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I found myself in Slovenia at the end of the European summer last year because of Sakan Dragan. Not a name I expect many Australians would recognise, but if you're in Eastern Europe it is a name that is synonymous with the creative industries. Why? Because Mr Dragan owns agencies in 7 countries (maybe 9, as the separation of the Balkans is not yet complete), including many of the local branches of Saatchi and Saatchi.

My initial contact with this man came after searching for design-related events that would take place at the time of my European tour. I am a passionate designer, one that has taken my career as a lifestyle (as any worth his salt does) and wanted to use my time abroad as a chance to open my mind to different ideas... So after a visit to Icograda.org, a few emails and $2500 later, I found myself trekking to Piran, Slovenia, from London, on night trains (if you have the time, in my opinion this is the best way to cover the continent).

The event that became my Mecca was the Ideas conference. It was taking place in a 5 star hotel, somewhere on the tiny 42km of coastline left to Slovenia after the WWII. 5 days of sun, speech and debate would ensue with speakers ranging from philosophers to philanthropists, creative directors to symphony conductors. It was decadent.

Now when I said earlier that I was looking for different ideas what I was expressing was a desire to break away from the mould of the 'Lets go Europe' traveler that gets to Europe, ends up working in London for twelve months, hating the weather and paying $5 for a Big Mac. Slovenia had been part of Yugoslavia before that communist regime broke down in 1991. Since then this small Balkan nation had become an ambitious model of capitalism in the former Eastern bloc. And the weather was just fine.

And I was fascinated by the cultures that had grown behind the 'Iron curtain'. A big fan of the Russian futurists that had influenced typography design at the beginning of the 20th century, and whose countries politics had been the cornerstone of Yugoslavian government since the partisans 'saved' the country from fascism at the end of WWII. This country seemed, to me, an eclectic and contemporary mix of East meets West.

In Hong Kong, Singapore, London, Belgium and France, prior to my arrival in Slovenia, I had constantly been disappointed in my search for the truly unique. I mean sure, they use different bread for kebabs in Brussels, but families would still rush home on the designated night to watch the latest offering of 'Friends'. Drunken old men would offer their fingers to pretty young girls to pull, only to fart in response to this very distasteful joke that I had believed that only my grandfather was capable of inventing. It seemed that I had been very naive. American culture had been permeating every corner of the globe with the ferocity of a modern day Ben Hur... an influence only the hypnotic gloss of capitalism could muster.

The opportunities to be a pioneering Hemingway-flavoured beatnik had disappeared with prohibition, and all that was left was a commercialised allusion to the days of yore. Like a smeared painter's palette, the individual hues of world culture had been mixed to the point of grey.

After the conference I felt a little lost for about a day. The sun was still nice even though summer was officially over. I checked back into my hotel and contacted some of the people I had been dining with. As it turned out one of the more interesting agencies had a project for me. I would design and construct their commercial site for 5000 DM.

The design scene was much the same as anywhere. Studios filled with trendy, resourceful youths clad in black, or occasionally the united colours of Benetton when the mundane had become.... well, mundane. Shiny and translucent G4s sat proudly on desks, with Post-it notes always within reach. Creative directors marched in and out of meetings with the fervor of a dog on heat... Where were the old tools?

The architecture and infrastructure of Ljubljana was more Romanesque than CBD, yet the tools of design remained boringly familiar. Were there no culturally unique methodologies? No. In fact, if there was anything in these studios that was meant to be unique it was me! My westernised arse became the centre point for fresh ideas and new approaches. It seemed that the locals were aspiring Westerners themselves, shedding their histories like uncomfortable knitted coats, vying for the acceptance of the EU. They had Photoshop 6, now they had Australians working for them. Surely this was a step in the progressive direction?

So I became an insignificant celebrity. Studio bosses would ask me to be present when their clients visited so they could show off their new 'secret weapon.' Rather than being a student of the different I had become a part of the dilution process. Inspiring, rather than inspired, I retired from the local design scene disappointed and disillusioned.

My girlfriend in Slovenia had just rented a new apartment in the mountains. At the foot of the Alps, it was the Slovene equivalent of Coonabarabran. Nowheresville. Here I retreated to look anew.

Quaint and small, traditional and without an Internet cafÈ. I started bike riding through the mountains and befriending the young locals who were all employed at the local casino. The hottest topics were car stereos, girls and getting the hell outtahere. Drinking in the local, I could have well been in Marrickville.

Then I heard about the dance concert. An annual event hosted by the local school. It had been taking place for decades. I was excited about seeing some trad dance and costume. So I went and sat in the gymnasium for about one hour. Sitting on a balancing beam in one of the shiniest basketball courts, I had the pleasure of seeing an entire generation of young girls perform... Perform contemporary dance routines to such musicians as J-Lo, and Christina Aguillera. What!? Where were the harpsichords, the flowing gowns, the... the...

It was about that time when I came to the conclusion that people are much the same the world over; they are just reacting to different circumstances and concentrations of history. Here the story was riddled with stories of Nazi conscriptions, corrupt leaders and the deterioration of rural employment. The result was a restless youth who had all tasted the sex of MTV, but had not the money or means of realising it.

It was becoming hopeless. Almost the exact opposite end of the earth, miles from the closest sky rise and still the MTV generation had found a way to grow up here too.

Then one morning, as I awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of my MTV tuned Sony television alarm, I stumbled onto the balcony of our pension for a hit of nicotine. The previous night had been late and I was feeling a little seedy. Through glazed eyes I saw on the street below me what appeared to be a bona-fide-card-carrying-hat-wearing member of the European Gentlemen's club. Now just let me explain myself a little... the European gentlemen's club is a fictitious name I invented to categorize a cultural icon I had held in my mind since childhood. The seed had perhaps been sown by such productions as Walt Disney's Pinocchio. It was nothing I had ever really seen before.

He was around 60 years of age, and wore one of those ridiculous hats that only Siberian-style isolation and a healthy evasion of the fashion police could justify. Perched high on his pulley, loaded with hay, he trotted through the streets powered by a single horse whose name was Matjaz.

This insignificant moment in that person's life ended up being a pure revelation in mine. He had probably woken up that morning to the sound of cocks crowing, kissed his wife on the forehead (who was about to get up and warm coffee for him on the wood stove) pulled on his flannelette shirt and trousers that were held up with braces, and propped up his hat on the way out the door to deal with whatever issues his farming lifestyle had ready for him on that day.

As it turned out his tasks would include a trip through town with his hay. The Austrian motorbike tourists made room for his bulky load as he cantered down the narrow paved streets, his face set in an expression of concentration, oblivious to what technology and globalisation had done to the town he had lived in since his ancient childhood. He had hay to deliver and that was that. No email to check, no stock quotes to get, and I am sure the only 'Friends' he talked about were those that had helped him build the wire fence that kept his cows grazing in their designated fields.

I had previewed on television a world of cultural choice, each distinguished by its icons. Often I found the choices to be inconsequential (Pepsi or Coke?) and the icons to be over 'produced'. Lands End, England's most southern point was once a magical, natural cliff face, with a house quaintly marked as the 'Last house in England.' Today it has all the charm of a traveling amusement park... with costly parking. I felt cheated. Cheated because there were no lands left to discover, none that hadn't become an episode of 'Getaway.' But then he showed me. He never knew it, but he was living life just like his father had, and his father before him...

I had the pleasure of seeing Life. It only lasted for 10 seconds, but in those moments it was pure unadulterated living. Like an undiscovered African tribe, this man represented an element in a world full of compounds. He was the substance behind the archetype. And I am happy to say I have a photo of him that would make a perfect logo for a package of Slovene sausages...

For more about Brent, check out: http://users.bigpond.com/delicious

The views expressed this article are not necessarily those of AGDA. Please respect the copyright of the author.

"My, what a lovely story! Fair brought a tear into me eye!

Sickened by MTV culture young hero bravely embarks on the European Continent. Not wishing to join the (Already quite sizeable) OZ contingent in London, he ventures into the unknown lands behind the former Iron Curtain, looking for the unique, the fresh, the different. Different design tools, whatever they would be - maybe the Russian futurists could help!

However, the poor hero of the XYZ generation is sorely disappointed lo and behold, the Western rot has already spread throughout these lovely Eastern countries... But despair not! A homely Daniel Boone figure restores hope in him. All is well! ( Still no sight of those Russian futurists, though)

Crikey, talk about condescending... Tsk,tsk.."

"I lived in Slovenia for about 19 months, picked up the language, was sickened by how much less beautiful I was compared to the Balkan girls, learned to eat pure fat with a little bit of meat in the mix, learned that sweetened dye in water (sok) won't kill you, and learned that people are people the world over.

There are valuable things you can take from any nation. To say that the world is being taken over by western culture is a joke because Western/American culture died two generations back. Times were in US culture that:

1. When roaming through the western plains it's alright to set yourself up in a stranger's house and use their goods, even if they aren't there (my grandma only got ticked-off when people took her table)
2. You open doors for girls and treat your parents with respect.
3. You stay in the same dull job until hell freezes over and you like it!
4. Women were for the house and men were providers.

Many of these customs only changed as the economy did. Envy led to crime in many areas so your neighbor is no longer welcome to share your goods because you need them to show up the Joneses next door. Who knows how many jobs you'll go through, though they tried to nail down the number of careers in a lifetime to 3.

Let's face it. We went from rural local economies to a very scary global economy that is largely powered by US and the current culture of immediate satisfaction. The crazy thing is that despite the local changes, despite what blinded foreigners see in the US media abroad, more welfare and aid has been sent out by the US than any other nation on earth.

A large portion of the aid coming out of this country is funded directly by the citizens, by church organizations. When I was in Slovenia I used to ask people how I could help, how I could do some sort of community service and the only response I ever got was, "We don't do that sort of thing here."

It's crazy to compare any two countries. There are fabulous Slovenes, Serbian, Croatians, Bosnian and Amercians. Nobody is forcing you to use e-mail or any of the other "modern amenities" mentioned above. Face it, we're not FORCED to play along with any of it!

I feel sorry for many Europeans. I am an American, but chances are they would know me from the crap they see portrayed on TV. I love my e-mail and the modern conveniences around me because they allow me to keep contact with my Serbian, Croatian and Slovenian friends. They allow me to share a small part of who I am, so if somebody ever reads this it may actually accure to them that what the see on tv and read in their slated news papers is a lie.

I am an American existing outside of culture. I value aspects of culture from almost every nation I have lived in. Can you know me outside the lines you bind yourself with? If I place myself beyond your definitions will I be real to you?

I own more Slovenian music than every Slovene I know. I would agree that the country is too gungho for the EU. It scares me to death to think that Slovenia may end up like Spain, basing it's economy on tourism - what I equate with prostituting your nation, selling its soul for money. They need hope to maintain their identity. Iit isn't the western influence that is corrupting them, it is their dispair and frustration.

Remember how I babbled on and on about what the US culture was? Well, they need to remember that it was all fight. Pioneers were going to be Americans, they were going to create their own nation and their own life or they would die. Let the world adopt that crumb Western culture and we'd see that no government makes a world power, only people do. Slovenes need to remember that they are poineers. I figure two generations will have to work through poor times before the economy become stablized, but then it should be rock solid if they put their country and their decendents above every other concearn. Right now, I don't think they care so much about their kids. This is the true curse of MTV culture: "I want it all, and I want it now." - Well, that and the fact that it's hard to carry a cohesive thought ;-)"

"It is so nice to see / hear / read (even though it is just an email) that there are still people like you that like and strive for simplicity in life. Being born and living in Croatia I am product of the country and lifestyle you have been expecting to find on your travells and I can tell you that there is still unglobalised life around us - only we have forgotten where to find it. I guess I was lucky escaping from war in 1991 as I embarked on life no movie or a book could metch, from serbian minefields on foot, over hungary on live stock trains - to living on the streets of Vienna befrending a bunch of "Skinnheads"... All I want to say is if you are looking for tradition - and real life you wan't find it in design and advertising studios, McDonalds or shopping in turist centres of the world. You don't follow the signs in search for "something other then". You walk off the main path - you run through the bushes you get bruised, sleeples, with no money, credit card, security, old school friend, parent or a pack of experience thirsty backpackers. Once you have trully been alone you realise - everyone is your friend, everyone is your helper and everyone is your soulmate and something different is everywhere around you once you learn know how to see it."

"I did s..o..o.o.. enjoy your piece, but am saddened by the understandable disillusionment at the insidious spread of western culture. Do not give up!

For instance - you can travel to Antigua and experience amazing synergies of old and new - where you might decline to photograph a senior, perched high upon a tottering, loaded donkey - guided by a length of string attached to his toe - out of respect, and to protect his dignity... where a poor country does not utilise its lands out of greed... with contradictions including, a President who travels as a US Citizen, an amazing newspaper that prints cartoons ridiculing their pidgeon-African language, and in-your-face fearless articles...

...Where police are imported as the locals are too gentle to arrest... and miniscule amounts of drug possession will leave you US$1000 poorer, or serving a year in gaol... you could join an entire island population - stirred and gently coursing - as one - to the rythmn of steel drums and reggae... in the heat of a summer night..."

"What a wonderful story. Thank you for articulating what I had experienced myself when visiting the not-so-off-beaten-tracks of Italy.

I have just been to the Fresh Conference, and I think it's up to individuals to travel to the minds Land's End. I feel justified in trying anything now, where I was always skirting around the rules before."