The Goldblog

Since I can now use the CRS cars, I find myself with the chance to listen to the radio.  There are two respectable stations in Sarajevo (that I know of), playing a good mix of music from the Rolling Stones to the Killers.  Unfortunately, during my drive time in the mornings and evenings, these stations are mainly talk radio in a language I don’t understand, and on Sundays they play local turbo-folk music (not good).  So my fallback is the U.S. Armed Forces radio network. 

There is still an international police and military force in Bosnia, though much smaller than it used to be.  As far as I can tell, the Armed Forces station I get originates at a base in Italy, and is re-transmitted from the local base here.  That base is a little ways out of town, so the signal is not always perfect, but it works.

What do they have?  Well, in addition to decent music, I get the news (including relatively balanced election coverage), NFL and NHL scores and summaries, and lots of really interesting commercials.  It’s the commercials that have provided me with an extremely limited but enlightening peak at military culture.  Because it is all paid for with our tax dollars, there are no real commercials, only public service announcements for military families and ads for things that are available to the military community. They include ads for military recreation areas in Hawaii, info spots about specific battalions and their history, reminders about health and family services, ads for kids sports leagues, descriptions of old battles that I’ve never heard of, warnings about post-traumatic stress disorder, and so much more.  I will go into more detail about three of my favorites below.

First is the “be very afraid” message.  It warns soldiers that they never know who is listening.  “Even bits and pieces of unclassified information can be put together to reveal important classified material.”  Basically, the message is watch what you say on the phone and when your off-base at the bar because Charlie is always listening.  To me it comes across as a little xenophobic, but it’s a healthy bit of caution.

The next one starts with a phone ringing, and a young woman answers.  A guy on the other end says, “This is Sergeant X with the Military Police.  I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we picked up your boyfriend by the side of the road.  He’s pretty drunk, and he’s not wearing pants.  And on his chest there’s a drawing of a….well, let’s just say someone had fun with a permanent marker.”  The commercial simply ends with “Don’t be that guy.”  It’s a good reminder that their primary audience, and most of the U.S. military, is made up of college-aged boys.

Finally – and my favorite – is the 1950s sexual stereotype message.  It’s a deep male voice, and goes something like this: “Spouses, now that your soldiers are back home from their tours, you’re probably preparing all their favorite meals.  We’re pleased to let you know that for your convenience, the commissary has installed self-check-out lanes.  Now you can get in and get out quick, and GO HOME TO THE KITCHEN” (emphasis added, but that last part is a direct quote).  Really?  Seriously, how about spending more time with your family, or just enjoying your time together?  Back to the kitchen?  Wow.  At least they don’t specify which sex they are targeting anywhere in the message, but it’s pretty clearly implied.

The commercials are entertaining, but I now know more than I wanted to about our military culture.  Please play some music.

One of my biggest disappointments since arriving in Bosnia - perhaps my only disappointment - is that I don’t see that many Yugos.  Sure, they’re around, but I guess I was expecting everyone to have one.  Yugo is, of course, the great automotive achievement of the former Federation of Yugoslavia.  The cars have been manufactured since 1980, and were even exported to the United States (starting in 1985), where they sold for the suspiciously low price of $3990 (about $7350 in today’s dollars). 

But it’s all coming to an end.  This week, the last Yugo will roll out of the assembly plant in Serbia. 

Yugos have been the butt of many jokes. One made an appearance in the movie “The Naked Gun.”  Even more serious media didn’t take the Yugo seriously.  In Time Magazine’s list of the worst cars of all time, Yugo received this priceless description: “Built in Soviet-bloc Yugoslavia, the Yugo had the distinct feeling of something assembled at gunpoint. Interestingly, in a car where “carpet” was listed as a standard feature, the Yugo had a rear-window defroster — reportedly to keep your hands warm while you pushed it.”  Not exactly a ringing endorsement.

When I walk by a parked Yugo here, I like to look inside.  Not much to look at, though.  Many don’t have front passenger seats - it’s as if they were never designed to because you can reach the glove compartment from the back seat - and the driver’s seat pushes all the way up against the rear seat bench.  Still, there wouldn’t be enough room for me in there.  A four-speed manual transmission, and a simple solid metal rod as the hand break.  No bells or whistles, though many of them sound like they have bells and whistles when they are on. 

I do have one favorite Yugo, however.  It’s the red one with a big Fletcher School of Law & Diplomacy decal in the back window.  Seriously.  It belongs to a friend of ours, Fletcher class of 2005.  I’ll try to find a picture.

As most of you were going to bed after watching the election returns, the sun was just rising in Sarajevo.  There’s nothing unique or particularly beautiful about it, but it looked different to me.  It looked brighter, hopeful, peaceful.  I wonder why?

It’s supposed to be cold in Sarajevo at this time of year.  Last year, the city got its first snow in October.  Every day when there has been a steady wind, threatening clouds, or a chill in the air, the locals have warned that it could snow at any minute.  That is the feeling of winter blowing in, they said.

All evidence to the contrary.  On Sunday it was at least 75 degrees in the sun (though weather reports indicate that it topped out at only 72).  I went out in short-sleeves and was still hot.  Our landlord and his family were in the backyard grilling.  Today is not bad either, easily reaching the high sixties or low seventies.  After some unreasonable cold in September, we are now being rewarded with unseasonable warmth in November.  And I love it.

These beautiful days have provided us with some extra opportunities to participate in Sarajevans’ favorite activity: sitting at a sidewalk café and people-watching.  People-watching might be our take on it; the rest of them are perhaps engaged in deep conversations.  But people-watching combines well with the local population’s other favorite activity which is walking up and down the pedestrian street.

Ferhadija is a cute pedestrian street that runs almost the entire length of old Sarajevo, and it has everything.  The walk from one end to the other – about 15 minutes at my pace – takes you past old churches and mosques, all the best clothes shopping in town, the meat and vegetable markets, souvenir shops, and tons and tons of sidewalk cafes.  Many of these cafes serve no food, just coffee, tea and soda.  Some people like us stop and sit.  Others just walk.  And not just once; while sitting and enjoying my espresso, I have seen many people go by three or four times.  It is the place to see and be seen, so they just keep going back and forth.  On a nice day, everyone – young and old – is out on Ferhadija - groups of old men, young parents with strollers, teenage couples, singles with their dogs, and entire families of three generations.

Soon all of this will go away, when the weather turns cold and people (and cafes) move indoors.  Some of the places we frequent only exist outside and will close once it gets cold.  Many have already put away their umbrellas and started packing up their tables.  Clearly, they were caught off-guard by this weekend’s warm spell.  I fear that Ferhadija will be a sad and lonely street without all that activity.  I’m glad we arrived in time to enjoy the warmth, and I’m glad the warmth gave us an extra few days to take advantage.

That may not be as strange a question as it sounds.  We, in fact, have seen this dog twice.  It’s strange how the world works.

This picture was taken in Buenos Aires, Argentina more than two and a half years ago.  While we were eating lunch at a window table in a small cafe, a bicycle parked on the sidewalk outside with this dog sitting in the basket.  It just sat, looking at us, quite comfortable, until the owner came back and rode off.  We didn’t think much about the dog, except that it was funny looking and kept staring at us.  Sure it’s wearing a hat and and a Pepsi shirt, but we assumed he was the victim of a quirky owner.  Certainly not famous or anything.

Then, last night, while flipping channels in Bosnia-Herzegovina, we briefly stopped on the Al-Jazeera English news channel.  They had a story about Argentina’s recovery from its economic collapse of 1999-2002.  As the reporter was talking about something, a montage of scenes from Buenos Aires was moving across the screen.  Low and behold, there was the dog! - wearing the very same hat and a white Pepsi t-shirt.  Chrissy and I immediately looked at each other and burst out laughing.  There was no doubt whatsoever that it was the very same dog.

So, has anyone else seen him?  Or is he just following us around the world?  We want to hear your stories.  And if you know more about this dog - name, occupation, reputation, etc. - please post a comment.  I still can’t stop laughing about it.

I like to think that I have a better-than-average understanding of economics.  Probably better than John McCain, though even he would admit (has admitted) that that is a fairly low standard.  One thing I don’t fully understand, however, is all the factors that influence exchange rates – interest rates, demand for exports, and so many other things that usually don’t impact my daily activities or spending habits.  On the other hand, what I do know is that the dollar is getting stronger.

Since we arrived, we have consistently been withdrawing the same amount of Bosnian Marks (abbreviated BAM) from the ATMs when we need it.  The difference is that now that same amount costs us $25 less from our bank account than it did in August.  That’s a lot of money!  If you want to be technical, the exchange rate was about 1.25 BAM per USD at the end of July when we got here.  Now, it is 1.54 BAM per USD.  Yippee!  Spending spree!

Because we are what the IRS considers paupers – a.k.a. dirt poor – the financial crisis has not really affected us, at least in the short-term. (For those of you who didn’t already know, Peace Corps and grad school are not the best ways to accumulate wealth.)  But through the mysterious forces of exchange rates and the dumb luck of political/economic geography, our financial situation may be improving faster than we expected.  I’m certainly not hoping for the crisis to continue, but I’m not complaining either. Yet.

When we learned we were moving to Sarajevo, I didn’t realize just how lucky we were.  I knew that it would be nice to be back in Eastern Europe, and I thought I knew what to expect.  But Sarajevo is a little different; it’s small with a Turkish feel in some areas, and in many ways it seems more developed than Moldova.  But what I didn’t expect were all the festivals.  

In August, we saw three films (out of more than 100) at the Sarajevo Film Festival.  Then last week we went to a play at the annual theater festival, and we may go to one more this week.  On Friday night we went to the wine festival, which was a small event but very nice – and delicious.  And in the first week of November is the Jazz Festival.  It’s rumored to be a very big deal, second only to the film festival, and there will be tons of international performers and visitors.

What’s so nice about these festivals is not necessarily the content (which is not too shabby by any standards), but the fact that everyone goes.  Sarajevo is such a small town that these events really become the main event for the time that they last.  We have only been here a few months and don’t know that many people, but inevitably we see almost all of the people we know at these things.  They truly bring the town together.

Last Wednesday, Chrissy and I drove to Croatia for lunch.  Sounds strange, I know.  We had to go because our visas our only good for three months, which means we have to leave the country every 90 days.  I have already been to Belgrade, but Chrissy hadn’t been anywhere, and time was running out.  Croatia is the closest and most beautiful destination, so we made a day of it.

And, yes, that means I finally have permission to drive the CRS cars.  This will hopefully result in more interesting blog posts as we explore the area.

Getting to Croatia really shouldn’t be that difficult.  It’s less than 180 km to the border – only about 110 miles.  But the problem is that Bosnia is a one road country.  There is only one way to get anywhere.  And in most cases, that one road is only two lanes, one in each direction.  It makes it very slow-going when you are stuck behind an ancient Eastern European truck on a winding mountain road.  Even worse, though, is the construction.  At several points they were repaving one lane of the road meaning all traffic in one direction has to stop while the others go by.  It made the journey quite slow and long.

The border went by almost un-noticed.  I mean there was a little house with a gate, but they just waved us through.  We were in Croatia before we realized we had left Bosnia.  But because the passport stamp for Chrissy was the whole point of this trip, we had to circle back and convince someone in the Bosnian border patrol to look at and stamp our passports. 

Eventually, we made it to Croatia.  Our destination was Ston and its neighbor Mali Ston, little towns on a peninsula on the way to Dubrovnik.  Chrissy and I had been to this part of Croatia before, traveling with my family while we were in Peace Corps.  It was every bit as nice as I remembered, with tree-covered hills gently flowing into the Adriatic – still one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.

In Mali Ston we had an overpriced lunch of fried oysters, calamari and grilled fish while looking over the water.  The town itself wasn’t much to speak of, but the setting was really terrific.  And the warm sun shining was a welcome change from the quickly cooling weather of Sarajevo.  

Ston itself was largely abandoned and closed.  The town is surrounded by a wall, reportedly the longest fortification in Europe and second longest in the world after the Great Wall of China.  We walked the narrow stone streets alone.  A couple restaurants were open, but empty.  It was a nice stop, but nothing special.  

Next we found a little cove, where we could walk on the beach and put our feet in the water, which was cold.  But we sat on bench and just enjoyed the peace and quiet, the sun, the sound of the water, and each other’s company.  Then we got in the car for the long ride home.

There was one more stop.  Just before crossing back into Bosnia, there was a big grocery store and we decided it might be a nice place to use the bathroom and stretch our legs.  Then we discovered that the “health food” section actually had tons of Asian and Mexican ingredients that we can’t get in Sarajevo.  So we stocked up.  A nice surprise to end a very nice day.  Can’t wait to go back.

After eight weeks in Sarajevo, Chrissy and I were itching to get out of the city. Also, it’s been cold and rainy, and we wanted to find some sunshine. Mostar seemed like a logical destination – they say it’s always warmer in Mostar, and, only two hours away, it is a popular tourist spot that we had not visited. Chrissy learned from a friend of an all-day tour of the Mostar area, so we decided to check it out. We made reservations for the tour and caught an early morning train on Saturday to Mostar.

Any tour that is scheduled for 12 hours is bound to be intense, but I don’t think we realized just what we were in for. When we met our tour guide, it seemed promising. He was full of energy, outgoing, positive, but also a little secretive. He wouldn’t tell us exactly where we were going or what to expect. He said bring a bathing suit, and something more modest for the mosques. But since we had nothing else to do, we thought, hey, why not?

As we were preparing to leave, the tour group kept growing, including all the guests of the hostel that organizes it, plus some extras like us and a couple we met on the train, who were traveling with no agenda, and we convinced them to join us. As we all piled into a van that was designed for eight people plus a driver, our guide realized that maybe 18 was too many for the van. Though he didn’t seem worried when there were just 16 of us. So he asked the group if we should take two cars. Not surprisingly, the people sitting on stools in the back and on other people’s laps enthusiastically supported the second car idea. Our guide said, no problem, he just needed a volunteer to drive the other car. Then the key word: automatic. I said, sure, I can drive automatic (all the Brits and Aussies hesitated because they are accustomed to driving on the other side of the road).

And that is how I turned into the other tour driver for the next 12 hours and 180 km, and the guide bought my dinner in exchange. The second vehicle was a two-door Volkswagen, so it didn’t really alleviate the crowding in the van. In addition to Chrissy, my passengers included three very hung-over British and Australian teenage girls. Fun.

And thus began a very full day during which we saw most of the major sights around Mostar. Our first stop was Pocitelj, an old Turkish highway rest stop – not unlike the Molly Pitcher Plaza on the NJ Turnpike. It had a Turkish bath, a small mosque, some restaurants, souvenir shops and a handful of occupied houses. But the setting was really fabulous. It was built on the side of a hill, with a fortress lining the ridge on top with wonderful views of the road and river. If we had gone on our own with a guidebook, we probably would have spent on 20 minutes, but on the tour, it was a two hour stop as we slowly moved up the hill to the very top. It started to become evident that our guide had a lot to say, though he had trouble organizing his thoughts. And he had some very strong opinions (and emotional stories) about the war. This was going to be a talking tour.

The next stop was a lovely waterfall and swimming hole, though it was a little cold for swimming in my opinion. This is where it became clear that our tour guide wasn’t really in touch with his clients. He kept moving us down the river for more swimming, even though only two people were interested. First there was the rope swing, then there was cliff jumping, where most of us just stood around waiting to see if other people would build up the courage to do it. For the most part, they didn’t, and then we left, so it was a lot of wasted time.

Our next stop was Medjugorje. For those of you who aren’t up on your religious apparitions, Medjugorje is the sight where in 1981 five teenagers claimed to see the Virgin Mary on the side of a hill. Of course, no one has yet answered the question, what were five teenagers doing on the side of some random hill in the middle of nowhere, and might what they were doing have caused them to see things. Regardless, this vision has transformed Medjugorje from “shithole to Las Vegas” as our tour guide said, though it still looked like a shithole to me (but I haven’t been to Vegas). It is one of the most visited Catholic sites in Europe after Lourdes and Fatima (and Rome, of course); though it is not Vatican-approved, it gets nearly 2 million visitors each year. The town itself is an absurd collection of pizzerias, souvenir shops, hotels, Catholic bookstores, travel agencies, currency exchanges, and ice cream stands. There is nothing else around. Nothing. It is strange and sad. And the strangest part is that only a small inaccessible statue marks the spot of the apparition; the church and town are miles away from it.

After a carnivorous dinner of veal in every possible form, our final stop was the Dervish House or Blagaj. Though it was dark, the setting of this little house is amazing. It literally sits under an enormous cliff and next to a river that originates somewhere under the cliff, though no one knows where. It has been determined that the water starts at least 19 km away under this mountain, and it is some of the cleanest, clearest water I have ever seen. And delicious. The house is considered one of the most important sites for Muslims in Bosnia. The cliff that covers it made it impossible for artillery to hit it during the war. If our tour guide had been able to explain all this concisely instead of taking 30 minutes, it would have been a perfect ending to the day.

So finally, around 11:30 at night, I drove back into Mostar, where we stayed at the hostel’s slightly nicer separate apartment with two other couples. Strangely, the only thing we didn’t see on our tour of the Mostar area was Mostar itself. On Sunday morning, we got up early to explore the town, which is home to the Old Bridge (Stari Most), one of the most famous symbols of Bosnia-Herzegovina. Turns out that you don’t need much more than a Sunday morning to see the main parts of Mostar. We will go back to visit the museums (and to get out of Sarajevo again), but really we saw most of Mostar in just an hour.

Chrissy and I decided that knowing what we know now, we would not do that tour again. Maybe that’s why he was so cryptic about what we were going to do. On the other hand, we saw a lot of stuff that we may never have seen otherwise. And, because I was driving, I’m fairly confident that I could find it all again on my own. Now all I need are some visitors….

It’s cold in Sarajevo.  Of course, that’s not a surprise; after all, this city hosted the winter Olympics many years ago.  But it is unseasonably cold, and it came on suddenly.  Last week the temperature was pushing 90 degrees and we had the air conditioning on.  Today, I wore my winter coat to work.  Tonight, the lows will push freezing and we are still trying to make our heat work.  It’s been very cold in our apartment.  We have a brand new AC/heating unit mounted on the wall, but it appears that no one tested the heating feature when they installed it.  Our landlord is working on it.  In the meantime, he turned on the main heating in the building, about a month ahead of schedule.

The weather has been like this since Saturday afternoon.  The clouds rolled in and it started raining, and it didn’t stop until today – Wednesday – wait – it’s raining again.  The clouds are particularly noticeable.  The Sarajevo airport has been all but closed because of low visibility (preventing many of my colleagues from returning from business trips), which apparently is not uncommon in the winter.  It’s been days since I last saw the mountains that normally round out every view, and I wouldn’t be surprised if when they reappear they have a dusting of snow on the tops. 

Filling the hot evenings of last week, and the cold one of this week, are our Bosnian language classes.  For those of you who don’t know, Bosnian, Croatian and Serbian are essentially the same language, with only minor differences in words (so I can put three new languages on my resume).  It’s like English in America versus English in Britain.  Oh, and Serbian is sometimes written in the Cyrillic alphabet. 

Anyway, we have class every week night for three weeks with 10 other students.  We have learned a lot in a short time.  I’ve heard it said that in most languages you only need 400 words to communicate effectively (not sure which words, though).  I haven’t counted, but I would bet that we are getting close.  It’s been very helpful in terms of shopping, but we haven’t had many opportunities to use our new Bosnian skills in casual conversation.  Also, it’s not as hard as I thought it would be; many words are similar to Romanian and Russian with which we are already familiar.  Of course, we have only just begun to conjugate verbs in the present tense, so there is still a lot to learn.

Until next time: Je hladno u Sarajevu.