Sarajevo - the return

Last week saw Mike and I going to Sarajevo for a few days. We'd talked to my friend Tea's French boyfriend Rafael (the foreigners are invading with a vengeance it seems) at a party the other weekend and he was going on about how great it is, a little Turkish style place, heart of the Balkans, yadda yadda. I wasn't really working much and needed to make a border run for my visa anyway, so a few days later we decided to take off for a short trip since Mike'd never been.

The first adventure in a long string involved the bus. Julia called the station for us and they said there's one bus a day in either direction - I was skeptical but ok, that's something. We went to the station and discovered there are actually around seven daily. Lesson learned - go to the bus station when looking for information. Even if the lady behind the ticked window can't tell you return times the one behind the information window (conveniently located across the way) can. We ask about price for round trip tickets, leave and figure out that taking two night buses seems the way to go and get cash, then come back to buy the tickets. The first helpful lady, a woman who seemed more content and fluffy than one usually sees in public agents here, was gone so we went to the next window over. There a woman with dramatic dark hair informed us that we couldn't buy round trip tickets and that her colleague "didn't know what she was talking about." Our slightly worried queries about how we're then supposed to get back are met with scorn. New plan: buy tickets on arrival to Sarajevo for trip home.

Night buses have nice parts about them, but this one was a geriatric convention with the heat cranked up WAY too high. On the Serbian border we waited 45 minutes - I thought the conductor was going to tear his hair out. First one man got pulled off the bus, then Mike and I did, then another guy. Standing outside at 2 a.m., groggy and wondering why you're being questioned is never fun. However, our assertions that we'd stayed with friends, just been in Belgrade (and loved it) as well as our white cards (although one officer kept frowning at Mike's exit date - which was in perfect order) got us over the border, stamped and everything.

We rolled into Sarajevo, the Serbian side, at about 6 a.m. on a foggy, cold morning. Stumbling out of the bus I think that I should have brought a warmer scarf, but we push on to the ticket office. After extracting information about return times and ticket price from a lady trapped behind glass we go looking for an ATM so we can get some Bosnian marks. There is no ATM at the bus station. Nor anywhere in sight. Or an exchange office. I ask a taxi driver where one would be and he seems nonplussed by our plight until I point out forcibly "ali nema para" (but we've got no money). I'll say now that returning to Sarajevo (I was there last May) with at least a strong base in the language really helped at odd moments; I can move around asking directions in a caveman-esque way at obscenely early hours after not much sleep. We asked a trolleybus man setting up his trolley on the cables for further directions and ended up in blocks of apartments with shops underneath. We found a bank with an ATM and were terribly excited... until the glass doors wouldn't open to let us in. FOILED! Luckily there was another bank with a normal bankomat (ie not behind anything) not far away. Then repeat the trek back to bus station, we're practically regulars now in the neighborhood. The same surly lady is still in her little office but then tells us she doesn't sell the tickets, window next to her does. Which is empty. After idling for a minute or two we ask where the person might be - she says to try the kafana. We go in and I ask who the person is who'll sell me tickets. There are two guys at a table, they gesture me to sit, produce a ticket book and write out our return tickets (which we could have bought in euros. Another lesson learned: carry more euros in cash when traveling in this region) over the remains of their coffee. Surreal. Furthered by catching the tram into city center (it's 103, don't let them tell you different) that was full of school kids pressed in tighter than tight, we're already exhausted, and it isn't even 8 a.m. yet!

Turkish coffee, breakfast, getting a place to sleep and a nap made the world a bit brighter. Even if the room was freezing cold (the heat hadn't been turned on yet), there was no hot water in two out of three bathrooms surveyed, and we were up a huge hill. Lesson: pay a few more euros for private accommodation and ask where it is before following the guy to hostel. Walking into town we stopped by the shop of Dino, a coppersmith I'd spent an afternoon chatting with last May. He was still there and kinda remembered me (the new hair threw him), we sat and had a nice few hours catching up, rambling about life over coffee (although he was fasting for Ramadan so just Mike and I had the coffee). I loved how people kept poking their heads in just to say hi, make plans for later, ask for money, try to get a piece custom-made that would be better done by machine than hand. Dino would tell their story afterwards sometimes - the guy who still has shrapnel in his head since they can't operate for fear of causing more damage or death; the old man (who was convinced that Mike and I were Germans) who is a specialist auto mechanic, had gone to France and everything for training, and still was active into his retirement years. The stories of failed marks in Marxism during school (he didn't believe that capitalist countries were going into decline for one), how he came to be a copper artisan; it was just grand. I asked about the pyramids I'd heard about last time, he said he'd been and they were amazing, something to make sure to see and that we should go to Visoko if we could.

The rest of the day was spent strolling around city center, drinking coffee at regular intervals. Mike also found a chocolate cake he's considering trying to make a lasting relationship with (if čevapćići and pleskavica turn him down that is). We found out price for the bus to Visoko (although once again the agent at the bus agency didn't have return times, only departures) and decided to make a trip of it the next day, archeology being one of Mike's passions and something I've become more interested in as well. It was intriguing returning to a place I've been in recent memory - a lot was still the same but some of what really impressioned me the first time wasn't quite as striking the second go round. Although watching the men playing chess on the huge board in the park was still great to see. As Mike pointed out, it gives ample opportunity for strutting. Thankfully I know that my talents do not lie in the direction of chess, otherwise I'd be tempted to try to take it up again.

In typical serialist fashion I'm going to leave you with the cliff hanger of those mysterious pyramids - what are they doing in Bosnia? Did our intrepid heroes make it in time? Will they unlock the secrets of an ancient civilization? And will they return to Serbia unmarked by the experience? Stay tuned...

Politics?

I'm apparently becoming more interested with politics both in my native and adopted country; this opinion piece was something I found worth sharing as we move towards the presidential elections. I think he makes some really excellent points about post 9/11 America.

On the domestic front (i.e. my apartment), things continue to move apace. Mike's here to visit and that's wonderful. Classes have been poky to start up (apparently one school just lost 5 groups of adults I was posited to work with) and that's not so wonderful. But if I can be insecure financially in a country where I'm still learning the language and way things work, heck, I can do it anywhere. At least that's what I tell myself. Daily.

I'll try and post up some further adventures soon (or at least some musings) - thinking about home a lot, hoping that I can get life scheduled enough soon to actually buy tickets for a stateside return come December. Now off to enjoy my company some more.

Jet planes and police

Sitting outside on my roof and jet planes start screaming across the sky. What's going on? There are also helicopters, it's like being under an air highway. Girl in building across the street is standing on her little balcony snapping photos with her phone, the little old lady next door to her stayed out watching a bit and now has gone in with her laundry. The mysteries of Beograd are myriad.

Last week I hosted a mini-British invasion; Simon from my CELTA course, Jaimie (who we met in Ljubljana), and Luke made their way down from Ljubljana for a few days. It was fun, albeit suddenly cold and rainy. I picked them up at the train station at 6:30 a.m. and got us back to my place in the wet, stopping to pick up burek on the way (and practice my Serbian more on the lady who works at the bakery near my place). We had breakfast and then they napped in my living room - when I talked to Jelica later and said I had a living room full of British men she thought I was joking. But no. Jaimie and Luke got a hostel, Simon and I went to register him with the police with Julia and Kata. I was proud - for the first time getting a foreigner to register within 24 hours!

We trekked to the station, blithe and unconcerned (although cold). On arrival they told us that we needed the form. What? The white card - apparently they were out so no help there. This incident allowed me to learn that you can buy pretty much any official form in a bookstore (the kind that are more office supplies and paper than books). But there's a catch - you have to find a store that actually has them. Nothing near the station did, so we decided to go warm up over a coffee in a cool little café we'd passed, underground and decent atmosphere. Simon and I went exploring a bit after I paid my rent (a shady feeling affair meeting on the street and handing over euros in cash), found the foreigner forms after looking in a few more places in center (4 dinars each - such a bargain), then met up with the other happy voyagers (who'd brought their friend John along) and got some food.

The plan then was to meet Julia and do police station, round two, then find the boys and have a drink all together. We three got in, gave the officers all the documents (they wondered why we'd brought a blank white card since they had copies themselves), and then waited on the bench that I've gotten to know quite well. After a few minutes they called Julia in, Simon and I wondered if they were asking what she'd had for breakfast or something. There was some yelling and then she reappeared, laughing. "We can't do it." "Ha ha, you're joking." "No, no. We can't." Apparently Belgrade's finest had declared that since Julia only owns a third of her apartment they would also need her sister and her mother (since Ivan is a minor) to come down for Simon's registration. They were unswayed by her saying we'd done this before, that he was only staying three days. She called Jelica - who was across town - and we sat, stupefied by the situation. An officer appeared, so tall he seemed to brush the ceiling and without many of his teeth in front, asked what was wrong. "Ne razumen nista," I said (I don't understand anything) to which he responded and then explained in English that when you don't understand anything, that's when life is the most beautiful.

Right. Maybe for the night shift in the foreigner's section.

(I was proud of myself - the word "glup" (stupid) never crossed my lips while anywhere in or near the station. I must be maturing or something.)

Simon never registered and successfully recrossed the border, so that's something. It was fantastic to catch up with him, enjoyed a mix of hanging out and walking about. Went to Zemun for fantastic palačinke (crepes) thick with nutella and other goodness, went out to a bunch of different places in the evening looking for diversion and tried to explain that the cold snap mixed with rain made for not lots of people out and about. It was sad to see them go early Saturday morning, although walking to the train station and back with the sun rising is a beautiful thing. Even went to the market and got some things while it was still being set up - 7 a.m. is not an hour I usually see, so made the most of it. It's wonderful to have a place of my own where I can welcome folks.

Oh, and I found out - the jets were trainees practicing for this weekend's military graduation ceremony. Another mystery solved. Although I still need to find out what was going on with the taxis on Tuesday - they were driving in a herd honking near the city parliament. Pretty sure it was a protest/strike, but not sure as to details.

Some small moments for sharing

Yesterday I was walking downtown and discovered that back-to-school is here in full force. Why is that? Because all along Kosvoska street (behind the parliament building incidentally) there are used textbook sellers. They stand by cars stuffed with the slim volumes covering all realms of learning and call "knige, knige" (books, books) at passersby. One car had the backseat folded down (or taken out, couldn't really tell) and books filling the entire body, trunk, and passenger seat. Just totally packed in.

I went to the market the other morning and ended up with three kinds of cheese. A little grandmother type had me try hers and then, in that time-honored tradition, instead of walking away with 200 grams I left with over a half kilo since she "couldn't" make it even. I look at it as Serbian practice, so first time is ok. But don't have the funds for that kinda thing to repeat too much. Cheese is good but think I'm going to have to make pita (pie) or something with it before it sours too much.

Saturday I ended up having coffee at Elma's (a colleague who's one of the most positive people I've met here) in the afternoon. We had a lovely chat and then her roommate came home, it was his birthday. They asked if I wanted just one beer- alright. And I ended up staying through the impromptu party that followed, going later with everyone to this kafana covered in Communist memorabilia. There were no free tables but two guys let us sit with them, one had played football in Orlando and Michigan tried to draft him but he came home because of his mother's health. Eventually we got our own place and I left a little after, not up for the after-party and supposed to meet other friends. But I love how people just welcome me into their lives - and most of the evening was spent in Serbian, I'm getting more comfortable speaking although still get hung up on little words. Still, I can't make this stuff up. It was a great reminder of why I like my life here and how important it is to be flexible.

Last note - paid my last August bill yesterday, electricity. Apparently it's different from the rest though since you're supposed to write down how much you're paying yourself. The lady behind the counter kept asking how much I was paying. "Sve," (all) I said - I was a bit confused. Then had the brainwave to say "Ovo je moj privi put" (This is my first time) and her face cleared, she filled it out for me and all was fine. So now to decipher the Cyrillic handwriting so I know what to write next time.

There's always something new to learn.