Srebrenica

The realities of the war can still be seen and felt here; Srebrenica was a town hit hard by ethnic cleanising. More than 8,000, persons were killed. The citizens of this area , which is now in the Republica Serbska part of Bosnia and Herzegovina want the government to make a special grant to the town, to afford it the status of a specialized free zone. They have come to Sarajevo to protest. We came upon the refugee camp last week. A hudge orthodox cemetary
The front of the camp
One of the many enormous muslim cemetaries. Many of the parks have been turned into make-shift burial grounds.
The newly rebuilt/ reminance of the bombed maternity hospital one of the first targets in the war.

A recent descision from the Hauge stated that Serbia, not Repulika Serbska, as a nation was not responcible for the genocide in Srebrenica
These people have arrived several weeks ago and have set up camp here in this parking lot.

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.

The inability to relax only exists when you have not found the right place to relax.

Our Patio at Villa Ana

Villa Ana


The Ocean View
It is the end of April and the temperature is lovely in the mid twenties. A few fluffy clouds are in the sky. To my left is a mountain scattered with pine trees. In front of me the Adriatic Sea with it's turquoise beaches. To the right olive and orange trees blossoming. Come to Brela Voda " Experience the Adriatic as it once was".

This is not an ad. I promise. The tag line for Croatian seems a bit "what the hell does that mean?", but once you are here in this serene town which this time of year only has a few tourists, where prices are manageable and you can get a newly renovated flat with a brand new stainless steal kitchen and a terrace big enough to ride a tricycle on, you really start to understand. Italy is over run with tourists inflating prices to astronomical levels. Ditto with the French Rivera where only Paris Hilton can afford a flat.

Here at Villa Ana where we are staying the family who owns this establishment hugged us when we arrived. Today Paul returned after half an hour with a hand full of fresh rosemary, fresh Bay leaves, and a Basil plant still in the pot that they insisted he take, after Paul informed them that the reason we chose their very fine Villa was because had a beautiful kitchen that could indulge our love for cooking and eating. (The wife also suggested we let her gut the fish we are planning on purchasing later in town and grilling on the barbecue which we insisted on bringing from Sarajevo.)

We are happier than larks. Paul is taking an after noon nap. Our day has consisted of getting up to go to the market and buying fresh strawberries and peas, walking 4 km to the next town via the beach, working out, eating lunch on our terrace, and basking in the sun.

It's hard to not feel relaxed here. Especially since we have transported most of our home in Sarajevo for this 5 day lap of luxury. All you stars on the French Rivera with you yhats and your personal chefs each your heart out. I have Paul as my personal chef and if I ask him nicely maybe he'll even take of his shirt while peeling carrots. The smell of the sea is on my nose, the breeze is blowing through my hair... and I paid only 45 euros a night to get it!

I am sick of spring!

Here I am looking sweet in Mostar.
A pretty colour; rusty, bullet ridden, yellow.
Jahorina, BiH
At the top of the mountain that Trebevic in the middle of Sarajevo. Formely known as a front line during the war.
Outside the Blue Mosque in Istanbul.
If I uploaded the correct picture you will see a plane in the middle. Cliche as it is, I really like this photo.
This is fifteen hundred year old Hagia Sofia. It started as a church, converted to a mosque and is currently a museum. It looks next practice Raelianism.
Mostar today is far more shot up than Sarajevo.

The weather of recent has been relentless. We haven't seen a cloud in two weeks, the breeze has been gentler than a baby lamb resting in a dewy meadow and it hasn't dropped below twenty in the longest time. Utter crap! We're moving home.
Two weeks or so ago we went to Istanbul. Last Saturday we went to Mostar. Last Sunday we climbed a mountain. Tomorrow we are going to Tuzla. Here are some pictures.
"What do you call cheese that isn't yours?"
"Nacho cheese."
I lifted that from a movie.

1 day to go

Specimen one (1): Clearly this man requires a break
as he is seen here wearing a chicken mask as
a coping mechanism

Specimen two (2): based on the crazed look in her
eyes and the slight foaming of the mouth we can
clearly observe she is heading for meltdown

As a teacher holidays and breaks become events of great importance. The countdown started about two weeks prior. Paul and I have been tallying the seconds and minutes and tomorrow at 2:15 pm we will be officially on spring break! This break seems essential for various reasons but here are just a fee.

* Hate ON: a term coined by James Foss, meaning to carry hate on your sleeve, or to be consumed by negative feelings pessimism, anger, discontent, and at times bewilderment. Paul and I have " had our hate on" as of late. It is difficult to take the hate on in fact.

* Spring time= burn time: As the weather warms everyone takes out their winter supply of plastic bottles, bags, and containers to burn them on the side of the road. Air quality= poor. Visibility= poor. This is a great metaphor since we are quite burned out ourselves.

* Inefficient poop slide: Korea had the squatter, Bosnia has the poorly designed toilettes wthat leave poo smears. You have to use a toilette brush each time you poop. I'm getting pretty tired of having to do this , and quite honestly I'm okay just leaving it there until it's gotten exceptionally gross. ( what have we become?)

* Aerobics: Paul and I have been nominated king and queen of our aerobics club because we are such frequent visitors.. Since we are cheap we try to get the most out of our 30 dollar a month membership and have been going up to 4 /5 times a week. For working out in large groups of 60 women ( plus 2-3 men) we deserve time off to eat Donair all week in Turkey.

Check it out on http://www.aerobic.co.ba/index.html and click on video ( atmosfera u nasu clubu) if you are patient maybe you can see us in action.

*Ant Infestation and radiator explosion: Maybe because we are slobs and leave crumbs around. Maybe because we closed off the heater and caused pressure build up leading to an explosion of water. Maybe because these kinds of things just happen to Paul and I.

*Time Change: As you get older the time change really hits you like a ton of bricks. Ever since we thought the time change was going to happen ( three weeks ago) to last weekend ( when the time change actually happened) our now highly regulated circadian rhythms have been messed up.

Having said all this Paul and I fully understand we don't quite know how to relax. I worry our week in Istanbul will be spent stressing about all the things we need to see when there, and do when we get back... but at least there will be Donair.

2 more days to take off.

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.

The Cat and The Princess

Being a teacher has it's perks, like getting up at five in the morning to transform oneself into an actor from the cast of cats. Last Friday was " Dress up as your favourite storybook character" Day. Paul went as The Paper Bag Princess and I was the Puss in Boots. Guess all of that make-up knowledge came to some good.

Dubrovnik Take Two

So there you have it- the new hair cut. None of the 4 year olds seemed to notice. Often they comment on change in a very honest way. I'm happy it didn't offend them.
We had to climb all of these stairs to get to the apartment we rented. At the end the Adriatic.
I wish we had a boat to float in.
The road into old town.
Who can resist cotton candy?
The flags or Croatia and Christianity as part of the parade in old town.


Last Friday 2:15 pm rolls around; Paul, James and Myself are promptly fitted into the szkoda as it screeches out of the school parking lot en route to the coast. Our minds not yet made up as to whether or not we should stick to the original plan and head north up the coast to a mellow town called Makarska for hiking and relaxing, or to take a left on the coast returning to Dubrovnik for the Dubrovnik Day Festival. After a stop at Zdrova Voda the famous lamb roast on the side of the highway restaurant for some roast sandwiches our ideas of health and exercise quickly get side swiped by promises of Marti Gras like festivities in Dubrovnik. As I lay in the back seat of the car, James taking over my very important role as navigator, all I can see is the big dipper coming in and out of my view as we wind down the coastal highway.

Dubrovnik as beautiful, sunny, and breathtaking as always proves to be in the thick of St. Blaze day the patron Saint of Dubrovnik. Needless to say the streets are full of families in their Sunday best and processions of Catholic Croatians in their national dress and outdoor masses. A very surreal and 'local" experience compared to the usual throng of tourists the town tends to see in the summer months. Perhaps not the wild atmosphere we were hoping for but still lovely and enchanting in a surreal hyper sensory kind of way.

Back in Bosnia Paul has now moved both the ironing board and the drying rack into 'my make-up room". Which means we now share the room since Paul is the only one around here that touches the laundry.
Back for another week of school. Happy Valentine's Day to all of you lovers out there. Also good health to our dear friend Denny who just got out of the hospital from a bout of pneumonia. Good to see him back in the hood.

Hiarcuts and Heels

These are only the first set of stairs we have to climb
Would you trust this man with your hair? This street is very narrow, the tram comes wizzing by. Lovely on sunny days

In our corner… finally snow in Bosnia, we were openly crossing our finger for enough to fall so that we can have a snow day, but alas and alack global warming yet once again beat us to the punch. Everything has almost melted, and the roads are quite drivable.

Paul and I are trying to get in shape. Hopefully all the stairs we have to climb will help the cause. If anyone has any suggests for us regarding work out idea let us know. My personal goal is to get more active. Being in Blagovac I found we drove everywhere, and since we are now in the city we hope to park the car when we get home from work and actually get ourselves moving. January is almost over and I keep wondering where the time is going. We are back on trying to figure out what to do next year mode, which can be a bit stressful and daunting.
Tonight we are joining our friends the Teichows for a Men in Back night, which will consist of eating chili and popcorn and watching- you guessed it-Men in Black.

Tommorrow, I am heading for a much deserved hair cut and colour. I must say I am starting to look a bit like a ragamuffin so I’m pumped. My hair dresser speaks English well enough and seemed to do a good job last time on my cut. The colouring, however, makes me nervous since there are so many women here in Eastern European Apple Reds and Purples on their head. When did I get so square?
One of the things being here that I miss, which I missed quite a bit in Korea as well, is the lack of subculture. Everyone kidda looks, dresses and behaves relatively the same. No one stands out in bright colours, or eccentric garb. There are no punks, no hippies. Very homogonous and proper. The women also seem to really care about how beautiful they look. No one leaves the house without their high heels and fur coats. Well exept for Ms. P that is.