I figured that, after visiting Auschwitz and Birkenau, nothing could phase me anymore. I couldn't have been more wrong. One case displayed a black and white dress, and three round objects made from paper. Our guide explained that not only did the Nazis terrorize individuals, but they objectified sacred objects of Judaism. They confiscated Jewish prayer

shawls, cut them into patterns, and sewed them into dresses. The crumpled papers are torn-out pages of the Torah, used to line drums. The next display case held an even more sickening "ware - a single bar of soap, once white but now mottled. It's made from human fat. Our guide also informed us that the Nazis stretched skin to make lampshades. The ideas disgusted me, as they would to most humane people. I will never be able to wrap my head around the events that this place has seen. I will never be able to understand how one tangle of people can rule over another, how they can put their lives so high and put others so low. I will never be able to imagine how the world, how Jesus or God or Allah, how fate allowed these people to be herded from their homes and into chambers that destroyed them. I will never be able to understand how a heart can hold that much hate. Seems like it would just shatter after the first victim, and disappear after the following thousands. I will never be able to understand that these events weren't fiction. It will always feel like some elaborate story, no matter how much I tell myself it was real.

Places like this, though, will help. The further away these events disappear into the past, the more little pieces will be forgotten. The one who does not remember history is bound to live through it again, I remember the sign at Auschwitz. If we do begin to forget, we'll only be fated to replay the morbid scenes. Maybe not in ten years, but maybe a hundred. It's places like Dohány - and the steel willow memorial, the cemetery beside it, the ragged dress and the mottled soap - that remind us of what we cannot bear to forget. It's places like this that will save us.

Parliament! (Finally.)

After a long semester of discussing legal and government systems foreign to the JSBP'ers, we finally saw a bit of our knowledge in action. We paid a visit to Parliament yesterday - a building that we've all stood in the shadows of, but haven't ventured past the gates or guards to explore. The building itself is breathtaking. When venturing over the Chain Bridge at night, it exudes prominence and power among the landscape of city lights. From the inside, the wonder is just the same. The vaulted ceilings are painted with scenes from Hungary's tumultuous history. The arches are outlined in gold, catching the light that pours in from the towering windows. The stained glass mosaics are a story in themselves - saved from complete destruction by being removed from their panes and stored in the basement during wartime. It's easy to get a little awestruck in a place like this.

The building itself is a story. After an international competition proposing different architectural plans, Imre Steindl's winning bid began construction in 1885. The building boasts "ten courtyards, thirteen elevators, and twenty-seven gates." The tallest point of the building is 96 meters - marking Hungary's inception, 1896. The number proves to repeat itself within other elements, like the 96 stairs leading up to the building's front. During the tour, we saw the

Holy Crown of Hungary. (The U.S. government website has a fantastic article on their role in returning the crown after WWII.) We were also able to sit in a balcony overlooking a session of Parliamentary proceedings. It was pretty empty, understandably so since the official proceedings take place on Mondays and Tuesdays and the overflow is taken care of on Wednesdays. Most of the officials, though, seemed more like they were sitting in on a dull college lecture than seated in Parliament. One woman remained on her cell phone the entire time, only pausing to hail down a man for a glass of water. Another man had pages of notes out, and was furiously typing on his laptop. Judging from the lack of attention he paid to the speaker, though, I got the feeling he was catching up on paperwork instead of being invested in the session. It struck me as odd, until I realized I witness the same scene back home every time I flip the channel past meetings of Congress or the Senate. There are rare events or topics that garner intense media attention in governments, local or international. The monotony of everyday dealings is bound to result in such apathy, even by those that chose this line of work. Sure, there are days when you can be debating the investment of your nation's troops in a foreign war - where those from one side are on their feet, literally spitting words across the room at their opposers. Most days, though, probably resemble this. It is absolutely necessary to secure the progress and stability of a country, of course - but you don't really want to sit through it.

As the semester is nearing an end, the trip has an almost bittersweet tinge. It's such a monumental visit, we've been referring to it all semester. (Even after it was moved from the day of Alex's 21st birthday.) True, it's a fantastic way to bring everything we've learned together. What better way to really take in the law and governance of a nation than to stand in it's Parliamentary halls? The visit has a more encompassing effect, though. For the past three months, we've lived an unbelievable life. We have walked the streets of a truly historic place -the same streets on which Nazi forces hauled away thousands of Jews from their homes; the same streets that students marched down fifty-five years ago, calling for their country back; the same streets that have been reduced to rubble time and again, only to be built back up again.

Some days - when all I've done is hurry to and from class and barricade myself in my little Benczur room to study - I forget where we are. This place has become so much like home that I no longer notice the things that make it so unbelievable - the same things that made my jaw drop when I first arrived. The visit to Parliament was not the most intriguing or riveting field study, at least not for me, but it did succeed in shaking some sense into me. Those Parliamentary ceilings we stood under and the floors we walked on have witnessed more than a century of history. I'm only here for four months, and I want to take in as much of this place that I can. I want to fold up every memory, memorize every little detail, and tuck them away for when I head home. We will never live in a place like this again, not altogether. All I want for our last few weeks is for us all to capture a bit more of Budapest. I know we're all going to miss it...

"We have only one enemy - the crime."

Yesterday, we had the opportunity to visit a pretty impressive organization within Budapest. The International Law Enforcement Academy (ILEA) is part of an organization headed by the United States, aimed at assisting and educating police services. ILEA is present in for different nations - Budapest, Hungary; Bangkok, Thailand; Gaborone, Botswana; and San Salvador, El Salvador. The academy in Budapest serves Central and Eastern Europe, as well as South Central Asia. ILEA's ultimate aim is to supply training to these regions, to draw them out of parts of their history that have held them back an provide the tools to propel them into the future.

With dual cooperation between the Hungarian and American governments, ILEA was founded in 1995. The facility we visited offers some pretty impressive programs. The LEED program, for example, is an eight-week course that brings together sixteen students per session. The students are picked from three different nations - sometimes nations with a conflicted past. This is such an innovative idea for Europe. Bringing together these young students - all aiming for a career within the justice field - could turn out to be an extremely effective peace tactic. The emerging generation comes together at this academy to become versed in safe, effective, just ways to address the law. National pride doesn't have to disappear, but perhaps the boundaries of borders may melt away a bit. Ideally, these students are returning to their nations and educating their peers about the same methods. It seems like this would create an overall lift in the legal systems throughout Europe, allowing them to move away from the perhaps corrupt roots that have plagued them in the past.

One of the speakers, Tibor Bene, has spent the past seventeen years working for the United States Embassy. Tibor began in the Peace Corps, until they were closed down in Hungary. As he said, every country with a McDonald's no longer requires a Peace Corps. Tibor went on to work for the Regional Inspector General's Office of USAID. He's been working for ILEA for the past seven years. Tibor first got into the field because of his own past. His grandfather was hanged, and his land was taken away from him. Tibor wanted to turn away from the past systems in Hungary, and take part in the construction of a better one. He mentioned that one of ILEA's aims was to address domestic violence within Europe. In the past, it's been difficult to get police to treat the issue with gravity. Old mindsets believed there was nothing wrong with a man using violence against his wife. For this reason, many officers did little or nothing to abusers. Within the Balkans especially, past rates of domestic violence have been well above Westernized nations. Within the past ten years - as this report from USAID illustrates - rates have steadily decreased. Tibor has witnessed a positive improvement in the system since ILEA was established. By working to gradually change the thinking, he said, the effects are lasting.

We also discussed the friction that sometimes occurs between different students who train at the Academy. Especially between countries with bloody, intertwined pasts, it can be extremely difficult to get students to cooperate. At this point in history, most of them are too young to fully understand what their animosity is even born from. They simply know that their parents or grandparents hated some other nation, so they must, too. The Academy brings together these embittered nations partly to foster more positive future relations. Sometimes, it works. Students disregard the past and unite in their common goal: justice. Other times, it doesn't work out so well. For the most part, though, ILEA has an additional purpose of acting as a peace-keeping organization.

We also had the privilege of hearing from ILEA's director within Budapest, John Terpinas. I really enjoyed what Terpinas had to say - especially when he unexpectedly used the pronoun "she" when describing agents. (Feminist Grace.) His education of ILEA soon melted into an encouragement to follow whatever path in life that interests you - not get stuck in a rut, thinking this is where we're supposed to be headed. I really appreciated Terpinas' honesty and candidness. The entire visit was definitely one of the most interesting field studies trips we have taken so far, and I'm really looking forward to some more along these lines.

The EU: "Either float or sink together"

After hiatus adventures in Greece, Egypt, Italy, and the rest of Europe, the JSBP hooligans settled back into school with a lecture on the European Union. Mr. Andras Baneth, a Hungarian native currently living in Belgium, works for the European Commission. He walked us through the strengths and weaknesses of the Union - a conversation that ended up, as Mr. Baneth said, "pretty gloomy."

The EU is an international organization, comparable to the United Nations, where governments cooperate on an equal footing. It also acts as a sort of United States of Europe, where multiple nations are organized under one entity. The organization doesn't interfere with language or culture of each individual member-state, but facilitates economic ties within European nations. The basis of EU integration lies in trust, as Mr. Baneth pointed out. It was born from the ashes of World War II, in order to discourage future conflicts and encourage the sense of unity.

The EU's inception began by coordinating the European cold and steel industries. Making France and Germany interdependent in the fields that produce war materials would create, for the first time, a real hesitancy of war. Both nations would have capital invested in the other - to go to war would be a sort of economic suicide. Even putting the two age-old enemies aside, other nations would be more likely to cooperate. The relative free-flow of travel within the EU allows for an increase in tourism, which lets cities flourish. Bad blood between nations would stave off that flow, and choke the tide of tourism. To enter into conflict with another nation would be to risk the economic ties invested - might as well go to war within your own country.

Since the Berlin Wall came down, there have been no wars between the member-states. As Baneth said, "the history of Europe is the history of wars." In a region where factions have been warring for centuries, it's an enormous accomplishment to have relative peace for the past twenty years. I was incredibly intrigued by this statistic. Despite the economic gamble, I would hypothesize that some nations would still risk going to war. We have been taught in our history class about the intense boundary struggle Hungary and the surrounding nations have endured for centuries. Hungarians and Slovakians are notoriously bitter towards each other. We have only learned about a small piece of Europe's puzzle, and we can already understand why there is still such tension between nations. To appeal to each nation's individual goals and concerns, to coordinate these factions with such bloody histories - it's such a monumental accomplishment.

The European Union isn't all positive, though. They have been heavily criticized for the implementation of a shared currency. In theory, the euro is ingenious. Trade between nations would be even easier, because one euro in Greece carries the same weight as one euro in France. Nothing gets lost in translation. In reality, however, it has created an enormous economic crisis. During my hiatus trip to Greece, Nell and I discussed the nation's current state with many locals. One taxi driver explained that once the euro was introduced, everyone began to struggle. He held up a water bottle - "On Sunday, this was 87 drachma. One day later, with the euro, it was 193 drachma." I cannot imagine suddenly changing our entire monetary system - suddenly paying double for everyday necessities. As a student, there is no doubt that I would be unable to sustain the same lifestyle, let alone keep my head above water. I can see where the agitation, where the fury, where the unrest in Greece comes from. Most of the people we met work two jobs just to keep up. It's an unsustainable system, if you want your people to flourish. I was extremely intrigued when Baneth mentioned that Greece cheated its way into the European Union. They falsified documents in order to meet the requirements to become a member-state. This seems like such a foolish mistake. Initially, Greece benefited from the lie. They were able to begin making trade ties with other EU nations, boosting their economy. In the long-term, though, the requirements were put in place for a reason. Nations need to be stable enough to equally participate in these relationships. Their economies need to be stable enough to support the change to the euro. By falsifying documents, Greece is responsible for their own downfall. The self-made crisis is pulling other nations down now. Germany has trade and bank capital invested in Greece - to let them fail would be to fail themselves. That's an enormous downfall of the European Union. Like Baneth said, it's both a blessing and a curse "to be in the same boat: you either float together or you sink together."
I honestly enjoyed Baneth's lecture - I would be interested to see what his PowerPoint contained. He adapted well to the loss of technology, though, and really engaged us by allowing for questions. To learn more about the European Union's history and get a quick overview of it's goals and future, visit the BBC News' page.

JSBP Invades Geneva

This week, the usual Wednesday field excursion was replaced by a three-day adventure. The JSBP hooligans boarded a plane destined for Geneva - second largest city in Switzerland, home to the United Nations, and famed for its chocolate. In between wandering the cobblestone streets, casually hopping the border to France, and hitting up a Swiss flea market, we actually did some learning.

On Wednesday, we were lucky to hear from some pretty influential people working within the United Nations. The first series of lectures was hosted by the United Nations Environmental Program (UNEP) - a program that we had a bit of background information on, thanks to an article by Maria Ivanova. (We were even on the official schedule! I know, I'm kind of a big dork to be excited.) Barbara Ruis, a Netherlands native who acts as a legal law officer within UNEP's regional office, kicked off the lecture with a brief introduction. Angela Cropper, who I found to be most intriguing, followed. Cropper is the Deputy Executive Director of UNEP - the second in command. She spoke a bit about the history of UNEP, and then shifted focus to the Rio+20 Summit.

I feel a bit ignorant for not knowing much about the summit. Set twenty years after the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development, Rio+20 aims to "secure renewed political commitment for sustainable development." Cropper mentioned that the summit's themes are aimed at sustainable development as well as poverty eradication. Initially, I thought this was an unusually lofty goal. Combining two of the most extreme, pressing issues of our time might not actually accomplish anything. The more I thought, though, the more the two topics seemed to merge. The world has not had success with it's previous methods - both for preserving the integrity of the environment and eradicating poverty. Some foods are imported because of cheaper labor in other nations. The process exploits the desperation of farmers in developing nations while ignoring the plight of local farmers. Even in some aid programs meant to assist the impoverished, food is packed up here and sent abroad. This not only wastes enormous amounts of money in shipping costs, but also releases unnecessary

harmful emissions into the air from transportation efforts. It also doesn't create a sustainable system. Local farmers in these impoverished places are available to sell their crops, while food is being sent from halfway across the world. The more environmentally and socially sustainable system would be to contribute money to a cause that buys local produce for impoverished families. I'm certain that this issue will be thoroughly dissected during the Rio+20 Summit next June.

The next speaker, Mijke Hertoghs, has been with UNEP for the past 11 years. She has been the Regional Coordinator for Chemical Conventions for the past two years. Hertoghs was a very sociable speaker, and immediately connected with us by asking how many cell phones we've gone through over the years. In developing countries, some people dissect all those old phones and computers in order to remove extremely hazardous but valuable chemicals. Hertoghs briefly touched on the Rotterdam Convention, a treaty addressing the importation of such hazardous materials. She mentioned that in some instances, the elimination of certain chemicals is best. In fact, there are many chemicals banned in developed, industrialized nations but still perfectly legal in developing countries. The lack of education about such chemicals oftentimes leads to accidents. In the end, Hertoghs mentioned, it's the internalization of costs that prevents nations from banning certain substances. If it brings in a profit, there is less of an incentive to cease the process - despite the harmful effects on its citizens and environment. She summed the constant battle of industry against the environment when she said that "in the end, it's money that matters."

The last speaker during the conference, Eva Duer, is a legal officer and works on knowledge management within UNEP. Duer introduced us to a database called InforMEA, which is directed by the UN and is a useful tool in understanding the collection of treaties directed towards the environment. I wish we had gotten to hear a bit more from Duer, but I was truly impressed with all of our speakers. (I was especially impressed that all four speakers were women! I've been waiting all semester to hear from some strong, intelligent,

prominent women within the government. Good job, UNEP, for employing such great minds.)

After a short break, we also had the honor of visiting the United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR). Initially, I was entirely enthusiastic about this opportunity. The topic falls a bit more under my anthropology major, which I've missed discussing this past semester. Mr. Semih Bulbul, senior desk officer for the Iraq support unit, was generous enough to give us a few hours of his time. Bulbul began by outlining the UNHCR mandate, which states that the agency provides international protection to refugees and other persons of concern. As well as safeguarding their rights, UNHCR provides refugees with shelter, food, and education. Their goal is ultimately, to seek durable solutions. Bulbul defined a refugee as "a person outside his or her country because of well-founded fear of persecution due to his or her political opinion, religion, race, ethnic origin, or social group." The rest of the lecture was disappointing. Bulbul is clearly an intelligent man, and I would have appreciated a more open forum (I know, I'm saying I would have liked to ask more questions in public. This is a first.) Bulbul seemed like he simply enjoyed having us as a captive audience.

In the end, I learned more from reading the information posted throughout the room than from Bulbul himself. I learned about the waste - both of firewood and labor - expended on different types of ovens. Lots of ovens consist of heating three rocks until they're hot enough to cook on. This uses up the most firewood, and is therefore least ecologically-friendly. A "Wonderbox" oven, on the other hand, uses thermal energy - using up a fraction of the firewood to cook food even faster. A few years ago, I helped build solar ovens for rural families in Costa Rica, and I would have really enjoyed discussing this with Bulbul. In the end, though, I left the lecture knowing more than when I walked in, so I can't complain that much.

In the end, Geneva chased us back to Hungary with driving rains. It was definitely an educational adventure for the JSBP, but I think we were all ready to get back to the place we now call home. Missed you, Budapest. For those of you back home - okay, for my mom - you can learn more about Geneva's history through this website, which has the straight facts. If you want to learn more about the chocolate, cheese, and pretty pictures, visit the Lonely Planet website!

Law Talk, Round Two

This past Wednesday, we had the opportunity to sit down with a pretty major figure in the government game. The former head of Hungary's National Disaster Management, Attila Nyikos, was willing to put up with our questions for a few hours. The National Disaster Management is comparable to America's FEMA - both perhaps with a bit of a tarnished history. According to Nyikos, this department has one crucial difference from FEMA. Back home, firefighters are a local sector. Each city or collection of towns has a fire department. Here,

firefighters are part of a centralized body. They work and act under the federal government, meaning that there are civil and fire protection activities incorporated into the National Disaster Management. Nyikos also outlined the major responsibilities in a flow-chart: prevention, recovery, and response. All three are tied together, and help the department learn from their past successes and failures. As Nyikos said, "Man is always planning and God is always deciding."

The department typically deals with the preparation for and damage resulting from natural disasters. Hungary is susceptible to frequent floods from inland waters. There is also an outstanding danger of freshwater pollution, as well as possible disasters from the pressure of geological fault lines. In the past decade, Hungary has had to address cyanide pollution in the Tisza River, a dyke breach and subsequent flood of the land along the Tisza River, and major fires resulting from extreme heat. The department does not only address natural disasters, but sometimes assists with social and political issues. They once helped in the evacuation of 9,000 citizens from Tripoli, Libya during a time of political unrest. Nyikos job must have been ever-evolving.

The topic of red sludge was inevitably raised as well. Nyikos was able to offer some new information on the topic, which I was surprised about considering the amount of times we've discussed it with other guest speakers. As it turns out, the red sludge isn't what caused the chemical burns that injured so many in Kolontar. There is a thin layer of highly alkaline water, referred to as "technical water," that rests on top of the red sludge pool. I was surprised at this new piece of information, considering it was a fairly simple concept to understand and had not been mentioned in any of our previous field studies or readings. Nyikos went on to mention that the cause of the accident is "still unknown," and may be due to layers of causes - some human, some natural. He identified the main goal of workers in the post-disaster days: keep the sludge as close to the site as possible. This not only limits the amount of damage done to property, but also limits the human toll and even the evacuation efforts of nearby towns. Essentially, there are three steps to a disaster management effort. The first is to rescue and secure all lives. The second, to stabilize the situation. The third step involves recovery and reconstruction.

Nyikos was able to shed some light on the last step, something that we haven't been able to discuss too much. 300 houses had to be destroyed because of contamination. In the wake of the demolition, Hungary's best architects stepped forward and offered to work, without pay, on the reconstruction. The government offered victims three options: build a new house, buy yourself a different house within the county, or buy a flat in another part of Hungary. Most opted for the third option, which actually surprised me at first. I thought most would opt to stay, at least within the county. The more I contemplated it, though, the more it made sense. If red sludge came flooding through Portland and destroyed my entire house, I would be devastated. I've lived in the same house for my entire life and simply cannot imagine the pain and grief that would come with losing such an integral part of my childhood. Once the demolition crews haul away the wreckage, there would

only be an empty plot where my house once stood. I can imagine standing in the void, surrounded by hulking machines carrying away the damage. I can imagine looking down at my feet and seeing the land still stained red, and wondering if the color could ever be washed from the ground. I can imagine seeing my entire history carried away with the broken boards and shards of glass, and knowing that - even built back up - nothing would be the same. And like most of the Hungarians, I can imagine wanting to get as far away from the memory as possible.

Overall, I enjoyed this past field study. At times, Nyikos showed a clear bias on behalf of his department. He seemed to shuffle most of the blame onto the company, and absolve government inspectors for their oversights. He even mentioned that an inspector did a routine check the morning of the disaster - something he saw as an indication this was all an unstoppable accident. I, however, viewed it as a spot on the government's record. Clearly the inspector did not do a sufficient check, considering there were stress fractures present on the concrete pool walls. Despite his leanings, though, I did consider Nyikos to be an intelligent speaker and enjoyed his lecture.

Law Talk

This past Wednesday, we took a break from riots and terror opted for a more low-key field study. Dr. Lajos Korona, from the Budapest Attorney General's Office, was kind enough to sit down with some New Hampshire hooligans and educate us about a new aspect of the Hungarian legal system. Dr. Korona works as a public prosecutor within the Department of Supervision of Investigations. The department's name illustrates the main purpose: to oversee police investigations. In the most basic terms, Dr. Korona and his colleagues make sure the police are carrying out investigations in compliance with the law. There are local offices in charge of the same task, but they only deal with lower-level crimes. Dr. Korona deals with more serious offenses. High-scale drug crimes, crimes against property above two million forints (about $8,900), and crimes against life all fall under his expertise.

To help us better understand his department's responsibilities, Dr. Korona outlined his place within a typical homicide investigation. Police initiate investigations once they discover a crime has been committed, and must inform the Attorney General's Office that they are undertaking such an investigation. The justice system in the States has statutes of limitations - a maximum amount of time between when the crime is committed and when legal action can be taken. For example, most states have a statute of limitations on rape ranging from five to ten years. (More on U.S. statutes of limitations on rape, state by state.) The Hungarian legal system believes that investigations should be concluded in no longer than two months - for any crime. If the deadline passes, police must outline any further investigation plans. It is then up to the prosecutor check the process and files from beginning to end, before extending deadlines. Protracted cases require enhanced supervision by the General Attorney's Office. This deadline on investigations struck me as very strict and short. In the United States, investigations can be dragged out for months. It can depend on a number of different factors, from the integrity of the evidence, the severity of the offense, or the number of officers assigned to the case. Even media attention can disrupt and prolong the investigation. The Casey Anthony trial, for example, garnered an almost unprecedented amount of media attention this past summer. Casey Anthony's daughter was reported missing on July 15, 2008. The trial regarding her death and disappearance did not take place until May 9, 2011 - during which the investigation was ongoing. (ABC outlined the investigation's timeline here.) If the trial had been picked up and dropped down within Budapest's borders, I wonder how the Hungarian legal system would have handled the setbacks and media interruptions. Would Dr. Korona have had to intervene after two months, to make sure that the police investigations were remaining on track and within the penal code? If we had the same set-up in the States, perhaps it would create a more stable, strict, efficient system, Dr. Korona mostly deals with procedural issues. Just like in the States, Hungarian citizens have the right to a lawyer. When interrogating a witness interrogated, some police may break the accepted code of conduct. During house searches, citizens have the right to ask for an independent witness to be present. By not providing one, an officer is going against the penal code. These are instances when Dr. Korona and his associates intervene. Some of you back home - especially those who I force to watch

Law and Order: SVU with me - may relate Dr. Korona's duries to those of Internal Affairs or Internal Investigations offices. These departments intervene when it becomes evident that an officer may have used excessive force or broken procedure during the course of their work. Generally, officers loathe these types of departments - they break up the stereotypical police "brotherhood" by asking for statements from different officers within departments. They never intervene when something has been done correctly, but only when there's a hint that something was done wrong. Anyone would come to correlate this department with negative feelings. Since this is the only department I can compare to Dr. Korona's work, I wonder if the Hungarian Rendőrség find it meddlesome.

I truly enjoyed learning about Dr. Korona's line of work. I think we all found him to be a very intriguing, engaging, and open guest speaker. I'd love to sit down and talk with him again sometime, but I'm afraid the thirty kilograms of seized marijuana that he told us fell on his desk that morning may keep him busy with investigations for at least a while...

Készentleti Rendőrség

"Egy ség, hűség, becsület"

"Integrity, Loyalty, Honor"

This is the motto of the Hungarian Készentleti Rendőrség, or Riot Police - the subject of Wednesday's field studies. We paid a visit to the Budapest headquarters and listened to an informative presentation before viewing some of the tactics and equipment. The basic function of the Riot Police is to keep order during public events. This may be a precautionary duty, as officers are often stationed at sports events in case of rowdy, opposing crowds. Going into the visit, I thought the Riot Police had only one duty - maintain order at times when the public cannot. We've all seen footage of the London riots this past summer. Out-of-control crowds of peaceful protestors trying to send a message, looters fleeing with their arms full, violent opposers crashing glass windows - all being contained by uniformed officers with shields, helmets, and batons.

As we found out, however, the duties of the Hungarian Riot Police lay far beyond containing crowds. There are 14 departments within the Készentleti Rendőrség, with a total of 3,459 personnel. That's the second largest police unit, after the local police. The departments encompass an entire spectrum of duties. There are departments and duties devoted to immigration control, money, assisting transportation of convicted criminals, bomb disposal, passenger train escorts, and many more. The new Tactical Riot Division employs skilled officers to assist the police in tracking down criminals in hiding. The Készentleti Rendőrség have jurisdiction throughout Hungary, as opposed to local officers who can only operate within their city's lines. The misconception I had about these officers duties may be chalked up to language - "Készentleti Rendőrség" does not translate to "Riot Police" exactly, but they are the only words that come the closest.

I was truly impressed with the training process. Every officer must undergo two years of training, then apply to a specialty force. After being accepted into the Riot Police, all new officers are under a mandatory one year probation period. They must train under an established officer, and are only permitted to give orders to civilians if their mentor officer is present. The training periods for officers back home is much shorter. Each state is different, but most academies only train for six to twelve months. Some intensive academy training can be crammed into twelve weeks. I would be interested in learning if the difference in training lengths has any effect - perhaps decreasing the amount of incidents the Internal Supervision Service must get involved in, or even allowing for fewer officers on the streets without increasing crime rates. Would training officers for longer periods allow them to be more educated, more versed in the law, more effective on the streets? Or is it just extra time spent reading, with little effect?

After the presentation, we were led outside to check out some of the Készentleti Rendőrség equipment. We saw weapons laid out on a table, held a protective shield, and walked in the shadows of hulking riot control vehicles. If there was one time I wish my little brother could have been on a field studies trip with me, this definitely would have been it. He would have gone crazy, I don't think he's ever seen anything like these in his piles of tractor and truck books. Some of the vehicles have bulletproof plates within the tires, others were specially designed to prevent people from climbing, and others still had guns and water cannons mounted on the front. We were also treated to a demonstration of various Készentleti Rendőrség tactics. The first video shows the process of escorting someone - criminal, diplomat, extradited convict. the other shows self-defense and restraining techniques, including how to deal with multiple attackers at once. It's pretty amazing to watch, considering these officers are hauling full-grown men over their shoulders like they're empty pillowcases. Check them out, I'm sure my little brother will be amazed.

History of Terror

"It isolated the East from the West; it split Europe and the World in two; it took away our freedom; it held us in captivity and fear; it tormented and humiliated us; and finally, we tore it down..."

Just one subway stop down the street, these words are etched in bronze - a constant education, a constant reminder, a constant memory of what Hungary has endured. I've passed these words a dozen times, even taken a picture in front of the monument, and never really wondered what it meant. Yesterday morning, though, before going into the House of Terror, I took the time to study the tribute. Immense chains are pulled taught on either side. I tried threading my fingers through the metal, reaching in futility for the light on the other side, but my hand just got caught in the rust and chains. All of a sudden, despite the foreboding strength it emits, the monument seems so small. I can circle it in seconds. I can stand on one side, then step to the other. The real Iron Curtain - the one that symbolized an ideological and physical divide - was something that nobody could walk away from.

From the outside, the House of Terror doesn't look particularly frightening. That is, until you catch a glimpse of the word spelled out in the shadows. Terror. Looking up, the word is spelled out in sheet metal, jutting out of the top floor. It offers an eery, stark suggestion of what lies inside. The museum itself, after all, is not just any dusty collection of the era's remnants. The building housed two sets of terrors. It acted as the "House of Loyalty" for the

Hungarian Arrow Cross Party in 1944. In simpler terms, it was the headquarters for the Hungarian Nazis. For the next eleven years, it housed two prominent communist organizations - the Allamvedelmi Osztaly (AVO) and the Allamvedelmi Hatosag (AVH). Essentially, these organizations were different forms of Hungarian Secret Police. They harassed, terrorized, and tortured civilians that they suspected were against Stalin's communist rule over the nation. The violent, merciless reigns during these three eras are all embodied in every inch of the House of Terror.

In the center of the building, an enormous gray army tank sits atop a canvas of still black water. The walls are lined with the black-and-white faces of victims. Even stretching up towards the skylight, all I could see were the gradient shadows of faces surrounding me. It's a fascinating start, considering the pictures have little weight and meaning when entering the museum, but so very much upon leaving it. We wove through the house and history - wandering past Arrow Cross Party uniforms, melting into the Soviet occupation, weaving through communist propaganda and replicas of rations. The walls were dotted televisions, playing the carnage, despair, and destruction on loop. I saw a picture of the Chain Bridge leveled, crumbled in the Danube. I watched a video of a man recounting his time at a labor camp where 5,000 entered and only 113 made it out alive. I saw perfect, clean lines of soldiers, marching in a sweeping block - the grainy footage making history seem unreal.

It was the basement that truly shook me, though. During the double occupations, the building's basement was used as a prison. The cells have been reconstructed, and the images are unbelievably haunting. Even the biggest cell was simply breathing room in the middle of concrete walls. One cell floor was only a few feet across - standing room only. I stepped inside it and could only stay for a second before the choking feeling of panic began to rise on my skin. Another cell was plunged in entire darkness. They used it as a form of torture. Deprivation of the senses inevitably leads to hallucinations, which can force even the strongest-willed to break down into lies and false admissions. Some rooms, I could only step into for a second before my courage crumbled and I had to step out again. Although the cells were a chilling reminder of the torture, that's not what got to me the most. The Hall of Tears, towards the end of the museum, stuck with me the most. Perhaps because it was the most downplayed, still room. There was no music, no videos playing. There were no photographs on the walls. Just a red room, scattered with tall, slender crosses. Each cross held a tealight, so that the entire room emitted a solemn glow. A banner on the wall wound around the entire room. Names - 2,500 names of those who died in the 1956 Revolution - were etched into it. At the entrance, the word "murdered" was stamped on the wall.

The word, so plainly declared, was stirring. I had consciously known during the whole tour that these Hungarian citizens were being killed. They were being worked to death. They were being kidnapped. They were being hidden away in darkness until their own insanity convicted them. Still, it wasn't until I saw the word plainly written out that I realized the hard truth. They were being murdered. There were no facts, no evidence, just a world of terror and suspicion that hovered for years. I have absolutely no grasp - even after visiting the museum - of what some of the people in this city have endured. I have nothing to compare it to back home. There is nothing that has existed within my entire family's history that can even come close to Hungary's dark past. It's a thought that crosses my mind now, when passing strangers on the street. I wonder what they've seen, who they might have lost, and how they have the energy and strength to keep their heads up. It has me looking at Hungary in a whole new light.

(For those of you stuck back home in the dreary United States, you can check out this video for a brief glimpse into the museum. Or, just go to the House of Terror website and take a look around.)

Terror House Tour

House of Terror Official Website

Locked Up Abroad: JSBP Edition

I figured there might come a time when one of us might find ourselves behind bars - just didn't think we would all be crammed in a cell together. Or that Molly would be there, too.

Yesterday, we took a train to Eger in northeastern Hungary. The town is best known for its red and white wines, sold up and down the cobblestone streets. The JSBP hooligans visited for an introduction to the Hungarian prison system. From the outside, the Heves County Prison looks like just another building. It fits unassumingly into the city block, set back from the sidewalk just a bit. If not for the small sign hung out front, I would have never known what lay inside.

After a security check - forking over our passports, stashing all electronics in a locker, setting off metal detectors without actually getting patted down - we followed the prison's governor into a cramped room for a brief presentation. The Heves County Prison houses all sorts - men, women, adults, juveniles, remand. Like the United States, most prisons in Hungary are overcrowded. The current capacity exceeds the official capacity by more than 50 prisoners. In the United States, there are about 750 prisoners per 100,00 of the national population. In Hungary, the figure is only 149. The issue is not more arrests or convictions, however, but longer imposed lengths of incarceration. In the Heves County Jail, most prisoners are locked up for fewer than five years. The stark contrast pointed out by the presentation clearly illustrated the flaws in our American prison system. The United States is a leading, powerful nation, yet we still have 23.4% of the world's adult prison population. (Here's a link to the 2010 World Prison Population List, which offers some pretty amazing statistics, broken down country-by-country. ) I would have never guessed that, while learning about the Hungarian prison system, I would stumble across such an enormous error in our own.

The most startling contrast, however, came when the prison's governor gave us a tour around the prison. I've never visited an American prison, but I do have a bizarre affinity for the show Lockup on MSNBC. Most of the American prisons that I've toured through television are stark, stainless steel institutions. Here, however, the walls and railings were painted yellow. Natural light shined in from a few windows, even with bars across them. In the women's wing, knitted pictures were hung up on the walls. On stools inside the women's cells, there were cushions embroidered with initials - probably the prisoner's work. I kept thinking back to American prisons, and imagining a more bleak scene. Perhaps that's part of the reason, if only just a little, that our prisons keep seeing the return of the same criminals. Like the Governor quoted, if we treat the prisoners like animals inside the prison, we can only expect animals to be released back into society.

We were also permitted to tour one of the empty prison yards outside. As we entered through the enormous block doors, a rottweiler lunged at us from a tiny chain cage. It only drove the governor's point home - if we treat our prisoners like anything but humans, we cannot expect them to fully recover a position as a fully-functioning member of society. In Norway - again, my knowledge is a result of prison documentaries - the prisons are completely different. There aren't bars, cages, barbed wire, and, at one Norwegian prison, guns. One prison located on an island offers farms, beaches, and a soccer field. (Take a video tour of the Norway prison system here - a little bit of an overdramatic portrayal, but the photographs are good.) This progressive prison system yields the lowest reoffending rate in the world - 20%. The focus is on continuing the aspects of regular society in jail, so that prisoners have an easier time returning to the general population. In light of the recent island massacre, however, we must realize that no prison system has the capability to deter crime or reform all criminals.

All in all, I was pretty fascinated by our adventure into the Hungarian prison system. I was impressed by the knowledge and insight offered by the prison's governor, and intrigued to explore the differences between our two systems.

Hacking out the Hungarian Justice System, with Dr. Peter Hack

Only two weeks into our field studies class, and we are already dissecting the Hungarian justice system with a former member of the Hungarian Parliament. Is this real life? Yesterday, we sat down with Dr. Peter Hack. His resume is extensive - twelve years in the Hungarian Parliament, four years as Chairman of the Committee on Constitutional and Judicial Affairs, member of the National Judiciary Council, lecturer at the Academy of Judges, faculty member at the Budapest Law Faculty. His dizzying list of accomplishments might have created an intimidating atmosphere among a classroom full of students, but Dr. Hack was completely humble.

He began by outlining the Hungarian legal system, which is based off of the German model. My attention was captured immediately. This system is so completely unlike our own. The procedure begins when a victim or witness reports a crime. Police have three days to make a decision - either begin the procedure, or drop the case completely. Right away, this seems like it would create an extremely ineffective system. The moment a crime is reported, a countdown begins. Police, especially in urban areas, must be constantly playing a game of double-dutch. Do they take the risk, continue with the case, and perhaps end up wasting their time and efforts down some dead-end? Or do they drop it, potentially robbing a victim of justice and allowing a criminal to remain unpunished? Three days to decide. Do you think you're judgement is good enough to handle a burden this big?

Of course, there is a bit of a built-in safety net. If the police decide to drop the case, the individual or legal entity, whomever the victim is, has the right to go to the courts directly. Back in the States, this would create absolute chaos. People already think that watching a few hours of CSI or Criminal Intent automatically entitles them to aptly defend themselves in court. Integrating citizens directly in the legal and judicial process - while seemingly very "by the people, for the people" - can sometimes create a tangle of uneducated ineptitude. While misplaced shouts of "I object!" continuously interrupt proceedings, the judicial process will remain at a standstill. It would be like me trying to fix the electrical socket that keeps sparking in my room...or Nellie making dinner.

After the presentation, I discussed many more seemingly faulty points to the Hungarian legal system. A few of us were baffled at the judge's responsibilities. It's the judge's task to read all of the documents gathered during pretrial. The judge must learn the case, know all the ins and outs of both sides. Dr. Hack stated that this method increases the relevance of the case, when the defense and prosecution enter the scene. Most of us, however, saw this as a terribly inefficient way to conduct court proceedings. The judge must be wasting valuable time studying up on all these cases, like a student studies for an exam. Surely our system works better, I thought.

It suddenly struck me how narrow-minded I was being. I was picking apart all these little pieces of someone else's culture, someone else's law, and all I could see were the cracks in it's foundation. I like to consider myself pretty open-minded, and found myself embarrassed at my slew of misconceptions about Hungary's justice system. They must be doing something right, I rationalized. Dr. Hack stated that Hungary had 154 murder cases last year. In Washington D.C. alone, the murder rate dropped 9% to 131 murders - and the whole city celebrated. Of course, with such limited knowledge, I can't really grasp what is actually accountable for the discrepancy between the two reports. But the figures alone were enough to stop my judgements in their tracks.

Traveling has always brought out the best parts of me - I get stir crazy if I stay in Maine for too long. Even wandering around in this enormous, fantastic city we're calling home lets me breathe a bit easier. The situations that travel puts me in - getting lost, grappling with a new language, meeting new people - always spits me out as a stronger person. Dr. Hack inadvertently stirred up something that I'll have to work on - not jumping to conclusions. It's a fault that might fit perfectly into our field studies, since we'll constantly be confronted with so many different views, scenes, and situations. I'm looking forward to fixing things.

P.S. So how about Dr. Hack throwing out the statistics about 60% of Hungarian judges being women? How awesome is that! My mother is a judge, and I don't look up to anyone more than I look up to her. She deals with bickering parents in divorce court, troubled teenagers in drug court, lying violators in traffic court, and even child custody matters. She's the strongest woman I know, facing one of the hardest jobs I know. It's pretty empowering to hear that Hungary has so many women in such strong, powerful positions. Get with it, America!

(Here she is officiating my sister's wedding last year. Hi, Mom!)

Trip One: U.S. Embassy

For those of you not in the JSBP - hey mom! that's about it - we'll be taking excursions every Wednesday. They all have a justice studies foundation. This past Wednesday, we paid a visit to the U.S. embassy. (Thanks, Google Images, for making it look like I was there during wintertime.) We sat down with U.S. diplomat Jay Truesdale, who turned out to be from Hopkinton, New Hampshire. I was a bit disappointed at first - I figured maybe we would be meeting someone a little more outside the box. A woman, maybe someone of a different race or nationality than my own. I've heard plenty of well-to-do white men speak about politics and law. Not that I didn't think Jay wouldn't be intriguing, I was just initially disappointed that we wouldn't be hearing from a different perspective.

The moment Jay began to engage us in conversation, though, my disappointment began to dissipate. He spoke with intelligence - yet managed to avoid the haughty, false humility that makes me switch channels when most politicians step on screen. He began by describing the duties and mechanics of being a diplomat. It is a diplomats grave duty, Jay stated, to be the eyes and ears of the American people overseas. A diplomat represents his or her government through other nations' governments. Ultimately, a diplomat must always be aware of the media's churning tide. He must meet with people in every branch of the government, as well as people from every walk of life - heads of companies, university professors, civil society leaders, even poets. Jay was an excellent speaker - he first outlined the basics of his job and of embassies all over the world. Instead of droning on, which he easily could have done, he was concise and well-spoken. The moment he engaged us as students, his old teaching career really shined through. In answering, he told stories. A question about his greatest professional achievement turned into a story about how he assisted the Ukraine in pulling out of what may have been a gravely crippling economic depression. A question about his assignments turned into a story of where he's been, of where he started. A question about the current U.S. ambassador in Hungary, Eleni Tsakopoulos Kounalakis, turned into a story about her grandfather's incredible drive, determination, and strength. Instead of lecturing, he involved us all in learning.

The one aspect that ultimately resonated the most, though, was Jay's passion. At times, he seemed on the verge of incredibly emotional moments. When he spoke of misconceptions about Americans abroad, he was surprisingly moving. Many people view Americans as pigheaded, invasive, and obnoxious. Our responsibilities as American students abroad not only lie in being respectful and open about other cultures, but a certain responsibility also lies in breaking those negative stereotypes. All eleven of us got into this program on our own merit. We are intellectual, observant, enthusiastic students who are interested in learning more ab

out the world than what exists inside our own nation. I think that every one of us has the ability to change even one person's perception about Americans - just as our perceptions of Hungarians will continuously evolve through the semester. Just like Jay - just like the diplomats that work in the embassy every day - we, too, are the eyes and ears of the people back home.

Home, For Now

I'm not really sure how I got here. I still feel like I should be back on campus, celebrating syllabus week and unpacking in Mills. Somehow I snuck in here, though - to all the meetings in Murkland and Huddleston; sent in my dozens of passport pictures; boarded a plane and flew in a direction I've never been before. There is space for me in this apartment, though, and my name is on the attendance list for classes. Maybe I'm actually supposed to be here.

But then I see this out the window, and I feel like I must be dreaming again. This city is unbelievable - every piece of it feels historic. Our street, Benczur Utca, is lined with trees. The buildings rise up on either side, not overpowering or industrial like cities back home. There's more of an art to it here. Stone ledges and wrought-iron balconies decorate even the simplest buildings. Statues dot the street squares. And this is home to me, at least for the next four months.

Words can barely explain how this feels - I can't even rationalize it to myself. All I want is to explore every corner of this place. I want to see the city all in lights, I want to see it in the morning when the sun is coming up, I want to see it when the snow comes down. I want to stumble through conversations with the few Hungarian words I know, maybe even learn a few more along the way. I want to walk all the way home from the other side of the river at night - wait, we already did that.

Most of all, though, I want to all be able to experience this together. Not to get all end-of-the-semester-speech on everyone, but I am already glad I've met all of you, JSBP. Listening to everyone in class today, I can't help but be a little intimidated. Everyone's ideas are so well constructed and thought-provoking. I've always been able to put my thoughts down on paper, but anytime I have to voice them, I stumble. My hands shake, my voice breaks. Even if I'm confident in exactly what I want to say, it still comes out like I'm four years old in a room full of college students. It's an anxiety that's stuck with me through everything - and I hate it. This semester, while others are facing their fears of getting lost or learning the language, I'll be facing a fear that I've brought from home. I hope that in this sort of life - learning both inside and outside of the classroom with the same ten students - I will finally be brave enough to get over this.

Here goes nothing...