Serbs giving out Cigarettes like gum (I am home in NH!)

You could be anywhere. Out having coffee, sitting watching English television, or eating a fresh batch of popcorn on the side of the road—you will get the offer. If you are with friends, the characteristic shuffle of the carton-o-cigs weasels its way into the scene. It’s socially kindled in Serbia, a way to offer what you have no matter what—just for the sake of sharing something. Always kindly refuse, and smile.

Kindly refusing has brought me far in my travels. Whether it is to people handing out flyers on the street, old men slurring some language I don’t understand as I walk past their staring eyes, or the nth plate of food offered to me, the warm smile and “no thanks” can make the difference. It isn’t menacing. It isn’t brutal. It is what it is.

I have figured out a lot about myself during these 4 months. Traveling in itself, especially alone as a woman, has its ups and downs. Learning how to work with what you have in order to make the best out of situations is key—although sometimes breakdowns are necessary. I know this trip has been successful because I have felt every single emotion that could possibly exist in the spectrum.

Like for instance—the past 48 hours…

I got on a plane heading from Tel Aviv to Vienna. The flight went well, I had a whole row to myself, a yummy meal (Austrian Air impresses me with its food), and time to finish my book (first novel in a long time). I was quite nervous with all the transfers I would have to do to get to Prague—it would require a lot of things going right.

Things didn’t go right. In fact, they went terribly, terribly wrong.

But I won’t get too ahead of myself.

The sherut brought me to Ben Gurion airport fine. The flight went well. I successfully got on the bus heading to Sudbonhoff train station in Vienna. I bought my ticket to Prague and sat for 2.5 hours in a café to pass the time. A beer and a finished book later, I boarded the train, where I would stay for an hour and then switch in Breclav to get on another train heading to Prague.

I sat down in the seat and took off my bags. Struggling (but I have mastered the technique), I lifted my 45 lb backpack up on the top shelving, my jacket, presents bag, and scarf on the lower shelving, my regular backpack by my feet, and hung up my purse on the clip so it could be close when the people needed my tickets/passport.

In walks in my new Croat friend. I don’t know his name but I noticed him in the café I was sitting at before, he looked nice and honest—maybe someone I would be friends with or share interesting stories all night long. I loved how he was Croatian too (it made me realize that I already miss it a lot).

He is a photographer and was on his way to Lithuania to do some freelance work. He lives in Zagreb. We spoke in Croatian for a while and he was impressed by my skills (!!). The conversation soon turned into him talking my ear off for an hour (and later an Austrian girl who joined us) about his travels on the trans-Siberian railway. All I wanted to do at this point was sleep.

I was very nervous I wouldn’t get off the train at the right stop. Sometimes these trains have a tendency to stop for about 50 seconds and then leave, so I wanted to have all my stuff together for Breclav. I quickly tossed on my jacket and scarf, took my big backpack, became pregnant with my second backpack thrown in front, and grabbed the bag of presents. Off I went.

Outside of the train (which ended up sitting there for 15 minutes), I met two people: Nik and Tanja, from Albania and Kazakhstan. My companions for the next 5 hours.

At this point I was happy—I had successfully gotten through all of the transfers. Now I was on my way to Prague and could relax until we got there.

Except for one thing: (can you guess it yet?)

As us three were shooting the shit on the train, I went shuffling around in my bag looking for the name of the hostel I was going to stay at. “It’s like Hostel…plus…A…something, just hold on”. After about 10 seconds of shuffle, I almost shat my pants. Where was my purse? Where did it go? I don’t have it. Shit, I don’t have my purse. My purse with every single piece of identification, currency, PASSPORT, and ipod. I left it on the train. I left it hanging on the hook. I knew It. I couldn’t believe it. But I knew it.

Holy fucking shit (this is an appropriate time, mother).

I flipped out. The two with me didn’t know what to do, but calmly told me to find someone on the train to tell them.

(All avenues to calm down were certainly out of the picture)

I ran up to one of the women who checked for tickets. A new dialect of English spilled out of my mouth as I tried to explain to her that I was royally screwed. That I had a plane to catch the following morning home, that I had exactly 4.5 euros in my pocket and nothing else. She looked at me like I was crazy.

She gestured for me to return to my seat. I sat down with my hands covering my face most likely swearing over and over. When the woman came to our car, the Kazak and Albanian came to the rescue.

I told her exactly what train I was on, where I was sitting, where the bag was, what it looked like, and what the two people in the car looked like as well. She phoned in. Nothing. I didn’t understand. All I could do was wait. I thought I was going to vomit.

I took out my ticket and showed her the train I was just on. She quickly grabbed her phone again, repeating the directions to another voice on the other end of the line. A few moments later she peered in at me with a smile and thumbs up. Found it!

I started laughing. Like a crazy person.

.But the journey wasn’t over

As she wrote out my mission, I repeatedly went over the situation in my head. How could I have been so stupid? So so so incompetent. So…wait. Breathe. Don’t be hard on yourself. This stuff happens right? I could go to the embassy first thing in the morning; I could ask my parents to wire me money. I have a copy of my passport on my computer which was with me. I could make it work.

The woman wrote out that I had to meet train 422 coming at 8:29 to Prague from Kosice, and that the conductor would stand outside waiting to give me my purse.

I knew I had faith in the world.

Our train was suppose to arrive in Prague at 330 am, but it mysteriously stopped for over an hour halfway in between. The Kazak and the Albanian really made the difference—they offered me a place to stay until 830 when they would show me back to the train station and help me get my purse. The catch was, we didn’t get into Prague until 5 am (because of the delay), and I wasn’t ready to take a 30 min trip to sleep for an hour and then take another 30 minute trip back by myself and get lost along the way.

No. I would stay there.

Funny thing is about the Prague train station—it’s not heated or inside. Great. I had 3.5 hours of pure hell in front of me—hell that was freezing instead of sweltering, thirsty, hungry, completely tired, and nervous that it wouldn’t work out. I wanted to believe everything would be okay, but I also had to make a plan if the worst happened. The worst being that the purse doesn’t make it on that train and that I am royally screwed.

Embassy, day after Christmas, plane in 24 hours, no money, no food, no water—even the bathroom cost money. The Kazak and Albanian left me with enough money for a phone call and their cell phone number, in case things went wrong. I didn’t want to spend any money (just in case), so I sat on a bench staring at the arrivals board. The clicking of the changing names almost drove me mad.

I put my big backpack horizontally in front of myself and wrapped my legs around it, along with the smaller backpack. I placed the bag of presents on my lap and arched around it. I fell asleep like that for around a half hour, sparing me some grief.

There are a lot of crazies in the train station. I was among them. For the first time I felt like any amount of pride was thrown out the window as I shuffled around the station trying to get warm but trying not to get more thirsty or hungry. I tried meditating. I tried praying. I was going completely bonkers.

Everything had to go perfectly. I set my alarm for 8 am just in case I fell asleep again. I walked in circles. Anything to pass the time. But truthfully, 3.5 hours never went so slowly before.

It was finally 8:10 and the platform number popped up on the arrivals board for train 422 from Kosice. I had to go! Of course platform 7 was the furthest away, and of course when I got there there was nothing written on the black board which usually tells you when and where the train is coming. Just a blank screen.

There was another man shuffling around that platform so I asked him if he spoke English. He shook his head and asked Dueschland? Rusa? Italiano? No no no. I thought for a moment and spurted out some unintelligible Croatian (very similar to Russian), and he smiled. We were both waiting for that train so it made me feel a whole lot better. I placed my smaller backpack on a chair with the bag of presents and began circling the bench. I circled and circled, quietly praying and wishing and hoping everything would work as planned. That the conductor would help me complete my mission. I even got to a place where I told myself “if this is what God wanted me to experience today, so it shall be”. When did God come into the picture? What!

Suddenly the train came in. The man I had just spoken with looked at me and gave me a not-so-assuring “maybe” shrug. I waited for the train to stop and rain up and down the doors, yelling “excuse me!” and “help!” and “English!!!!!” like the freak I am.

I get to the end of the train and look back, and I see a tiny figure in the distance in a black hat. It’s him!!!

I bolt with my 45 lb bag on my bag, my heavy-ass bag in front (with computer, etc), and my bag-o-presents. I wave to him. He waves back. I yell “purse!”. He waves back. Is he just waving because I am waiving? I get around 15 feet away and he smiles, nodding after I huff out “purse, you have, passport, mine, Vienna…” He tells me to wait a second. He goes into the car and unlocks a door, coming out with my purse.

I almost fainted.

I burst into tears as I thanked him over and over again. He just chuckled and walked away, as I searched through my purse making sure everything was there.

And it was. By some miracle, it all seemed to work out.

And by some other miracle, I walked around Prague for 7 hours without much sleep. I don't remember what I saw, but I know I was there!

And now I am at home...

Now what?

Like the Chinese student said to me in the hostel in Prague: don't put all your eggs in one basket!

(note: somewhere at the end here I was going to tie in kindly refusing into the story. but i am too tired and not that creative yet. More to come)

have a jerusalem christmas

I am sitting on Ben Yehuda street in Downtown Jerusalem. It is Christmas day and I am sitting outside on my computer with a small sweater on. I do not miss anything about Christmas...

I leave today for Prague via Vienna. It will be a long trip. I am tired. Ready to be done traveling but not so sure I am ready for the be-back-at-home business. It will take me a while to adjust. I think I will need good listening ears and some catch-up on sleep.

So much to say, no time to say it now.

After walking...

...through the Burnt House and the Wohl Archeological Museum, whichuncovers the remains of the Jewish Quarter and it's destruction by the Romans in 70 BCE, I placed foot after foot descending down a staircase. At the end of the staircase was a view, overlooking the plaza and the Western Wall. The clouds were dark, a storm was coming. The sun was beginning to set and the buildings of te old city were glowing white specks. Striking through the clouds, hitting the glowing buildings, was a rainbow, reminding me of the color flowing between the light and the dark. It was truly magnificent.





note: there are a lot of things to say, especially since the last time I wrote. For now, I am in Jerusalem, trying to figure out what to discover and how to stay honest.

Spinning. Everything is spinning.

Today I woke up at 11:30 am. My train to Budapest left at 7:50 am. Oops. Next time?

Tonight I sat in Trg Republike, the main square in Belgrade, and watched everything spin around me. This city is buzzing, and I feel entirely comfortable sitting and watching the people who live here. I went on a long walk, up and down the pedestrian road, reminding myself of all the people I have met in this city, why they are special to me, the things we have shared, etc. I want them to know that they have greatly effected me, that I will hold them close, and that they have another person who they can go home to.

That is something I have realized quite a lot while traveling (and I haven't even started the "long haul" traveling). I want to be a provider of a home. I don't know what this means--if it means I want to have a shelter or just a never-ending couch for people to crash on. I think making home for people is one of the most beautiful things you can do.

The long haul. The beginning of the end. The mega trip of a lifetime. So why do I already feel tired??

My paper is done, at least I am telling myself this. It is hard to move to that completion mode—I always want to continue editing, erasing, starting over—but I just can’t do that. I have to be okay with what has been produced.

I am sad to leave Belgrade, in many ways. I am sad that I might not see the friends I have made—in particular Tijana, Stevan, and Dejan. They really touched me while I have been here. Tijana and I have had some great conversations, I feel like we really connected in a lot of ways. She is one of those righteous babes. Stevan and Dejan were amazing. We only hung out…maybe 4 times, but each time it was wonderful, fun, exciting. I laughed so much with them. They were great companions, they brought the best out of me.

I am nervous for next week—for re-entry into Zagreb and group dynamics. I cannot believe it has already been a month, although at some points the time ticked by. Doesn’t it always?

I head to Zagreb tomorrow. The group heads to Slovenia on Thursday. On Sunday we head back to Zagreb for the family gathering. Monday I go to Vienna. Tuesday I go to Israel. The following Tuesday I come back from Israel to Vienna. Then to Prague. Then to home. It sounds quite hellish at the end, so I am really going to have to keep the positive energy rolling. I will also be traveling alone, something which always tends to affect me so much.

It gives me the space to think—where anything that I might be holding in side for whatever reason—has the ability to come out. You sit, for hours, maybe with something to do but maybe just time to think. The room heats up. Thoughts roll out of your head, circling around you as you zip into another time zone. It is inescapable me myself and I time, and unless you have some strong sleeping pills, you have no choice but to deal with yourself.

I am going to miss the Three Black Catz and Mladen, Marija, Eve, Jasna, and the gang. This room has become mine (although now I am the only one left). I feel like the resident greeter for all the comers and goers. These are the people I remember.

- The 50 year old from Ireland

- The Frenchman who worked in the Middle East as a freelance journalist

- The two men from…SE Asia somewhere…maybe Indonesia I forget

- The girl studying in Thessaloníki from Virginia.

- Two Estonian girls

- Two French guys

- Berlin, Germany guy with a girlfriend in Nis

- Three Aussie girls

- 3 Dutch from Amsterdam

- 2 Bulgarians

- 1 Italian dude who slept in his tighty whities

- 2 Aussies who had been traveling for 11 months

- Seattle dude

- Seattle dudette

- French girl in the beginning

- New Zealander living in London

- Canadian – Victoria

- 2 Guys from New Jersey

Making Home

najbolji prijatelji u beograd - best friends in belgrade
thanks for making it feel like home!

Abstract for paper, abstraction obstruction insanity?

Dealing with the past is the process in which a society determines truthful facts of past events, and with the support of civil society and its leaders, undergoes a transformation from a culture based on conflict to one of peace, through the processes of reconciliation and depolarization[1]. Youth between the ages of 18-30 are the future of Serbia. They grew up in the midst of war, under a regime that greatly affected the economical, social, and political stability of the newly independent country. Because of these factors, their perspectives and opinions become critical in determining how this country is approaching topics of the past. This study highlights their opinions about governmental engagement, Non-governmental organization’s initiatives, and personal responsibility towards topics of the past, and whether or not they are effective in creating a culture of peace for Serbia’s future.

---

[1] Bleeker, Mô, and Jonathan Sisson, eds. Dealing with the Past: Critical Issues, Lessons Learned, and Challenges for Future Swiss Policy. Swiss Peace Foundation. Bern: Swiss Peace, 2005. 16 Nov. 2007 >.

So I have my 40 pages. Whether or not one can understand them is an entirely different story. I am leaving for Budapest either tomorrow or Sunday, going out with friends I've made here tonight, and trying to clean up the paper in the time between.

I am going slightly crazy--mainly because I get so utterly lost in papers I write. The process of editing is, for some unknown reason, the hardest thing for me to conquer. I have these thoughts and I write them down and I don't like to question them! Okay! And I disagree with grammar but that discussion is for another day.

who cares if my sentences don't have punctuation and i make up words. It's not like I am going to publish it or anything (thanks to the remarkable IRB group that has been created to protect human-subjects in the research process).

Sarcasm? Never...

things come

things come together like falling
rain hits the ground
seeps, sometimes flooding first
frantically finding space in roots
kitchen sinks
cesspools
sometimes it hovers over us
and we can smell it
almost.

i feel like i have been writing for years but
since then and after the fact
really it seems time is a tall tale
we forgot was created.

i might forget somethings sometimes
but i remember exactly where i was when
things came together.

like i was falling.

but suns rise
moons rise too
and even when the rain pinches the ground
it floats back up again
becoming stars
or at least cloud bouncers
enjoying the day's parade or mistakes made
hitting it all very hard so it can feel something real
each moment
like a continuous reason
to piece it all back
together.

december 3, 2007

In between sentences

I am in the midst of writing the first draft of my 40-page research paper and I really wanted to flush out a few thoughts about my recent trip to Southern Serbia. In the words of Stasa, the founder of the Women in Black office here in Belgrade, this city isn't real Serbia. Real Serbia can be found in the small towns and villages away from the big cities of Novi Sad and Belgrade, where people live the way Serbians have been living for years. There is a lot of poverty. The streets smell of burning coal (that is how they still heat themselves here). It felt like I was in a movie from the 40's in Serbia after Tito kicked Fascism out. Things have been paused since then. Socialism seeps through the cracks still. It's still very much present there, the remnants of it all.

So far in my travels here in the Balkans, if I keep my mouth shut people don't think I am a foreigner (kind of refreshing from Chiapas). But in Leskovac, the small town in Southeastern Serbia (a few hours west of Sofia, Bulgaria and right on the edge of Kosovo), I was stared every moment.

I was there to have a focus group with youth in the area. I stayed over at the Women for Peace's office. I tried speaking as much Serbian as possible, and got a bit depressed because I just don't know if I'll be able to hold onto it.

The next morning the room was filled with a bunch of 15 year old high school students who were there to learn about the organization, become active, and listen to me, a strange foreigner, as them about a time period they don't remember at all or learn about in school. It's funny, because I am not legally allowed to interview anyone under the age of 18. So the information I got isn't really acceptable. Although I can mention the contents of the focus group, as an observation (without mentioning individuals). It was super interesting to compare their thoughts with the thoughts of the people I've already interviewed in Belgrade and Novi Sad. These kids knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. They didn't know about the genocide in Srebrenica, they didn't know about the siege of Sarajevo, they didn't know about Serbian influence in the wars. The only thing they had learned about in school was the NATO bombings in 1999. Crazy.

I was just starting to get to know people when I had to rush to the bus station to get to a meeting I had set up in Nis, a city about an hour north of Leskovac. I have been finding the kindness of strangers here to really help me in the transportation section of my life. I never know what to do at the bus or train stations here. They are all so different! People have been so helpful.

I got to Nis to talk to the activists involved in the Youth Initiative for Human Rights there. I went to Maja and Rade's apartment, where they offered me some delicious red wine and a place to stay for the night. I wasn't expecting on staying over, but the wine was so good and the company was even better. I didn't take out my notepad or my recorder. I didn't want to. I was sick of the formal conversations and the agenda. I wanted to do it my way for the last interview.

So we ended up having an incredible conversation about life in Nis, the wars, what people are doing now, radicalness of the Youth Initiative and Women and Black and why it has to be that way, etc. 2 others were there, Petro and Marko, and we all just had such a great time together. And I learned a lot. They also are trying to put together a cultural center in Nis for people to go to for a safe and creative space. They hope that it might harbor motivation and energy for activism in Nis, something that is missing there. I hope it works out for them.

I have found that I am happiest when on my own here. I have never really wanted to be a solo traveler, but in some ways it is just so much easier and enlightening. Things flow easier, time becomes less relevant. You go with it. Nobody is saying they want to go home. No obligations exist. Friendships bloom quicker. These are just some things I have noticed.

People I want to remember from this trip: Maja from Zene za mir (women for peace), Jovanna and Milan, Ivana and Nena from Zene za Mir, Rade Maja Petro Marko from YIHR Nis.

And I cannot believe it is December already. I can't believe I am coming home in less than a month. It is all good and all bad and I am trying to synthesize everything I have heard and learned into a paper that seems very far from completion at this point. And I am tired from a night of dancing, kafana fighting, and a hurt foot.