Once Upon a Yugoslavia: When the American Way Met Tito's Third Way - Softcover

Green, Surya

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0990004341 ISBN 13: 9780990004349

Verlag: New Europe Books, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

It is 1968. Across America, citizens march for social reform and an end to the Vietnam War. Amid all this, Surya Green¿a New York-born, self-absorbed, modern young woman¿is a student at Stanford University, blithely pursuing a graduate degree in communication. Her view of life's purpose unexpectedly starts to expand when she says "Yes" when her Stanford film mentor selects her for a writing job at Zagreb Film in Yugoslavia. Family and friends marvel at her courage, or foolishness. The Zagreb studio may be the renowned producer of the first non-American animated film to win an Oscar, but it is in a country most Americans fear and reject as "communist."¿Green has no idea that her stay in Yugoslavia will ultimately take her beyond national borders to the outermost limits of her mind.

Surya Green, who grew up in New York City and received degrees from Stanford University (MA in communications) and Barnard College (BA in American studies) is the author of The Call of the Sun: A Woman's Journey to the Heart of Wisdom (Element Books Ltd., UK, 1997). She has published magazine articles and has led gatherings, given workshops, and spoken on transformational themes in the Netherlands, USA, UK, and India. A member of the Dutch Association of Journalists and the International Federation of Journalists, she has also worked as a professional actress and singer. She lives in Amsterdam, The Netherlands, where she established the nonprofit foundation www.SunConscious.org in 2000.

"Pensive, engrossing ... The author's sensitive, searching prose makes it feel as though readers are eavesdropping on her thoughts, making every page highly personal and captivating.... An impressive portrait of a country in a tumultuous time but also of a young woman in an equally tumultuous time, eventually heading home with eyes open to the absolute need for equality for women, other races, and for the poor and disadvantaged." ¿Booklist (starred review)

"Surya Green's fascinating book narrates two journeys undertaken simultaneously... . It is often said that travel broadens the mind. In Green's case, immersion in Tito's Yugoslavia served to deepen as well as broaden her knowledge of herself, and the social orders of both Yugoslavia and her American homeland." -Henry Breitrose, Stanford University

"An important testament. I have not before read an account of the former Yugoslavia made so plain." -John Grierson, pioneering documentary filmmaker

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Surya Green, who grew up in New York City and received degrees from Stanford University (MA in communications) and Barnard College (BA in American studies) is the author of The Call of the Sun: A Woman's Journey to the Heart of Wisdom (Element Books Ltd., UK, 1997). She has published magazine articles and has led gatherings, given workshops, and spoken on transformational themes in the Netherlands, USA, UK, and India. A member of the Dutch Association of Journalists and the International Federation of Journalists, she has also worked as a professional actress and singer. She lives in Amsterdam, The Netherlands, where she established the nonprofit foundation www.SunConscious.org in 2000.

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Once Upon a Yugoslavia

When the American Way Met Tito's Third Way

By Surya Green

Steerforth Press

Copyright © 2015 Surya Green
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-9900043-4-9

Contents

Acknowledgments, viii, 
Foreword by Dr. Henry Breitrose, Professor Emeritus of Communication, Stanford University, ix, 
Introduction: Seeing the Overview, xii, 
1. Venturing Out of the Comfort Zone, 1, 
2. Entering a Gray Existence, 9, 
3. Remembering the Backstory, 20, 
4. Living Like the Locals, 27, 
5. Getting to Know Zagreb Film, 37, 
6. Comparing Lifestyles, 56, 
7. Exercising a New Simplicity, 75, 
8. Stretching Mind's Boundaries, 85, 
9. Detaching from Conditioning, 101, 
10. Seesawing between Emotions, 105, 
11. Missing Freedom, 120, 
12. Assisting Film Trailblazer John Grierson, 131, 
13. Knowing Which Questions to Ask, 145, 
14. Carrying Out Self-Examination, 157, 
15. Glimpsing the Larger Perspective, 166, 
16. Experiencing the Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia from Afar, 173, 
17. Learning from Muhammad Ali and Malcolm X, 182, 
18. Seeing with New Eyes, 189, 
19. Becoming Wise in the Workplace, 198, 
20. Crossing Borders, 208, 
21. Embracing the Positive within the Negative, 215, 
22. Going-from-Slave-ia, 231, 
23. Rounding Out Yugo-Nostalgically, 243, 
24. Summing Up in the Now and Looking Ahead, 259, 
Short Yugo-Historical Afterword, 291, 
Glossary, 297, 
Index, 302, 

CHAPTER 1

Venturing Out of the Comfort Zone

Once upon a time, in the summer of 1968, I am seated in a European train taking me toward the unknown: the mysterious country of Tito's Yugoslavia. I have no idea that my foreign travels will ultimately transport me beyond national borders to the furthermost limits of my mind.

The train chugs into the Zagreb train station on a fiery July day. I did not expect a welcoming committee, but there is absolutely no one to receive me. Thinking the Studio's rep is late, I find my way to the waiting room. Poorly dressed and gray-toned people occupy every inch of the cramped space. Some people squat on the ground.

The women wear dark-colored nondescript skirts, mainly long and loose, topped by blouses of coarse plain cotton. Kerchiefs cover many heads. Three small children huddle around a woman who breastfeeds a baby. Never before have I seen breastfeeding in public.

The men are clad in open-collared shirts or pullovers and loose trousers. Many of them sport short-cropped, heavily oiled hair. Several men are stretched out asleep on the wooden benches. One man sits in a corner slicing and giving chunks of greasy roast bacon and bread to the people gathered around him. His family?

The odor of stale sweat permeates the room. These people conform to the stereotype of disadvantaged communist citizens. Have I stepped onto the set of a European art house movie?

As strange as the scene looks to me, many eyes stare in my direction. Not that I am remarkably beautiful or ugly. Perhaps my clothing, of the latest American fashion, attracts their gaze. My minidress contrasts sharply to the modest attire of the Yugoslav women. The dress raised no eyebrows in the States. Here it evokes reactions of dismay.

Clicking sounds similar to "tsk, tsk" sting my ears. I assume this means pretty much the same as at home: "Pity! Pity! Shame! Shame!" The disapproval of the travelers, the stifling heat, the stuffy air, and the stench of the waiting room convince me to leave the train station.

After two days in transit, I rally the strength to go on carrying my suitcase and my portable typewriter. Family and friends, doubting the existence of quality goods in a communist country, persuaded me to pack a hearty supply of skirts, blouses, and dresses to remain my stylish self even in Yugoslavia. My parents stuffed nuts, dried fruits, and cookies into my suitcase. In these free-flying days when airlines do not strictly apply overweight penalty fees, and luggage manufacturers have yet to discover the wheel, my baggage weighs me down. I drag myself to a huddle of taxi drivers who scrutinize me thoroughly.

"Zagreb Film," I announce. The men act baffled.

"The Studio is well known!" I exclaim. The drivers do not understand English and I have not one phrase of Serbo-Croatian at my disposal.

"Okay, okay," I say, more to myself than to them. They snigger as they watch me search in my large shoulder bag crammed with everything I thought I might possibly need during the two days' journey from New York to Zagreb. One driver motions me to his car.

I show the precious letter sent by Zagreb Film confirming the summer job. "This is the address. Vlaška 70." The man shrugs and throws up his hands.

Another driver rubs his fingers together in the international gesture for money. Nowhere on my route have I been able to buy the Yugoslav currency, the dinar. After more rummaging in my purse, I produce the German coins left over from the passage through Germany and the meal in the train. The driver, glancing at them, shakes his head unfavorably.

All except two of the men wander back to their cars. One of them makes a hand signal I interpret to mean I should just stand there and wait, because help will be coming, and I need not fret. The other driver walks off. It is almost high noon, and the blazing rays of summer Sun burn into my naked arms. Leaning on his taxi, the driver leers at my legs, all the while picking at his teeth. His face bears a mischievous grin. I wish I had worn slacks.

Finally, at last, the first driver returns in the company of an elderly fellow who seems to be in his seventies. He is bald and needs a shave. Gray stubble pops out helter-skelter. His round-rimmed eyeglasses remind me of my grandfather's classic pair. The seasoned recruit points to my suitcase, then to himself, and lifts my baggage with youthful agility. Smiling a broad, toothless grin, he walks away at a rapid pace. Astonished, I follow. The dynamic porter marches past the fleet of parked taxis and crosses the street. Running to keep up, I flap the Studio's letterhead address at him.

Not missing a step, he says "Da, da '— apparently "Yes, yes." He strides briskly toward a crowd of people pushing their way into a tram. A veritable battle tank, the old man rolls in among them and squeezes through the carriage. People struggling onto the tram shove me aside. Before I can board, the tram begins moving. I panic and shout in English, "Wait a minute! Wait for me!"

The tram continues. Reenergized by the need of the moment, I run in pursuit, waving frantically for the tram to halt. Passengers hanging out the windows wave gaily back. They seem to enjoy my inconvenience!

Huffing, puffing, and overheated, I catch the tram at its next stop. Adapting the local push-and-squeeze tactic, I burrow into the packed hotbox. The perspiring bodies melt us into a human soup. My nose does not have to be overly sensitive to note again that underarm deodorant may not be available to Yugoslavs.

I hold my breath and resort to the elbowing maneuver. Colliding into the old man, my baggage firmly in his grip, I sigh in relief. He breaks into his huge, toothless grin. Two slightly ripped tram tickets dangle from his shirt pocket. After long steamy minutes as one of the smelly horde, I am unsteadied when the tram jerks to a standstill. The old man gasps and joins the thrust to the nearest exit. I cling to his jacket, my determination to breathe fresh air growing...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: New Europe Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2015
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0990004341
• ISBN 13: 9780990004349
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 336
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: GPSR Kontakt; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; 36244; Deutschland