All Things Fall Apart

The fast pace traveling takes a toll on the body and the state of mind.  Trembling buses covering long distances become more of a hassle than an adventure.  After spending a couple of days in Lake Ohrid, Macedonia, we had decided to head to Croatia where we can spend some extended time in one place without a worry where to get next.  But before we get on the road, Ohrid deserves a few lines of notations.  

     Lake Ohrid is one of the oldest and deepest lakes in the world and has been put under the conservancy of the UN, attracting curious tourists from around the world.  Macedonia's historical duality has created a unique atmosphere in the land touched by Greeks, Illyrians and contemporarily Yugoslavians.  This mesh of heritage left a toll on the mentality of the inhabitants along with the influx of Albanians taking up a significant amounts of land.  There is a sense of division and separation between Macedonians and ethnic Albanians.  Cities and villages are labeled by flags, religious objects and even dress code to differentiate two cultures and two ways of life.  

     Especially, during the month of Ramadan these differences come to the surface more prominently than ever.  Even in this desolate location of Ohrid, 400 kilometers away from the capital, located close to the border of Greece, the line of separation is thick.  The downtown area laying by the lake and resembling more of a sea city than one occupying the lake, is filled with historical sights, modern restaurants and cafes.  One of the oldest Christian non-denominational churches dating back to the 10th century, St. Sofia, erects humbly in the midst of centuries of changes.  The city comes to life at the early evening where locals and visitors both take strolls around this combination of new and old, Macedonian and Albanian, while constantly being reminded of historical duality and its legacy.  

      Not too far away from the lake and mentioned church, the second part of downtown area extends into shopping center, more cafes and different wardrobe choices.  As I mentioned, the Ramadan was in full swing during our stay, so people were coming out late to enjoy a bit of a nighttime after challenging fast.  As we were passing by all these sights, I could not help but sense the separation unavoidably evident among the locals.  In this part of town, dominated by ethnic Albanians and Islamic influences, instead of a church, a mosque stays erected and instead of loud music, Ezan (a call to prayer) can be heard.  Women were veiled while men enjoyed Turkish coffee commemorating the most important month of a year.  These two separate worlds merge as one in the most odd fashion, when one stands on the imaginary border between the two areas.  On that crossing, people mesh up together and the overlapping voices of distinct languages, loud music and Ezan create demiurgic experience where those crowds become unified blurring the lines of separation.  In a split of a second, they become same in their differences.  Unfortunately,  this occurrence does not last long as everyone at some point heads home to their ethnically divided neighborhoods. 

        A couple of days were sufficient to absorb the oddity and beauty of Ohrid.  The next stop was Croatia, Orebic, at least 15 hours away.  Another long journey ahead on the buses of discomfort and pain.  But before we hit the road, the observation I have discovered in Ohrid is that all things do fall apart.  That split of a second that combines people together disappears into forgetting sooner than it appears.  So, that all things do fall apart is evident, but what is more important is how long can they last put together??  Perhaps, that is the question to significant number of contemplations I ponder on.  Even if everything falls apart, there is that moment when synchronization of life and those around us harmonizes into a unified form, erasing our differences and allowing this shortly lived second to echoes longer after it falls apart.  

On the Road Again

     The time has come to move along with my trip.  After spending a month or so with my family, I've decided to raise the anchor and embark on a new traveling adventure.  So, I bought an airplane ticket to Vienna in order to meet up with Amber.  A sense of anxiety and nervousness took over as I was readying to continue this trip.  Things haven't been going on as planned, so a dose of skepticism lingered on every corner awaiting for something unwelcomed to happen.  In contrary, the smoothness of it all surprised me quite pleasantly.

Initially, Amber told me that she was going to meet me a day later so, just a thought of staying in this unknown city by myself raised a lot of scared emotions and uncomfortable feelings.  Luckily, she changed her plans and met up with me as planned.  Was I relieved!!

Honestly, I was quite nervous about meeting up with her again because I didn't want to impose on her own travelling experience since she has been doing so well on her own.  However, two hours into the reunion, we both felt a sense of a relief that we are doing this together, once again.

     If I have learnt anything so far, is that the world is becoming a big pile of different cultures leaving no spot untouched by diversity and heterogeneity wiping the authenticity out and destroying the locality of nation states.  Vienna felt so familiar despite the fact that I've visited the place 13 years ago.  It seems that cities are resembling each other due to the influences of migration, globalization and economic dependencies.  Various languages echo more than the official one, completely overpowering the Austrian presence.  Surprisingly, I found myself in the center of Serbian diaspora in Europe where everything is run by Serbians themselves in a Serbian language.  Even the bus station from where we took the bus to Belgrade, was operated explicitly by Serbians.  Finding local spots and enjoying domestic atmosphere presented a challenge but nothing feels better than accidental encounters without any expectations.  Despite of all the obstacles somehow we found ourselves on the outskirts of Vienna passing by a small outing that looked like a restaurant.  However, it was a club meeting and we definitely crashed their little gathering.  Hosptiable Austrians allowed us to sit with them and enjoy a cup of coffee with some homemade cakes. 

     Vienna felt random and uncategorized.  Obviously, it became a melting pot of different micronationalities ruling the city through the cuisine, loud immigrant presence and diminishing macronationalistic inclanations of Austrians themselves.  I have a hard time deciding whether such change is for better or worse.  Like all the cliches, this particular movement toward shuffling of groups of people and intergrating them into different societies than their own deffinitely has its possitives and negatives.  Eventually, a lot more countries will follow this course of action but there is still a place in the southeastern Europe that strongly clinges onto traditional values and hardcore essence for identity - my overused term appears again - the Balkans!  After couple of days of dining in Mexican restaurant whle conversing about American socioeconomic state, sightseeing and drinking with a South Korean guy Amber met in Budapest, we decided to move more south; to a more distinct region.  

     After a long ride on the bus, we finally approached Belgrade, the capital of Serbia located nowhere else but on the Balkan Peninsula.  The city bleeds communist era through its architecture while contemporary political situation of so called democracy and capitalism resembles the state the country is in -- afraid to move forward with the western concept of "progress" that created a limbo for the citizens of this country with now way back but only one way forward.  And that way forward is pricey.  The bulidings are decaying yet some new structures can be seen on the horizon.  Even the buildings destroyed during the Nato bombarding in 98' are left untouched to commemorate and remind on everyday basis injustices of Clinton presidency.  Partly, the reminder serves nationalistic agenda and "inat" (spite), while on the other hand is the lack of government funding.  Although, a metropolitan city with the reputation of partying has lost its label becasue of the governmental attempt to regulate working hours of bars and to bring about some kind of order.  Yet, nothing happens gradually in the Balkans; our extremity surfaces in every aspect of life so, politicians decided to close down bars relatively early crippling Belgrade and its people to do what they do best.  

     I managed to pay a hommage to the grave of our lifelong president Josip Broz Tito.  It was quite intriguing to do so and see how a person can be adhered to such heights of respect and attention.  Whether it was a cult or true love for a leader, it is difficult to say from my stance but even though he died before I was born that man was truly something.  Even though I have never seen him or exprience him, the mysticism around him and my parents devotion allowed him to enter into my life as an inspiring figure and some that has become timeless for better or worse.  Seeing other tourists visiting his grave reminded me of his greatness.  This dividing line between the west and the "east", from occidental and oriental lingers still in this region through holding onto the past and digging deeper into history in order to refrain from looking where the west is going and it is sad that we cannot pave our own way without restrictions, judgements and someone else telling us how to live.  The arbitrary west continues to impose "righteous" ways  by completely taking over entire Europe and erasing the balance of difference and distinctivness that harmonized the world at some point.  The Balkans are truly the crossroads of history, of our Earth.  Once they succumb to the ways of the west, there is no stopping this vigorous force of globalization.  l

Either way, I am on the road again.  

Scandinavian Nights

Summer has official begun, yet according to the "Swedish calendar", the season had reached its peak. A three day weekend commemorated by family gatherings and celebrations of summer, has left the city of Motala desolate. Motala is experiencing a complete shutdown with an exception of few locales owned mainly by foreigners who have a hard time grasping this phenomena. Close to the north pole and geographically detached from the rest of the Europe, not counting other Scandinavian countries, Sweden breathes according to its climate. An average daily temperature scales in the 20s measured in Celsius, while in the shadow, one needs to wear an extra layer of clothing. The weather changes abruptly without a warning.
Absurdly, the daylight is observed until the late hours and already by 3 am sun rises in its fullest force. Such are Scandinavian nights; very short and never fully dark. However, the scale is never completely balanced when it comes to the meteorological sphere. Winters produce quite the opposite effect, when the daylight is almost absent except for a few hours. Life is very organized and controlled excusing the anomalies through the ardent alcohol use. That is the only time when Swedes become open, vurnable and communicative in the serene form. Otherwise, difficult to penetrate to the core of their existence, they tend to cling onto their conservative nature.

Such is a country I currently find myself in. Gloomy and filled with melancholy are the days spent here. Maybe, it is the state of mind I find myself in or it may be the characteristic mood of this part of the world, that leaves such a footprint on my wellbeing. Strangely, I find myself balanced and at peace. These contradicting causes and effects, resonate throughout my stay here. In one hand, I am filled with worries about my grandma, while in the other I am experiencing strange calmness and sense of balance that I have never felt before. Perhaps, it is this bizarre natural imbalance that caters to my extreme core, helping me reach the unusual coherence within. Whatever it is, it is fresh and new. The whole point of this trip was to discover something groundbreaking that will help me in a further development as an individual and so far it has done so. Although, everything that has occurred so far has not been a part of the grand scheme, still I am absorbing every single experience that comes along with an absolute preparedness.

The plan is to stay here for the next two weeks and then link up with Amber to embark on the next journey. Partially, I feel a guilt for leaving and continuing my adventures but I think it is the right thing to do. By then, I will help my grandma to the best of my abilities to recuperate as much as she can. Sometimes I think that watching her suffer is not something she would want me to see. I know I would not. Until then, I will try to sleep through a few more Scandinavian nights.

P.S.  This post was written on June, 21st.  Sorry for delay.

Detour

Nothing is ever as it seems. Plans, perceptions, any type of visions constantly change due to numerous circumstances that occur without a warning. All of the sudden, everything one thought it is, it is not. Life is simply an adjustment to ever-changing nature of existence. Detours signify the elemental core of life and the abstract pathway we all think we follow, always become blurred with obstacles carrying us on the side roads. As long as there is some type of an exit strategy on the blocked roads, we keep on marching ahead. Once the wall is elevated in front of us, somehow we manage to climb over it or take another way around it. However, even when one is standing still, the movement continues in our minds while we search for the ways out. Consequently, my adventure keeps on going in some other unexpected place with a new direction on the horizon. Living never stops as long as there is a heartbeat echoing in our chest.


Past two weeks have been filled with hospital visits in two different countries, yet there is so much more happening. I am spending time with my family in this bizarre situation filled with ups and downs. Comforting and supporting each other, we have managed to stabilize our emotions in this tragic time in my family. A person that all of us thought is practically invincible and full of life, ended up wounded, massively. At times, we think she will come back to us, while sometimes crippling fear of loss enters abruptly causing a state of helplessness. This unexpected detour altered several lives in the most painful way, yet we fight and refuse to give up in every spectrum of our beings. But none of this can compare to the agony my grandma finds herself in. Living but unaware of herself most of the time, going in and out during her own adventure, the adventure of finding herself once again. And all we can do is sit tightly awaiting for the signs of her presence. There are good and bad days, but as long as we have those days they count.

I have learnt quite a lot, or at least I think I did. Reinforcement of who I am and the role I play in this micro universe of mine, has made me feel more significant and more in charge. The usual lack of self-confidence has disappeared because the knowledge that someone else depends on you staying strong and coherent gives you some type of strength that keeps carrying you day by day. I have casted all of my needs and wants aside for someone else and this has made me more present, more alive. Tragedies show the real character of a person and I think I managed quite well to become an important tool in the toolbox offered at this time. Perhaps, my egoistic nature reveals itself in the most obscure way, but as long as I use it to the good of others, I have succeeded to turn bad into good. So, the detour became the main road, taking me into some unpredictable waters that I will gladly swim.

The Problems I Have

When two irrational people are put together, only the irrational results are expected. It is like a mathematical equation filled with logic and definite outcome. Thats me plus Amber equals well, something of a comical yet, disastrous nature. Here we are at the beginning of our trip, already experiencing odd adventures. Today, we made it down to Sarajevo, the capital of BiH. The ride from BL took a little bit over 5 hours, since we had some technical difficulties. Nothing runs smoothly around here which is expected but just when you think you have seen it all, something peculiar occurs. First, when we got on the bus there were no seats since the efficient transportation industry and its workers had sold more tickets that there are seats available. So, far an hour, we had to stand crammed up. After a literally 5 minute drive, we were forced to stop since the bus driver forgot to fill up the tank. After good 20 minutes, we have finally resolved to head out. As if it was not convenient enough, Amber starts showing signs of nausea, making curious passengers attentive. After few offers to sit down, she finally accepted. While she was getting herself together, I started a conversation with a girl that let her sit. As it is a custom here, somehow down the line one finds something in common with another person, something austerely familiar.


The conversation took us to so many different places from the war experiences, to current and future lifestyles. However, the theme at times was gloomy and ironic as we were pointing out the things that are going wrong with this country and the only way out is unfortunately getting out. She was telling me about instances how corrupted and deeply disturbing political system is. We agreed on a lot of things and involved Amber after some heavy talks. After that she tried to point out our not so famous or not so accepted or even real pyramids older than the Egyptian once. Hoax or not, it brought light to the darkness of this nation. I could not help but think how different my life is living in a privileged world. I have never really felt a sense of an honest gratitude that the US has to offer, but the escape to the land of free, it really is just that. Diaspora ignores the devastations and hindrance of progress continuously recurring on daily basis effecting the lives of our countrymen.


Earlier before heading out of BL, I had another conversation with the cleaning lady at my aunt's house. Shes originally from Croatia, ended up in Banja Luka through the property exchange process that relocated many people within the ex YU. She shared the difficulties she has with paying her debts and taking care of three children in this different world of cyber culture. She sees no future for her oldest son who is intelligent by nature but challenging to take care off. All this real talk about real lives that are unveiling in this region seem more drastic and sad than the lives carried on during the war. At least, the "enemies" were tangible, now the abstract worries attack and no clear future is ahead. How many conversations do we need to have to realize that change is necessary more than water? When are people going to take things in their hands and get rid of the criminal opportunists that rule this country promising only nationalism and pay cut?? I am trying to make some sense out of this all with a hope that there is some type of a positive solution but it seems that things are unchangeably worse.
Here we are on this trip simply because we can, while there are people around who await for their salary for more than 16 months, patiently still attending their work posts in hopes that they might just get paid or maintaining their jobs because they will not be able to get another one. Is it out of desperation that a person gets up every morning to go to work knowing that he or she will not get paid or is it simply a clingy nature of us humans to keep whatever we can in order to preserve some type of appearances?


Then after initial incidents with our bus, we were moved to a different bus for an unknowing reason; just another hiccup in the transportation industry. When we finally made it to the capital, somehow we ended up in the shittiest cafe possible. After getting charged for the bags in the cab, I simply took it not as a robbery but as a person trying to get anything out of anyone to survive. I guess. It gives me some hope that there are still honest, hard working people. He was a douche but I did not want to argue over any principals tonight, so I let it go.
Finally, when we arrived to my relative's apartment our backs took a break from oversized backpacks and loads of other shit we are dragging with us. As it is the case, everything takes forever here, even the washing machines and dryers. We did not get a chance to completely dry our laundry so, discretely we laid out all the wet clothes we had around my cousin's room because the rack for drying was taken. And reserved me, would not ask for any hangers, so we spread it around an entire room. At least, it smells good and hopefully it will dry by tomorrow. These are my "problems".

Meteorite

Just outside of city limits of BL (Banja Luka from now on), there is a small segregated neighborhood that is infamous for hosting a meteorite that hit the Bosnian soil circa 12,000 years ago. If you were an accidental passerby, you would think it is a strangely looking stone cut in a half with almost perfect half sphere shape, along with a neighboring smaller perfectly circled stone. And you would be wrong. Apparently, some dwellers found it who knows when, and cut it in half because they presumed that this perfectly round object contained some kind of a precious metal. Luckily, the smaller one was preserved. Once the archeologists established the authencity of the meteorite, they created a modest shrine for it next to somebody's house. When we approached the sight, we-practically parked in someone's front yard. Since it was a holiday, people were sitting in their yards, using any accuse to celebrate and drink. As it is here in the Balkans, the hospitality is taken to the extremes. We were offered to join in the celebration consuming the homemade rakija. (Pronounced rakiya or grappa; kind of a grape moonshine). We politely declined as we continued to take the pictures of this unusual sight. Never knew about it, yet it has been sitting in the area for 12,000 years. Neat!!

Balkan Rules

Past few days went by uneventful. Besides sunbathing and swimming, the time has not been fruitful with exciting events. Except maybe few lessons learnt from local mentality. Days in Croatia are coming to the end as in no time, we will head back to the motherland - Bosnia and Herzegovina. Overall, I enjoyed spending time with my mom as I realized that even in the States, we do not get a chance to hang out on our own. Of course, I wish my dad and others were here, but I gained some valuable memories that will continue to linger as we retell them every time we meet. We definitely have gained more material for future reminiscences.
The other day, we visited Krocula which is a nearby island where we visited a museum, climbed up some narrow stairs to get to the Marco Polo Tower house hosting a couple of bells, and enjoyed some local wine with great, fresh seafood. As I have mentioned few times before, the out of season transport is not very convenient. Some older French ladies tagged along with us, as we attempted to find a boat that will take us back to the mainland. Without speaking a world of French or they any other language than their own, somehow we found a common ground and I told them to follow us since we shared desired destination. So, I asked the guy that operated a small boat if he can take us back to Orebic. He asked me how much am I willing to pay, so we agreed on 15 kunas per person which translates into roughly 3 dollars. Apparently, we joined in with a group of tourists that had all inclusive privileges and one of them was this mean of transportation. Clueless, we jumped in and continued our seemingly quick and painless journey back. However, when the time came to pay, suddenly the price rose up to 50 kunas for 2 people. When I asked him, why did it change, he just said "that's how things are." Upset and angry, I told him a couple of "nice" things and continued walking. Then I realized, that is how things work in the Balkans and I cannot change anything. Balkan Rules in the purest form; they change as the wind blows or as the boat crosses the sea, in this case.
Other than that, I went for walks and sat at cafes drinking some Croatian beer. The time is nearing for other adventures as I am getting too comfortable here. I recharged my own batteries and now I patiently await for future trips.

One Day At A Time

For more than a week now, I have been surrounded by my grandma and my mom. The connection we possess ties us together, yet at the same time I sense the line of separation. I guess, it is a natural progression of life where, we children continue where our preceding generations left off. As much as I feel in touch with them, there are times when I seek my own seclusion to paraphrase it all. I realized that I learnt to enjoy my own company and sometimes it is all right to spend some time of ascetic nature.
Yesterday, I went for a run on the beach. Jogging alone is still not introduced in our culture because sports are supposed to be communal and executed in groups. Well, I was the only one running around and I really attracted the eyes of locals and older tourists. It is still quite calm here as not many people make their way to the coast this time of the year. Generally, one can only see older couples from northern European countries taking the advantage of quietness. Although, I am learning to enjoy it myself, I miss the presence of loud crowds and the entertainment that comes with summer. For now, I come across the locals that inhabit this little town. Cafes are empty and workers patiently sit while awaiting busy season.
Currently, Croatia is preparing itself for the entry in the European Union. It will be the second nation after Slovenia from former Yugoslavian republics, that will attain the membership. The feelings and perception of this act is mixed. Some are scared of rising already high cost of living, while others await the monetary aid that will hopefully improve some sectors of economy. Strikes by transportation industries are taking place as of right now. They are taking the advantage before the entry into the EU to point out their grievances. The airport in Zagreb is left desolate as workers refuse to work. Hopefully, the situation will patch itself up in following days because my mom needs to go back to the States and Amber will be on her way soon. Those are personal reasons on my part that I wish they resolve the situation adequately and rapidly. However, the longterm satisfaction of those individuals that are striking is far from realization. Instant gratification and patching up seem to be a recurring theme in our modern world. We will see how far it will take us. Those temporary fixes carry temporary results. For the time being, this has to do.
Being here and living a simple existence made me realize that our lives are composed of days we spend and it should be seen in bits and pieces. Sometimes, we get carried away in searching for a bigger picture to sum it up all. Occasionally, I catch myself thinking about worries that I do not have and how normal life filled with work, bills and everyday nuisances seems so far away. How nice it would be to live as I live right now for the rest of my life!? People are so consumed with a need for a structure because they fail to create it on their own. Perhaps, only when one goes through the structured life it is possible to genuinely enjoy the randomness and simplicity. I have done this before, left for months at the time, but the perspective that I have now only enhances the experience and differs immensely. Nelson Mandela said it best: "There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."

Our Cab Driver

In a previous post, I mentioned that my uncle organized a transport to the place where our house is located at. We were greeted by a very interested gentleman that drove us around Lastovo island and also served as a tourist guide. I sensed the accent but I figured that is how people talk here. It turns out that he was actually born in South Africa and that he learnt to speak our language after he arrived. Apparently, he was a trained solider and somehow he ended up here. His father left then Yugoslavia in the 50's to return in the early 90s. He was really nice and he took us to the grocery store and helped us with things. After a great conversation and few cups of coffee, we let him go to his pregnant wife. He made me think of the cyclical nature of things here. People leave but they always hope to come back one day and some of them really do. I started thinking about my retirement and where would I like to be. Croatia looks pretty attractive as a final stop. When I was a kid, I used to say that the capital city of Yugoslavia was Murter, which was the place where we used to vacation in Croatia. I always loved the sea and its charming surrounding. Maybe, one day, just maybe...

Blood is not Water

So, I wrote another quite lengthy post that accidentally, got deleted. Annoying to say at least. Well, I will try to paraphrase what I have already written. Final day in Bosnia, before I get back, was filed with drinking lots of coffee in few different cafes, seeing randomly familiar faces and taking it all in. After enjoying my short stay, it was time to head out - direction Rovinj, Croatia, where my cousin's wedding was taking place.
After a 5 hour drive in an annoying rain, the destination was reached. The last obstacle, and it really was one, consisted out of catching the ferry with our dresses and clothes worth of a day stay. The crossing was quite entertaining and somewhat mood killing because everyone's hair and clothes were getting messed up. After settling in on an enchanting, small island, the nervousness and hectic atmosphere presented itself in everyone. However, once the drinks started rolling and I met some of my relatives I have not seen in years or never before, the mood took a turn for better, significantly.
The surrealism of it all, being here and seeing all these dear people, reaffirmed the saying we use, that blood is not water. And somehow, we managed to beat the time and years of separation, with an ease. It made me wonder, what is it in us that once we know someone is somehow related to us, we automatically turn on our familial feeling of warmth and genuine love for them without even really knowing them. Maybe it is some kind of chemical reaction triggered in our brains that causes us to feel close to them.
The wedding was really nice. It had a charm and dreaminess to it. The island of St. Katarina hosts only the hotel and beautiful nature surrounding it. It is impossible to see it from the outside because the entire island is covered in greenery. Adorable, little place. Obviously, the theme that surfaced quite often had to do something with marriage. And guess who they were directing their genuine concerns at? Yep, you guessed it, me and others like me. I felt as a leper with some other incurable diseases and at any point I might perish from the face of the Earth. I am almost 30 and unmarried, something must definitely be wrong!!! It was quite comical yet annoying at the same time. The face when they make when they tell you that you are still single, is quite scary. The grimace showed the empathy veiled in sorriness when I told them that I failed to catch a bouquet. After they got over it, I realized and they did too I hope, that I SHALL LIVE!
After the ceremony, we proceeded to the celebratory room where we drank, ate and drank some more. Rakiya caused quite a raucous in my head the following day. After breakfast, the 26 hour journey began. I got to see parts of Croatia, I have never seen before. We had to catch a night bus to Split from Pula where we waited for 6 hours to get on it. In Split, we took a ferry to Vela Luka which is located on the biggest island in Croatia. My uncle from Sweden organized a cab for us to take us to our desired destination, Orebic. Finally, after so many buses and ferries, cabs and other adventures, we finally settled in. This area is breathtakingly beautiful. Blue sea side with rocky terrain and abundance of trees makes it look like heaven on earth. Untouched by human destruction, this place makes time stand still. Lastovo island still has the original vegetation unhindered by the progress which is difficult to find in the world. It is still kind of quite since the summer season hasn't started yet. Soon enough, the tourists will take over and make it lively.
The access to the internet is scarce so, hopefully I will be able to find it once I go into the city tomorrow. Pictures will come soon as well. I have some technical difficulties since I already lost the converter for the electricity so, I have to buy a new one. Go figure. However, it is relaxing not to have the need to constantly check my email. It has been days since I've last checked my facebook account. I am actually enjoying and absorbing every minute of my existence without any actual worries but quality time passing. My ipad is about to run out of the battery so, I will stop now. Once I resolve power issues, I should be able to write more. Hope everyone is doing well!!!

Victory Over Fascism...Or so it seems...

Sixty-eight years ago on today's day, May 9th, Hitler capitulated and the day became a national holiday in then emerging sovereign federation of Yugoslavia. In today's dissected region of the Balkans, it is still celebrated, even in the Republic of Srpska, which is the creation of the most recent war in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Segregation within the country is more than obvious and omnipresent as different people reside in the cities while the old inhabitants were sometimes forcefully, sometimes voluntarily urged to leave their homes. I can't help but detect the irony in it all as this socialist holiday still carries some symbolic weight. The intent during and after the 90's civil war was to eradicate anything that had any association with then communist Yugoslavia. Nationalism and arrogant patriotism swept the region on all three sides. Well, my region was affected by ardent Serb ethnocentricity which had undermined any other ethnic group. It still prevails until this day.

The importance of history and our ties to the land are deeply engraved in our genetic code, particularly here. Today, I felt it on this symbolic day quite strongly. Maybe, because it was a reminiscent day filled with a ride through my hometown. We visited graveyards where my family members were buried, who lived back in the 19th century. I could not help but think that this really is my land and that my relatives owned it, helped it grow, and left a legacy that is described in the books written by local writers. All of my family names, from both of the sides of family are mentioned quite frequently. Somehow, I understood more clearly how important it is to be remembered and how significant it is to all of us to continue talking about our relatives' impact; well at least those who spent their lives here. I am a part of some new generation that left and grew up in foreign countries but I still felt a deep connection and sense of belonging.

After an emotional visit to the graves of few generations of my relatives, which my Mom hasn't seen since we left, we continued moving towards a "Bosniak (Muslim)" part of town." Here in this area which has generally been predominately Muslim, we stopped at a famous restaurant called "Slap". (in English cascade or waterfall). The restaurant was build in 1955 and since then it has been an idyllic place to sit next to the amazingly beautiful river that our town takes pride in. The sounds of fast water and the images of gorgeous greenery, make it one of the most memorable places in the world. I may be swayed, but I have never seen my city as beautiful as it was today from the elevated suburbs surrounding it. Maybe it was the company, or the conversation we were carrying over some traditional Bosnian food or just all of the above but it was almost magical. Touching the water, smelling all the scents and embracing the sounds of the nature, allowed me to appreciate where I hail from. A city, which dates back to the Roman Empire, affected by catastrophes, both natural and man made, still stands as alluring as ever. For a moment I thought, I could spend my three month adventure here without going anywhere. (Of course, I am going to other places, but I just wanted to add the effect and true feeling I had).

Since I am here with my grandma who is the oldest family member, I hear a lot of useful commentaries and stories about every single small and big place. America seemed so distant and foreign to me today. Almost too big to appreciate life of a single person in such a detail as it is being preserved here through memories, stories and places. Even the grass is greener here. When we were riding in the bus yesterday from Croatia to Bosnia, my grandma told me a story when her sister first moved to Switzerland in the 70's. We were admiring the scenery and saw some animals and I pointed out how I finally see a normal cow. In the states, cows look different. This comment led my grandma to tell me how her sister used to write to her saying that she is nostalgic and wants to come back to Bosnia. She mentioned how "cows do not look the same and there is no one to look after them". I guess, there is no place like home.

However, the reality is quite different. Fascism was defeated so many years ago but I think a new type of fascism has taken over our amazing land. Nationalistic signs and flags are seen everywhere. There are more religious objects that no one really visits then schools; on all three sides. Decaying properties and failed businesses are seen everywhere. Lack of urban mentality has disappeared with all of us that left. We took away only real progressed culture present and left some new people that came from rural areas to take over our cities. The legacy of my family is slowly fading away because we are not here to continue it.

Yet, this trip made me hopeful. Maybe some day, I will be able to come back after another 20 years to see that hindrance has been defeated and that people will integrate and live in harmony and togetherness like we used to. I believe that this a segregation between rural and urban layer of people rather than just ethnic or religious. After all we are all the same people, not just here but everywhere else. I am reassured that I will be proud of the Balkans, once again.

First Encounters

As some of my friends expressed the interest in following my traveling adventures across Europe, along with my own desire to document it, I have decided to start a simple and mostly random blog to capture the insights, events, occurrences of all kinds.  Beforehand, please forgive me for any typos, grammatical errors or confusing sentences because I would like to keep it as genuine as possible; told in my own broken English.

So, I have reached my first destination which is Zagreb, Croatia.  After a quite entertaining flight to London, where I had a layover, I landed in what used to be a part of my former Yugoslavia.  If you wonder what kind of entertainment can possibly happen on the plane, well let me tell you it is quite possible especially when you travel with French.  From my own attempt to decipher the situation, I think that some passengers where arguing over the seats.  Throughout the entire flight, the echo of occasional screams and angry remarks kept being exchanged.  Finally, the crew separated them which allowed me to continue in subtle observation of people around me.
It finally hit me, I was not in America anymore.  The superficial politeness and mutual appreciation goes out of the window in this back of the woods.

Zagreb's International airport is rather small with a comfortable and safe feel because there is no way in hell you could get lost.  Also, the familiarity with the language helps, well maybe in to easily communicate but definitely does not result in a pleasant reception.  So, as a "foreigner" I entered my former country of Croatia as a Bosnian but it gets worse.  A Bosnian with an American passport is a source of a lot of contempt and mean looks.  Customs check went relatively smooth.  However, when I got to the Money Exchange window, the authentic Balkan customer service surfaced.  Well, she got aggravated with the money I gave her.  We all know that the quality of bills in the US does not really matter.  People write on it, tear it and still use it.  Well, here it is apparently offensive to present ugly looking US dollars with drawings on it.  I always thought it gives money a character.  The crisp European money slides easily and it is a sign that maybe they should stop printing so much money. Hint!  With my Bosnian "dialect" and an American passport, I survived my first encounter with rudeness and rolling of the eyes of some angry woman who hates diaspora.

The circumstances had me to rent a room near the airport which I did through a booking.com.  I should have known better, that the internet age has not fooled people in the Balkan because they like to over advertise and false advertise.  Well, either way I ended up in somebody's house which is quite normal lodging but now when you expect a regular hotel and for the price I paid.  Personally, I didn't care because I'd rather give it to some honest, hardworking individual who tries to do it small than to some profiteer.  The room ended up being clean and quite cosy.  Well, I am writing this from the mentioned room at 3 am local time because I am jet lagged and can't sleep.  One of the other reasons why I started this blog is to kill the night while everyone else is asleep.

Tomorrow  morning we are picking up my mom from the airport and continue our journey to my hometown.  I expect a lot of emotions from my mom since she hasn't been home in almost 20 years.  Border crossings were never our favorite, I still get goose bumps every time someone needs to check my identity.  But this is more symbolic for us because of the war and all that jazz.  I will write about it as we cross it tomorrow.  The crossing will entail a lot of contemplation and soul searching, I am sure.  Hopefully, I will get to write about it tomorrow.  I am positive I will because it will take awhile for my sleeping habits to go back to normal.

One thing before I go...As all of you know I like to blabber a lot, which transfers into my writing.  So,   if you skip a paragraph or two, no big loss!!


My first meal!! The best bread in the world with ABC cheese spread and yogurt! Can't wait to have some real, heavy unprocessed milk!!

The accidental lodging