Who Are You, Anyway?
Your image of some fairy-tale Eldorado is shaped almost entirely by cinema and music.
Even though our world no longer resembles the maps of Piri Reis, or the old guides written by Herodotus—where in one tribe lived one-eyed Cyclopes-Arimaspians, in another dog-headed men, and in a third, Amazons galloping on wild horses, fighting Krakens in the name of third-wave feminism—we still don't know a damn thing about each other!
Sure, the world has supposedly become incredibly globalized and open. Anyone today can travel wherever they please (except for a couple of charming totalitarian states), take photos, shoot videos, and capture the details of any country to share with their people back home. We've got the Internet, tons of media and literature, travel blogs, and TV shows introducing us to foreign cultures.
So what more could possibly unite us, help us know each other better? And yet, two key reasons remain why we still know almost nothing about what's happening across the ocean.
1) Hardly anyone in Eastern Europe knows English, Spanish, or any other international language.
That makes it tough for us to connect with your population, to gather reliable info about you. Aliens would honestly have it easier—they'd probably land with language modules pre-installed.
At the same time, hardly anyone on your side knows our languages either. So we hit the same damn problem of the cursed Tower of Babel, from which arrogant mythical linguists from Duolingo threw us down one by one.
2) And, as always—nobody really gives a damn.
Which is perfectly understandable. Because let's be real—you've got your own ground under your feet, your own city or village before your eyes. We do too. And who cares about distant lands while your own life is bubbling right around you?
So, since antiquity or the Middle Ages, basically nothing has changed. Everyone still sits in their swamp, their forest, their polis, their megapolis, thinking only about themselves and their country. We only start caring about faraway lands in three scenarios:
When some random country looks like it might trigger the next Nuclear War. Your pulse spikes, and you go Google what the hell that place even is.
When something mysterious and alluring happens there—like Nessie throwing a chill barbecue-and-croissant party with tourists on the shore of Loch Ness. Greetings to Scotland!
And, of course, when we dream of changing our lives according to some exotic regional vibe. Some downshifter suddenly wants to quit being a bank actuary and become a jaw-harp player in the frozen Tundra. Or move to a tropical island and take health baths inside volcano craters with a cockatoo perched on his shoulder.
But most people, naturally, are interested in just one thing: the material and infrastructural side. Where can you move so you can live like all those celebrities who sell us envy through the screen? Where money flows, parties never end, luxury cars are handed out at the border upon registration, and you can switch straight into your personal submarine.
This worldview is fueled partly by relatives' stories, sure—but mostly, here's where the unforgettable factor of Cinema kicks in.
You managed to sell us the "American Dream" (European, Australian, whatever)—investing a single cent—while we gave you box office returns for decades. And though most people in Eastern Europe openly dislike the Western World and roast it for a hundred reasons, if you dangled a Green Card, they'd have the language module installed in their head instantly—complete with the lyrics of your national anthem.
This isn't mockery or underestimation—it's a long-standing practice, impossible to deny. Though… go ahead, deny it if you want. Ivan doesn't mind.
You showed us things that completely deform our perception of dull reality, in sharp contrast to penthouses, palm trees, cocaine lines across a businessman's navel, cash falling from the sky, and other essentials of being a decent citizen and good human.
I'll even pose the question on your behalf, reader—because if I actually heard you ask it out loud, I'd probably need to check myself into a clinic:
"Wouldn't you want to live in our luxury?"