Belgrade and Sarajevo: A Tale of Two Cities

A special note for this round: There is a contest buried inside. See details below. You could be a winner.

Belgrade, Serbia: I like it, I love it, I want more of it.
Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina: At least I wasn't blown up by a landmine.

When I got to the Balkans, what I expected was very much different from what I received. I was surprised by the vast differences between the peoples that make up the states of the former Yugoslavia. It is the center of a confluence of religions, and that makes it all the more interesting as we enter a period of holy war...as the war on terror and the various squabbles and speeches on both all sides coming from Popes and Imams as well as fundamentalists on all sides keep popping up...Interesting times I say. Nonetheless, I would have expected some differences of course, but it is as clear to me as to anyone, these former regions are very much nations unto themselves. The people are as different in temperment as they are in their physical features, which are quite distinct from city to city. A surprise to me at least.

Keeping in mind that I was in Slovenia at the beginning of my trip, my first new stop would be Belgrade. My guide book does an excellent job of depicting Belgrade as a drab and dreary metropolis with little to sport in the way of tourism, but the castle complex known as the Kalmegdan Fortress. I was pleased with my decision after I hopped onto the train and read it just as it began to pull away from the station. No matter, my fateful decision had been made, and it gave me a chance to realize that my experiences entering Bulgaria were not unique to the Bulgarian-Turkish boarder. It seemed that the border patrol agents were intent upon waking me up every ten minutes until the crack of dawn.

When I arrived, and stepped out of the train, I was greeted to a gust of warm air, warmer at least than that on the train. Slowly I made my way up to the hostel I had hoped to book into (apparently the only one in the center of town). Being full though, I was compelled to book a room at a budget hotel (There you go Grandma...that one's for you). It was nice having my own space, and admittedly quite a luxury to watch friends on television.

Belgrade, to be frank, is an excellent city, one of my favorites. It's cafe culture and saturation-level bookstores make it a mecca for people (nerds) like me. I was so enthused by the pleasant nature of the people, their general attractiveness, and their laid-back attitude. They also tut their tongues quite loudly when they're displeased, which I find enormously amusing. It is hard to believe that only a few years ago they were being bombed "by the Americans," as the NATO coalition is referred to. They still have four buildings left standing, perhaps permanently as reminders of the war. It is also an impressive display of precision bombing, as the buildings surrounding them are left completely intact, though it is still clear they're not just new, since they're pock marked with bullet holes. They also seem to have no problem taking the piss about themselves, as they watch their country slowly shrinking. Soon, they say, Serbia will only be Belgrade. They could do worse, I'd say.

As I walked around the city, I realized just how full of parks it is. The beautiful views are overtaken only by the gleeful sound of children running, and the bustling of elderly men jostling for positions around chessboards. Along the edges of the park, overlooking the Sava River are couples kissing, people reading, and myriads of others undertaking all varieties of activities.

As I walked through the Kalemegdan park (which, I understand is also the most besieged piece of land in Europe), I kept seeing this beautiful woman who looked to be about my age taking photographs. I thought that it might be the kind of thing my brother Darren would be doing. Everytime I turned around, I'd see her taking pictures somewhere else. So I finally decided to take Niki's (the Bulgarian fellow) advice and go talk to her. I went and sat on the Bench where she'd decided to take a rest when a man, I assumed was her boyfriend showed up and asked me to take a picture...well shit, eh? It turns out that he was just some random dude, and when I said "C'est Cheese" and wandered back to the bench, she started the conversation. It was a nice long conversation and I got her email, knowing that she already had plans for the evening, her last in Belgrade. And so the universe acted on my behalf. So who knows, I'll email her and see what happens.

The next day, I wandered around sightseeing, and then headed back to the park and fortress to get a different view, where I was asked to audition as a male model on Saturday. I laughed, then realized she was asking me in earnest. I said no, politely, and told her that I wouldn't be in Belgrade that long. I was flattered though. It's nice to feel exotic, the numerous times I found myself being checked out was an unusual and welcomed change of pace.

Beauty tip for Belgrade: be short, blonde, scruffy, and poorly dressed. It scores some points in with the ladies.

That night I grabbed a night bus to Sarajevo, on which I slept surprisingly well, considering I had to have my luggage, be it ever so little, with me at my seat. Keep in mind Murphy's Law, here. In Bulgaria, I kept some cash, just in case, then found I could not exchange it in Serbia (or anywhere really), so I gave it to some street buskers, maybe they'll have better luck with it - use it for kindling or something. So in Serbia, I got rid of it all, and then found out that they charge extra to have your luggage stored in the luggage bin. "Sonuffabitch!" Here's the ironic twist, as I was getting off the bus, I decided to toss my old map in the garbage, and out popped just enough Serbian money to pay the stowe tax. Oh Murphy, you've done it again, you old bastard. At least I slept well though, well enough that I awoke at the border swimming in a sea of drool. Seriously, not a drool stream, someone could have drown had they fallen onto my dented chest. When I tried to wipe it away it simply persisted in soaking other parts of my being...impressive, but in a way that makes a grown man shudder.

Interesting side note: I had a dream about me contracting the plague. I don't really remember all of the dream but I do remember my reaction was a little understated. "Shit. I don't want the plague." In a related story, plague has been found in the DRC. Coincidence, perhaps. Psychic awareness, perchance. Telekenesis...discounted due to the fact that I'd be having more, or some, sex. But then again, the plague is in Africa, and they do have an astoundingly high birthrate....wait a second!!!

Sarajevo is much different. About all they have in common is that they are both capitals in their respective countries. Sarajevo is grim; my arrival into the city was met with the somber housing blocks of the communist era, burried in a deep fog that gave even the colours a sickly palour. The people here, though at times friendly, are more often cold and reserved. When asking for directions, I often didn't even get the courtesy of a dirty look. I simply did not exist. I thought I died at lunch (I did eat a lot afterall), but then the 4th person acknowledged me. Whew, not dead. Something more to be grateful for. The younger generation is different, much more upbeat, and I think this has a lot to do with the country's recent history.

Serbia was defeated ultimately and Bosnia won its independence, but the victory was in many way a Pyrrhic victory; Bosnia was severely traumatized by the war. The victimiztion of neighbor killing neighbor cannot be easily repaired, I am sure. They smile less, they walk with less confidence, and their is a sullen feeling in the air. In the security of their shops they are warm and friendly, but on the street, cool and reserved. Perhaps there is still too many tangible reminders, the pock-marked walls, sniper's ally, and others. It is amazing that a town, so unremarkable in many ways, has been at the center of so much consequence. It has been the focal point of two of the 20th century's greates travesties, and it shows on the weary faces of its people.

I bore this in mind as I arrived, but I really wasn't prepared for it. While some have bid me welcome, and the guy running my hostel (which has the best shower I've ever been in ANYWHERE, by the way) has been a paragon of kindness and hospitality, some people have gone out of their way to make trouble for me. I bought a ticket on the tram, and didn't realize you have to validate it (why else by one at the tram stop). I even showed it to the driver - who I'm sure is the prime perpetrator in this sham - so that he saw I had the ticket. A few minutes later a guy with a transit badge popped on the train, blankly walked past everyone to me and asked for my ticket and passport. I refused at first until he showed me his badge, then proceeded to write me a ticket for not validating the ticket. I started tutting my tongue (it's interesting how quickly I've picked that up) and 26,60KM later, I had a new souvenier. The guy translating (who was just a passenger) said I was lucky, because for Bosnians it's 100KM. However, seeing the size of his 26,60KM ticket book, and how many had been used, I'd say I was rolled. Shame on you Mr. 1/10 of the 9/10ths rule.

Tsk Tsk Tsk!!!

Either that, or they're still pissed off at our General who just sat back and let acts of genocide occur under his knowing nose. We're sorry! We're ashamed of him too. No one likes a silent witness. It's no excuse that he was just following orders.

Tsk Tsk Tsk!!!

Oh well, in the end it was only 13 euros for the only story worthy of mention from Sarajevo. The more interesting bit, was my trip to Visoko (pr. viz-ah-ko). Tram ticket to train staion 28.20, return train ticket 4.60, seeing what's either my generation's greatest archeological discovery or an impressive sham - priceless. There are several pyramids on this site that are enormous if they are as big as expected, and quite a lot older than the pyramids at Giza. These apparently date from as early as 8000 BCE (Before Common Era). I'm not willing to put myself out there and declare them pyramids of an ancient Indo-European civilization, but there is certainly something there that portends to a large scale construction, and the hills are rather pyramidal in shape compared to the others around them.

Experts have been confounded by the notion that the Indo-European language group is spread so distantly, without an agent to have spread it, at least that they could find. Could this be the missing link that helps us understand the clues of a parent civilization in Europe. Time will tell, but the thought is an exciting one. What's more, I have signed the first of what may be many guest books. After I checked out the Pyramid of the moon, I made the hike up to the Pyramid of the Sun, whose archeological progress is much less impressive. My foot, still aching from Turkey, was not impressed. But I said "Eh! You stop your bitching" and continued the climb. It was right though, I can't lie, and if it weren't so busy gloating, it would have been in my mouth.

The most important thing I found out today though, is that it Bosnians are really quite lovely. One fellow helped get me a ride to the first pyramid, at a fraction of the cost of a taxi, and his 8 year old son helped translate for us. My German did come in handy after all. The people gladly helped with directions, they laughed and smiles, returned my "Dober Dans" - Hello in Bosnian (Special note: Bosnian, Serbian, and Croatian are as different languages as English, Canadian and American. Just don't tell THEM that...shhhhhh.) It was a very different experience. As it turns out, Sarajevans simply seem to have an arrogance reserved for the likes of New Yorkers and Parisians, without a great city to back up their snobbery. After eating a raw-ish chicken cordon blue, I returned to my shower...er... hostel and to the internet cafe called "Click" where I now clack at the keyboard. Speaking of which, check out one of my favorite weekend morning radio shows: Car Talk hosted by Click and Clack. I know, I know, I hate cars, but I do love this show. Enjoy...not everyone loves you this much. I, on the other hand, love you long time.

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