A few pictures from e.'s visit.

e. and me at giant's causeway.  

i think the picture above was one of the last ones taken before i dropped  my camera in the ocean.  of course, this was the third day of e.'s trip.  smart move, katie.  luckily, the camera survived with minor damage.  i suppose my camera will now always serve as a reminder of e.'s visit and the Downhill Beach (the camera will permanently carry some downhill beach sand -- getting sand out of camera crevices proves difficult).

A picture is worth a thousand words...or so I hope

I thought I would share some pictures of my recent adventures since I have not succeeded in finishing/posting a blog.  

   

 The picture above shows us (B, a fellow BVSer and yours truly) at the Glenariff park.

How accurate would a post of Northern Irish photos be without sheep?

This is a picture of the view from the house we stayed in during our BVS Retreat last weekend. 

A few weekends ago I went to visit a fellow BVSer in Coleraine.  On Saturday we went to Portrush for an art exhibition.  We got a bit lost so we turned around at this viewpoint.  It was hard to complain about being lost when it meant you got to take a picture of this view (even if it was freezing out).

So, you can now consider yourself enlightened into the life of Katie in Northern Ireland by the equivalent of 4,000 words.

Pancake Tuesday

Yesterday was Pancake Tuesday.  Not Fat Tuesday -- Pancake Tuesday.  Apparently, Pancake Tuesday is a last hurrah before Lent begins (in the manner of Fat Tuesday and Mardi Gras).  

I got offered pancakes numerous times by different people.  C, one of the women at the office, brought in pancakes for everyone for the tea break.  I commented that I wasn't aware that pancakes had that much sugar in them (in comparison to cookies, cakes or any of the other teatime snacks).  The response I was given was, "It depends on how much sugar you add.  My mommy always adds a lot."  

Pancake Tuesday is a common enough tradition to transcend to EastEnders (a popular TV show/nighttime soap).  I was bullied into watching the show yesterday with one of my housemates (I am not a fan) and one of the families on the show had pancakes for dinner in honor of Pancake Tuesday.  

I regret to report that I did not take full advantage of this tradition.  I only had one pancake.

Water -- Friend or Foe?

Recently many of my walks to and from work have involved rain.  Luckily, it has mostly been small showers that quickly disappear -- often I would even classify it as a light mist.  Sometimes I am not quite as lucky and arrive at my destination soaked -- I prefer to get soaked on the way home because it is much easier to jump into warm, dry clothes.  I can then dry my hair (if necessary) and heat up some water for a cup of tea as is traditional, or go with my personal alternative -- hot chocolate.  Then it is time to boil more water to fill up the hot water bottle.  As soon as my hot water bottle is ready I run it up the stairs and stick it in my bed under the covers so my bed will be nice and toasty when it is my bedtime.  There have been a few days when the hot water bottle has not made it up to the bed right away -- it stays downstairs with me to warm me up immediately. 

This morning's walk to work did not involve rain or hot water bottles, but it did involve water. It rained most of the evening yesterday and through the night.  The evidence was clearly visible in the puddles of water lining the streets and sidewalks.  I reached one of the numerous intersections on my way to work and saw that the crosswalk light just changed from green (walk freely and safely) to black/nothing (the equivalent of a yellow light -- don't start now).  I decided I should just hurry and cross.  This plan was going well until I was two steps from the curb on the other side and lost my shoe.  It took me a step to realize I had lost it.  Unfortunately, the step took me right into a puddle of water.  I went ahead and jumped onto the curb to wait for the car to pass.  I did not want to get sprayed by the passing car as it drove through the puddle (this has happened before -- by a bus).  After the car had passed, I grabbed my shoe.  I arrived at work shortly after with a wet sock, a squeaky shoe and a cold foot.  

Living amidst the walls

Forewarning:  I wrote this blog while listening to the latest This American Life and chatting to a friend.  Expect grammar and spelling errors.  Expect some nonsensical words and phrases. Expect to be wowed, or not.  Better yet, read it without expectations.   

Derry/Londonderry is a city rife with history.  Today I learned a bit more of that history; I was given a tour of the walls by R1.  The walls were created in the early 1600s.  There have a unique shape; they are not the normal circular design of most walled cities.  Circular defensive walls always have a blind spot -- Derry's walls do not because of their unique shape.  There were originally only 4 gates into the city, but now more have been added.  (I walk through one of the gates to enter the walls each morning on my way to work and walk out the gates to exit each evening.)

As a part of my walled city tour, R. took me into St. Columb's Cathedral which was a beautiful cathedral built in the early 1600s.  It is the oldest standing building in the city.  It was interesting to go into the church and see how entwined the unionist politics are even within the church walls. (Unionism is the political ideology that supports the maintenance of ties between the United Kingdom and Northern Ireland.  Basically, unionists want to stay a part of the UK. Unionism is commonly associated with Northern Ireland Protestants.)  St. Columb's Cathedral had numerous flags hanging it that were relics from old UK colonies and wars.  There were stone etchings, wall plaques, and stained glass windows dedicated to foregone saints who were proclaimed to have given their lives dutifully for their country while serving the Queen in India and other far off provinces.  Some were heroes from the siege of Derry.  All of the plaques could easily be classified as being 'unionist'; neutrality was not the vision.  The tight web of militarism, colonialism and religion was evident throughout.  The lobby of the church included an area to buy magnets with the Queen of England or hat pins with Londonderry written on them.  There weren't any hat pins with Derry available for purchase.  (At this point I should mention that R. told me about a few of the initiatives church leaders are taking to try to work with across boundaries -- joint activities amongst Catholic and Protestant churches, etc.  Also, I should mention the architecture of the cathedral was beautiful and we also got a special treat since the organist was there.  He was practicing a few Christmas hymns.)

I have been reading several books full of personal stories and experiences from the Border (between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland).  Each of these stories shares an individual's experience of living on the border.  There are stories from individuals who lived their entire lives on one side of the Border and from individuals who lived different parts of their life on the different sides of the Border.  The Border was created in 1920 with the Government of Ireland Act.  Some people had farmland that was split by the Border; some even had houses split by the Border.  One of the stories tells of a man who always slept with his head in on one side and his feet in another.  The personal stories are full of pain.  The common denominator in all the stories and all sides of the conflict was the pain.  Another theme was the idea that the greatest border is not the physical one but the psychological and emotional borders that have been erected by the people within Northern Ireland.  The walls they have erected in their hearts and minds.  Sometimes these walls have visible manifestations -- such as the peace walls in Belfast, but more often the walls are invisible.  The invisible wall existing between Protestants and Catholics in Derry/Londonderry (which manifests itself through a segregation between the two groups -- different communities, different schools, different pubs, different churches, etc.), the invisible wall between the Croats and Bosniaks in Mostar, the developed world and the developing world.  

Even though I may not believe in borders and think they only create division and strife, I have to respect that others may believe in them (believe=support).  I have to respect that for some people the presence of a border or a wall is what makes them feel secure and safe.  It doesn't matter whether their fear is founded or unfounded, what matters is that it is how they feel.   

I have only been here a few weeks and I have come to realized that even if I stayed here for the next twenty years I would still be learning.  I know I still have a lot to learn about the walls that exist here -- the history, the politics, why the Border is necessary for some to feel safe and why its destruction is necessary for others to feel safe -- okay, basically I need to learn everything. However, like so many before me, I am going to still express an opinion on something I know so little about and expect people to listen to it.

So, how do we recognize and respect other people's experiences and beliefs without feeling threatened?  I know we all have prejudice within us and stereotypes -- perhaps it is towards country hicks, city slickers, Mexicans, Jews, Catholics, Protestants, Muslims, or any of the other numerous groups that can be classified as the Other (that which is different from myself/yourself).  How do we acknowledge and embrace the difference each other to become a new, more inclusive community?  I think along with the importance of community initiatives there must be change within individuals.  

In the end I must ask myself:  What walls have I put up?  What is the Other to me?  Am I willing to break down those walls even if it is a painful and slow process?  Hopefully, I will succeed in identifying my 'walls' and working to tear them down even if it is only stone by stone.  I'm sure it will be a lifelong process. 

Here's to a future generation that exists without walls, borders, or dividers.  I don't imagine it to be utopia, but I do imagine it to be a better place.  After all, how can we conquer the really important questions like how to save Britney Spears from her continuing self-destruction if we can't first save ourselves? Or can white really be worn after Labor Day?    

My newest lesson...

It is always best to sit next to the elderly man organizing the event when you go to a pub to participate in Quiz Night and don't know any of the answers because it centers around Irish and British history.  He has all of the answers and will kindly help you cheat out of pity for your silly Americanness.  

Thanksgiving

Thankfully, I have written another post.  I'm sure you are all wondering why this post isn't a completion of my most recent post covering some of the similarities between my former home and current one (Belgrade and Derry) as advertised, but you should probably just be thankful to be getting any type of post.  In honor of the upcoming great American holiday, which can said to be uniquely ours, I have switched topics.

I realize Thursday is Thanksgiving Day, but I must admit it has been a struggle to remember. Last Thursday I woke up and thought I, "Today is Thanksgiving and I basically missed it.  I completely forgot that I needed to be full of gratitude today."  Last year Thanksgiving Day was a prominent event that remained front and center in my mind.  I went to J and J's apartment (where I eventually lived) for a huge Thanksgiving feast with pumpkin soup, pumpkin pie, faux cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, turkey, stuffing, pecan pie and lots of other goodies.  It seemed easy to remember and easy to celebrate.  Perhaps, it was because I had only recently left the U.S.  Maybe it was because I was surrounded by a handful of other people hailing from the U.S.  Who knows? All I really know is this year is a different story.  

People started asking  me last week about Thanksgiving, but it has only added to my confusion. The questions were always put in the past tense -- "Did you celebrate Thanksgiving this weekend?" or "What did you do for Thanksgiving?"  Yesterday I went over to a friend's house for dinner and she said, "Oh, yes.  This can be your Thanksgiving dinner.  It is today (Monday) isn't?  Or is it tomorrow (Tuesday)?"  Today at the office I got asked if Thanksgiving was tomorrow (Wednesday).  Needless to say, this has left me quite confused.  I just cannot keep track of whether Thanksgiving is coming or going.  

Anyway, I actually have plans to celebrate Thanksgiving here.  This Sunday I will be traveling to Belfast to participate in the BVS Thanksgiving -- Northern Irish style.  I'm not exactly sure what that means at this point, but I am looking forward to finding out.  

Goodbye Belgrade, Hello Derry

I arrived in Northern Ireland a little over two weeks ago.  It was a journey and a half.  It started with my departure from my apartment in Belgrade via bus at 2 am.  I arrived in Derry/Londonderry around 9 pm.  I safely made it through UK immigration after presenting my prepared folder of documents explaining my presence.  My immigration experience did involve a short, friendly informal interview and a brief waiting period in which everyone else freely entered the country while the immigration officials checked the validity of my story, but I found a friendly smile made the process much smoother.  Or maybe it was the numerous documents proving I was a legitimate, financially supported volunteer?     

Even though my border crossing still involved a few minutes of nail biting, it has started to sink in that I am no longer in Serbia.  Things have certainly changed.  I have gone from the culture of coffee to the land of tea.  I no longer here the standard, "Do you want coffee?"  Instead, it is, "Do you want a cup of tea?" I now live with C. and C. instead of J. and J.  C. and C. are both law students.  

One of the first differences I noticed was the food.  The lack of ethnic food in the Balkans was always a sore point among us Balkan BVSers.  A good example of this is the weekend I met Tory and Katie (the BVSers in Sarajevo and Mostar) in Novi Sad.  One of the highlights of our weekend was the Chinese restaurant.  If you could have seen the excitement on our faces and heard the awe in our voices, you would understand the treasure we had found in the restaurant. Since my arrival, I have not faced the same dilemma.  In the London airport alone I was overwhelmed with the choices -- hummus, Thai dishes, Chinese food, Indonesian, Japanese, Ben & Jerry's (Okay, I admit it is not ethnic food but it is a delicacy).  The overwhelming food choices have continued in the supermarkets in Derry/Londonderry.  In the last two weeks, there have been several times I have stopped for a basic staple (milk, bread, etc.), but spent an hour just walking through the store looking at all the variety.  It is a fun way to pass my free evenings.  I'm sure to most of you this is odd since you probably don't spend your free evenings wondering through supermarkets, but I guess a year in Serbia has made me Hopefully this is a short term effect.  I did notice one difference between the supermarkets here and in the U.S. (or at least as I remember the supermarkets in the U.S. -- specifically small town Indiana and slightly larger Las Cruces)  -- there is a much larger market here for organic and free trade products.  Almost all products offer an organic version and many offer a free trade version.  

However, there are some similarities to my time in Belgrade.  For instance, I still have trouble understanding what people are saying.  I thought I would be fine on this front since English is the primary language.  I was wrong.  English might be the primary language, but I am still getting used to the accents and the "English" vocabulary rather "U.S." vocabulary.  There are still moments when I have no clue what someone has just said because of the accent or the 'English' words.  

I had several points I wanted to write at this point (about other similarities and differences) and I will add them on Monday.  However, I was just given the opportunity to head home for the weekend and this is an opportunity not to be missed.  It is 12:30 pm on a Friday.  I will work on writing up the rest of my thoughts on this matter to be posted on Monday.  Check back then for further information on this topic and my period of transition from being Balkanized to becoming Derry-ized.  I will also add one brief paragraph for your weekend enjoyment that I have already written up expanding on some of the adventures this week has brought:

This morning I woke up to find we had no electricity.  This was actually the second morning in a row this had happened.  We (like many houses here) have pre-pay electric.  You put a certain amount on your meter and when it gets low it starts beeping.  This lets you know you need to put more money on.  The first time I heard it I thought we had an unknown (to me) alarm system and I had set it off.   This system is a good way to monitor how much electric you are using; there are no surprisingly large bills at the end of the month.  This system is also a good way to make certain you will at least once (or twice and counting if you live where I do) wake up without warm water, lights, or heat.  Thankfully, my alarm clock is not dependent on the electricity.  I should mention that I have never been a morning person and it is extremely challenging for us morning-challenged individuals to be motivated to leave your warm, cozy bed if there are not any consolation prizes awaiting.  

 

     

The Blog Must Go On...

Since my decision to make more regular blog posts I have kept very busy. Not that I am trying to excuse myself or anything.  Last Wednesday I made the move (via 2 bus rides equalling 7.5 hours and 2 flights) to Derry/Londonderry, Northern Ireland.  As you can imagine, my last few weeks in Belgrade flew by in preparation for my move and wrapping up things in Belgrade.  I'm not in a new environment and new culture -- transition phase, you are my most welcome friend. My first few days here have been a flurry of activity as I try to find my way around town, unpack, meet new people, and celebrate Halloween.  Halloween is a huge holiday here; several of the people I met told me it is bigger than Christmas.  Lucky for me, I love Halloween.  Candy and costumes -- what is not to love?  There were fireworks (which a caught a glimpse of from the house) and a parade (which we did see).   Hopefully, I will be able to write another post soon about my new surroundings.  For now, I am attaching a previously written, never published post below.  

Anyway, some of my recent events (in Serbia) have included:

1. A trip to Vrnjacka banja for a retreat with WiB. Vrnjack banja is a known spot for their spring water which is supposed to have healing powers. I'm not sure if the water has healing powers, but I know it has that sweet sulphuric scent. The retreat proved to be an interesting experience from the very beginning. The fun began with the complete fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants travel arrangements. On Monday evening I was given no less than 4 different sets of instructions on how I would be getting to Vrnjacka banja. The final set of instructions was to be at the WiB office at 9:30 am.

Imagine my surprise when I received a call at 7:50 am (which was exactly 5 minutes after I woke up) asking if I could be there in 30 minutes. Of course, this conversation was in Serbian and my Serbian is always at my worst when I just rolled out of bed. I hadn't showered in a few days, hadn't packed, and had slept much less than the recommended 8 hours (Due to a long night of frustrating that consisted of my computer crashing and me attempting to fix it only to have it crash again -- issues still remain.). The smart thing would have been to say, "No, I cannot be there in 30 minutes. I was informed I needed to be there at 9:30 am." The thing that came out of my mouth was, "Well...umm...uhh...I can try...maybe 35 minutes?" So, at this point we can all imagine me trying to stuff everything within sight (that didn't need a date with the washer) into my backpack. I then raced as fast as possible to grab the tram (I usually walk but in a jam the tram is a few minutes faster). I arrived at the office out of breath at 8:34 am only to find that we really wouldn't be leaving until 9:30 am. This was a bit frustrating (probably more so to those who would be riding in the car with me since the smells eminating from my body and hair could have used a good dousing with shampoo and soap), but I repeated the day's mantra of "Katie, this is funny. Katie, this is funny. Katie, this is funny....."

When we arrived at the hotel where we would be staying (along with eating and meeting), we were split up into groups of three for our rooms. I was placed with F. and R., two of the older WiB members. After the first night, F. asked me, "Do you know that you snore?" (New Serbian of the day=to snore) I responded, "No." F.'s response was, "Yes, you do. And very loudly. I couldn't sleep last night because you were snoring." At which point R. said, "I didn't notice. It must not have been too bad. It's not a problem." F. then said, "At first I thought it was you, F. It is a problem because I couldn't sleep all night." I didn't say anything. I knew it wasn't me that had been snoring, but R. because I was also woken up several times during the night. However, once again I had just woken up (to those who are confused --I'm not a morning person) and decided it wasn't worth it. I repeated my new mantra of the day, "Katie, in the bigger scheme this is unimportant. Unimportant. Unimportant. Unimportant...."

The following night I stayed up a bit later than my 'roommates'. They had left the bathroom light on for me for when I finally came into sleep. I came in and went to the restroom to brush my teeth and prepare for bed. As I was in the bathroom, I heard snoring (as I had the previous night) and then every few minutes F. would yell out R's name to wake her so she would stop snoring. It was quite funny. Of course, I received an apology the next morning and R.  received  notice of her 'excessive' snoring.

2. A recent Saturday afternoon found my friends J, J, and I participating in a local community event. This is when I realized my Serbian vocabulary surrounding body parts needs some more work. We went to the monthly Women's Day. On one Saturday each month a local women's group plans an event for women to relax and have fun. This week's event was a massage session. J, J, and I packed up our blankets and exercise mats (as instructed) and caught a bus to the community center where the event was taking place.

We arrived a bit late, but luckily for us the event was on Balkan time. The session started with some self-massage techniques and some stretching. It seemed to be shaping up to an excellent 3 hours.  Then it turned into some partner massage involving one person lying on the floor mat and the other using their feet, elbows, arms, hands and fingers to massage the other.  This was not as great of a time since it our attention (J is also from Indiana and is not fluent in Serbian) that we did not know our Serbian body part vocabulary.  The instructor was very adamant that the massages were done correctly so as not to cause injury, but this proved difficult for us when the visual difference was miniscule.   

3. Another recent outing included a trip to the Student Cultural Center aka SKC (which is actually two blocks from my apartment -- making getting lost almost impossible) to listen to Horkestar. They are an alternative choir that sings Communist songs and wear interesting outfits. They actually used to be a part of a different choir that split into two (Horkestar being one of the resulting choirs). Sometimes WiB worked with the original choir and continues to work with the other resulting choir. They wrote and performed alternative activist songs. If you are a youtube person, I suggest looking at the following video link:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENPaPnpDHxE&feature=related It is actually the song WiB has used at several actions I have participated in since my arrival last October.

Anyway, this performance required each member of the choir to wear a special hat. Several of us made sure to show up for the performance because our friend K had a solo. She did excellent, but it should be noted it was even more impressive since English rather than Serbian is her first language.

Keep your eyes out for a new post.  After all, the blog must go on...

The Wheels on the Bus Go 'Round and 'Round

This just in: I'm sitting in the WiB office trying to work. Concentration level: Medium. We all hear a loud, horrible, smashing noise through the balcony doors. L and I jump up to see what happened. Concentration level: Quickly falling. Apparently, the wheels on one Belgrade city bus went 'round and 'round until they ran into the small shop directly across from us. The bus continues to make steaming noises (without steam appearing), the police continue to stand around and take notes, the shop owners continue to wave their hands around, and pedestrians continue to stop by to pull out their mobile phones to take pictures. The bus had knocked over two garbage dumpsters before running into the building. A car parallel parked on the sidewalk (where the bus 'parked' itself) seems to miraculously survived. Unfortunately, the bus ran into on of the photo shops directly across our office rather than one of the erotic shops directly across our office. Concentration level: Gone.

L just left for home a few minutes ago. She stopped by the shop to look in and see the damage (concerned citizen alert). She then yelled up to M and I (standing on the balcony awaiting her assessment) that the wall inside was destroyed (visible damage from the outside was serious roof damage and some wall damage). She also informed us (street to balcony information is reliable and efficient) that the bus ran into the building on its own. The driver apparently was in a nearby shop using the restroom facilities.

This news update comes to you on the spot and no more than 15 minutes after the accident. Therefore, the reporter takes no responsibility for any editing errors. The reader's lack of comprehension of this update may be blamed on the internet connection rather than the reporter's descriptions or writing skills. This reporter's next article will appear as soon as the reporter has regular internet access to update readers on recently written but unpublished articles.

The Revival

Apologies for the long pause between posts. I could spend this entry filling you in on the lovely jaunt throughout Europe that I took with my parents. I would share the highlights of their visit including the beautiful cities we visited (Prague, Krakow, Vienna, Ljubljana, Dubrovnik, Split, Mostar, Sarajevo, and Belgrade), being blessed by the presence of another person under 40 for a portion of the trip (Thank you, Erin!), the wonderful suitcase transported throughout Europe full of American delicacies (courtesy of the parents and M&M), how Mom got caught in our building elevator 3 times in one day, or the adventures of Eastern European transportation. Of course, there was also my trip to Berlin for the BVS Europe retreat. There were the few extra days I spent in Berlin after the retreat with Katie and Tory (the other two BVS volunteers in the Balkans). We found that we had a tendency to focus our time on three things: coffee, gossip, and atrocities. Apparently we have been 'balkanized' to some extent. However, we did find some time to fit in some museums and general sightseeing while in Berlin.

I could share with you the many glimpses I have received of the worst of humanity. I participated in the commemoration of 13th anniversary of the Srebrenica Genocide in Republic Square in Belgrade on July 10. In a city which continues to deny what happened, a video was played in the town square with the stories of women who had lost their families in the genocide. They spoke of the permanent entwining of the past with their future as they continue to search for the bodies of their loved ones. On July 11, I travelled with Women in Black to the Srebrenica-Potočari Memorial and Cemetery to watch and participate in the annual burial as 308 newly identified bodies were buried. After the ceremony we went to the Srebrenica Memorial Room. The Srebrenica Memorial Room is located in the battery factory was the headquarters of the UN Dutch soldiers and where many Bosniaks came for refuge. Now the battery factory contains a continuously running documentary film and a display containing personal items and stories of some of the victims of the genocide. The travels with my parents included a visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau and to cities and populations that had been forever changed by the Holocaust. My trip to Berlin with BVS included two visits to the Holocaust Memorial and Underground Museum and a day excursion to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. However, I won't blog about those experiences. Mainly because I don't have the words to describe them or the courage and gumption to find the words.

The last few months have brought changes in the political landscape in Serbia, the capture of Radovan Karadžic, and new friends. The past months have brought new challenges and new adventures. The summer brought intense, overwhelming heat which seems to have finally made exited the scene (as of last week).

However, instead of going back in time and trying to explain what I was doing all of those long months of blog silence, I am going to just start from the here and now. I have decided it will be easier to start where I am now than to go back in time and try to catch up. Of course, sometimes I may throw in a blog post or two with an 'older' memory or anecdote from my months of blog silence.

Beginning today I am just going to try to be more diligent in blogging about the everyday events. The fun ones and the dull ones. Call it an early New Year's Resolution. My blog has officially been resuscitated and revived. Expect to see more soon.

A Day of Happenings

Today was a full day. I started by meeting M—at the WiB office to go to the Special Court for War Crimes in Belgrade. M—told me to show up at the office at 8:30 so we could catch a bus to the court. This meant I needed to leave my apartment no later than 7:35. Unfortunately, I had not washed my hair for several days so bathing was a necessity. All of this lead to an incredibly early morning after an incredibly late night aka not enough sleep. The trials were to start at 9 o’clock. We arrived at the court in plenty of time. We went through the security (very similar to airport security – metal detectors, bags and personal effects scanned). However, not all the security measures were standard (or at least not in my opinion)—we had to turn in our cell phones (after turning them off), my mp3 player, and my passport. I received a laminated plastic card with a number on it for each of the things I turned in. I’m not sure why the extra security measures are in place – perhaps they are trying to prevent cell phone interruptions? Anyway, we then went up the stairs to wait in the hall/lobby until we were directed by the numerous security guards to the court room (meaning it would be time for the trial to begin). Unfortunately, this did not happen at 9 o’clock as anticipated. We were finally given the go ahead at 10:30. You may be asking, what exactly I did to amuse myself in this unexpected chunk of time. Well, don’t ask because it really isn’t that interesting. In a nutshell, I did a lot of observing, counting, and made several mental lists (things to do, ways I can keep myself awake during this trial, guesses as to the number of times P—will tell everyone around that I am Amerikanka, etc.). I will say that WiB activist P—(who was also attending the trials to monitor and report on the trials to the WiB network) told at least 5 people I was American. One included a Croatian journalist/cameraman who then turned to me after she said I was American and started speaking to me in Serbian (or Croatian). He asked me if I really was American. When I responded in the affirmative, he then briefly switched to English to say, “You’re not what an American looks like” (exact phrasing there – rather than “You don’t look American”). I’m not exactly sure if that was a compliment, an insult, or a neutral statement. I just know I found it rather funny.

I didn’t understand most of what was said during the trial. This only added to the difficulty of staying awake since I had only gotten a few hours of sleep. M—would give me some brief updates from time to time. There were fourteen men that were being tried for war crimes in Croatia (in an ongoing process). Today was one man’s turn to ‘testify’ or share his account. He spent the entire time claiming innocence and passing blame onto others. There were three ‘judges’ – two women and one man. One woman seemed to be in charge of asking all of the questions while the man was sharing his story. After he finished sharing his account and the ‘judges’ had finished questioning him, each lawyer got an opportunity to question him. There was a lawyer for each of the fourteen accused. There were also two or three lawyers for the victims’ families. We didn’t finish today’s session until 3:00 pm. We took a fifteen minute break around 1:30.

It was an interesting experience for me (even though I didn’t understand what was being said most of the time). I was most interested in watching the accused and their families interact with the victims’ families, especially while we were waiting for the trial to begin (and during the short break). In particular, there was one woman who was the wife of the one of the accused men. She seemed to be one of the only family members of the accused persons to attend. Several times she tried to engage in conversation with the women from the families of the victims. She would join in their conversations on the weather, the traffic, the tea, and the long wait for the trial to begin. It was odd to me that she made such a concentrated effort to interact with them. I think she saw herself as a victim as well; she seemed to have spent some time earlier crying (if the red, puffy eyes and nose were any indication). The families of the victims seemed very uncomfortable in talking to her. Their body language seemed to spell out their discomfort. Their backs were turned to her and they seemed to be trying to keep her out of the conversation (or edge her out once she had entered) by keeping their backs turned, avoiding eye contact, and only giving short, monotone replies.

The whole afternoon brought up all types of questions to mind about reconciliation, grace, and forgiveness. The accused and their families continue to live in a state of denial and relativization. They continue to try to twist the truth to deny what happened and to be able to portray themselves as the victims. I kept wondering why this woman would be so cruel to try to wrench some type of forgiveness out of these women while at the same time continuing to deny their pain and the truth that lies behind it. It made me wonder what these abstract concepts should look like in this situation. It seems clear to me that there has to be some sort of repentance. I believe that grace and forgiveness are very powerful, but I also think that without some sort of change they are robbed of their power (or at least a great portion of it). Many things in Serbia remain the same as they were ten years ago with people still claiming war criminals as heroes. Other people are determined to sweep the past all under the rug without confronting it and working towards real changes. There hasn’t been a change in values of society, or any true changes in government policies.

As I mentioned earlier, today was a fully day. Another exciting event of the day was my time with my friend J. We went to see the performance of the visiting Heliosphere. It was in front of the Assembly building and was quite lovely. Basically it was a woman doing acrobatics attached to a huge helium balloon. They had music playing and the helium balloon had lighting that changed colors. I will put in a link in case you want to see photos and to be able to understand what I am trying (unsuccessfully) to describe. Here’s the link: http://www.thedreamengine.co.uk/dreamhtml/heliosphere.html

Luckily, J and I went to the last showing so it was dark out and the lights in the balloon were very visible. The performance only lasted about 20 minutes. They hadn’t really advertised it a lot so there weren’t a lot of people there, but many people walking by stopped and walked over to see what was going on. It finished just as it was starting to get chilly. J and I enjoyed watching the performer’s overly expressive face and the equally expressive faces of the crowd (and interestingly enough the most expressive faces were not the children’s).

Other interesting events of the week included the 3 men I saw get on the bus yesterday wearing matching tracksuits and tennis shoes. They tracksuits and tennis shoes looked brand new and looked expensive. The most interesting part of the ensemble was the back of their jackets which had Army of Serbia printed on it. It was all a bit confusing since it was written in English and thus far all of the army personnel I have seen in Serbia have been wearing standard army garb (camouflaged uniforms). As soon as I stepped of this same bus, I saw what I later described to a friend as a giant. In reality, he was not a mythical beast (or man), but he did qualify as the tallest person I have ever seen (I think – definitely in the top 3, though – it is hard to tell without seeing those other exceptionally tall persons side by side). His giant effect was only added to by the fact that he was stomping his feet as he walked and his face was very red. Although I think the red face was from sunburn or something.

In upcoming events – An apartment swap. Actually, there won’t really be any swapping, but I wanted an excuse to use the word swap. I don’t get to use a lot of fun words here since most people don’t know what they mean. I will just be moving from my current apartment to an apartment in the center of town. I will be moving in with two friends, J and J. One is Serbian and one is from Indiana (Let’s hear it for Midwestern charm!). This move will occur in the middle of May. It will result in less bus rides, a washer, and less of me talking to inanimate objects.

A trip to Niš. Tomorrow I go to Niš for a WiB seminar on globalization and solidarity. We will take a bus and it is supposed to take us 3 hours to get there. This is the second seminar on globalization and solidarity I have participated in. We also had one two weeks ago in which we went to Leskovac. It was very nice. The women were all very friendly.

Thus, I must get ready for bed since I must get up at a reasonably early hour (for a Saturday) for the workshop. Sadly that brings this blog entry to an end.

Spring is in the air/Lions, Tigers, and Bears, Oh my!

Spring weather is here. Last week was a mixture of rainy days and warm, sunny days. It is the perfect weather for walking (The warm, sunny days -- not the rainy ones). Today I went for a walk with my friend J. We walked through the park and towards the Assembly building to see the tulips. The landscaping in front of the government buildings is very beautiful with a colorful array of flowers. It was nice to see flowers amidst the somewhat bleak, gray city buildings.

Last week brought an onslaught of people sitting outside drinking coffee and ice cream vendors. Cafes have pulled out their tables and chairs to be put outside the cafes. The streets are filled with freezers full of ice cream sandwiches, bars, and popsicles. People are walking down the streets with ice cream cones. I made sure to join in the fun and got myself a pistachio ice cream cone.

Read on for a blog entry that finally made it from the mind of Katie to the blog of Katie.

...........................................................................................................


MY TRIP TO THE ZOO....several weeks ago

A WiB activist, J--, was coming from Krusevac to Belgrade with her 3 year old daughter, A--. I have really enjoyed J's company whenever she has come to Belgrade for WiB events so we agreed it would be nice to get together. I had never met her daughter, but was looking forward to it. I haven't spent any time with any children since my arrival in Belgrade. I have spent some time with some activists that are in high school, but no one under the age of 14.

We decided we should go to the Belgrade Zoo so that A-- would keep busy. Unfortunately, just as we were supposed to meet it started to rain. So, we went to a cafe for to get some drinks for J-- and I and some ice cream for A--. A-- was okay as long as she had ice cream in front of her. When she ran out of ice cream, she started to get a bit antsy. So after two rounds of ice cream, we noticed the rain had stopped. We decided to give the zoo a try.

The zoo is located in Kalemegdan, an old fortress along the riverbanks. It was very small and the animals' cages even smaller. I'm told that the zoo has only started charging admission within the last few years. It was a small zoo, but it had all the important animals -- the ones that enabled us to say "Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my!" Actually, it also had elephants, hippos, wolves, lots of tropical birds, wildcats, chimpanzees, and alligators. Not all the animals made an appearance due to the rainy weather, but we got to see most of them. It was sad to see two huge bears in a cage smaller than my apartment. There weren't a lot of security measures separating the animals from the people. There were signs saying warning of the danger and not to touch, but if someone was determined (and foolish) it would have been easy to slip under the wooden rail and reach through the cage bars. It was odd to be so close to the animals and separated only by a few iron bars.

Towards the end of our visit it started to rain. We decided it was best to head back. A-- was getting tired and had given up all pretense of being happy with me. She did not like that her mother and I were speaking in English (which she didn't understand) and kept telling us that we weren't allowed to talk. She said her ears were hurting. She obviously tired and had gotten to the point where she would cry if we started talking. It was sort of funny. I don't recall ever making a kid cry quite so much just by opening my mouth.

J kept apologizing for her daughter's behavior which made me feel a little bad -- I understood why her daughter was upset (I can understand the desire to cry because you don't understand what people are saying -- I have felt that way numerous times since my arrival in Belgrade.). Overall, I still enjoyed myself. We didn't have a lot of time to have great, in depth conversation, but I got to see the Belgrade zoo and meet her daughter.

Several days later, J-- sent me a message letting me know that she had caught A-- playing with her dolls and A-- told her mother, "I'm speaking English, like your friend Katie." I'm looking forward to the next time I see A-- and hoping my Serbian will have improved enough to not bring tears to her eyes.

Fame, Body fluids, Bathtubs, and Bumper Stickers

My life has been a mixture of interesting observations and experiences recently. Here are just a few of my tales...

1. Last week I went out to a cafe with some of my classmates for a drink. As I was drinking hot chocolate, M---, my classmate from Cyprus, whispered, "Look! That is an actor. He is on TV. I can't remember what TV show he is on, but he is Serbian actor." Once M--- pointed him out, I did realize he looked familiar. However, I do not watch much Serbian television. I'm not sure whether I recognized him from my brief glimpses of random Serbian televisions shows, or if he is one of the actors whose appears in the Kosovo is Serbia ads that I see at least once a week in one of the buses. We joked about taking our napkins or menus and asking him to sign them, but we decided it was a bad idea since we didn't know his name, his television show, or his language. So instead, we just relished in the fact that were sipping our hot chocolate in the same cafe as a Serbian actor.

2. Not quite as lovely, was one of my bus rides home last week. After standing for the first, twenty minutes of the ride, I snagged a seat. I was just sitting there congratulating myself on my ingenious timing in picking a bus that eventually had open seats when I heard a retching noise. I looked down on the ground to see that there was a trail of liquid running back and forth along the aisle. I then realized that I had chosen to sit behind a girl who had spent the last ten minutes of the bus ride vomiting. After suppressing my own urge to vomit, I looked down to make sure there wasn't any chance of the vomit running backwards towards my feet. I was in luck since the floor between our seats was divided by some sort of metal partition. The girl continued to vomit until she got off the bus two stops later. Of course, when I got off at my bus stop I made sure to go to the opposite door to avoid the river of vomit. It was a bit further, but well worth the few extra steps.

3. Now for something a little cleaner: Last week I resorted to doing some emergency laundry in my bathtub. Actually, I started out doing it in my sink and then switched to doing it in the bathtub, but that is a completely different story. I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed and scrubbed my clothes. The end results: an aching back, some sore knees, a lot of wet clothes that resembled cleanliness, a long search for places to hang the wet clothes, and new sense of respect for women around the world without washers.

4. All throughout Europe cars have bumper stickers that proclaim their national identity (The most common is an oval bumper sticker with the country's recognized abbreviation). Serbia is no different. Since my arrival, I have seen them everywhere. Not every car has one, but my guess is that 3 out of 5 cars have one. One interesting thing I have noticed is that there is two different abbreviations for Serbia: SRB and SCG. The SRB is the new abbreviation for Serbia, whereas the SCG refers to the State Union of Serbia and Montenegro (which was dissolved in 2006). Some people (and their cars) have not gotten the memo that the State Union of Serbia and Montenegro no longer exists (rendering SCG an invalid country code), or they just haven't bothered to update their bumper stickers to reflect the new country code/abbreviation (SRB). Perhaps even more interesting than this dilemma is the fact that within the last two weeks I have noticed several SRB bumper stickers that are accompanied by the McDonald's golden arches and logo "I'm lovin' it". I'm sure the bumper stickers were something given out by the McDonald's in as a value meal prize or special advertisement of some sort, but it strikes me as odd that I have noticed several of these stickers within the last two weeks seeing as how 2 of the 3 McDonald's in Belgrade have not yet reopened since they were vandalized (in the wake of Kosovo's declaration of independence). I'm not sure how long the McDonald's bumper stickers have been out there. My observational powers aren't always the sharpest -- the bumper stickers might have been distributed years ago (Obviously, only sometime since the abbreviation change that occurred in 2006).

In other news, I continue to have daily sightings of the dog in the window that I referred to in an earlier post. Although, last week I saw him standing up in the display window and barking for the first time.

Just your average update

I am still working on some blog entries about my trip to Sarajevo and some other recent events, but I thought I would just write a quick random update. I know that Belgrade has been making it in the news recently in the U.S. which is a far cry from when I first arrived and most people in the U.S. weren't exactly sure where Serbia is located.

Things are in a state of limbo right now here. The government coalition dissolved. The new elections on May 11th will determine which way Serbia will head -- towards European integration or isolation. Tomorrow another protest will be held for Kosovo. I'm not sure how big the turnout will be. Two of the three McDonald's in the city are still shut down (they closed after they were broken into, burnt, and vandalized after Kosovo's declaration of independence). I'm not sure when they will open again (not that I have visited any of them since my arrival or plan on visiting them anytime soon). I guess they are waiting for things to calm down and blow over.

During the big Kosovo protest in Belgrade (on Thursday, February 21), I camped out at my friends' apartment. They live in the center of the city and have a television. I don't have a television or radio in my apartment so my access to the news is limited. It seemed like a better idea to be with them so I could sit with them and watch the news. We ended up keeping the news muted on the television in the background while we watched a movie on the laptop. We would take short breaks from the movie to see updates on the news. They broadcasted the entire protest on several of the Serbian television channels. The broadcasted the speeches given at the protest by politicians, famous artists, and others. We watched people streaming down the streets as they went from the protest in front of the Parliament building to the religious service at the church. We stuck our heads out the windows and watched as people walked down the streets with their flags and banners. We saw a bank window get smashed in, but some young men as they walked. Of course, I'm sure many of you watched the news unfold about the attacks on the embassies and stores in the U.S. while we watched it on our television in Belgrade. It was a reminder of the existence of anti-American sentiment within Serbia amongst some people. I was sure the next few days to keep my English to a minimum in public.

Yesterday Women in Black had a street performance and women's peace march. It was actually the street performance and peace march we had planned to do last Saturday. Last Saturday was March 8th, International Women's Day. Women in Black's planned street performance and women's peace march were banned by the government citing safety concerns. It was a sad reflection of the state of things here that we were banned from having a celebration of International Women's Day (On a side note, International Women's Day is a very different holiday here than in the U.S. Men give their wives and mothers gifts, flowers, and chocolates. It's sort of like a mix between Valentine's Day and Mother's Day.) Women all throughout the world gathered to have celebrations, but we were forbidden. So, we rescheduled the events for this Saturday and were determined to do them with or without government permission/police protection (We had police protection and were able to do the peace march).

In less serious news, I spent several hours yesterday doing some laundry in the bathtub. It made me grateful to be born in an era of washers. It is definitely not something I want to make a habit of doing. Of course, I then had to try to find spots throughout my apartment for everything to hang to dry. Some of my clothes are hanging outside on my small balcony and I am just praying that the pigeons don't find them a nice place to nest or use the bathroom. I've hung clothes up to dry outside in the U.S., but I don't remember ever having this fear of them being soiled by birds before I even get to wear them. Maybe it is all the time I put into handwashing them that makes me so concerned, or perhaps it is the fact that several mornings I wake up to hear a pigeon right outside my window.


I also managed to get lost once last week on my way to class. I thought I was done getting lost, but apparently not.


On Friday night, I was buying something from a kiosk and the worker told me my Serbian was excellent. I think he was trying to flirt with me or charm his way into me buying something more than my original request. At this point he asked me another question, but some child walked by screaming so I couldn't hear what he said. So, then before I could stop myself, I said mande? (a word in Spanish that is the equivalent of pardon, or can you repeat that). That quickly my so-so Serbian returns to that crazy Englospanbian (my unique hybrid of English, Spanish, and Serbian). One step forward, two steps back?

Fifteen Years since the Crimes in Štrpci

Since I haven't had time recently to post anything (although I have lots to share), I thought I would post this account of my first visit to a site where crimes were committed with Women in Black. It is something I wrote for Women in Black, but thought I would share it with all of you. Keep checking the blog for future postings (there will be new ones eventually).

On February 27, 2008 I joined a group of Women in Black activists on a bus from Belgrade to Štrpci to commemorate the crimes committed there fifteen years ago. There were Women in Black activists from Leskovac, Velika Plana, Belgrade, and Niš on the bus. We were joined by activists from other human rights organizations including the Helsinki Committee for Human Rights in Serbia, the Humanitarian Law Center, and the Youth Initiative for Human Rights. We were also accompanied by journalists from print, electronic, and televised media.

We were all travelling to visit the site of the crime committed on February 27, 1993. Fifteen years ago 19 people were kidnapped from a train at the Štrpci Station and subsequently murdered. According to documentation of the Belgrade office of Serbian Railways (formerly Yugoslav Railways), representatives of Serbia, Yugoslavia, and Yugoslav Railways knew of the plan to kidnap non-Serb travelers who were citizens of Yugoslavia.

Republika Srpska soldiers stopped train number 671 which was traveling from Belgrade. There was an armed group with Chetnik insignias aboard. In the Štrpci train station, 25 masked men entered the train and, with the help of the Chetniks already on the train, took some travelers. They tied them up with wire, took them off the train, and led them to a garage in Sasa, not far from the banks of the Drina. Many shots were heard, enough to kill every person in the garage.

This was my first trip with Women in Black to visit a site where crimes were committed. As we sat on the bus, I wondered what it would be like. I tried to prepare myself for the onslaught of emotions I was sure to feel. First, we stopped along the way at the town square where we were joined by family members of the victims. Many of the family members and activists warmly greeted each other – it was obvious that a relationship of trust and solidarity existed between them. We stood at the town square with the signs we had brought. Among the signs were ones proclaiming that “We will not forget” and a sign in which the names and ages of the victims were written. I read the names on the sign letting them wash over me as I tried to grasp the enormity of the events that took place fifteen years ago: Esad Kapetanović, Ilijaz Ličina, Fehim Bakija, Šećo Softić, Rifet Husović, Sead Đečević, Ismet Babačić, Hail Zupčević, Adem Alomerović, Rasim Ćorić, Fikret Memetović, Favzija Zeković, Nijaz Kajević, Muhedin Hanić, Safet Preljević, Džafer Topuzović, Jusuf Rastoder, Zvjezdan Zuličić and Tomo Buzov. The youngest person killed was only 16 years old.

After the vigil in the town square, we went to place a flower wreath at the construction site of the monument being built for the victims. We then headed to the Štrpci train station. We got off the bus before reaching the train station so that we could walk the 2 kilometers up the mountainside on a winding dirt road leading us to the train station. We made the walk in silence carrying our signs and the second commemorative flower wreath. When we arrived at the train station, we began to assemble ourselves and distribute the signs. We waited for the train to pass by at 3:58 pm just as it had 15 years ago. Today it passed by the train station without stopping. The Štrpci train station is now abandoned; it is rarely used.

The emotions of the day were overpowering. As we stood on the mountainside, I couldn’t help but be struck by the natural beauty that surrounded us. It seemed wrong for there to be so much natural beauty in a place where such tragedy occurred. The contrast between the beauty and the tragedy was overwhelming. The beautiful day and scenery did not fit the occasion. My first experience visiting a site where crimes were committed with Women in Black was a powerful one. It is something that will never leave me. The experience only cemented my belief in the importance of these trips and Women in Black’s mission. The media coverage brought by Women in Black’s vigil and commemoration service served as a reminder to the general public of the crimes committed amongst a society eager to forget. However, I felt the most important impact of this event existed in the support and solidarity Women in Black offered to the victims’ families. The relationships established and cultivated gave me hope amidst the current turmoil in Serbia.

Culture Shock -- Phase II

Katie, Tory, and I have all decided we are in phase two of culture shock. As Katie, pointed out this means we have been here (the Balkans) long enough to be in phase two. She said it was something to be celebrated. This is the phase where the rose-colored glasses come off and you see all the negative things in a culture and your own culture becomes idealized (or at least that is my slant on the definition I got from Wikipedia). It is nice to know that these emotions are common enough to have made it to Wikipedia and I am not alone in my struggles to adjust to a new culture. It's weird to be in this phase. I realized that this is about the time you head home if you are doing a study abroad program in a different culture.

My feelings toward the culture here are so ambivalent. I don't hate it here. In fact, most days I think I like it. I can even admit that on days like today when there have been massive demonstrations in the streets and I have to take precautions to avoid being noticed as a foreigner (or even worse as an American). Even with all of that there are things here that I already appreciate. Today after my language class I went out for a drink with my classmates. Most of them sat and moaned about how much they hate it here. It was frustrating. I’m wondering if they are all in phase two. Some of them have been here for the same amount of time as me and others for longer periods of time. It made me think – is it possible to get stuck in phase two? I feel like it could be, especially for people such as me who are prone to a healthy dose of realism (which some of my friends choose to label as cynicism). This made me a little nervous. I don’t want to be one of those people who can is sits and thinks about the superiority of my own culture while sitting in another country. Although I think it would be difficult for me to bask in the superiority of US culture since I personally dislike so many things about that culture (lifestyle and governmental policies), I do see where it would be possible for me to find a sense of superiority within my own personal culture and beliefs. I think it would be very easy for me to just uproot myself from my little bubble in the US only to recreate that bubble within Serbia and never have to truly open myself up to the new ideas and new culture here. In my panic of being the person who gets stuck in phase two, I was wondering if there was some way I could skip over it – if there was some way I was guaranteed to do it right so I don’t get stuck here (here being phase two, not Serbia). I realize that is probably a lame idea since phase two of culture shock is an important step to making it to the next stage(s) of culture shock. I am waiting for that stage where I feel at home in the new culture and have a sense of belonging. I’m not sure if that is the third phase, the fourth phase, or a non-existent phase. Everyone’s definition of culture shock seems to vary after the first two stages. I take that to mean that stage one and two are classifiable and inevitable, but anything after that is what you make of it (my conclusion here could be completely wrong, but it seems to work for now).

So, here I am grappling with letting myself be really open to this new culture and let the good things sink in without letting the bad things overwhelm me. I’m not sure what that means and how that looks, but I am determined not to get stuck in phase two.

Sarajevo Museums

Just a quick word about Sarajevo museums. I will post another entry soon to share more about my Sarajevo weekend.

Tory, Katie, and I decided we wanted to go to a Sarajevo museum on Saturday (since Belgrade museums were largely unsuccessful -- refer to February 6 entry Museums in Belgrade). We first decided to go to the bridge museum; the museum that is placed by the corner where Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria was assasinated in 1914 (leading to World War I). We were hoping it would still be open since we were getting a late start. We arrived at the museum to find it closed. It wasn't closed due to the time, but for unspecified reasons it was closed for the day. There was a sign saying it would be closed on Saturday and would resume normal working hours on Monday. I guess we picked the wrong day to come (although it was the only day we could come).

We then headed to the art museum. This was a much more successful venture. It was free. We spent our time looking around. There were many hidden nooks and crannies which actually contained whole rooms (small rooms, but whole rooms) of art. It was fun to have to search for the art. It was nice game of sorts.

Overall, we had more success with museums in Sarajevo than in Belgrade. I'm not sure if this is some sort of reflection on the two cities or if it is just random luck. I'm sure I could try to find some greater meaning in this as a reflection of the current political situation, variances in culture, or something else of that sort. However, I'm also not sure it would be an accurate reflection.

My New Orange Coat.

Here's another one of those older entries that never made its way to the blog.

An important fashion update from Belgrade: I now have my own Serbian coat. It is long, warm, and looks like a bright orange sleeping bag with faux fur on the hood. I’m not particularly a fan. The benefits of this coat include: it was cheap (around $12 dollars) and it gets people (the activists at WiB) to quit nagging me about my need for a new coat.

I had no real desire to buy the coat, but everyone at WiB kept insisiting I needed a warmer coat. I thought my coat was doing just fine. After all, it gets cold in Indiana. Well, I was overruled.

One of the activists, S, found me the perfect coat at a little shop close to the train station. The day after Christmas (while Tory and Katie were still here) I went with S to go and purchase it. Katie and Tory were out having some nice, warm beverages while I was at the office finishing up some last minute tasks -- and purchasing a coat. It was orange. They had a creamy, mustard yellow, but there was only one left and it wasn't in my size. So I was stuck with orange. I returned to the office wearing it and everything loved it.

I still don't particularly love the coat, but I concede that the coat is very warm and it was very cold here for a while. In fact, the coat is so warm I only wear it when it is really cold or I start sweating while I stand waiting for the bus.

That's all I have to say about that. I just thought everyone should know that I have made my first step towards a Serbian fashion sense. Let's hope it doesn't go much further. (I don't consider a transformation to a Serbian fashion sense a good thing. Although not everyone has a weird sense of fashion here, I have already seen some odd looks and have heard that sumer will be an interesting fashion show.)

A post without a purpose

I don't have any antecdotes or stories for today's post. I just felt like posting a general update.

My Serbian language class continues to grow. We started out as three then became five. Then six. Then seven. Then nine. Then eight. Then nine. People keep rotating in and out of the class. We've been averaging eight students, but the faces change. We seem to have a faithful core of six with some guest appearances by the same 3 students. (There was also another student who dropped by for a week. He will be back in May for another month's lessons.)

Many of our mid-class breaks consist of somebody sharing their latest Belgrade adventure or complaint. I try not to join in on many of these conversations since they seem to turn negative quickly. Of course none of us are from Serbia and for the most part (with one or two exceptions) we have all moved here within the last 6 months. The reasons we come range from volunteering (me), diplomacy (two students are here with a family member who is working at their country's embassy), adventure, and love (this is definitely the majority of the students). Interestingly enough, the persons here for love seem the most distraught at being here. In fact, one of the students just returned last week from visiting her family and friends (in Holland) and happily announced to us that she would be moving back to Holland permanently this summer. Her husband could stay here or come with her, but she was going.

Another student is here from Ireland with her Serbian boyfriend. Every class (she isn't the most faithful attender so this is about 3 times a week) she talks about the things she hates in Serbia, the things she misses about Ireland, and the many ways Serbia doesn't measure up to Ireland. Yesterday she mentioned that she thinks it might be worse for her to come to class since she is then with other internationals who all complain together about their lives in Belgrade. I thought this was ironic since she seems to be leading the mini therapy sessions.

This past weekend we had an activist from Guatemala come and share her personal story and lead us in activities. It was very interesting. It was nice for me since she spoke in Spanish (which was then translated into Serbian) so I actually understood what was going on (most of the time -- there were still times when nobody remembered to translate for her and so we just smiled at each other in confusion). I found that my answers to anyone started coming out in Englospanbian (some new hybrid of English, Spanish, and Serbian). I couldn't get my mind and my tongue to work together to use the right language (Spanish with the speaker, Serbian with the non-English speaking activists, and English with the English speaking activists).

Cooking is fun with my stove. I seem to only be able to get the burners to go on medium high or high. There is no low heat (or at least not as I can tell). I'm also trying my hand at being inventive in using my kitchen utensils. For instance, when you are making rice and don't have pot with a lid a plate can be substituted for the lid. But take care not to keep the plate on too long or it will crack. Also, be open to the possibility that your rice may not turn out perfectly.

This weekend I am going to Sarajevo to visit Tory. I am very excited about this since it will be a nice getaway. I had to leave the country anyway since my 3 month tourist visa is getting ready to expire so I thought it might be nice to make it into a fun thing rather than just another task to complete.