MARCH 27, 2022 – (Cont.) In the letter home, my mention of politics in the conversation with East German hikers led to an observation about a “sojourner’s diplomacy.”
“The traveler must be diplomacy-minded at all times, and that’s especially important in countries that are “officially” anti-American. Today I saw the opportunity to counteract the heaps of anti-West (particularly anti-U.S.) propaganda that are continually fed to Eastern Europeans. My approach had several angles.
“First, I took an interest in [the East Germans] and in their culture (e.g. I inquired about their vocations, their cities, their interests, and asked the German word for this, that, and the other).
“Second, I underscored a few of the more obvious contradictions in the Soviets’ application of Marxist-Leninist Doctrine (e.g. If the Marxist economy leads to a classless society, why is that official there (one happened to be in town) riding around in a big, beautiful chauffeured limousine, while you putt around in a Wartburg (an East German auto that my friends had previously knocked as a piece of junk)?
“Third, I painted a realistic picture of the West. That is, I noted our problems and vices but emphasized our freedom to criticize and our exceptional opportunities.
“Finally, I apologized to a German from Dresden for the ‘unnecessary bombing’ of his city (WW II – Allied saturation bombing of Dresden, a non-military target.) That apology really knocked their socks off. What?! An American apologizing for Dresden?! [My acknowledgment of that war crime] was the icing on my diplomatic cake. We parted friends.
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Now for the third vivid memory of Novy Smokovec (see yesterday’s post)—involving dinner entrées.
After my first day of hiking, I repaired to the hotel, showered, and headed for a village restaurant. A morose waiter brought me a mimeographed menu, which was entirely in Slovak. “I couldn’t make head or tail of [it],” I wrote in my letter home. “I tried my luck, selected at random—and lost. Since every entrée was a dollar or less, I asked for another dish. Strike two. The third time (I hadn’t eaten all day, and the long hike had produced quite an appetite)—BINGO! Just what I wanted [pork chops with knedle and gravy]. The following night I returned to the same establishment expecting to order and receive . . . [pork chops with knedle and gravy]. Sorry, Charlie!! They’d changed the menu!!!”
I was saved by an observant diner on the other side of the restaurant. “An English-speaking East German saw my predicament and walked across the room to my table. ‘Can I help?’ he asked.
“‘And how!’ I said. After selecting a desirable meal, we talked for a while—about the mountains, the weather—small talk. This morning the young engineer and his wife met me at the Poprad train station. There, beyond the informers’ ears, we talked a bit about living conditions in East Germany. When they asked about my travels, the ‘zoo animals in the cage’ image flashed before my eyes.”
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
