We turned that regionally loved, coveted, drooled over dish and turned it into our own. Instead of using rice, we used coo coos. Instead of using pork or beef or whatever it is that they stuff those cabbage leaves with, we used mega' fakin' tofu patties. It was the best!
Besides the amazing meal (which cost us 10 dollars total and will most likely feed us until mid next week), I am finding it hard to accept the fact that every single day here has felt different. Not just in Belgrade, but on this semester-long journey of mine. While on Skype with my dad last night, while I was using the hostel's computer camera so that he could see my face for the first time in almost 3 months (the longest we've gone!) he told me that I had 40 days left before coming home. 40 more days, 6 countries, 1 paper, 2 bags, and topsy turvy confidence levels.
Sometimes I feel like when I talk to people around me I am not listened to. Sometimes I feel like I am being oversensitive by taking this the wrong way. But sometimes, everyone needs some attention. It's the lack of community. I was starting to feel it a bit in Zagreb, but since moving here, it's all from scratch.
It's nice living in a hostel, a place that can distract you from internal demons just to have some wine with a new found friend from somewhere going somewhere else, constantly changing faces and stories and smiles. That feels nice, but completely out of my control and short.
I can't even feel out my own writing anymore. It's as if there is this block on me here, my fingers are stiff and my head is somewhere in the clouds and I just can't seem to grab myself back. I just can't find myself here.
----
Women in Black, Belgrade
The office that the Women in Black work out of is small, very colorful, and full of some of the craziest women you would ever meet in your life. The door panels have different blocks of colors on them, rainbow streamers hang from the light fixtures in the center of the room, book shelves are piled high with publications, stickers, pamphlets, and posters.
They all knew I was coming. Last night it snowed so today the streets were silver lined with almost-melted snow. I trudged through the puddles of sludge and found my way to Jug Bogdanova 18, where the office is. Stasha, the founder of Women in Black Belgrade, ran up to me spitting out Serbian faster than I could catch it. She grabbed my cheeks, kissed me, hugged me, and welcomed me.
I contacted Nadja, a 20-something year old Belgradian who I met last time I was here with the group. I asked her if the office needed any volunteers to help out with certain organizing, paperwork, etc. She said she would meet me at the party but never showed up, which was a great way for me to plunge right into the conversations with these perfect strangers.
The room demographic was as follows: handfuls of middle-aged women with wine and rakija in their hands, a few men circulating the crowd, 2 other American volunteers, two gay men and the head honcho women of the organization. It was a gathering to say goodbye to an intern from Seattle who has been working with them for 2 years with this quaker-esque organization from the states. The new intern, who is replacing the last one, Katie, is from
I feel really good to be volunteering and doing something related, but pretty unrelated, to my project. I think it will give me something to take my mind off of my project, the looming paper, etc. Also, the people in that room were so full of life and I feel like they will inspire me so much, something which has definitely been out of my life for some time now. I’ve been searching every spot in my mind, body, and soul for some self-motivated inspiration for the nearly 3 months I have been here, so some direct outside help would be…incredible.
When I was leaving, Stasa grabbed my face again and repeated Hvala ti over and over again. She introduced me to the entire group, she fed me, and she gave me her number and an assignment for Monday. In solidarity for sure…
No comments:
Post a Comment