The Goldblog

There are times when I feel guilty about the money we spend traveling. Whether it’s Thanksgiving in Switzerland or a weekend at the Hilton in Dubrovnik, it’s an indulgence, something that is not really necessary. But we like to do it. And a couple weeks ago I came across this article in the New York Times that offers scientific evidence justifying our lifestyle choices.

The gist of the article is something called saver’s remorse. We are all familiar with buyer’s remorse, when you feel guilty for spending your hard-earned money on something you don’t really need, some luxury. Shoes, travel, entertainment - whatever your vice may be. The evidence, however, shows that buyer’s remorse is a short-term phenomenon, whereas saver’s remorse tends to last much longer. Though you may feel good now about the money you saved by not taking that spring break trip, in the long run, you will wish you had taken advantage of that opportunity. Basically, people regret too much work and not enough play as time goes on. Besides, the money will be spent somehow, somewhere regardless, probably on something less memorable and less fun.

For me, this brought to mind one particularly vivid example. When Chrissy and I were in South America, traveling on a budget, we considered the possibility of climbing an active volcano in Chile. It seemed like a cool day trip – a guided climb over the glacier, looking into the bubbling caldera, and then sliding down the glacier at crazy speeds like a bobsled on your butt. Neat! But it cost $75 per person. That was about three days of travel expenses for us on that trip, so we decided it was too much, and found something cheaper to do instead.

Since then, every time we talk to someone about visiting Chile, they say, “Oh, did you climb the Volcan Villarica? It was the best part of my trip!” I keep kicking myself about that one. $150 would not have significantly affected our travel through South America; I know because we came home with more than that left in our bank account. In the end, that money probably went to a forgettable night out at a bar, or to two months’ electric bills. The point is I don’t even remember what it was used for.

Lesson learned: When in doubt, buy that plane ticket. That’s generally how I’ve lived my life for the past 12 years or so, and I’ve had very few instances of buyer’s remorse. And I think I’ve done a reasonably good job of avoiding saver’s remorse. Sure, we have a savings account, and we manage to put aside a reasonable amount of money (given our fairly unprofitable jobs), but we still do our best to have a good time.

Here’s to living life with few long term regrets. Spend, and enjoy it!

Chrissy and I just returned from a whirlwind 5-day trip to Moldova, our second time there in the past 10 months. This time I went for work, but added a few days for pleasure. We visited Cahul where we stayed with our host family and ate with old friends, and we spent some time in Chisinau, also catching up with people we hadn’t seen for quite some time. But really there was something else on my mind the whole time.

At the end of January, Chrissy and I treated ourselves to a long weekend in Dubrovnik on the Croatian coast. It’s warmer than Sarajevo, and without any tourists that time of year, it was a great break from our routine. On our last night there, as we were walking out the gates of the old city with ice cream cones in hand, I turned around and said, “One last look. Goodbye, Dubrovnik.”

“Maybe forever,” Chrissy said.

I was suddenly overcome by a rush of emotion, and a tear came to my eye. For years I’ve been traveling the world, and I have never thought of any visit to any place as my last. Never. When I consider things that I didn’t have time to do in a given place, I think “when I go back…” not “if I go back….”

On the other hand, I don’t often go back. Though I’ve been to more than 30 countries total, I can count the number that I’ve visited more than once on one hand. If we move out of this region, Dubrovnik won’t be an easy weekend trip any more. And after our son is born, traveling will be more complicated and more expensive, and I’m sure our priorities will change in terms of how we want to spend our vacation time. And then there is the age factor….time might be running out to see all these places again. There is a real possibility that that was the last time we will visit Dubrovnik, and that maybe I have already seen some other countries for the last time. But at least I got to see them.

So, yesterday I watched through the airplane window as Moldova disappeared below the clouds, wondering whether I would see it again. The rich, dark soil, the lush, green fields, the gray, concrete houses. Will I ever again set foot on the muddy streets of Cahul in early spring? Will I again savor our host mom’s sarmale, or speak Romanian in endless, wine-fueled discussions? It’s harder to let go of Moldova than of other places, because I associate Moldova with people. Not just people, but great friends, people I love. Other than the United States, there is no country where I feel more at home than in Moldova.

Life and work will probably take us to many places. Moldova may or may not be on the list. Knowing that, I think I tried to cherish each moment of this visit to Moldova a little bit more. Whether we go back or not, at least we had the chance not just to see Moldova, but to experience it, and I’m glad I had one more (last?) opportunity to do so.

As you might expect at this time of year, it’s cold in Sarajevo.  But these days it’s almost as cold indoors as it is outside (OK, not quite).  The flow of natural gas, the main source of heating for Sarajevo and most of Bosnia-Herzegovina, has been completely stopped by the ongoing dispute between Gazprom of Russia and Naftogaz of Ukraine.  Perhaps you’ve heard about it.

The gas went off on Tuesday evening.  The first night wasn’t too bad because there was residual heat in the apartment, even though temperatures outside dipped below 10 degrees.  The outside temperature went up to about freezing yesterday (a heat wave), but even with the sun was not enough to bring any relief indoors.  Today it’s hovering around 20 degrees outside, and snowing.  Last night, when it was time for bed, it was 52 degrees in our bedroom.  Running a couple space heaters quickly brought it up to a bearable 64, but overnight it went back down to 60.  And the rest of the apartment was even colder, as we can only sufficiently heat one room at a time. 

One report I read said that Bosnia does not have any natural gas reserves for situations like this.  As alternatives, those people who have them are using coal and wood furnaces to heat their homes, which create a noticeable change in the air quality in Sarajevo.  There has been a run on electric space heaters – no one could find any yesterday, and the “lucky” few who did paid price-gouging premiums of as much as 600 percent!  Glad we bought ours in October.

The map below, borrowed from a BBC article, shows the pipelines and which countries are affected.  Interestingly, this map shows that Moldova is not affected, though I have seen other maps and reports that say it is.  One possible reason why it might not be as bad in Moldova as in other countries is that Gazprom is the majority owner of the Moldova gas company.

I like to subscribe to the school of thought that says this can’t go on too long.  The Russian oligarchs are already hurting financially from falling oil and other commodity prices, and they need to get paid by their European customers (if not Ukraine).  Also, Russia did not make any friends in Europe during the conflict in Georgia last summer, and dragging out the gas dispute would only further damage relations between Russia and the West.  Maybe they don’t care, but I suspect they care at least a little bit.

In the meantime, we’re trying to stay warm.  The strange thing is that there is no relief – cafes, restaurants, hotels, and my office are all without real heat.  Driving to and from work is actually the warmest part of my day, once the car heats up. 

We’re hoping our next post will be somewhere more….tropical.

Since the majority of the people in Sarajevo are Muslim, there is not much of a market for christmas trees.  They are available, but they are expensive and many are sparse and skinny little things that don’t make you feel very festive.  So we decided to do something we’ve never done before: we bought a fake christmas tree.

It’s four feet tall, the right size for our little apartment, and cost only about $16 (versus at least $70 for a real one) which is the right price for our budget.  In my opinion, it’s not bad looking.  We got some lights and some plain ornaments to jazz it up.  It works. 

I was thinking that I could defend it by saying that we were protecting the environment - that we didn’t want to cut down another tree.  But CNN ruined that for me.  A report on how to have an environmentally friendly holiday season said that real trees are more environmentally friendly than the fake ones.  The argument is that fake trees generally travel further (higher carbon footprint), don’t biodegrade, and use PVCs (nasty stuff) in manufacturing.  Real trees absorb cardon dioxide during their lifetime and can be turned into mulch when they’re done being used.  Oh well.

Just having a tree, even a fake one, helps put us in the holiday spirit.  We are excited to have a nice christmas and a long, relaxing vacation here in Sarajevo.  We are still waiting for some presents to arrive in the mail to go under our tree.  Or maybe waiting for Santa.  The only other thing missing is the wonderful smell of a real christmas tree.  That we can’t fake.

The pollution in Sarajevo is not a pretty sight to see.  Though there are clear days, smog often gets trapped in the valley, blocking our view of the mountains and dulling the blue of the sky.  But it’s the indoor pollution that never goes away. 

Smoking seems to be universal here.  Out of 30 people in my office, only 7 or 8 don’t smoke.  I’ve heard people say those estimates hold true for the entire country – 80 percent of people smoke in Bosnia.  I would guess the figure is actually lower, but not by much.  Certainly there are other countries where people smoke more, but I have never visited any of them.

When the weather was nice, it wasn’t so bad – everyone sits outside at sidewalk cafes and restaurants, so the smoke dissipates into the air.  As it gets colder, however, doors and windows in restaurants remained closed, and all the smoke gets trapped inside.  There are only two non-smoking establishments in the city that we know of – one is a café near my office (supposedly with excellent cheesecake), and the other is a new and expensive restaurant/hotel downtown.  All other places have become unhealthy and unpleasant, and it is discouraging us from going out for food and drinks.  On the other hand, people here tend to go out later, so if we go to a restaurant for an earlier dinner, say 6:30 or 7:00, we could be the only people there.

For social reasons, I have tried to adapt.  To a point.  At work, people gather in the hallway or on the balcony for cigarette breaks.  It is a crucial social activity, and because I don’t smoke, I find it harder to socialize with my colleagues.  One of my colleagues recently learned a new word – “smocializing” – which is how she now describes the act of talking to people while sharing a smoke break.  I’ve tried to hang with them while they “smocialize” but at the end of the day I hate smelling like smoke and feeling it in my throat and lungs. 

We want to be culturally sensitive; we wan to fit in; and we want to be able to participate in what is considered normal life.  But not at the expense of our health and comfort.  Generally, I’m pretty tolerant of smoking, but here it is more than I can handle.  So, if you’re looking for me, I’ll be at home enjoying the fresh air of our apartment.

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.