Prague and such

So. Prague. Everything about the city proved tricky- including getting there. Rachael explained to me how to get to the bus station, but upon arrival it seemed that there was no "Orange ways" bus company in existence. Luckily, through basic eaves-dropping I managed to find another group of people who were also trying to catch the same bus. They had an outside source of information and apparently the company departs not from the bus station, but the parking lot across from it. Phew... crisis averted. The drive was long but the bus was nice and comfy- and they served free coffee and hot chocolate! Plus we were actually driving on a highway as opposed to twisty mountain roads- also something I had not done since leaving home. As we travelled further north, snow fell intermittently outside. I crossed my fingers for nice weather once I got to the city.

The bus arrived around 1:30 and I had planned on walking from the station to the hostel- it didn't look too far on the map Rachael and I had studied. I also had directions which I had printed from the hostels website but they were entirely by methods of public transportation, which involved both the metro and the tram. Leaving the bus station I was immediately confused and decided to backtrack and use the hostel's directions. This got me across the river, from there I was determined to walk the rest of the way rather than hop on the tram. Once again, I ended up lost and tried asking several people for directions. No luck. Finally a little old lady at a tram stop motioned for me to get on the tram with her. Entirely through pointing and hand gestures, she directed me to get off 2 stops after her. Finally, I made it to the hostel- and thankfully it was amazing. I was meeting Kate Schaeffer and two of her friends she is studying abroad with in Spain. I knew Kate would not arrive until the evening, but one of her friends, Lauren, had was already there. The two of us ended up talking for awhile and decided to venture forth and explore. This once again proved difficult.

Actually, pretty much everything about navigating Prague seemed to work against us. In Budapest, I had Rachael to point me in the right direction, to explain the metro lines, to provide maps and tour books. Also, there was the Danube which ran north-south, dividing the city neatly into Buda and Pest. All of this was great for orienting yourself- it was almost impossible to get lost. In Prague this was not the case. There is also a river, the Vltava, but it makes several twists and turns, complicating things greatly. Lauren and I knew we needed to cross the river to get to Old Town. Unfortuntely we crossed the river in the wrong direction. As we walked we thought we were heading south- instead we were heading north. After correcting this error, we elected to get on the metro to ensure no further mix-ups. So, we finally arrived in the Old Town, but still there was nothing I could get a handle on in order to orient myself. The streets were winding, narrow, and a complete mish-mash. Lauren knew her way at least a little, so she led us to the main square. Unfortunately, the square isn't even actually a square- also irregular and very unhelpful as far as I was concerned. This "square" though did have an Easter Market of its own on offer to my great satisfaction.
We ultimately elected to take shelter from the cold (which we had been wondering in for almost 3 hours at this point) at a traditional Czech restaurant. Unfortunately, we chose one which was more or less a tourist trap offering only mediocre food. We were still pleased enough though, and afterwards visited a place which had live music- and had allowed the people next to us to bring their dog in to sit with them. We were dreading the trip back to the hostel because our dinner had made us drowsy and the weather had become frigid. But we finally ventured out to catch a tram that would get us home. Arriving back in our room, I was overjoyed to see Kate had gotten in safely. She and my brother have been friends for what seems like forever, and she has always been full of energy and spunk- definitely a person from home I was more than happy to be meeting up with. Michelle was her 2nd friend, who had also arrived with her. Kate had many good stories to share about her time thus far in Spain, and was equally curious about Bosnia. We had plenty to discuss as we got ready for bed- and even more when our 5th roommate arrived late. She turned out to be a Scottish woman wrapping up a trip to visit a friend who lived in the city. She offered a few recommendations of things to do/see as we all drifted off to sleep.

The next morning we pulled ourselves together very slowly and finally arrived back in the Old Town Square around 1. However, at this point a freak squall of snow flurries commenced and we needed to take shelter immediately. We found the Museum of Czech Cubism not too far off and it turned out to be a lovely little place. It was situated in the House of the Black Madonna which is itself an historical piece of Czech Cubist Architecture. Personally, I'm not so much a fan of Cubism, but the architecture had some appeal somehow. The collection in the museum itself included paintings, sculpture, pottery, and furniture. The in-depth explanations of each piece, written both in Czech and English, were both informative and grammatically sound. It was yet another reminder that I was no longer in the Balkans. (I kept having the urge to turn to someone and say, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto.") There were extensive biographies of all the artists involved in the movement and pieces of African art to offer examples of what Cubists had drawn inspiration from. Some of the pieces were great, but the furniture was downright disturbing. So harsh and angular- it looked like something that might grow teeth and come after me.

When we finished, the snow outside appeared to have subsided so we made our way down the river (a part of it that was straight) to see the Dancing Tower, a piece of really fascinating modern architecture. The weather was still holding up so we planned to go begin exploring the castle. En route though things took a nasty turn and we decided to run for cover in a cozy coffee shop. Once things cleared up we made our second attempt for the castle- which involved finding our way back to the river which proved tricky. We made it in the end, crossed the Charles Bridge, and found a tower/museum to visit. There were some good exhibits of historical artifacts and photographs, and from the top we had an excellent view.

For dinner- La Cantina, a Mexican place we had scoped out well ahead of time. It was amazing- we had chips, salsa, and amazing guac to start- for the main course I had enchiladas. I think we all stuffed ourselves to the point of discomfort- but we could not let any of it go to waste, it was so spicy and delicious. We returned to our hostel afterwards even though it was still early- but it was cold enough outside we were content to hang out in our room, talk, and enjoy one another's company.

On Wednesday, we managed to get going a little earlier. We made our way to the castle first thing, but another snow squall struck and we were forced to take shelter- in a Starbucks. Starbucks in Prague feels the same as Starbucks anywhere in the States. We sat, sipped our Caramel Macchiatos and listened to Phantom Planet. I recognize that this somewhat defeats the purpose of travel, just as eating Mexican did. But after being away from home for 5 months, I can't help but relish these things. The snow finally seemed to have let up, so we headed out- and up. The castle was situated high on a hill which we proceeded to climb. At the top of the hill we were just in time to see the 12 o'clock changing of the guard which is quite a big to-do. Lots of drumming and trumpeting, a procession, etc. From there we entered the castle and made a circuit within the walls- Lauren and Michelle waited to go inside the Cathedral while Kate and I decided to check out the Castle Art Gallery. We saw a few Rembrandts but were disappointed in our search for a Titian which the guidebook had promised. (I had become obsessed with Lauren's copy of Lonely Planet's Prague. I consulted it at least once every half hour.) We met with Lauren and Michelle outside long enough to say good-bye to Lauren who had to go catch her flight. Kate, Michelle, and I all went together from there to the Story of Prague Castle Museum which had a bunch of great exhibits but also happened to be freezing. One exhibit covered how the castle was heated throughout history- we expected some sort of physical experience or demonstration of warmth. Sadly we had no such luck.

From here we descended from the castle, back down to the river to return to the Easter Markets. This also entailed a lot of general exploring as the streets around the main square still completely mystified me with their unexpected twists and turns. We had selected a traditional restaurant for dinner (courtesy of Lonely Planet) which we also thought it might be a good idea to find ahead of time, based on the confusing nature of said streets. I was also deteremined to find an H&M at which to make a few purchases on my last day surrounded by the commercialization of the Western World. These various destinations allowed us to wander for awhile and just appreciate the city around us. At the Market we managed to catch a performance of a local dance school for young girls. It bore serious resemblence to pretty much any recital you might manage to catch in the States- more of the jazz/hip-hop variety than say tap or ballet. Kate was ready to jump up on stage with them I think- perhaps bust a move or 2.

When we went to dinner, finding the restaurant still proved slightly tricky even though we had already located it once before. We were lucky there were only three of us because apparently the place was popular- it is run by the premier Czech brewery, Pilsner Urquell. The guide book didn't let us down either- the food and atmosphere were equally great, and we spent a lovely 3 hours enjoying both. It was definitely a satisfying way to spend our last night.

As further evidence of how little I still understood about navigating Prague, I managed to have us get on a tram going in the wrong direction in attempting to get back to the hostel. We rode to the end, were kicked off into the cold for awhile while the #5 turned around and then allowed to re-board. I felt only slightly less stupid upon noticing 2 other travelers had made the exact same mistake. (Prague is confusing darnit!)

We were more than grateful to finally get back to the hostel, and spent awhile packing up for the next morning. I was going to be catching a flight from the airport at 10, and Kate and Michelle were getting a train to Vienna a little later. (Incidentally "Vienna" in Bosnian/Serbian/Croatian is "Beć", still trying to figure that one out...) Even though this would all require waking up fairly early, we spent a good amount of time talking before turning off the lights.

I was off quickly in the morning, and said goodbye to Kate before I left. My adventure to the airport was an interesting one which involved taking the tram to a major bus station, going under the highway and finding my way to a little outpost for the airport bus. In the process I managed to lose a glove, tip over a container of straws while buying coffee subsequently angering the sales woman, and get lost several times. Needless to say I was happy to finally arrive at the proper check-in desk.

My flights home were pure luxury- I was given 2 drinks and a sandwich on both. No one was sitting next to me, and I alternated between finishing up Atonement and browsing a copy of the Economist I had purchased. I was determined to enjoy the experience to the fullest since purchasing the ticket was a major splurge- for it and the rest of my "Easter Break" I dipped into some of my savings from the waitressing I did this summer. However arriving in Sarajevo at 2 in the afternoon on Sunday, rather than at 2 the next day (which is where a train or bus would've put me) was definitely worth it.

The weather was bright and sunny, making my "homecoming" feel quite festive and cheerful. Sarajevo seemed quaint and familiar after my time away. It was good to know I could communicate with people around me again- even if on a rudimentary level.

It is funny to think a place can feel so comfortable after being away for a week. I don't think I could've told you before then that I would be so happy to get back. But it was reassuring to feel so much fondness for the place right on sight.

some travels

A week or so ago, at the end of March, I had the opportunity to leave the Balkans for a bit for the first time since I arrived in October. Or, I guess I should say I created the opportunity.


The occasion for my trip was more or less Easter- the holiday deserved some sort of excitement. And seeing as Sarajevo is primarily Muslim, it was not going to be the place to find said excitement. I have a fellow BVSer in Budapest and another friend, Kate, who is studying abroad this semester also happened to be on spring break at the time. By contacting the two of them I slowly formed the following itinerary: go to Budapest from Thrusday, March 20th until the morning of Monday the 24th; then take a bus to Prague and stay until Thursday, exploring with Kate and her friends. All told I would be gone a week- and it ended up being quite perfect.



I took the train to Budapest- it leaves Sarajevo at 7am and arrives in Budapest at more or less 7pm. Despite all my lofty intentions to spend that time language studying, I ended up devouring most of Atonement instead. My fabulous hostess, Rachael, came to meet me at the trainstation. We dropped my things off at her beautiful apartment and then headed out for dinner. I was able to indulge in an amaaazing Tex-Mex burrito, the likes of which I had not even allowed myself to dream of since leaving the States.



Actually, everything felt pretty surreal when I first arrived in Budapest- maybe it was just knowing I was in the EU. Crossing the border was suddenly a big deal. Slightly tipsy, giggling officials were replaced by stern-faced inspectors. No longer did I have to beg them for a stamp in my passport- instead every page was scrutinized carefully. With a black light. I was also back to being in a world where I understood absolutely nothing- Hungarian is an insane language that bears no relation to anything I am familiar with. Everything in Budapest felt so new, so urban, so chic. I almost started dancing with excitement to be riding on a metro system! The river at night, lined with illuminated buildings, seemed to be architectural perfection. We went to a pub/club of sorts to meet up with a large group of Rachael's friends. Many of them are Americans, in Budapest to teach English, but there was one Hungarian thrown in, as well as a Dutch girl. (She apologized, saying that many of her Hungarian friends were away for Easter Holidays.) Being surrounded by such a large group of people my own age was also novel- I've grown used to my slightly older crowd of graduate students. (I realize this may seem to be splitting hairs- hanging out with 22 yr olds vs. 26-8 yr olds, but honestly think about how much people change during this period of their lives. As a 22 yr old, marriage is not even on my radar, this is not the case for someone in their late 2os.) The bar itself even thrilled me. It was huge. It had an alternative edgy sort of vibe. The ceilings were low, there were unexpected corners and passages, plants and greenery seemed to be everywhere, the lighting was dim, the music was good, and yet there were still little nooks for escaping the crowds to just chat with the friends you came with. In case you can't tell, I was completely delighted with Budapest.



We returned to Rachael's on the early side, so as not to interfere with activities for the next day. Upon getting up I spent time browsing through her collection of guidebooks in order to properly plan my attack for the next few days. I decided to cross the river and head up the hill for the castle and old town which are one of the city's main attractions. This allowed for lots of walking and a detour to St. Stephen's Basilica as I made my way there. The weather was brisk, but sunny- perfect for exploring. I elected to visit the Castle Museum which offers an extensive look at Budapest's history. After that I walked around the hilltop and visited the popular look-out spot Fisherman's Bastion. I decided to make an attempt to see a performance at the Opera House that evening. I arrived there shortly before 7 when performances typically start, only to find that I was 2 hours late for the start of a Wagner performance that was continue for another 3 hours. The Opera no longer being an option, I returned to the street where I stumbled upon the Operetta instead. I was still in time for the 7 o'clock performance that evening which just so happened to be "The Happy Widow." I didn't actually find this out until after I left and was able to show my ticket stub to Racheal's friend Esther, who kindly translated. Being unfamiliar with the story line even in English, I was completely at a loss in Hungarian, but contented myself with enjoying the music, dancing and costumes.



After the performance, I joined Rachael and her friends at a coffee house that is run by the church Racheal attends. It was all in a basement and had a fun, laid back atmosphere with people strumming on guitars and playing impromtu rounds of poker. We opted to return to Racheal's place afterwards with her friends Victor (Hungarian) and Leon (Dutch) to huddle around Racheal's lap-top for a few episodes of "Friends."



Saturday, I made my way to the famed Baths which are fed by natural sulpher springs. All told I spent about 3 hours there- while I felt amazingly relaxed and blissed out for the rest of the day, it took my feet and fingers some time to lose their prune-like appearance. I managed to meet some interesting people too. First a group of Australians (plus 1 New Zealander) who were on their springbreak from teaching English in Poland. They, like all other internationals, were eager to hear my take on the U.S. Presidential race (Hillary or Obama?!), George W. Bush, and also on Sarajevo. I learned that Poland was still cold and snowy- something the Australians did not particularly appreciate anymore. Hearing my voice and my accent attracted the attention of two Hungarian siblings- a girl, 15, and a boy, 12. They spent eight years living in the suburbs of D.C. while their parents were working for the Hungarian government there. Hence, they had perfect mid-Atlantic American accents which sounded more or less exactly like mine. It sounded like they missed the States and were eager to go back for visits whenever the opportunity presented itself. They also were very proud of their English and pleased to have the chance to use it speaking with me. However, what I liked most about them was watching them interact. Their age difference was only a little greater than that of mine and Dru's, so in my mind it may as well have been us. She would correct him, then he would tell her- no, no she was wrong about this or that. All done in that slightly terse and restrained way that says if they weren't in public there would be more than minor verbal sparring taking place. Ha, I suppose I miss my brother a lot if even watching other siblings argue makes me want to see him.

After finally admitting to myself I had soaked long enough in the baths, I sluggishly made my way back to Rachael's. We went to go walk around for a bit, poked our noses in the massive 4 Seasons Hotel (which I think looks like something Gaudi would have created), and wound up at an Easter market. Now I am still trying to understand these markets and all the places one can ever expect to find them. Initially I knew of them as a Christmas phenomenon which I had experienced in Vienna and heard rumors of their existence in Germany. Well apparently other holidays qualify too because here they were in Budapest and then Prague too for Easter. They are probably designed to appeal to tourists exactly like myself. And must admit I couldn't love them more. They are like glorified craft shows with a major emphasis on food. (oh no, I just admitted to enjoying something resembling a craft show- I'm at risk of becoming my mother!) All kind of little booths are clustered around- some selling jewelry, other pottery, others clothing. The food encompasses all the is "traditional" for the region- baked funnels of bread covering in sugar (the original funnel cake?), goulash, kielbasa, various other forms of meat, latkes, hot punch, and plenty more. Rachael and opted for 2 steaming cups of spiced wine, a kielbasa and langos (pronounced "langosh")- fried dough covered in sour cream, garlic and cheese. Sounds really healthy, huh?

There was an hilarious moment as we were enjoying all this that a group of Americans walked by, some of them eying the food. Then one of them, a middle aged gentleman, asks in a tone loud enough to be heard by all within a 15 foot radius, "Why would we wanna eat now? We just ate a Burger King half an hour ago!" The man single-handedly confirmed every American stereo-type held by anyone present to hear his remark. Maybe he only specifically addressed certain prejudices- that we are loud, or that we have no real appreciation for anything beyond a fast food hamburger- but if these are true, then what's to stop Europeans from believing everything else they have heard about the average American as well? I am exaggerating, yes. But as one highly conscious of how I reflect upon my country, I sometimes wish others would be a bit more prudent too.

Feeling stuffed, but quite content, Rachael and I made our way up to Fisherman's Bastion to enjoy the view at night. It is hard to do justice to the beauty of the buildings along the river with words alone- you should probably google it right now while you are reading this. Hopefully there are some good night-time images. Anyway we then went down to a Belgian pub to meet up with Leon and Beth. They had just had the unfortunate experience of going attending what they though was an evening Easter service, but instead was a gathering of Jehovah's Witnesses. There had been a lot of hell-fire, guilt, and brimstone. They were not happy. We tried to calm them down though, they ordered some food, and we all enjoyed some really really yummy Belgian beer (which is definitely not available anywhere in Sarajevo).

One again, tried to make it an earlier night though. Because Sunday morning was the most important reason of all for getting up- a sunrise Easter service. This entailed waking up at 4am- so getting a good night's sleep was a lost cause. We awoke and made our way to meet everyone at the base on one of the many hills around the river. In the half light we all trudged up, and came to an amazing lookout over the river with a Cross situated on the hill just a little below where we stood. A pastor led the service in English with translation into Hungarian. We started with guitar music and singing- songs that could have been from the Early Service at home, except for the minor detail that they were in Hungarian. The scriptures covering Jesus' rise from the dead were read and translated, a brief message was shared, and more singing followed. While we held our service, more and more people gathered below us to stand at the cross- individuals, I assume, coming to pay their respects on Easter morning.

Sadly, it was overcast so instead of bearing witness to the sunrise we had only a gradual awareness of more light. One woman afterwards pointed out though that this held a message for Easter. The Marys came to Jesus' tomb, but he was not there. They were upset by this and did not understand the significance until he stood before them. We too came in search of the sun, but were disappointed by its absence. However, we were ultimately aware of its presence as the city and river below became visible. Jesus and the sun rose before we even had the chance to realize it.

Afterwards we went back to a house owned by WYWAM (not quite sure if I have those letters right) which hosts spiritual retreats and other programs for women worldwide. There we had an Easter breakfast feast with almost all the delicious breakfast foods you can imagine- including Starbucks coffee which Rachael and I ground manually. I'm not sure which made it taste better, the fact that it was Starbucks or the fact that we put our own energy into grinding the beans. Stuffed beyond belief I headed home for a well-deserved nap but Rachael opted to go to the Easter service at the church she regularly attends. I thought it a dangerous idea to go sit in a sanctuary feeling drowsy and full.

After my nap and Rachael's second Easter service, we watched a movie and lolled about some more before heading off to her newly-wed frinds apartment. They had a potluck Easter gathering which was just lovely- sitting around, chatting with lots of people, and eating good food are all the stuff of a good holiday celebration. Rachael contributed cornbread and I contributed Peeps. My mother sent them to me here as a joke after I expressly declared my dislike for them. I felt thoroughly vindicated however when it seemed no one at the Easter gathering particularly liked them either, based on the fact that only about 8 of them were eaten. I would've been pleased if someone had been excited about them- that was the whole idea of taking them in the first place- but because no one was, I chose to take comfort in the fact that most people share my opinion of Peeps.

At the gathering we also had a sing-a-long session of more contemporary Christian songs (this time in English) and looked at Caroline and Viktor's wedding and honeymoon photos. The pictures were absolutely great and had lots of great stories to go along with them. When we finally departed it was not until late, but I had a bus to catch the following morning.

Ok, this post has become long enough for now- I will write a second installment about my time in Prague over the next couple of days.

politics of language

I've been spending a quite a bit of my time working on learning Bosnian. Right now I go to about 3 private lessons a week with a lovely young woman named Jaca. She is very encouraging and warm which are pretty much ideal qualities in a language tutor.

Bosnian is not easy- it's a Slavic language with many structures that do not exist in English. Any given noun has different endings depending on what part of a sentence it is- and these are also completely different if the word is plural instead of singular. Luckily, errors noun endings won't result in a complete failure to communicate an idea- but it's still frustrating to know you may never express yourself perfectly.

The far more interesting thing about the language here is it's name. Depending on where you are/who you are talking to something that may seem to be more or less the same language is called something completely different. To a Bosnian, it is Bosnian; to a Croatian, it is Croatian, to a Serb it is Serbian; to a Macedonian, it is Macedonian, etc. This is the equivalent of me refusing to say I speak English, and instead referring to it as American. This would also entail having multiple lists of ingredients on every package of food- one labeled "Great Britain" another labeled "Canada" and a third labeled "America." Supposedly for the sake of translation of course. And just as there are variations in spelling, idioms, and vocabulary from one English-speaking country to another; one finds variations here in the Balkans. However, a Serbian might legitimately get offended if I were to refer to the language as Bosnian. "Bosnian" however does tend to be a little more forgiving in terms of expressions you can use- there is a blending of "Croatian" and "Serbian" expressions partly because of geography.

Mostar throws a lot of these language issues right in one's face. Because 1 side of the town in Croatian and the other side is Bosnian, there are different sets of vocabulary you will use from one group of people to another. To a Bosnian the equivalent of "bon apetite" is "priatno" but I would never dream of saying this to a Croat, who would instead say "dobar tek." Priatno in general is a word one would not dream of using in Croatia. A basic hello can also be tough. "Dobar dan" can be alright pretty much anywhere. Never ever say "bog" or "bok" anywhere except in Croatia, but there one would not dream of saying "zdravo". In Sarajevo, you can't necessarily be sure of who you're speaking to, so this really keeps things exciting although people are generally a bit more forgiving.

Another exciting complication in all of this is the use of Cyrillic. Serbs use it, Bosnians and Croatians do not. In Belgrade it is prevalent; in the Serb entity in Bosnian, Republika Srpska, it is used with an even fiercer pride. I personally find it confusing since there are so many letters which still appear to be from the Roman alphabet, but signify a completely different Cyrillic letter. C for example- in Cyrillic it is used to replace the letter S. "Sarajevo" appears as "Capajebo" on highway signs. My brilliant plan to follow road signs while driving with my father was constantly thwarted due to our inability to comprehend what was on them. If our map had at least been in Cyrillic we may have fared better. (Jack Tevis of course still saw no problem with stopping in the remote villages we would pass through to ask for directions. Since it was only 2 weeks after Kosovo declared independence, I was in perpetual fear that he would happen to ask an intensely nationalist Serb who would take out general anger towards America on my father. The odds of this happening were small, but my imagination managed to play it up quite a bit.)

Names are also important in revealing nationality. While I'm still not adept at knowing which names belong to which ethnicity, anyone from the region will know instantly after hearing a person's name whether they are Serb, Croat, or Bosnian. This goes for first and last names. Jelena is very Serbian whereas Amir is Bosnian.

To any outsider this all takes quite awhile to get a handle on. And it's something you probably wouldn't learn about until you arrived here- there aren't language dictionaries widely available for Bosnian, Serbian and Croatian. The limited resources which are available generally label the language "Serbo-Croatian" or they just offer Croatian because it's beaches are popular tourist destinations. Therefore it is conceivable that one might want to learn a bit of Croatian, whereas there is not exactly a massive influx of tourists making their way to Bosnia.