1916: Images of the Easter Rising 100 Years Later

by Derek McSwain

As Easter, which fell on April 24th, dawned in 1916, the citizens of Dublin awoke to find their city the site of an open rebellion against the British Government. In 1914, after hundreds of years of British rule, the Irish independence movement had been on the cusp of victory when the British Parliament had passed a bill calling for self-government in Ireland. These hopes were dashed with the outbreak of the First World War, which led to the bill being delayed. Concerns over the possibility of forcible conscription for Irish citizens only caused further political instability in the country. On Easter, 1916 three Irish Republican factions (the Irish Volunteers, Cumann na mBan, which was the women’s auxiliary of the Volunteers, and the Irish Citizen’s Army), launched an attack that was intended to incite rebellion across the country. However, Dublin was the only site of heavy fighting, as the rebellion in other areas fizzled out. Within a week the rebellion was over as the leaders offered an unconditional surrender following intense fighting. Nearly 500 had been killed in the Easter Rising, with close to half of the casualties being civilians. Although the Rising failed to achieve its immediate goals, the British response, particularly the execution of the rebellion’s leaders had a lasting impact. After years of rebellion and open warfare with Britain, Ireland finally gained independence with the Ango-Irish Treaty of 1921.

Patrick Pearse, teacher, activist, and Irish Volunteers Leader. Later executed for his role in the Rising.

James Connolly, socialist and labor activist Citizen’s Army leader, also executed.

Constance Markievicz, aristocrat, labor activist and member of the Cumann na mBan. She would later serve as a member of the Irish Parliament and Minister for Labor of the Irish Republic.

Easter Rising handbill declaring the formation of the Irish Republic.

Dublin’s General Post Office (GPO) several decades before the Rising. Occupied by rebels, the GPO would become the site of fierce battles and, eventually, a symbol of the rebellion. (Image from: British Library Flickr)

Irish Republican fighters at the GPO. (Image from: Defence Forces Archives Flickr)

British soldiers with an improvised armored car made from parts of a train.

Letter to Patrick Pearse agreeing to negotiations. (Image from: Defence Forces Archives Flickr)

The GPO showing damage from shelling after the Rising. (National Library of Ireland Flickr)

British soldiers conducting searches in Dublin after the rebellion. (Image from:National Library of Ireland Flickr)

Irish Republican prisoners. (Defence Forces Archives Flickr)

Card commemorating executed Irish Republican fighter. (Image from: Defence Forces Archives Flickr)

Military parade in front the GPO, 2016. (Image from: Getty Images)

Brief Bio

McSwain is a grad student in Appalachian State's Historic Preservation program and works at the University Writing Center as a writing consultant. A life-long resident of North Carolina, he is particularly interested in early Colonial and Southern history. Once he completes his studies, he hopes to work with a local government or the National Parks Service in preservation. In his spare time he enjoys reading science fiction and drawing. 

George Rye: Discovering Hidden History

by Zach Hottel

Inside the history world there is a growing trend to uncover what is known as “forgotten history.” Often this includes those people outside mainstream society such as minorities, women, political dissidents, and the poor. Until recently many of these individuals were ignored by historians who were content to talk about military heroes, notable citizens, and the wealthy. More recently though, museums, historical societies, and professional historians have realized that everyone, no matter what their economic or social status is, deserves to be studied if we are going to truly understand the past.

Zach during the presentation he gave for the program. It turned out very well!

Recently I had the opportunity to help uncover some of Shenandoah County’s “hidden past” when I did a program on George Rye for the New Market Area Library. Rye, who lived in the 19th century, was an ardent abolitionist and one of the county’s first Republicans. He is a significant figure in Shenandoah County and the nation’s history, yet few people know he even existed. So when some new information emerged, and New Market Area Library’s program chair called asking me to do a program, I chose his life as my topic.

Yet, it appeared there was an obstacle that would have to be overcome. No one could talk about George Rye without talking about slavery in Shenandoah County. Many locals shy away from this topic. In this area, where the direct descendants of slaves and masters still live side by side and where the false image of a population historically adverse to slavery has been fashioned, mentioning how prevalent and powerful slavery was in this county is often considered taboo.

However, the possible issues many seem to fear never materialized. I pushed forward with the program, eventually using the time to talk as much about slavery and racism as I did about George Rye. And the great thing was that people relished the chance to learn about this forgotten history. People responded with inquisitive looks, thoughtful questions, and quite a few ah-ha moments instead of anger or irritation. Attendance was higher than most programs at the library, and the response on social media was outstanding. After the program many attendees remained to talk about the issues, to see what else they could discover, or to simply say how amazed they were that someone had actually discussed this topic.

So what does all of this mean for those of us interested in history? Perhaps it means the time has come for us to explore this forgotten history around us without any reservations. People are ready, now more than ever, to talk about the uncomfortable events they lived through and to hear the unconventional stories around us. Many of us can develop suspicions that limit our ability to do this, but the reality is that the negative reaction we fear is only all powerful in our minds. So go out and discover this hidden history; talk about it with a friend; and if you find yourself bored on the night of February 16th, visit the county library in Edinburg at 7:00PM, as I will be discussing the forgotten history of segregation and integration in Shenandoah County.

Blogger Bio:

Zach graduated from our History MA program with a concentration in public history in May, 2015. He is a proud Virginian from Woodstock and received his BA in History from Roanoke College. Zach currently works as an archivist in Shenandoah County Library in Virginia. His research interests include local history, Civil War memory, and how to help people interact with the past.

My Rant for the Week [Repost]

by Lauren Souther

  This is a repost of a blogpost created during the author's time as a summer intern for the Virginia Holocaust Museum in Richmond on June 14th, 2014. For more about her internship experience at the Museum, visit http://southerlauren.wix.com/internatvaholocaust. 

Lauren at her internship site in 2014

Ok so I finished my first week as an intern at VHM!  I am excited, yet throughout these first 5 days, I have noticed some things that have been really frustrating. This is not the first time that I have noticed certain "problems."  Let me explain. Like I said before, the Holocaust has always interested me ever since I was 13. Since then, I have noticed some negatives surrounding by passion and career goals. Here is a list of these 5 issues that have really frustrated, and even angered me, over the years.

1.  Why are you doing this to yourself? The Holocaust is so depressing!...

     This one has probably frustrated me the most over the years. I have a B.A. in history. I am going for my Masters in Public History. I have visited Holocaust museums for over a decade. I know about the genocide. For those of you who have asked me this question "Why are you doing this to yourself?"  Don't you think I know that the Holocaust is not a warm and fuzzy subject. That is one of the many reasons why I want to dedicate my life researching it and working to educate people about it. It is an honor and a blessing to be able to intern at the VHM. I feel like I am doing more than just dishing out historical facts; I am actively taking part in educating the public about the horrors of genocide, hopefully, in order to stop another Holocaust from occurring. So, yes, it is depressing, but not as depressing as when I hear people say they do not want to work in a Holocaust Museum because it is a sad subject.

2. Why do you care so much? You are not even Jewish...

      This one is probably equally annoying. Almost everytime that I tell someone that I am interested in Holocaust history, they ask me if I am Jewish. I am not Jewish. Yes, six million Jews died in the Holocaust, but the genocide claimed other non-Jewish victims. Jehovah Witnesses, homosexuals, Roma, Poles, and the handicapped, just to name a couple. The Holocaust, although it had a profound impact in Jewish history, is not all about Jews. Furthermore, I do not care that I am not Jewish. I argue that I do have a personal connection to these victims. I am a human being. The millions who were killed were human beings. Therefore, I feel I have the duty to help tell their story.

3.  Why is there a Holocaust museum in Richmond? That seems random...

     First of all, there are actually numerous Holocaust survivors that immigrated to Richmond or the surrounding areas. Because of that, it would only seem natural for them to want a memorial/museum to tell their stories. If it was up to me, there would be a Holocaust museum in every state, at least one. It is not random. It is an important piece of history that is often overlooked in the classrooms. I do not even remember learning much about it in middle or high school. I did learn about it in museums. Museums are tools that are better than lectures or textbooks.

4. Disrespectful museum visitors...

     Visiting a Holocaust museum is like visiting a cemetery. The museum deserves a certain amount of dignity and respect. If you think you can not be respectful, do not visit. Do not bring young kids who you know are going to be too loud. The VHM, as well as other museums like it, is a solemn place. You go there to learn and pay respect to those who have perished. It amazes me how so many people, especially adults, do not understand this.

5. Indifferent museum staff...

   I understand that most people are not going to be as passionate as me about the Holocaust, even museum workers who work at these museums. That's ok. That's not what annoys me. I remember sitting in on a lecture given by a young college grad who just finished interning at a Holocaust museum. I will not say which one. She was shocked to see some staff members who appeared to be indifferent about the genocide, and just simply not interested in the subject. Here was this girl so interested in getting a job at this museum, and I can only imagine her frustration. Luckily, all of the workers I have met so far at VHM seem passionate about the subject matter. Passion, to me, is important in every job.

Blogger Bio:

Lauren graduated from our Public History program with distinction in May, 2015.  She has had a few internship and work experiences since graduation. Currently, she is serving as an Americorps fellow at the North House Museum AFHA in West Virginia. Lauren is passionate about the education of Holocaust History. Besides connecting with us, she wants to use this post to expound on what it means to work in a Holocaust museum. 

What Is To Be Done?: Combating Neoliberalism on Campus through the Student Movement

by Connor Harney

In a 2013 article published in the Guardian, Peter Higgs, the famed Nobel Prize-winning Physicist, lamented at what he perceived as lack of productivity within the context of the new academic culture.  Higgs, who published only 10 articles after his award-winning research on the process by which subatomic materials acquire mass, stated that had he been held to the current expectations of publishing an article a year: “It’s hard to imagine how I would ever have enough peace and quiet in the present climate to do what I did in 1964.”^[1] The case of Higgs is merely anecdotal evidence of the larger problem within higher education, which is that those in charge have succeeded in proletarianizing academia—instead of real meaningful work, professors are judged by the quantity of their publications, so that the administration can tout the productivity of the faculty along with the litany of little worker bees that they crank out every year like an assembly line. Many of our most brilliant minds are being stifled by such a system, and choose to pursue less meaningful work over substantiality because many of them are afraid of losing their increasingly tenuous employment at their university.  These relations do not merely apply to faculty, but students as well.  More and more, a degree from a university no longer symbolizes knowledge acquired through vigorous intellectual pursuits, but instead an investment, with some having better returns than others.

Portrait of Peter Higgs by Ken Currie (Photo source: Wikipedia)

In the age of Neoliberalism, governments around the world and the powers that they represent are slowly but surely integrating all aspects of life into the marketplace. Human relations are one by one being transformed into market relations and gradually alienating human beings from one another.  These relations have been applied to the UNC system and public university systems across the country and thus, higher education has become increasingly inaccessible to those coming from low-income families as tuition has gradually become one of the most important levers to funding these institutions.  Rather than being treated as places of refuge for the pursuit of knowledge, higher education becomes a business, as they increasingly function not from state allocated funds, but from consumers themselves, in this case, the students.  Ultimately, these students lose their role as students, and instead take on the dual role of consumer and commodity. It does not matter that often times these degrees become diluted and cease to mean that the student has acquired a well-rounded education, but instead, has proved that they could be a vessel to be filled with “facts” and “answers” day in and day out for four years, but knowing just as much as they did when they came in.

Unfortunately, this trend does not seem to be going anywhere. Despite the fact that, as David Harvey has noted, “the closer the economy converges on its pure state, the deeper crisis will likely become,” as long as the politics of austerity are championed by politicians both of the liberal and conservative variety.  This means the more that public works continue to be privatized and the less regulations are put upon private enterprise, the more detrimental future economic crises will become.^[2] As long as what little social safety net and welfare is up for grabs, and the tendency toward privatization remains intact, working people already suffering will only suffer more the next time a crisis wracks our economic system. And, in many ways, this crisis of overproduction is making itself felt, and as long as many can no longer afford to consume given their current situation, there is not enough spending to realize surplus-value in the market.  In practical sense, this means that the university system will increasingly place the burden of funding on students, as the state slowly but surely privatizes the university system and turns it into an industry that is open to the fluctuations of the market. This is evidenced by the allocations of funding for the UNC system. For the 2014-2015 fiscal year, around $1.7 billion went to fund Appalachian State and the 16 other universities that make up the university system, while around $2.7 billion was appropriated from tax revenues within the state budget.  In effect, the amount of funding through tuition amounted to a third of the university system’s budget across the state.^[3]  It is no surprise then, that there is such a problem with student debt in this country, and if the trend continues, this onus put on the students will become more pronounced. Not only does this phenomenon magnify the impoverishment of low-income students wishing to better themselves through higher education, it effectively keeps them from fulfilling their scholastic aspirations, due to their obligation to work in order to keep themselves from sinking into insurmountable debt. Who knows what great intellect we are depriving society of in this manner? 

So then, what needs to be done? Students could just throw up their hands and groan “That’s just the way it is.” A cursory look back shows that things have not always been this way, indeed, an examination of the flagship school UNC Chapel Hill’s budget for the years 1985-86 attest to this fact, as only 5.8% of the university’s funding came from tuition and student fees.^[4]  With proper pressure from below, meaning the faculty and the students, this breakdown can be made reality again. Across the country, student movements are attempting to make their voices heard, and Appalachian State is no exception. 

This semester, a group called Appalachian Student Power has organized large rallies in order to highlight the seemingly misplaced priorities of the administration.  The organization created a list of proposals that they made public. It is a powerful document indeed, in that it suggests ways that funds could be alternatively allocated in order to “create an environment at Appalachian State University that puts the mental, physical, and financial well-being of students, faculty, staff, and their families above the preservation and propagation of Appalachian State as a brand, sports team, or commodity.”^[5] This statement of purpose is essentially a battle cry against austerity and the Neoliberal ideology behind it. As a long time student at ASU, it makes me proud to see such momentum and action among the student body and can only hope that it continues. 

Author of this post, man in sunglasses holding a purple sign, protesting with the App State Student Power at a rally (Photo source: App State Student Power Facebook page)

While I remain hopeful for the student movement not only here on campus at ASU but for the wider movement nationwide, there are some suggestions that seem more beneficial to the continuation of this movement than others. First, if Mizzou has taught organizers nationwide anything, it should be the necessity to utilize and formalize collective bargaining as a means of challenging these currents in academia.^[6] What does that mean in practice? students and faculty, especially tenured faculty, as they have more respite from any tactics of retaliation that the administration may employ due to the nature of the tenure system, must band together in order to form a coherent means of making their voices heard.  This means possibly forming a viable union made up of both students and professors. Of utmost importance is the athletics department’s support of such a movement.  It was not until the football team at Mizzou came forward in support of student activists that the administration acknowledged their demands. At ASU that means possibly changing some direction—as noted above, it is not so much the allocation of funds to athletics, but rather the way that the university is funded. Thus, when discussing the role of students in this union, this must also mean student-athletes as well.  The onus should be on the state to provide education, not the young adult students entering the adult world for the first time who can ill afford to pay for their degrees without major financial assistance. This means addressing not only inconsistencies in this neoliberal logic on campus but across the state and the country as well.  The faculty has made some attempts to address this through a resolution passed through the Faculty Senate, which called into question the recent appointment of Margaret Spellings as president of the UNC system, and noted their “serious reservations” on the legitimacy of a woman who has not only made disparaging comments toward the LGBT community but was also the Secretary of Education in the Bush White House and was most responsible for the No Child Left Behind program being put at the helm of the university system.^[7]

Faculty protesting at an event (Photo sourse: Aaup Appalachian Facebook page)

Faculty protesting at an event (Photo sourse: Aaup Appalachian Facebook page)

       The faculty is right in questioning Spellings credentials, as her past only reflects the politics of privatization addressed above, but the students and the faculty must do more than pass resolutions—they must demand change.  Of course, this coalition of students and professors is undeniably important; however, there is another crucial component that has been often overlooked, and that is the role of the community. If this coalition could garner the support of the community at large, it could give real power to the movement. How can the student movement rally the large community in Boone and the wider Watauga county area? First, this would entail a massive program for community outreach. 

Many working people in town resent the presence of the university largely due to the process of gentrification that the unprecedented growth of the school has brought and the dislocation of many of Boone’s traditional inhabitants to the outskirts of town. There is also the aloofness with which many students show toward the townspeople of Boone. In order to rectify this situation, any student movement would need to think of ways to address the gentrification of the town and ways that the university can help to alleviate the worst instances of poverty in the community. Not only that, it needs to be stressed that a reprioritization of how universities are funded would make these institutions more accessible to low-income families. Instead of constructing luxury apartments that are well out of the tenable range for most working people and students, such as the newly constructed Lofts that start at $750 a month in rent, the students and the citizens of Boone should influence developers to create housing that is both affordable and sustainable (here's looking at you Meadowview).^[8]

(Photo source: App State Student Power)

Finally, while it seems that many movements across the country are resistant to allowing a formal leadership, due in large part to a desire for a democratic resistance movement, in practice, it often leads to scattered priorities and a lack of clear objectives. Hopefully, this fear can be overcome, and a more coherent movement will emerge to challenge the politics of austerity in higher education.   The coalition outlined here may mean that many activists will have to learn to work with elements that may take them out of their comfort zone, but this is a hurdle that needs to be overcome.  It will be interesting to see how the battle against Neoliberalism will play out across campuses, but it is important to remember that the United States has a long history of student movements, of which this movement will hopefully be the next chapter.  

Blogger Bio:

Connor Harney, 24, is a second year graduate student in the History Department at Appalachian State University. His specialization is in Latin American History in particular The Cuban Revolution. After his tenure at ASU, he hopes to attend UNC Chapel Hill and complete a dissertation on the role of ideological pragmatism and its relation to the continuation of the Cuban Revolution. When not engaged in coursework he enjoys all things fitness related, binge watching Netflix, and reading social and economic theory.

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^[1] Decca Aitkenhead, “Peter Higgs: I Wouldn't Be Productive Enough For Today's Academic System,” The Guardian, 6 December 2013, accessed December 3, 2015,  http://www.theguardian.com/science/2013/dec/06/peter-higgs-boson-academic-system.

^[2] David Harvey, A Companion To Marx’s Capital, vol. 2 (New York: Verso, 2013), 13.

^[3] Pat McCrory, The Governor’s Recommended Budge, 2015-2017, March 2015, accessed December 3, 2015, https://ncosbm.s3.amazonaws.com/s3fs-public/documents/files/BudgetBook_2015.pdf .

^[4] UNC Chapel Hill, Fact Book 1986-87, 1^st edition, April 1987, accessed December 3, 2015, http://oira.unc.edu/files/2012/03/fb1986_1987.pdf.

^[5] Appalachian State Student Power, “Proposal from Student Power,” accessed December 3, 2015, https://www.docdroid.net/6KiEtUL/proposalfromstudentpower.pdf.html .

^[6]“UM System President Wolfe Resigns MU Chancellor to new role; UM Board of  Curator  announces significant diversity and inclusion initiatives,” Inside UM System, November 9, 2015, accessed December 7, 2015, http://www.umsystem.edu/ums/news/leadership_news/news_110915/.

^[7] Stancill, Jane, “Appalachian State Faculty Raise Concerns About Spellings,” The News and Observer (Raleigh, NC), December 3, 2015, accessed December 4, 2015, http://www.newsobserver.com/news/politics-government/politics-columns-blogs/under-the-dome/article47868485.html .

^[8] The Lofts at University Hall Drive, “Apartment Pricing and Details,” The Lofts at University Hall Drive, accessed December 7, 2015, http://www.loftsatuniversityhall.com/#!pricing/c7cs.   

Like a Frenzied Fish--My week in Romania at the Appalachian/Carpathian International Conference

by Anthony Sadler

This post is Anthony's reflection of his recent trip to Romania for the Appalachian/Carpathian International Conference at Transilvania University, Brasov. He went as a US delegate and presented a paper entitled “Response and Consequence: The Asheville Flood of 1916” in front of scholars from all over the world studying Appalachian and Carpathian mountains.

At the Bucharest airport lobby, a half-dozen Romanians waited several hours to haul our tardy American convoy to their mountains.

Bogdam Petrescu wildly drove a near pristine Volkswagen coupe from Bucharest to Brasov. The car made him seem wealthy, which made him insecure. “It’s my father’s,” he sheepishly said. He drove it like a frenzied fish, which was moderate for his country. “Do you like The Script,” he asked before playing their latest CD. “Do you like Gotham?” he continued. I never expected to be talking about Family Guy with the first Romanian I’d met.

Me and an accidental friend, Castle Bran, Romania

He has pointy, full eyebrows, sandy hair, and striking round eyes with never-ending pursed lips. He is handsome by American standards, but he probably has no idea. Or, at least he failed to act accordingly. His excitement toward American culture, particularly his love of DC superheroes and Yankee TV, gave us the first inclination of America’s importance in Romania. From MTV to Hotel Transylvania 2, America’s number one export has found a home in the Carpathians. While at first petrified, throughout my stay the familiar, even Minions, made me feel at home.

Romanian accents are the envy of Eastern Europe. It has the stop and start tone of Russian with the rolling tongue of the romances; like Italian with a touch of French. The language is distinctly romantic with a dash of German. Knowing Italian or Spanish helps, but Romanian has a beauty of its own.

“This is the smell of Ploiesti,” Bogdam explained. Petrol refineries filled the air and the Volkswagen with the distinct scent of Carbon Monoxide as we sped passed the largest toy store I’d ever seen. In America, most pollution is scentless, invisible. Just as I was about to sneeze, we were out of the city. The gas circulated and exited through the A/C as the blur of neon Coca-Cola signs filled the vehicle with light. I never smelled anything else like it in Romania.

Like most of his countrymen, Bogdam’s English was better than good but not quite excellent. English became more popular after the revolution against communists in December of 1989. Pre- or post-revolution is the most distinct demarcation in Romania. We simply have no modern equivalent for that event in America. Romanians now start learning English in kindergarten. By high school, most are fluent in 3 or 4 tongues.

Bogdam became a great friend during my trip and taught me a good deal about his country and his personal history, but at first I was too enamored with foreign experiences. I was too wrapped up in my Americanness and the constant challenge of the “association game.” Carrefour is the Romanian Wal-Mart? It’s embarrassing, I know. I simply could not help myself. I commented on how relatively cheap goods were and began many phrases with “In the states…”

The birdshit-covered produce at the market boggled me. “If the water is unsafe to drink,” I asked Bogdam, “then what do you wash the fruit with?” “Water,” he replied. I failed my new friends, I fear, by judging their country according to the ridiculous standards of mine.

His girlfriend Iuliana spoke better English. As a child of a Yankophile and lover of Bon Jovi, I was not surprised. They were not blindly enamored with the “great American visitors,” as other Americans might insist. They maintained a curious reticence that led to questions deeper than most Americans ask about themselves.  Like, “Why is our banking system so messed up?” Why does an explanation about absurd policies and practices typically begin or end with, “well, a company wanted______?”  I felt like I was trying to paint water. Still, Romanians seemed more concerned with their own reality than others’.

Bullet holes in the Modorama, Old City Centre, Brasov, Romania

On December 13, 1989, Brasovian citizens revolted against the Romanian communist regime. Their bullets sliced through buildings and bodies and ended decades of totalitarian rule. My Romanian friends are among the first post-revolution generation. I tried to wrap my head around the reality of living in a nation so soon liberated. They struggle to understand what standing in line for bread that never came was like for their parents. They fall somewhere between the first generation after the Great Depression and those born just after the Second World War. Pushed and pulled, they must somehow balance opportunities not available to their parents in a time of jubilance for the new republic.

Two blocks from the Brasov post office sits a park. In the center is a monument and it maintains the look of a typical square, lined with buckeye trees. Along the north fence a row of tombstones stand uniformed in white marble. They have photos of the dead above the date of their deaths, always 1989. These are the fallen of the revolution, ages 12 to 72. Romanians do not want their visitors to bypass this sacred place. Stationed within the tourism center of the city, those dead men, women, and children occupy a central role in their history, memory, and identity.

Not all Romanians feel comfortable in the Republic. Social mobility arrived but is unfair and falls along financial lines. Political power is often obtained through corruption and politicians work to serve their own needs first. Some miss the unity between Romanians. They may have suffered, but they did so together. Family traditions crumble under commercial autonomy, and some Romanians wonder whether communism was so bad after all.

Some buildings still have bullet holes. Sections are set aside within frames in memoriam. Within the frame, decades of grime surround the relics of destruction like a photo—captured in time. The nation is moving forward, but they are keenly aware of the risk of forgetting their past. This keeps Romania bound between tradition and progress, the old and the new. It is what makes them so special. It also makes the Carpathians so dissimilar from the Appalachians. There is an element of choice in their culture and a lack of mutual exclusivity. Having some of the fastest Wi-Fi in the world does not mean they had to forfeit their heritage. In the remote village of Magura, horses pull wooden wagons with car axles followed by juveniles on dirt bikes. The newest generation embraces tourism and operates pensions while others stack hay according to tradition—with scythes and community help. Traditional wooden homes with incredibly beautiful and ornate decorations uphold TV satellites that beam The Nanny into their living rooms. At la Ciocolata, a shack, a family serves Romanian plum moonshine called tuica (pronounced ts-weeka, with a tsunami-styled tis!) from recycled Fanta bottles alongside Coke and chips. Everywhere tradition and modernity coexist. Is this a transition or equilibrium?

Haystack, Magura Village, Brasov, Romania

I have a fantasy of returning to Romania to observe and report change. Entire cultures disappear under the guise of progress. People become lost in the pretext of modernity. They mislay their footing and the beastly mainstream sweeps them away, unromantically, into the arms of sameness and saneness or sensational normality.
Will Romania end up like us? I have no clue, but I hope not.

I thought I came to witness a world apart. Romanian visions of living history museums crisscrossed my mind. Frankly, I’d gone to see a people struggling on the land, working harder than deserved, like Adam and Eve after the fall: exiled from Eden. Instead, I found inspiration. Optimism coursed through me. Contrary to popular belief, America is not the best model for freedom. Romanians prove that we are wrong and right. We were right to take matters into our own hands against the Empire to gain comfort, but we are wrong to expect it at no cost. Freedom is not free and history is cost/benefit analysis in narrative form.

Judging from the likes of my fellow conference attendees, there is an army waiting to guard the Romanians from this fate. Some are more determined than others, but the message was clear: protect what is left. Coming from Appalachians, Carpathians should heed that advice. The mountain cultures of the Eastern United States long ago fell to the cadent call of capitalist prosperity. Cultures bled out and formed puddles of homogeneity. Industrialists raped, reaped, and rendered the mountains to remnants. Its people were set aside, where they remain, for entertainment purposes only, like the Hatfield and McCoys Dinner Show.

The Hollywoodification of Romania

Dracula is a Carpathian mountain stereotype. Romanians resent this image like Appalachians detest the “hillbilly.” They defend the honor of Vlad Tepes more than 500 years after he impaled thousands of his enemies in Transilvania. Still, they sell kitschy baubles like Dracula snow globes or Cabernet Sauvignon to pay the bills. I went to Castle Bran and paid my thirty Lei, the backdrop for Stoker’s horror masterpiece, where Vlad never slept. Our Romanian friends apologized for its disingenuousness. Surrounded by a tourist marketplace set up much like a flea market, the Castle had an entire room dedicated to the Dracula story. It is a place that knows its place in Romania, and they are more than capable of capitalizing on those blurred historical lines. Apparently my new apologetic friends have never seen Dollywood.

Castle Bran, Romania

Romania and I had a weeklong affair that bordered on the shallow but teetered into substance. It was a rocky start. I came for the stereotypes: espresso, pastries, and peasants.

It was like starting in the middle of a great book. I tried, but probably failed, to grasp the context. I left just when it got interesting. Its claws dug into my side and left a mark. Bogdam, Iuliana, Magura, and my new stateside friends, created a fresh world for me that is bound by time and experience; temporary yet meaningful. They, and Romania, seem fictional to me now precisely because of how fantastic they are.

These thoughts, and this whole experience, are selfish. Could it have been any other way? Is a truly foreign experience possible? From the moment I landed in Romania I knew my time was limited. I took from that place and those people a sweetness of life. I gained so much that I will probably never fully comprehend. My only realistic hope is that, in return, my stinginess was not so apparent. And, I hope I left a little of me somewhere along those ancient streets, the piazzas, or the uneven steps of Romania.

Blogger Bio:
Anthony received his BA in History from the University of Georgia in 2013 and is a second-year graduate student at Appalachian State University. He was born in Tampa, Florida, but lives in Boone with his wife and two cats. He is currently in the research stage for his Master’s thesis, tentatively titled “River of Sorrow, Land of the Sky: the Great Asheville Flood of 1916.” In general, he studies natural disasters within capitalist societies of the 19^th and 20^th centuries with a specific interest in how urban centers responded and learned from events and their long-term cultural, social, economic, and environmental effects.