Surprises in the East

In a quiet Prague restaurant, a group of young Americans were talking with their waiter. After a quick glance around to make sure that no Czechoslovaks were watching, he pulled out a Nixon-Agnew button. "He was really proud of that button," said Harold Hothan, 21, a Stanford student. "To him, it was an affirmation of sympathy with the West, with Nixon and Agnew as its symbol. We jeered and booed. The poor waiter actually got angry because we didn't like Nixon and Agnew."

For those young Americans who are detouring from the overcrowded highways of Western Europe this summer to investigate the nations of the East, the incident is typical. Few have any liking for Soviet-style Communism. But generally they are left of center in their politics and critical of American values and institutions. Hence the ordinary East European's undiscriminating affection for things American surprises the visitors --and provides quite an education.

Mind-Blown Guards. Gedney Howe, 23, and Dennis Nicholson, 24, who roared through the East bloc on a pair of British motorcycles, found that their bikes were an invaluable way of making friends at frontiers. "We'd get to some border," said Nicholson, "and you could see that the bikes really blew the guards' minds. They'd ask questions. We'd rev up the motors for them, and we'd all laugh and joke." Even without motorcycles, Americans are the object of intense curiosity and admiration, particularly in the provinces. Almost everywhere, they meet friendliness from private citizens, as opposed to government functionaries. In one Rumanian village, a couple of residents broke into tears at the sight of a U.S. passport. The visitors are often astonished by the discovery that many East Europeans admire precisely the apple-pie American isms rejected by vast numbers of American youngsters. "Hungarians really admire American materialism," a 19-year-old from the University of Wisconsin said. "They really hunger for the consumer goods that seem to choke us."

Attempts to get close to East European youngsters have varying results. In Prague, contacts are relatively simple to make as long as they are kept discreet; young Czechoslovaks are still allowed to wear their hair long and dress in approximations of hippie styles. Elsewhere, the hip gap is far wider. In Rumania, some young Americans have to endure official haircuts before being admitted. "In Rumania, in Bulgaria, do you know who the native hippies are?" said Mark Altschuler, 23, of New York. "Rich kids, very correct, with G.I. cuts and Oxford blazers. They turn up The Who a little loud and like it was Woodstock, man. They don't dare to get really out of step. You begin to understand why just rock is such a big trip."

Out of Bond. Many of the American youngsters who have strong ideas about how "repressive" American society is are shaken by a look at Communist-style repression and the police-state atmosphere. Crossing by train into the Soviet Union was "just incredible," according to Douglas Lempereur, 23. "Officials searched everything--purses, pockets, belts. They felt around our waists and examined all printed matter. They searched every inch of the train. Spotlights lit up the night and the guards carried machine guns." Entering Czechoslovakia was equally chilling for Barbara Alpern, 19. "The scene was straight out of James Bond. A squat old woman in an ill-fitting gray-green uniform charged through our bus searching everything. She confiscated a history book."

Except in Yugoslavia, where authorities are relatively relaxed, the shadow of the secret police strikes some of the tourists. A coed found people in Prague "really paranoid about the police. They kept looking around to see if anyone was watching us; they wouldn't come within a block of our hotel."

Local racism is also distressing. "Czechs and Rumanians slur the gypsies," said Miss Alpern. "They told us: They are our blacks. We can't do anything about them.' The Hungarians slur the Rumanians, and the Rumanians believe that they are Latins and thus superior to the Slavs. The Poles hate the Germans and the Russians too."

The entire experience was summed up by Harold Hothan. "Before I went," he said, "all of Eastern Europe was one big blob. Most of what I had heard about it I dismissed as American propaganda. Wow, was I naive."

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