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.

While my father was here visiting we had the opportunity to explore many areas both around Sarajevo and in the region with our trusty rental car. One of these areas was Ilidza which is a "suburb" of Sarajevo and boasts a great park and promenade among other things. Before he actually arrived though I had spent some time there because a professor who works closely with MwB lives there. One day, after he took my supervisor & I to the "best" cevapi place in Ilidza (everyone, in every town and every city of BiH will tell you they know where to get the "best" cevapi) he led us to a nearby elementary school, asking if we "wanted to see his piano?" I wondered what he meant by this, and as we approached the building he took us around to the side where an old, half-destroyed piano was enshrined in a glass case with a plaque below. The piano had in fact belonged to his sister. However, during the war, when Serb forces came to Ilidza they gathered all the instruments at the music school there and others from nearby houses and burned them. This particular piano was one of the very few that survived the incident- but certainly showed the scars.

Observing it was very upsetting- physical evidence of the completely unnecessary cruelty that had been inflicted. What could have been gained by the destruction of such things? The inner strings and hammers- the guts - of the piano had been left exposed, many of the keys gone, and the body was badly charred. Viewing it on display in such a fashion somehow seemed obscene- like openly gaping at a badly disfigured person in public. I can remember playing our piano at home when I was little, before ever knowing anything about notes, chords or measures. I discovered that if I moved the wooden covering as though getting ready to close the piano and cover the keys, but not actually let it fall all the way into place, I could glimpse through a small crack into the secret inside of the instrument. This afforded only the most limited observation, but it was wonderfully exciting to know I was seeing just what made my experimental playing and banging possible. What I had once regarded as so special and private, here was brutally laid bare.

There are plenty of other reminders of the war here; buildings which have been left unrepaired and stories people share of their experiences. But unlike the buildings, this instrument is such a personal and intimate thing, a means for expression of human emotion. And unlike people, who have had the benefit of time to distance themselves from the war and are expected to go on with their lives, the piano has been frozen in the past.

news update

I was just speaking with a friend who encouraged me to give a little summary of everything that is going on here with Kosovo's recently declared independence. Because I'm here it's hard to imagine any news being bigger than this, but apparently coverage of the U.S. primaries will not stop for anything. So allow me to give a summary of events and what I have actually experienced here.

Sunday was independence day. Apparently there was some celebrating here in Sarajevo, but for the most part things were quiet. It looks like there was more visible jubilation in New York from the pictures I saw in online new sources. In Kosovo, things of course were crazy- people spent the whole week ahead of time figuring out exactely how they would celebrate. A bakery made a 100 foot long cake, the top orchestra practiced like crazy, everyone was brainstorming what they could do to go all out. Serbians on the other hand, not so happy. In Belgrade there were riots in front of the U.S. Embassy and (surprise surprise) the McDonald's. Yes, one restaurant had to close because all of its windows were broken. Serbs in Banja Luka (the capital of the Republika Srpska in BiH) attacked the French Embassy- possibly only because it was an easier target than the U.S. Embassy which is on a narrow ally.

The political game is certainly a tricky one here. Russia is of course united with Serbia in its refusal to recognize Kosovo. However, Serbia can't take its expressions of disapproval too far because of their hopes for EU membership. You may have noticed in the midst of all the election coverage that Serbia is withdrawing their ambassador to the U.S. from DC. There's discussion of withdrawing ambassadors from several EU countries as well. Of course there are plenty of countries who won't recognize Kosovo due to fears about separatist movements within their own borders. Spain is one example of this.

Bosnia and Herzegovina of course isn't immune to this problem either. The country's Serb entity, Republika Srpska, would like its independence too. However, they do not have and could not get the international support that has enabled Kosovo to take the plunge into independence.

This is more or less my summary of events at this point. Very much in a nutshell.

In closing, I would just like to request prayers for Katie M. my counterpart BVSer in Belgrade. The office of Women in Black, where she works, is taking increased security measures and will be closing earlier in the evenings. Keep her in your thoughts and pray for her safety.

gaining momentum

My life here seems to be picking up speed as I make more friendships and become more involved in the work here at Musicians without Borders. This is a very exciting development although in the past couple of weeks, I feel I have had little time to stop and smell the roses (or here I guess it would be the burek). So much happens, I have a rough time just processing all of it. As soon as one activity is done there is often something else to rush off to whether its work-related or just for fun. I try to always walk to and from work rather than taking the tram which does give me a nice 45 minute window for clearing my head.



Last week, Winds of Change performed at the Opening Ceremony of Sarajevska Zima (Sarajevo Winter) Festival. This was an interesting experience to say the least. When we were first invited to participate, we were supposedly going to play for 45 minutes total. After many revisions and changes in the program, we were left with only 5 minutes of playing time, a breif stint at an after-party, and a last-minute invitation to have our own performance the next day. Sarajevska Zima began in 1984 with the Olympics and therefore one would assume it is a well- established, well-organized festival. It is a mistake to make such an assumption. Instead everything about the event seems to be constantly in flux and subject to change at any point in time. Often the performers themselves aren't directly informed of changes, but discover them at the last minute when they may or may not have time to voice disapproval. There was supposed to be a dress-rehearsal for the opening ceremony on Wednesday at 4pm. When everyone showed up it turned out proper technical arrangements had not yet been made to supply the proper voltage and electricity for lighting and sound equipment. This was the day before the ceremony. So we waited around and were shuffled from place to place for about 2 hours. Then they told everyone to leave. Wow, I'm really glad we were there to not practice for 2 hours. (Note: Miller Davis should never NEVER try to work on a project in Bosnia)

The ceremony itself was interesting to say the least. A friend of mine likes to say that most things in the Balkans- events, tv shows, fashion, etc.- take the western version of something and then put it on acid. Everything is very over the top with as much glitter, light, color, and sexuality as possible. The opening ceremony was no exception. There was no clear concept of a stage and an audience. Instead there were various performance areas all over the place- one on an upper level, video screens on all sides, and a dance floor right in the middle. Towards the end the action all moved outside and culminated in a flashy show of lights and fireworks. Throughout all of this, spectators were herded around with varying amounts of confusion and sometimes found themselves right in the middle of the action. WoC performed their part just fine, but this was not hard considering all the music was done on play back. Apparently it all looked "great" on TV- but I think by Balkan standards. At some point I became exhausted with all the chaos and chose to leave with 2 friends who had come to see the performance at my invitation.

Later, I met back up with the group to watch a few of them perform at the after-party for the ceremony. This was much more enjoyable- they played beautifully and there weren't 27 other things going on at the same time. The "party" itself wasn't so fabulous, but its always nice to spend time with the group- 2 of the girls in particular are so friendly and really great to talk to. I won't see everyone again until mid-April when they start preparing for the concerts which are set to take place in May. I hope to have improved my language skills a lot by then too so I can talk more to some of the ones who don't speak as much English and can get more practice in general.

Last weekend was also a very exciting occaision- my Balkan BVS compatriots, Katie Mahuron and Katie Hampton, came to spend the weekend here in Sarajevo. Talking with them is probably one of the things that keeps me sanest. It is a wonderful thing to have others who are experiencing the same issues and difficulties. And while there are many internationals here in the Balkans, I have not met any others who will be here for as long as we will. In Mostar, Katie H., said our friend Charlene was lamenting the fact that the last 3 months have gone by so quickly. 3 months represent 1/3 of her time here, they represent only 1/8 of ours. I am curious to see how our thoughts and ideas about the region evolve over the course of that time- and how many other internationals we will see come and go.

Much of our visit was spent talking around the kitchen table although Katie H. and I did take it upon ourselves to introduce Katie M. to the Bosnian delights of čevapi and rahat lokum. We watched a Serbian comedy that had English subtitles, but rather than being entertained we were pretty much completely bewildered. The "western version on acid" rule somewhat applies here, but there were other factors involved too. Balkan humor is dark and often deals in death or other tragic subjects. After watching the movie we had to watch 2 episodes of the American TV show "Flight of the Concords" in order to get our laugh-fix. Katie H. wondered what Serbians and Bosnians would think of it, maybe what we found hysterical would just be weird to them. We also attempted a trip to the Museum by the Latin Bridge, but it was closed for the day- after our experiences is Belgrade this was not so shocking. We did manage to go to the National Art Gallery instead which I had already had the pleasure of visiting once, and hope to return to in the future as well. Our time together was over all too quickly, but we're hoping to reconvene in Mostar at some point since Katie M. still has not been there.

a nomadic lifestyle

Ok I have gone far too long without posting, and there is a lot to report.

First off- I have moved. Twice. Yep, becoming quite the little nomad over here in Sarajevo. The first move was precipitated by the arrival of Lauren McAlister from Mostar (well, originally from Vancouver) and our mutual desire for a roommate. We met through some friends and embarked on a rather tricky search for a place to live starting sometime in December. A friend explained to me that there are more apartments here than potential tenants, so there are lots of options available. The tough part is actually getting in touch with the people who are offering these options. The “classifieds” only come out on Fridays and you have to buy them separately. After purchasing them on 3 different occasions, and making about 70 calls total with the help of Bosnian-speaking friends, I think we only ever found 2 or 3 possibilities. Sometimes the apartments would already have been rented out, but more often people just didn’t answer their phones. A lot of this can be chalked up to how people view the way they fit into the economy here. As part of the former-Yugoslavia, BiH is a post-communist country that still isn’t convinced that life under the old system was all that bad. Or, even if they accept that, they have not fully embraced the “go get ‘em” energy of capitalism and continue in a more apathetic socialist “someone will take care of me” vein. This is also hindered by the job market here, which isn’t exactly booming, as well as political machinations and organized crime. This combination serves as one massive deterrent to hard work and forward movement. So in the end, no one cares too much about what they do- like actively trying to rent out property. Although then the fact that they paid for an ad at all seems a bit silly, but making a ½ effort is also often the way of things. What will be will be, but no need to inconvenience oneself in the mean-time.

This is also evident in the way a lot of business does actually get done. Once again it’s not what you do that matters, but who you know. The first place we did manage to move to- as Lauren’s arrival date rapidly approached and nothing was working out- I found through a friend of a friend. One of the women I have met who is doing her Anthropology PhD research here, mentioned to me on Jan. 2^nd that her cousin’s wife’s sister (a bit convoluted, I know) was trying to rent out a floor of her house. After further inquiries, she warned me that it was a bit far away, but I told her we might still be interested. Well, come Friday the 4^th I gave her a call b/c Lauren was arriving on Monday and all other options had fallen through. We went to see the place on Saturday, I moved in on Monday, and Lauren came on Tuesday- all in the blink of an eye really. It was far away, but it was really nice, cheap and certainly better than nothing- and better than not having any personal space or privacy as had been the case in my original situation. So that was that- but after not too long it was clear we would want a more convenient place. So Round #3 with the classifieds took place and Lauren shockingly enough met with success- but only with one place. This was Saturday the 19th- we went to see it on Tuesday, and moved in on Wednesday. Once again- all in the blink of an eye.

So now its Tuesday of the following week and we are settling in nicely. Our location could not be better. We are 5 minutes walk (if that) from Bascarsija (add in little v's over all the s's and c's) which is the old Turkish quarter. This is still a good distance from my work, but instead of being out in the middle of nowhere, we are right in the middle of everything. I love feeling the daily hustle and bustle of a city. In my last 2 housing locations, I didn't really have to opportunity to experience it- but here it is perfect. I try to leave here around 9 am to get to work, which can take between 30 and 45 minutes. If I walk for a bit at first, I can go through Old Town and see all the shop keepers gearing up for the day- unlocking their doors, opening windows, cleaning off the sidewalk. The past couple mornings have been sunny too- which makes all the difference. Last Thursday the weather was so great it had a noticeable impact on everyone. Several friends dubbed it "the day of life being fabulous." Funny how a clear blue sky can create that feeling, while a grey foggy one so quickly destroys it. In Sarajevo, grey is the norm so I feel lucky to be getting so many sunny days lately- our luck will probably not last.

So, yes, moving has been keeping me on my toes. The other big news is that Winds of Change will be performing next Thursday at the opening ceremony for Sarajevska Zima Festival which first took place during the 1984 Olympics here. The initial invitation was very exciting, but the disorganization of the festival is creating more and more problems. Willem will arrive next Monday, on Tuesday the group is supposed to record 3 songs, Wednesday there is a dress rehearsal, and Thursday evening is the ceremony. I have a feeling nothing will actually go according to plan, and next week will be utter chaos right up until Willem steps on the plane to head back to the Netherlands. I'll let you know how it goes.

One other interesting note. Last Thursday, Baya and I attended an awards presentation for the Ars Aevi Contemporary Art Museum here in Sarajevo. They were being recognized by the Dutch charitable foundation the Prince Claus Fund. We were equally impressed by both the museum and the foundation, and had a great time first looking at the art and then chatting with people at a reception afterward. Baya pointed out some important people who were there to me and we even spoke with one or two of them. What completely shocked me though were the words of one particular Middle Eastern Ambassador. When I told him I was American, he advised me to say I was either Dutch or Canadian in the future. He then proceeded to go on a tirade about how Americans stereotype all Muslim people as extremists and terrorists, how we are so close-minded. In the face of all this, I barely managed to get a word in edge-wise. It was basically all my worst fears of the world perception of Americans come to life right before my very eyes. However, at the same time I was offended. Excuse me sir? "All Americans" stereotype? well, I think with your statement you have just done the same and made a bold and sweeping judgment about 300 million people. And to hear all of this coming from a diplomat I was particularly shocked. Fine for an individual to espouse these opinions, but shouldn't a state official have to be a bit more careful about what comes out of his mouth? I would think something a with a bit more tact might be in order. When he was done he gave me his card and laughingly said I would probably not want to be getting in touch with him. Now I am trying to imagine a situation where our paths would in fact cross again- maybe we'll need to bring some of his country's musicians to BiH- or better yet to the U.S.