Mine Awareness

The Mine
Waiting for the police
The address we gave to the police to try to find us

Last Saturday Paul and I took off from our flat in Ciglane for a walk in the sun into town. Ciglane is a very urban neighbourhood situated on a hill facing the city. It is a series of buildings at various points in the hill and it's pretty cool safe neighbourhood.


Nostalgic about our nearing departure Paul and I looked extra closely at the details of our neighbourhood trying to capture them on film and in our minds. Then looking down into the grass, a stretch where the concrete building end, Paul noticed something unusual under the 11th guard rail in the shade of a tree. He called me over and asked what I thought it was. Instantly I flashed back to our mine awareness presentations.

Mines look like small brown hockey pucks that are brownish in colour( check )
Mines are usually found in fields but after rain storms they can be shifted and moved into residential areas ( check)
Do not touch a mine and resist the desire to poke it with a stick ( check )

We looked at the "mine" with a cautious distance. We resisted poking it with a stick We kept walking. Then several meters further over come with strong sense of responsibility and guilt we turned back. If we did not report the mine what if someone got hurt? What if some child picked it up? Or the rain moved it closed to the street and a car drove over it?


Yup it sure looked minesque. Unsure of what to do we called all the people we had logged into our phone. Finally after several calls we learned the number to the police ( something we should have probably known ourselves) . The operator spoke limited English and the word mine had to be repeated 8 times before she seemed to get what we were trying to say. We hung up and crossed our fingers that she understood our location.


1 hour and once ice cream later, the police showed up. They smiled politely as they got out of their car and let us lead them to the mine. Officer one looked at it closely, hesitated for a moment, and then picked it up and threw it in the large dumpster near by. Paul and I stared at each other slightly horrified and embarrassed. The officers took our names as a formality and said something in Bosnia which I could only assume meant " you idiots tore us away from the soccer game for this". Once they pulled away Paul reached back into the dumpster to take a closer look at the plastic 'mine like" object which we can only now presume is the top of a giant water jug.

At least no one got hurt.

Our Love On

Homemade calamari
yesterday's diner
Our basil
Coffee on our balcony
Chicken truck in our neighbourhood
Street Art in Tuzla
A replica of a small village from centuries ago

Paul and Amra in the village in Tuzla


As you are about to approach a time when you know you have to leave a place something in you begins to transform. A nostalgia builds that makes you miss the place you are about to leave before you have left it. Everything becomes more animated, more green, and more fun. It appears as though Paul and I have reached this point in the year, with six weeks left it go. We have finally found a groove, are enjoying our friends, the weather, the people. Last week we even found a fish market in town. Now as you know we struggled to find fish of any kind on the coast, and there in front of our noses, in the city we live in, which is nowhere from the sea, fresh fish of all kinds for dirt cheap prices. The Calamari and Salmon we had been dreaming of is now at our disposal.

Even the last few days, full of intense rain and fog, have felt romantic and enchanting. Perhaps the only way to love a place is to know you are leaving. As you know Paul and I were quite burned out before Spring Break, here is the new list of reasons why we now have our love on for Sarajevo (and Tuzla).
The Markets: The markets are places where food lovers can get their sensory fill. It's all about walking around and to check who has the best stuff out. As summer has gotten closer the market has gotten more colourful. We can now get half a kilo of cherries for a dollar fifty. Fresh strawberries, lettuce, dill, peppers, mean that our fridge is constantly full of amazing produce to munch on. The market is literally down the hill from us. There we can also get our fill of DVDs flowers, and knock-off runners. It's truly amazing.
Bubbly Sarajevska Water:This is a new habit we have developed. Drinking tons and tons of carbonated water. With it's perfect sized bubbles you get all of the "ahhh" of drinking a pop but non of the calories. This habit will drive us into the poor house back at home where gassy water comes only in fancy bottles with expensive labels.
Tuzla: A couple of weekends ago our friend Amra took us to her home town to meet her family. We stayed with her parents who adopted us for the weekend and made us feel loved. Amra's dad magically, on one of his 8 satellites, found the CBC for Paul which was coincidentally broadcasting 2 back to back Hockey night in Canada games. I was so relaxed I feel asleep on their couch. A bit hung over from the barbecue we had the night before which involved her family cooking delicious meats for us, and the kids (us) staying up till all hours of the night playing the guitar. There is nothing more soothing than hearing Canadian TV in the background. I felt like I was at home, and when I woke up I was surprised to find I was not actually on my mom's couch.

Our balcony: We hauled stuff off of it and put it in the storage room. We scrubbed it until you could eat right off of it. We weeded our flower box garden, and brought out our basil plants. Now the balcony over looking the city, with it's little coal barbecue and two lawn chairs, is quite possibly the most perfect place in all of Sarajevo. Here you can sit and have a coffee, enjoy a book and some light conversation and soak up the sun.

Improving my Bosnian and Smiling: Ever since I have been trying to speak more and smile a lot a people, everyone seems to be more friendly back. Maybe because the summer makes everyone inevitably less miserable, maybe because you just have to show overt happiness to get happiness back. Smiles are infectious.

6 more weeks:Officially there are only six more weeks of work left. And perhaps in the end it is this that is keeping us pumped. When we began this year, it was impossible to separate our life from work. Some nights we would stay till 8pm, only to go home eat sleep and do it all over again. We have finally found the balance, and leave our work for the most part at the school, which we leave promptly after it is time to go home. This separation between work and LIFE is what makes being here so much more rewarding.

So now with all this new found optimism, which might make some of you pessimist want to vomit in your mouths, we are ready to enjoy the next little bit like it's the last little bit we will have here. Which it is.

Still No fish

Zippers
Pastries at a place called " Butter King"
Paul looking for fish in Diocletian's Palace

It is Monday and we are giving up! Again we woke up early. Again a couple of Sardines at the fishing table that the man in front of the line beat us to. Today was our final attempt. After the failure of the "fish table" we got in the car at 9:00 am and drove to the second largest city in Croatia, Split. Surely this coastal port would have some fish for us to purchase. Aimlessly we walked around town once home of Diocletian and the centre of civilization. We had a pastry, popped into the ridiculously priced Diesel store and eventually headed to the market (a bustling meeting point of smells and sounds). We bought some steaks, artichokes, asparagus, home made olive oil sold in a plastic water bottle that could possible be the best olive oil I have ever tasted, and homemade cheese.

We also found zippers, plants, imitation sunglasses and just about everything else under the Adriatic sun. Except for fish! What gives?

* Disclaimer: We were thinking maybe it's not fishing season, but plenty of restaurants serve the catch of the day. We could eat fish if we wanted to but we don't love the way they prepare it here. It's heavy and greasy and takes away from the delicateness of the fish. We are not sea food snobs- we just think we could do it better.

No Fish on the Adratic

Not the FISH BOAT
Hello Crystal Clear Waters
Ready to jump in.
Palm trees!
Paul, Palm Tree, 80's beach hair


Paul and I are determined to become Master Chefs. Coming to the Adriatic we had visions of Jamie Oliver frying up some fresh fish with herbs and butter.

"Make sure to check for clear eyes" , Jamie's brightly obnoxious British accent keeps ringing in my ears...

A fish market is situated 5 minutes from our apartment here in Brela Voda. We made sure to be near fresh fish and to make Jamie proud. The market operates from 6:30-8:30 am. Too early of a wake-up call for vacation but alas anything for freshness.
"Freshness can not be compromised", Jamie chimes.

On our first morning we arrived at the "market" at 8:00 am with a bounce, surprised to find it to be more of a fish table, rather than the bustling fish throwing market we envisioned.
4 fish were left to choose from and our hearts sank. Disappointed we spoke to some locals who said we got up too late , but to not worry the fishing boats would come it at 5:30 pm to a town about 10 minutes drive from here. Sweet!

At 4:30 pm we put on our let's find fish outfits and headed to Makarska where there were no fish boats to be found on the main Pier. We continued to wait for another 2 hours, harassed more locals in broken Croatian/Bosnia/Polish/English asking where the fresh fish were. Patiently we waited look out from the bay until finally we could wait no longer. With long faces, and grumbly tummies we gave up and decided to head back, put some chicken on the Barby and try again today.

Slightly hung over, we pulled ourselves out of bed at 7am in hopes of the fresh catch of the morning. Sadly we arrived at the fish table to find it empty. Do fisher people not fish on Sundays? Is all the fish on the Adriatic actually frozen inland and then shipped back. What exactly is going on? Still two more days to go.

Our spirits low we decided to deal with our grief by hitting the beach. Paul found a jelly fish and a sea urchin but neither could be consumed. He got a tan in the process.. I absorbed the sun and let my hair get salty from the sea.

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.