>> ♪ anchor: hello and a very warm welcome to "focus on europe." today, we bring you a report on a shopkeeper who has found his very own solution to the refugee crisis. the finn, jonnte, initially had problems when refugees visited his supermarket. this at first made him angryut then inventive. he stocked a bus with both finnish and arab goods and drove over to the villages where the refugees were staying. we will see what happened later in the program. but first to a city where the shops take payment in shekels, uniformed israeli police patrol the streets, and the sounds of

prayers in hebrew ring in the air. no, it isn't jerusalem but the ukrainian city uman. tens of thousands of hasidic jews from all over the world flock there to celebrate the jewish new year. these ultra-orthodox jews make the pilgrimage to central ukraine every year because a founder of their sect is buried there. uman is a non-descript town of some 80,000 inhabitants. its soviet apartment blocks and quiet streets transform each -- every year to accommodate its visitors. the new year is a happy occasion, involving singing, dancing, and outbursts of praise -- to the consternation of some locals. reporter: the pilgrims, who were mainly from the breslover hassidic sect, arrived from all over the world via kyiv airport. they were met by sascha hofman, a care worker from hannover who is one of the organizers of the annual pilgrimage. an old hangar had been transformed into a makeshift

synagogue where the beginning of rosh hashanah, jewish new year, was celebrated. sascha hofman had more practical matters to deal with first. >> is everything clean? toilets, too? make sure you check them every hour. reporter: some 40,000 pilgrims were expected in uman over the weekend. they all needed a place to sleep. there were various options, from camping, sleeping in a barracks, or renting an apartment. some locals moved out temporarily to make some money from renting out their homes. each of these pilgrims from jerusalem paid $300 dollars for his bed. >> i don't know if people here realize what we're doing here.

but when they see it, they must realize that it's something magnificent. reporter: lunchtime prayer in the pushkina district. some climbed on the roof to get as close as possible to the grave of rabbi nachman of breslov. before his death in 1810, the sect's founder called on followers to be with him during rosh hashanah. in recent years, the pilgrimage has been revived. >> it's quite loud, but they compensate and we can cope with it once a year. king solomon himself said, "this too shall pass." reporter: sascha hofman had to go shopping because of an unexpected drop in temperature. >> it's cold, so we're going to buy extra blankets and cushions.

reporter: even though the annual pilgrimage means good business for local traders, some weren't that thrilled. >> i don't get anything from them, but let them come. some are fine, some are a bit rude. reporter: uman has a tragic past. in 1941, the nazis murdered 17,000 jews and destroyed the jewish cemetery. nearly two centuries earlier, thousands of jews and poles had been killed here in an uprising. there's now a controversial monument that honors one of the uprising's leaders. but anti-semitism is still rife today. >> some pilgrims told us that a brothel would be opened during the new year festival in pushkin street and that 40 women would be brought in, as well as boys and animals, to satisfy the sexual needs of some of the pilgrims.

reporter: there is a history of resentment between locals and pilgrims in uman, but the organizers say there has been improvement. >> it's calmed down a bit. there were problems in the past with the locals and also with organizational issues. but it's got better in the past few years and calmer. reporter: israeli police were also on hand to keep order together with their ukrainian counterparts in the district around the grave of the revered rabbi nachman. >> it's a very holy place. all wishes will be fulfilled here if people do things with an honest heart.

reporter: near the grave, the pilgrims were pious. but outside on the street, there was music and dancing to celebrate the beginning of the jewish year 5777. >> ♪ anchor: foreign languages and customs are not problems unique to the people of uman, but also raise concerns in latvia. russians are the largest ethnic minority in this baltic state accounting for about a third of the population, and in the capital, riga, more than half. but while these two groups live side by side, they don't quite live together. despite living in latvia for generations, many russians refuse to learn latvian, which is the country's only official language. the latvians, on the other hand, fear for their identity. for them, their language is a symbol of freedom and independence. our reporter went to riga, to

find out if there could ever be a common tongue. reporter: whenever the weather is fine, beata vrevska likes to cycle to her shop in riga. she was born and raised in the latvian capital and feels at home here. but beata is an ethnic russian - as are around half of the city's population. her organic food store is located in one of the affluent districts of riga. she sells products sourced locally. and the name of her shop is intended to demonstrate her sense of belonging. >> i'm very proud of my russian origins nevertheless. i also speak a lot of latvian. but latvian feels different. russian is my mother tongue. reporter: to become a latvian citizen, beata first had to pass a language test. this, even though she was born here.

naturalization laws stipulate that you have to prove that you can speak latvian. it's the official language here. her prices also have to be listed in latvian. >> it's still a psychological problem for my mother's generation because throughout her life, she's hardly spoken any latvian. for many people, it's still like a foreign language. reporter: many of the inhabitants of the high-rise blocks on the outskirts of riga are of russian origin. and many are unhappy with the situation in today's latvia. sergey tyulemin is one of them. he vents his anger by drawing cartoons. for many years, he worked for russian-language newspapers. now he's a pensioner and has to survive on less than 200 euros a month. tjulemin is not a latvian citizen. for him, the idea of having to take a language test is

humiliating. after all, he's lived here since he was a child. >> if i took this latvian exam, then it'd be like admitting that i was an intruder from another country -- that my parents were intruders when they came here during soviet times. reporter: as a so-called "non-citizen," sergei tyulemin is not allowed to vote or stand for public office. the designation of latvian as the country's sole official language was, in his eyes, an undemocratic -- and futile -- step. >> the latvian language will never vanquish the russian language. there are far too few latvians to triumph against 140 million russians. reporter: he sympathizes with the russian government's lack of trust in the west and its reliance on its own military strength. this is the state institution designed to protect the latvian language.

sarmite pavulena is checking, for example, whether the online presence of companies based here is also in latvian. >> we have to protect our language. our country is the only country where latvian is spoken. reporter: it can't be helped that many people of russian origin feel ostracized, she says. the language helps protect the country from russian influence. >> latvian is anchored in the constitution as the sole official language. we do not have two official languages. many people find that hard to accept. reporter: at work in her store, beata's discussions with her mother don't just revolve around how to improve her selection.

they also frequently talk about why so many latvians and ethnic russians live parallel lives. they think many mistakes were made in the years immediately after the restoration of latvia's independence. >> before making a trip abroad in 1995 or 1996, i had to confirm that i was neither a latvian, nor a citizen of another country. i asked, what am i then? no one could answer me. reporter: both women call latvia home. and even if beata's mother says it's not always easy with the latvians, she wouldn't consider moving to russia. anchor: how should a country deal with the languages of minorities? let us know what you think about that or any of today's stories by getting in touch on facebook, e-mail, or twitter. in spain, some families are fighting to shine a light onto the country's dark past. orreaga oskotz's grandfather was one of thousands of people

executed during the spanish civil war and under franco's dictatorship. she now searches for his remains amid one of the many mass graves that litter the country. orreaga, and others like her, hope to confront spain's history by digging up the past. >> "they have murdered you, but they couldn't take away your dignity." the words of the song honor the 81 people massacred in magallón. whenever she can, olga alcega visits the cemetery where her grandfather's remains were found in a mass grave. >> my grandfather was lying under here. this was the spot where the dead lay. now, olga and the other relatives have exhumed their remains. for 70 years, olga's grandfather lay buried together with 80 other victims of the spanish civil war. >> this is my grandfather. the republican flag shows he was

a republican. and here's his name -- antonio alcega lázaro. reporter: the small mausoleum is located right next to the former mass grave. photos, bones, and personal effects remember the dead of magallón -- people who died, like olga's grandfather, defending spn's democracy ainst frco'fari the three-year c. >> it was important for us to bring the truth to light. that way, no one can conceal history any more. if you see a skeleton with a bullet hole in its skull, then you know that this person didn't die in an epidemic. reporter: orreaga oskotz is also hoping to find the remains of her grandfather -- who was also, in all likelihood, a victim in the war against franco. he was executed in 1936 in a field outside the city of

pamplona. with the help of aerial photographs, they're hoping to narrow down the search. orreaga oskotz says an eyewitness observed the executions of her grandfather and three other men. >> at least two people were shot in the neck from behind, the witness told me. they had been held captive and were beaten. one tried to escape. they killed the men and simply left their bodies lying here. reporter: her grandfather, isidoro, worked as a taxi driver in pamplona. orreaga suspects that he had been helping the republicans -- and as a result, was shot by franco's men. for years, she has been looking forward to the day when the search for his remains can finally start. >> i'm happy.

i think that our chances of finding something are good because we have so many things to go on. reporter: then the digger starts work. for orreaga and her husband, it's an emotional moment. any time now, they could uncover clues -- an unusual coloring of the earth, a shoe, or a bone. she spent months beforehand doing painstaking research in the archives and speaking to people who were alive at the time. now she's convinced that her grandfather, isidoro eguia olaechea, must be buried somewhere in this field. in the afternoon, the team is joined by doroteo irurita. the 97-year-old fought on franco's side in the spanish civil war and witnessed the executions back then. he'll try to help locate the missing bodies, with the support of his son. >> did they cover the dead with stones, to stop them being scavenged by dogs?

>> no, they didn't. reporter: doroteo can't give orreaga any new information. but she's grateful for his decision to come forward -- unlike so many others. the civil war and the franco dictatorship that followed remain taboo for many spaniards. stony silence. olga alcega knows what that's like, too. all the more reason, she says, to open up the mass graves from the civil war. it took months to exhume the dead in magallón, and she didn't miss a day. >> when they tell you that's your grandfather or your father, you can finally take the skull in your hands, hug it and kiss it. because it wasn't possible before. reporter: time is running out in the search for orreaga's grandfather. so far, they've found nothing but construction site debris.

orreaga believes it may have been dumped here on purpose. >> it's becoming less and less likely that we'll find the victims' bodies. it really makes me angry. reporter: at the end of the day, the team calls off the search. but orreaga isn't giving up. >> the search is not over. there is another eyewitness who knows what took place here. reporter: orreaga says she'll continue until she finds her grandfather. not just for her family -- but for spain as a whole. because each new find sheds a little light on the country's dark past. anchor: i worry that without people like that, dedicated to remembering the past, we risk forgetting and repeating it. a shop owner in finland was initially distrusting and confused by the refugees who would visit his small food store. but after taking the time to

understand their needs and hear their stories, he has embraced his new customers. and in the process, broke down barriers. >> ♪ reporter: this is johan holmström, the owner of a little grocery store in southern finland. but here, everyone calls simply him "jontte." he opened his shop in the village of lapinkylä 15 years ago. >> ♪ reporter: jontte has just one regular employee -- anna -- who runs the store until noon. a couple of students help out later in the day. jontte's customers are mainly pensioners from the village and the occasional passerby. the discount grocery chains are making it increasingly tough for him to compete.

>> ♪ reporter: so when more and more refugees began coming to his store late last year, many of his regular customers were concerned and jontte was, too. >> they tried to steal and so on a little, so that made in this small shop people who were working here were a little bit afraid. and i was thinking, is this the beginning of something that will make it even more difficult? reporter: jontte went to a town-hall meeting, planning to complain. but there, the family man heard how the refugees had been persecuted and forced to flee. >> i talked to anna and said i think we'll do as we usually do. we'll serve people, and we'll be nice to them so long as they behave. and then if we have problems

with something, we'll deal with it. and then we saw the big change. they were taking us as friends. reporter: and he had a bright business idea -- to create a supermarket on wheels. jontte had learned that refugee hostels in southern finland are often located far from the nearest village, making shopping close to impossible. so, since last december, he's been making the rounds in his bus five days a week. >> now it's going to be a little bit bumpy. take cae. it's now -- ok? >> ♪

reporter: on this day, jontte plans to visit six refugee hostels. it's a 200-kilometer journey, right across southern finland. reporter: the first hostel is mainly occupied by families. they come from syria, iran, afghanistan, and somalia. >> moi, moi, moi. >> not today. next time! reporter: jontte carries around 500 different kinds of groceries aboard his bus. some are new additions.

>> it's halal. this is curcuma. >> aah -- curcuma! >> but here, isn't this amba? >> one, 6 euros. reporter: jontte stocks specialties from their homelands. >> good finlandais. ok, see you next week, ok? >> ♪ reporter: next he heads for raseborg, formerly known as karis. >> ♪ reporter: here he knows many of the refugees. some have been living in finland for eight months. >> if somebody is not knowing any english, they just telling

by 'baghdad' and things, you know, like his son's wife was shot in baghdad or something. and you can see on the face and on the whole body of the person that it's a release to talk to someone about it. and that's quite touching moments. >> ♪ reporter: along with full room and board, each refugee living in finland receives 100 euros a month in pocket money. although jontte shells out 150 euros a week on diesel for his bus, he charges the same prices as in his store. >> one euro and nine cents.

>> one euro and nine cents. i have to pay for gas. >> lidl. lidl market, one euro. >> do you have lidl here? no lidl, my friend. i have kids, you know. i have paid for the gasoline. you have to bargain a little because in their culture, you are stupid if you can't bargain. reprter: he used to think the women had little say in household matters, but now he knows differently. >> it's always the woman who decides about the money. and i have seen situations when they have bought tobacco or cigarettes or something and even

a week later, they are bringing the same back and ask to change it to a chicken. >> ♪ reporter: learning from one another and dispelling prejudices has become almost as important to jontte as the business aspect. he plans to keep on bringing a taste of home to refugees living in finland. >> ♪ anchor: jonnte's story is a lesson we could all learn from in how to overcome prejudices and get along with each other. that's it for today, thank you for watching. in the meantime, it's goodbye from me and the whole team. see you next time. [captioning performed by the national captioning institute, which is responsible for its caption content and accuracy. visit ncicap.org]

steves: like so much of budapest, hungary's parliament was built for the big 1896 party. its elegant neo-gothic design and riverside location were inspired by its counterpart in london. it's enormous, with literally miles of grand halls, designed to help administer that sprawling, multinational hapsburg empire. by the end of world war i, the hapsburgs were gone, and hungary, while much smaller, was fully independent.

but then came the nazis, followed by the communists. that illusive freedom was finally won after the fall of the soviet union in 1989, and since then, the city has blossomed. today, hungary rules only hungary, and it's ruled not by an emperor, but by democratically elected representatives who legislate from what's now a palace of democracy. like vienna, budapest feels more grandiose than the capital of a relatively small country, but the city remains the cultural capital of eastern europe, with a keenly developed knack for good living. you can enjoy that hungarian joy of life at the széchenyi baths. soak with the locals. of the city's two dozen or so traditional mineral baths, this is the most accessible and fun. budapest is hot, literally. it sits on a thin crust over thermal springs, which power all these baths. both the ancient romans and ottoman turks

enjoyed these same mineral springs. they still say, "poke a hole in the ground anywhere in hungary, and you'll find hot water." magyars of all shapes and sizes squeeze themselves into tiny swimsuits and strut their stuff. babushkas float blissfully in the warm water. the speedo-clad old boys club gathers pensively around soggy chessboards. and the circle of rapids brings out the kid in people of all ages. after 2,000 years of experience and innovation, locals have honed the art of enjoying their thermal hot springs. budapest straddles the danube river. on the west side is hilly buda, dominated by castle hill. the royal palace marks the place where one of europe's mightiest castles once stood. since the 14th century,

hungary has been ruled from this spot.