Dinner with the Fortunes

Paul and I drive up and up and up the hill to Yuewn and Alistar's new home for a Saturday night dinner. Little do we know what we are in for. As we enter Yuwen is cooking what looks to be a feast of Chinese delights and the twins grab our hands and lead us upstairs to a puppet show complete with disco lights, sound effects and of course puppets. Pumped about their efforts they give us a double feature and perform twice, until finally their tire themselves out and go to bed.

We sit down, all 10 of us at a massive table as Yuwen keeps bringing dish after dish after dish of amazing Asian cuisines. My heart begins to beat faster as the smells make me feel as though I've had 8 rather than 2 glasses of wine. Sadly our camera sits at home in a dark corner and all I have is the camera inside my brain that keeps trying to take picture after picture of this feast worthy of Michelin stars. I think for a moment that perhaps we have entered an Asian restaurant where all of the food has model replica of plastic and wax and at any moment I will bite down and realise someone is playing a cruel joke. Luckily the food is not plastic!!!! It is full of rich flavour, spice and TASTE! I keep grinning like an idiot each time I take a bite and keep complimenting the hosts who by now are beginning to see that I am getting a bit rowdy as my wine glass magically remains full even though I am certain I keep taking large reckless sips.

I try to make conversation to slow down my pace but like a fat kid on candy I can't stop. At some point 5 hours of eating and drinking have passed. Everyone is laughing and talking. I have given everyone kisses, made dirty jokes and attempted to give Julie a piggy back ride. (Why do I feel like I want to carry people when I have had a lot to drink)


We are ten people at the table. We are from Canada, Poland, Scotland, the US, China, and Bosnia. We are sharing an Asian meal in Sarajevo. We are between the ages of 27 and 72. All at different points in our life span, in our trajectory. We have met and come together to share a meal and laugh. There is little more fantastic than that.

My eyes begin to blur. The buzz of the wine begins to wear into a dizzying sate of tiredness. We jump into a taxi and roll down the hill and back up another to our downtown apartment. It is late now and too dark to see anything but the blinking lights of town below. We crash soundly on our pillows not thinking of the exterior of our bedroom wall that faces the sky. Shot out bricks- remembrance scars of a time we were not a part of, are hauntingly behind our heads. I wonder the next day how people made it through the war without food and laughter for such a long time. I try not to dwell, even though the day is grey and I now face the shot out wall. There are some gyowza in the fridge we brought back last night to have for breakfast.