One incredibly long entry that adds up to one incredibly busy Saturday

Where to start? Things here have been very hectic and don’t look like they will slow down anytime soon. First, I have officially moved into my new apartment. It is wonderful to have peace, quiet and privacy. Of course, the moving process has been anything but peaceful or quiet.

On Saturday, my landlord called me and told me they were in the center of town running some errands and could pick me up in forty-five minutes or an hour to take me to the apartment. This was wonderful news since it meant that I would have assistance in lugging all of the stuff I have accumulated since my arrival (the amount has doubled since I inherited all of the stuff that wouldn’t fit into Rachel’s bags for the trip home – which was a lot). Well, in fact, I had so much stuff that we didn’t even have room to bring it all (it was a rather small car and already filled with an electric oven and a large board – I don’t have THAT much stuff). So, I brought everything I needed for the first two or three nights with intentions to come back that evening and bring the rest (via taxi). Well, I didn’t make it back to the office to get the rest of my stuff. I spent the rest of the evening basking in the glory that is one’s own apartment…and trying to unpack, organize, and clean up the explosion that occurred when I opened my two suitcases (and backpack and laptop case and…and….). I also went to the grocery store and got some essentials: bread, cheese, milk, fruit, eggs, yogurt (here you drink it instead of eat it), juice, sugar, pasta, jam, butter, avjar (a delicious vegetable spread), cereal, and some cooking utensils (a can opener, a strainer, a spatula, a whisk, and some mixing bowls).

By the time I had finished grocery shopping, lugging my massive amounts of groceries back to the apartment, and putting away said groceries it was ten o’clock. I had already told Erica, the intern that I would hang out with her that evening since she was planning on leaving early the following morning for Budapest. After a day in Budapest, she would be going back to Zagreb (Croatia) to finish out her semester and then back to the US. This would be my last chance to say goodbye.

I got on the bus to go to the center of town (successful navigation!) and I arrived at The 3 Black Cats (the hostel where she is staying) an hour later due to one very crowded bus, and some very traffic jammed streets. We hung out at her hostel for the first thirty or forty minutes until one of Erica’s friends got off duty (The friend we were waiting for was actually one of the workers at the hostel. Unfortunately, I don’t know that I ever was introduced to her and by my sly powers of deduction I gathered that it started with the letter M; my lack of familiarity with Serbian names stinted my ability to deduct the entire name). Erica had several destinations in mind for us throughout the night; she had obviously gone out on the weekends a lot more than I have since my arrival (and she has been in Belgrade for about 2 weeks less than I have).
We started by going to a small pub in the Bohemian District of Belgrade. I must say the place definitely had character. The owner of the pub had just converted a part of his house into a pub. It was one large room with several tables (but not enough). When we first walked into the place, there was a pile of wood stacked by the door to help keep the place heated. The walls were decorated with various antiques and old photographs. The owner sat in his living room watching the television as people sat in the adjoining room drinking, talking, and singing. People would yell into the living room if they needed something. In the brief time we were there, the owner only came out of the living room once. He looked slightly annoyed to be called away from his television program. When he finished serving the customers, he returned to his living room and shut the door so that he could continue watching his program in privacy. The vast majority of the customers were young males (in their 20s or 30s), but there were also a few women. They were loudly singing (or perhaps just yelling the lyrics without making any real effort to stay in tune) songs the entire time we were there (a maximum of thirty minutes). Some of the customers even stood up on the benches to sing; one girl stood up on the bench and then briefly hung from the rafters as she sang. Although I didn’t understand the words to the songs or recognize them, I am fairly certain they were nationalistic songs. I did not broadcast my status as the WiB volunteer; Erica introduced me to several of her friends and I stuck with the “I’m here volunteering for two years” statement followed by “I’m sorry. It’s so loud in here. I just can’t hear you. Did you ask where? I’m volunteering here, in Belgrade. “ Suffice it say, thirty minutes of men (and a few women) loudly singing nationalistic songs in a drunken slur did not fit my idea of a good time. However, it was very humorous. Erica’s friend, M, (from the hostel) and I both had to work at maintaining straight faces while we were there.

Second stop: Some random club in Belgrade. I have no idea where it was or what it was called. I obviously was not overcome with an overwhelming need to memorize the location (or name) in order to return. The reason we came to this club was to listen to Erica’s friend DJ; his disc jockeying skills also did not make a lasting impression (or at least not a positive one). The thing that did make an impression on me at this club was the balding, middle-aged drunk man who seemed to have no shame in dancing in a fashion that seemed to be a combination of styles emulating Beyonce, Elvis, Steve Urkel, and well, me (with my two left feet). It didn’t help that he stood on the four steps that were the passageway between the two levels of the room (the upper level where the café/bar were located and the lower level where there were some tables and some standing room for other ambitious dancers). I quit counting the number of times he started to fall over after it hit ten. The man also saw fit to sing along to the songs as loud as he could possibly manage. This was made all the more interesting by the fact that all of the songs were in English (except one that was in Spanish) and the man got really excited when he recognized a song (which was almost every song). He then tried to sing the lyrics he remembered regardless of whether or not he was singing them at the right time (he was not) or knew the correct lyrics (this was about 50/50). It was really funny to also see lots of other people singing along to the rock songs in their Serbian accented English.

Erica, M (the hostel worker), and I never found a seat nor got a drink. I was disappointed since one of the great things about Belgrade clubs and night venues is that you can get whatever you would like to drink without having to go to a different setting to find something that suits everyone’s tastes (coffee, pop, juice, alcoholic beverages, or in my case, hot chocolate was the drink I was planning on ordering). We danced a little but mainly we laughed at the other people dancing. There were all kinds of interesting dance moves being pulled out on the dance floor by various persons.

We left this club after about an hour and decided to head to another. First, we had to stop at the lobby of a hotel to pick up some people. Apparently, the lobby of this hotel is also a great place to hang out (according to sources that after seeing the place I have decided I will never heed their advice on places to go). After we made a pit stop at the hotel lobby, we started towards the next club. We got to the club, realized we would have to pay to get in, and then Erica and I decided that we were actually really tired and wanted to wrap the night up. Unfortunately, the last bus heading back to my new apartment had left the square twenty minutes ago. There wouldn’t be another bus until 4:30 am (about 2 hours away) and a taxi could cost over fifteen dollars. M suggested that I sleep at the hostel. This sounded like a great idea….except all the beds were reserved by paying customers. M said that I should just head back to the hostel anyway and that whoever was on duty would help us figure out a solution (an air mattress was mentioned).

Erica and I parted ways with M and others and headed towards the hostel. We arrived at the hostel only to walk in on the hostel worker and her boyfriend making out. Awkward. It was then decided that I could sleep in one of the beds of the two British people who were not due until six (in the morning) and get up before six and head out. We walked into the bedroom with a plan. Unfortunately, the Italian had forgotten to put his pajama bottoms on so our first sight upon opening the door was his backside with only a t-shirt, his tighty-whiteys (white underwear), and white socks. Erica and I had to briefly retreat from the room to suppress our laughter and our stomach reflexes.

I felt uncomfortable sleeping in someone else’s bed and decided to do the honorable thing and sleep on the floor; Erica let me borrow one of her pillows. My good intentions didn’t last too long; the floor was cold and the bed was not. I got on the bed and slept fitfully for another two hours and then thought I heard someone arrive and jumped onto the floor (only to wake Erica up in my scurry) to appear as if I had been sleeping there the entire time. Luckily, it was imagination so a few minutes later I moved back into the bed. At six in the morning, I woke up, tried to make the bed look fresh, and walked out to catch my bus. I was able to quickly grab a bus. I was extremely grateful that I had waited until six instead of leaving with the first bus (at 4:30 am) so I had that extra bit of light when I got off one stop too early (not quite successful navigating). I quickly realized this (just as the bus was pulling away) and stood in the cold waiting for the next bus. I arrived at my apartment just after seven o’clock only to roll into bed for those last few hours of sleep of my first “night” at my apartment.


On the next episode of "The Life of Katie": Katie's own personal narrative about the events of December 10th, International Human Rights Day. Tune in for an exciting story of policemen, street performances, discussions, and that ever constant confused hunger.
Airdate: Unknown (it depends on when Katie gets the time -- she will be taking her first excursion with WiB through the Serbian countryside for a workshop on solidarity)