Europe seemed a million miles away from the start-up tech scene back in the USA. Global warming gifted Browder and his girlfriend Laura with an exceptionally warm February in Italy and Switzerland, and later Spain. The pitched competitiveness of high-tech venture capital and the frenzied pursuit of wealth and career success have increased Browder’s social standing and cultural sophistication. At the same time, they destroyed all his outside interests and turned him into the type of person who feels uncomfortable, even guilty, to have downtime. His posture over the years became stiffer and his voice more high-pitched. He had become more annoying, and lately could only go out with friends who were in the same business as him. He had nothing to say to anyone else.

 

European vacation acted on this as a great decompression; a mysterious relief valve was opened over the several weeks of travel from one beautiful city to another. For years, creating disruptive businesses seemed the single most important occupation for a human. Slowly, the bright landscapes and the beautiful art and architecture began to persuade him that some of the older interests of humanity are still going strong. In the first week, when he would sample some delicious food, he thought about the business model of that particular restaurant and the possibility of scaling it up. Later on, he began to think these ideas ridiculous. As days went by, he dropped his American drinking etiquette and started having a drink at lunch time, sometimes even at breakfast. He bought a pack of Marlborough Lights. Laura scolded him about smoking every now and then, but he rationalized it cooly.

 

-       We’re on vacation! I’ve been working out a lot lately, I can afford to get a little out of shape.

 

It didn’t cause any major arguments among them.

 

A certain type of American cannot have enough of Europe; they fall in love with the culture and want to buy property and retire there. They have the urge to turn European immediately and completely but are kept from doing so by several obstacles: residual patriotism for their country of origin, lack of financial means, or the fact that most European nations have traditionally been jealous of citizenship. Besides, one has to come from outside of Europe in order to fully appreciate it.  

 

Browder, however, was not that type of American. His appreciation for Europe stemmed mostly from rather abstract intellectual interests. He had an intimate knowledge of European history, and was familiar with the Renaissance, history of Western science and Western art, and the history of Christianity. In his youth he played and followed association football, though that interest waned a long time ago. He was curious by nature and loved travel. After years of hard work and keeping fit, he relished the well-deserved chance to sample wines and spirits in each region he visited. Finally, Browder liked Europe because he was born in Europe, and felt vague but surprisingly strong familiarity with the place.

 

After a while though, the art and culture started to feel a little too much. The whole city of Rome was a cluttered open-air museum. How are you supposed to walk around that city without stubbing your toe on all those ruins? Also, those Ancient Romans could have really used Netflix, or Jesus. Bored out of their minds without such amenities, they got their slaves to kill each other for entertainment. In a clear desperation about mortality, they made up queer and vain religions and built buildings from the most durable and immutable rock. A modern Roman today still has to walk under ancient slogans still legible in neat Latin script but pertaining to a time as distant as the last night’s dream. People still talk about Caesar, whose appeal confused Browder, a “classical liberal”.

 

-       Was Caesar like the Roman Trump? Laura could not answer as she was not familiar with Roman history.

 

However a young bearded and pierced Italian who overheard the question turned causally toward Browder and said,

 

-       “No, Silvio Berlusconi is our Trump. Or rather, Trump is the American Berlusconi.”

 

Browder smiled knowingly as though he appreciates the wit, but in fact he didn’t know much about Berlusconi.

 

Browder acted as a historical tour guide to Laura the rest of the trip but was never sure how much genuine interest he managed to kindle. He explained how the Catholics fully embrace realistic sculpture in their churches, the Orthodox compromise by allowing only stylized two dimensional images known as icons, while protestants don’t have clear rules but like to criticize both the Catholics and Orthodox for image-worship. The Muslims strictly forbid any naturalistic images, but they go all out on intricate patterns, and the Jews are similar to Muslims in that regard.

Browder himself was indeed a little put off by so much sculpture in places of worship. Is it not ironic that the Vicar of Christ in the Vatican lives in buildings obsessively furnished with shapes and images of breasts and asses and penises? Including like lots of baby penises? Laura had no counter argument but appreciated Browder’s viewpoint. She was a foodie and their discussion of European food was much more mutually engaging.

 

On a train to Florence, Browder saw a graffiti that spoke to his artistic conundrum: “Down with the aesthetics!” It was in Italian, but you could figure it out if you had good English. It was no surprise that some Italians, like some tourists, think all that bella figura is a bit too much. Yet, what’s wrong with wanting to look good? The Italians produce so much style that is consumed with relish by the whole rest of the world: fashion, cars, food, and well, tourism. Come to think of it, Browder knew people and places that would benefit tremendously by being more insistent on good form. There are so many goofballs in his hometown for example, it’s embarrassing. Women don’t like them either.

 

-       Yeah, these people are really into themselves, was Laura’s comment after leaving the Uffizi gallery, in which he spent most of the time sitting in one of the chairs in the grand hallway and browsing through the trip photos. It was important to decide which ones should make it to her social media posts.

 

Switzerland was also impressive. Sheer rocks two kilometers high, the enchanted valley of Lauterbrunnen; then the picturesque villages and beautiful Luzern. Once they got to Zurich they started having enough of Switzerland though: prices were so expensive it made your eyes water. Forty euros for a ten-minute taxi from the train station? Just in time, they went to Barcelona. What a city! Classical beauty of Italy combined with modern design and spaciousness, romance of the beach, endless shopping streets flooded with fashionable pedestrians, Flamengo shows, and arguable better food than Italy. More varied, at least. After three weeks of travel, Browder was a greater cosmopolitan. When Laura went on prolonged shopping missions for herself and her friends back home, Browder would sit on a busy street patio, cross his legs widely, and browsed the news on his smartphone while drinking coffee or alcohol, or smoking a cigarette.

 

Of course, men and women looked better and dressed better than Americans. Often Browder and Laura would be sitting for a meal somewhere outdoors and one or two beautiful young women would sit nearby or pass on the street. To ease the couple’s tension, Laura would often be the one to compliment the beauty to Browder. On his part, Browder, thirty-three years old, has won quite a victory over the lusts of his youth. For some reason he acted rather proud of European women’s beauty. Once, Laura mentioned how one sees much fewer obese people in Europe, and Browder got a bit cocky:

 

-       Here if you are fat you are basically an embarrassment to the nation. It’s not socially acceptable. Your parents lock you in the basement and starve you until you are back in shape and fit to be seen in public again.

 

A few days before they were to fly back to the US, Browder got the news that his grandmother in Serbia was on her death bed, and his mother flew there to take care of her. Slowly, memories of childhood in wartime Bosnia crept into Browder’s mind, mingling strangely with the fresh impressions of Western Europe he was visiting. He became uneasy. He hadn’t seen his mother in two years, his grandma in maybe five, and he hasn’t been back to the Balkans in ten years. He always hated visiting his relatives, which were spread in clusters around small towns and villages in the Republic of Srpska. Boring as hell. However, given the grave occasion he began to seriously consider going. He wanted to get his grandma to tell interesting family history stories. Besides, he knows a guy in Belgrade who’s involved in the country’s start-up scene; they studied in the same MBA cohort. He never really got to know the city of Belgrade, and he can connect with the entrepreneur and explore business ideas – Eastern Europe is a developing market.

 

Before the break of dawn on the day of the flight back, Browder woke up sweaty in his Airbnb room, postponed the flight back to the US, and bought himself a two-way ticket to Belgrade, with return ten days later. Laura had to get back to work in the US. They parted nervously at the airport, assured each other that the separation is only temporary, and Browder landed in Serbia on that very evening.