End of the Year Reflections

The stage of the Sarajevo National Theater is nicely decorated for the winter holidays.

            It’s weird: even though this week has felt incredibly long, I still can’t believe it’s already New Year’s Eve.  The days sometimes go quite slowly here, especially when I’m tired.  But, at the same time, it doesn’t seem like it was very long ago that it was late summer.  I had just decided to move here, and was wondering what it would be like to celebrate the New Year in Sarajevo.  I heard that Bosnians know how to throw excellent parties (very true) but was sad and worried to be apart from Ross.  I still have similar mixed feelings.  I am so excited to bring in the New Year with my friends from the philharmonic tonight.  We are having a concert, followed by a party, in the National Theater, so there will be good food and good company in a great (and convenient) location.  But it will be a little bittersweet to finish off the year that I got married without my husband by my side.

            I’ve spent so much of this week trying to catch up.  I was sleep deprived from my traveling that I’ve been going to bed very early every night.  Additionally, I wasn’t able to get my music for the New Year’s concert program until the morning of the first rehearsal, so I struggled to get everything up to performance standard by today.   We are playing a program that might sound light and easy (mostly Johann Strauss waltzes and such) but I have a ridiculous number of tricky licks to get under my fingers.  So, by the time I get home from rehearsal, eat, Skype Ross, adjust my reeds, and practice, it’s time to sleep.  I was hoping to have plenty of time to reflect on the end of 2011, and come up with some good New Year’s resolutions, but haven’t really started until just now.

            2011 was one of the most eventful years of my life.  In some ways, it really marks the beginning of my adult life. (I guess it took me a long time to grow up.)  After all, I got married, completed my formal schooling, and got my first full-time job.   Those are very adult things to do, right?  I guess so, but I’m not sure I’ll ever really feel like an adult.

I began the year knowing that it would be an important one, since Ross and I were already planning for our August wedding.  We celebrated New Year’s eve 2010 with our friend James in our apartment, drinking champagne, eating Hoppin’ John, playing games, and briefly going outside to appreciate the freakishly warm weather. (I remember it being about 50 degrees F at midnight!)

Starting around that time, I began to feel very anxious about what the future had in stow for me.  I had been a full-time student since I was practically a toddler.  When I finished my DM coursework in June, it meant that I had finally finished that part of my life.  I was very nervous about being able to find a job, especially in a field that is so competitive.  I was worried that I would never find a job playing or teaching the oboe, and all of my years of training and hard work would go to waste. 

On the other hand, I was also worried that I had chosen the wrong profession in the first place.  Maybe I should have decided to pursue a field where I could more directly help other people.  I know that others find joy in hearing the music I play, but maybe my time would be better spent teaching young children basic reading and math skills, or advocating for people who need help. (The other careers I’ve seriously considered are teaching and law.)  In many ways, being a classical musician made me feel selfish and lonely.

So, with all these worries on my mind, I developed a terrible case of insomnia, especially this summer.  The one thing that I felt completely happy and certain about was my upcoming marriage to Ross.  We’d been committed to each other for many years, and it was exciting to confirm this commitment in front of all of our family and friends.  Planning the wedding provided a pleasant distraction from my other worries.

As most of you know, right before my wedding, I received an email asking me to apply for a cultural exchange program with the Sarajevo Philharmonic.  I applied and was accepted to go.  Moving to Bosnia at the last minute seemed impulsive, but I felt like it was something I needed to do.  A job playing principal oboe with a full-time orchestra was a dream I’d had for many years, and frankly one that I thought was very unlikely to come true.  On top of that, meeting new people, learning a new language, and connecting to a new culture through music seemed like an important thing to do.  I no longer felt lonely or selfish about being a musician.  By forming a relationship with people who I otherwise would never encounter, I feel like am finally fulfilling the communicative mission of my profession.

            Of course, I really could not expect the type of people and experiences that I have encountered here.  I didn’t know how relaxed and open-minded the people would be.  Nor did I know how funny every day life is, especially when struggling with the language. 

Just now, I was discussing this blog with my friend Alisa, an administrator with the Sarajevo Philharmonic.  She was saying that she hopes that I can share my blog with the future generation of cultural exchange musicians. (It sounds like my program will continue next year.)  I said that I would be happy to share, but that being constantly surprised is half the fun of living here.  If I had known what to expect, I’m not sure I would have had as much fun as I am having.

I have started to think about my New Year’s resolution for 2012.  I keep saying that living in Bosnia has changed me: it has forced me to be more laid-back and accepting, and at the same time has challenged me to be more outgoing and assertive when I want to get something done.  However, I noticed that when I returned to the US over Christmas, I started going back to being easily flustered and cranky.  I also began feeling more introverted.  At our wedding reception, I was a bit guilty of avoiding the people I didn’t know as well.

            So, in 2012, I resolve to let my impulsive decision to move to Sarajevo at the last minute be one of the best decisions of my life.  This means letting Bosnia “change me”.  It means that once I return to the US in July, I will remember to appreciate the wonderful life that I have there.  It means that when something doesn’t go as planned, I need to step back and ask myself whether it is important.  And finally, it means that if I want to change something, rather than just over-analyzing and trying to plan everything by myself, I need to take action and reach out to others.

            Happy New Year Everyone! Sretna Nova Godina Svima!

Returning

           I almost feel like I’m in a dream right now, being back in Sarajevo.  I think it’s the combination of culture shock, the language, the drastic change of weather, and jet lag.  I also keep forgetting what day it is, after losing an entire day to travel and the time change.

            I had a fantastic Christmas morning with my in-laws, enjoying American-style pancakes for breakfast, and exchanging gifts.  I even had time for one last walk outside and one last bite of guacamole before heading to the airport.  It was so warm in Los Angeles that the rest of my family went to the beach as I was leaving!  I definitely will miss the sun…

            My long flight to Europe was pretty uncomfortable.  I guess I used up all of my luck getting a bulkhead seat on the way out.  So, on the way back, I had a very large snoring man next to me, and the seat in front of me was practically in my lap.  So is life.  I was thankful that at least all of my flights were on time, and that my bag made it.  The flight from Vienna to Sarajevo was kind of funny because at first, no one was sitting in his/her assigned seat.  I guess Bosnians aren’t used to things being so strict.  So the flight attendant had to go through and check everyone’s ticket and ask those in the wrong seats to move.

This morning I was exhausted and pretty sad about leaving Ross (even though I’ll see him again in just three weeks).  However, after getting to rehearsal I received such welcoming and enthusiastic greetings from my friends that I couldn’t help but feel happy.  I am becoming more used to the double cheek kiss, which is pretty rare in the US, but a common greeting here.

We began rehearsing our New Year’s concert program today, with Diane, the woman who first recruited me to come here.  I’d never met her before, and was glad that she is quite nice and seems to have a good sense of humor.  In rehearsal, everyone started singing along to an aria from La Traviata, and rather than getting annoyed, she joined right in.

The days seem very long here sometimes, I think because I don’t have Ross to distract me. J   It’s good though, because this week I have a lot of catching up to do.  Time to refresh my Bosnian, touch up my reeds, and rebuild my oboe chops…

Week in Los Angeles

         Returning to the US has given me a little bit of time to reflect on my first three months in Sarajevo and has provided me with a chance to consider and compare the differences between day-to-day life in Bosnia versus America.  I am so happy to be back in my home country, and feel comfortable around so many familiar places and people.  However, I’ve realized that there are numerous reasons to appreciate my laid-back lifestyle in Sarajevo.  I am amazed that I feel so close to my friends there, even though I have known them only a few months.  I miss them already, and know it will be very hard when I leave for good, come July 2^nd.

A warm sunny day in LA

The city skyline

            One thing I keep wondering: why do Americans drink so much bad coffee?  First of all, our drip coffee really does taste like I remember: hot, dirty dishwater.  And not only does it taste bad, Americans drink giant 32oz cups of it.  Good thing the public facilities here are always stocked with tons of toilet paper (no such luxury in Bosnia), because drinking that much coffee makes everyone have to use the bathroom all the time.  Furthermore, why do we drink our coffee at such a tongue-scalding temperature?  I guess if you kill all of your taste buds, you can’t tell that your coffee tastes like dishwater.

            Anyway, bad coffee asides, I’ve had a great week in Los Angeles.  My mother-in-law threw a party to celebrate Ross’s and my wedding.  It was great to meet new friends and family, as well as to be reunited with those I already know.  My cousins live in Los Angeles, and their parents are in town, so I’ve had some time to hang out with them.  Additionally, my parents and sisters decided to come here for the holidays so that they could enjoy the warm weather and see me. (I don’t have enough time to visit my family in Colorado this winter, so otherwise I wouldn’t be able to see them until August.)

Me, my husband, and my in-laws at our party

            The party was a big success, with lots of delicious California wine and food from a local Middle Eastern restaurant.  Ross amusedly pointed out that a lot of the dishes were similar to foods you can find in Bosnia, like the spinach and cheese stuffed pastries, and the spiced ground lamb and beef sausages that apparently tasted a lot like Cevapi. 

We’ve had gorgeous weather, so besides partying and eating (a bit too much), I’ve been able to spend a lot of time walking with Ross outside.  Getting a bit of sun in the winter is always nice, and I especially like admiring all of the blooming plants and ripening citrus.  Yesterday, I took a short hike with my family that provided perfect views of downtown Los Angeles, the Hollywood sign, and the surrounding mountains.

With my sisters on the hike

Ross and I enjoying the sun

I’m sad to leave Ross tomorrow, but am looking forward to at least spending Christmas morning here.  And I can’t wait to see my friends in Sarajevo and celebrate the new year with them.

To Kalifornija

Written 12/17/11           

Well, I’m up bright and early at 6am and ready to start the day.  Thank you jet lag.

            Yesterday I flew from Sarajevo to LA so I can spend the holidays with my family at my in-laws’ house in Pasadena.  The trip was a long one, but went very smoothly, and I made both of my tight connections in Vienna and Zurich.  I was pretty happy with my Swiss Airlines flights from Zurich to LA; the food was pretty good and the seats pretty comfortable, which is important for a 12-hour trip.  I was in the bulkhead, so I could stretch out my legs, and we each had our own little screens for watching TV and movies, so I didn’t get too bored.

            I guess I’m a sucker for beautiful landscapes, because the best part of my trip was enjoying the views from the planes’ windows.  (I was able to get a window seat for each leg of the journey.)  I left Sarajevo around sunrise, and it was really neat to rise up above the fog, and see an aerial perspective of the region.  All of the taller mountains were covered with snow, while the smaller hills are still green right now.  The fog, as dreary as it is on land, was beautiful from above, as it trailed between all of the mountains, filling up the valleys.

            The descent into Vienna provided another stunning view.  The city is quite large, with very unique architecture.  There were thousands of colorful rectangular buildings that created either a U shape or completely surrounded a square courtyard.  Every once in a while we also would pass an ornate, palace-like structure.

            Unfortunately, the views into and out of Zurich were obstructed by clouds.  We hit quite a bit of turbulence as we landed, since a winter storm was blowing in.  After I got off my plane, I looked at the timetable screen, and to my horror, it looked like almost every outgoing flight was being cancelled!  Fortunately, the planes used for transatlantic flights are big enough to fly through storms, so the flights to San Francisco and Los Angeles could still depart.  I quickly walked over my gate, and got there just as they began boarding.  Phew.

            The monstrous plane took off without any problems, and we barely felt a bump from the storm.  We flew north, practically over the Artic circle, before coming down across the Hudson Bay, central Canada, Montana, Wyoming, Nevada, and finally landing in Los Angeles.  There was a neat little camera attached to the bottom of the plane, so if I wanted to look outside, I could watch a live feed from the camera on my screen.  Most of the time, all you could see was vast expanses of land covered by snow.  When we hit the Las Vegas area, I was able to see the strikingly jagged, red landscape of the American Southwest.  I even got to see the Hoover Dam, as we flew directly over it.

            I almost felt like I was in a dream when we landed in LA.  Seeing the palm trees and the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean made me feel like I’d arrived in another world.  All of the sudden, the little things in life got much easier.  I knew where I was going.  I could ask people complex questions, and understand their answers.  The guards at customs said “Welcome home Ma’am”.  I never thought I’d feel quite so affectionate for my home country. 

I appreciate living in the US, but I disagree with many of the laws and attitudes here that contribute to social inequality, environmental destruction, and elitist international policies.  Despite this, there are many things about my country that I can be proud of: the cultural diversity, the work ethic, the strong infrastructure, and the optimism.  It’s good to be home.

The Ambassador's Speech

           I know I should go to bed early because I have to get up at 5am to catch my flight to LA.  However, I am way too excited about seeing my husband, my family, and the sun (it’s been a little gloomy here).  Maybe writing will help me wind down enough to feel sleepy.

            The American quartet was invited by the embassy to see a speech about youth engagement, given by the US ambassador to local high school and college students.  Matt and I decided to attend, despite not being sure what to expect or where to go.  Our invitation told us that the event would be held at the faculty of mechanical engineering building, and gave an address, so I figured we could just look up how to get there online.  The online maps of Sarajevo are terrible.  They are all lacking details, range, or both, so I couldn’t find the exact address.  I did manage to figure out that the street ran parallel to the tram, about one block south.

            Matt and I took the tram and got off at the stop near many of the university buildings.  "Hooray", I thought, "we found someone we knew" from the philharmonic walking out of the mathematics building.  Matt called after him, but he is a very strange and shy man, so he took one look at us and ran the other way.  I guess you have to know the guy, but it was rather funny.  So I suggested we find the street name that we were given on the invitation, and walk along it.  Fortunately, we only walked one block when we saw the mechanical engineering building.

            It’s funny that my method of finding places has completely changed since moving to Sarajevo.  Normally, I print out maps, and detailed directions.  If all else fails, I ask somebody.  Here, there are no good maps, and the directions I get are usually vague, describing landmarks rather than street names or addresses.  I can’t ask just anyone for directions either, because my language skills are so limited.  So I’ve taken up wandering around until I find what I’m looking for.  Fortunately, Sarajevo is small enough that this strategy usually works.

            The actual speech given by the ambassador was just okay.  He didn’t say anything too unique, inspiring, or controversial, but rather just encouraged the youth he was addressing to stay involved in the political future of their country.  However, I didn’t know too much about the political stalemate and economic depression that the Bosnian people are facing, so it was interesting to hear a bit more about it.  Apparently, the government has become ineffective because divisive, nationalistic politicians are unwilling to compromise with each other.  I am a little bit surprised, because the people that I meet every day on the streets are so open-minded and accepting of other cultures, religions, and backgrounds.

            At the end of the speech, the students were allowed to ask our ambassador questions.  Many of the students asked direct, complicated, or critical questions that I found to be quite interesting.  I could see why they became a bit frustrated, since the ambassador often gave vague, repetitive, and indirect answers to their concerns.  I’m not sure how else he could have handled himself though.  Sometimes honest answers are discouraging and he was trying to inspire hope that change is possible.  Furthermore, the US doesn’t always set the best example when it comes to political compromise, social justice, or economic solvency.  Are we really the world leaders that we think we are, or do we just pat ourselves on the back for our rhetoric rather than our actions?

The Grinch in Sarajevo

           I’ve always felt a little bit ambivalent about Christmas.  I think that it is great to have a reason to celebrate and spend time with family during the darkest, gloomiest month of the year.  I appreciate that some people go out of their way to be nice and help others during the holiday season.  However, Christmas in the US can also be a bit garish, imposing, and stressful. 

I know that many people consider Christmas to be an inclusive holiday, with many secular and non-Christian (e.g. pagan) traditions.  They therefore think that Christmas is an “American holiday”, rather than a religious one, and don’t think twice about saying “Merry Christmas” rather than “Happy Holidays”.  I have to respectfully disagree with this sentiment.  Although it’s easy to forget amidst all of the trees, Santas, mistletoe, and lights, Christmas is fundamentally intended to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.  Some people who are not Christian may partake in the festivities, but many do not celebrate the holiday.

Actually, not everyone celebrates a religious holiday in late December, so even saying “Happy Holidays” is a stretch.  And no, Hannukah is not “Jewish Christmas”, the holiday is actually a minor holiday, with its own meaning and separate traditions.

Since I was raised Jewish, as I was growing up, I often felt excluded and confused about Christmas.  My mother was born into a Protestant family and converted to Judaism after marrying my dad, but her side of the family is Christian.  So, my grandmother always had us over to her house in early December to decorate her tree and eat cookies.  Later, on Christmas morning we would return for brunch with my uncle, aunt and cousin. 

I have many fond memories of those times, but also some memories of tension, conflict, and fighting amongst my family members.  I remember when one year, my grandmother brought me to sit on Santa’s lap.  I wasn’t happy about it, and when Santa asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I replied, “I don’t want anything for Christmas, because I’m Jewish.”  He then asked me what I wanted for Hanukah.  Being the little smart-alleck that I was, I told him, “it doesn’t matter because it won’t come from you”, or something like that.  I’m sure my grandmother was pretty furious, or at least embarrassed.

I still don’t understand the Santa hype… since when was it a good thing to encourage your small children to sit on a strange, hairy, old man’s lap?

Although I experienced Christmas with my mom’s family, I never celebrated it at home or in school, since I went to a Jewish day school until 7^th grade.  Then, when I got to middle school, I felt especially excluded, since I didn’t know many of the carols or traditions.  So, as a melodramatic teenager, I made it clear to everyone I know that “I hate Christmas.”  I consistently played the role of grinch amongst my group of friends for many years.

When I started dating Ross, we began to embrace each other’s family traditions.  He went to high-holiday services with me, and dined at the first Seder I ever hosted.  In return, I have tried to be open-minded about celebrating Christmas with him and his family, and have come to enjoy it very much.  Ross’s parents do an excellent job making me feel included but not imposed upon.  So I am no longer the grinch that I once was. 

I still want to remain sensitive to others, and never assume that the holiday is a meaningful, or even pleasant time for everyone.  I am no longer bothered when people ask me “what are your plans for Christmas”, or “this would make a great Christmas present”, but I try not to say those things to others unless I’m sure they celebrate the holiday.  I’m not perfect though.  Sometimes I catch myself saying phrases like “Christmas break” rather than “winter vacation”, and little things like that.

So what does this have to do with living in Sarajevo?  Well, one thing that I love about living here is that there are so many religions represented and respected here.  It really is a great model for religious pluralism.  Although there are some Christmas decoration and festivities, nobody assumes that the holiday is for everyone.  If I want to celebrate, there are plenty of opportunities, but I don’t have to listen to Jingle Bells 8000 times when I go shopping.  Until I get to LA on Friday…

Embassy Visit

            Yesterday, the American quartet had the opportunity to (finally) visit the US embassy in Sarajevo.  In order to get past security, you need to have an appointment, but fortunately, Sunshine, a cultural attaché, offered to have us for lunch and show us around.

            The embassy is in a big, new, fortress-like building that was completed just last year.  It is surrounded by fences and armed guards, with a little station that acts as the “visitor entrance”.  It’s not exactly welcoming, even to American citizens.  In order to get into the embassy, you must have all of your bags sent through a scanner, and then hand-searched.  Furthermore, you have to go through several metal detectors and be hand-searched with a wand.  I guess the security is deemed necessary to keep the embassy safe, especially after the shooting earlier this fall.  However, to me, the security measures give off an air of self-importance.  I worry that by coming off as elitist, the American embassy might actually be fueling some hostility toward the American citizens it is supposedly here to protect.  I’m not sure how to find a happy medium between being secure and being welcoming, but I do think that seeming somewhat friendly is important.

            After having my instruments, my cell phone, my tuner, my camera, my ipad, and my 2 ounce bottle of pink hand-sanitizer confiscated, we were safely through to the other side of the fence.  Sunshine showed us around the immaculate new building and then took us to the cafeteria for lunch.  The food wasn’t bad, nor anything special, but I enjoyed listening to Sunshine talk about the role of the embassy, the political state of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and her past experiences in Vietnam and Mexico.  We told her a little bit about our experiences here, and asked if she could put us in touch with some other Americans who live in Sarajevo.  Sunshine happily obliged, so in the past day, we have already received three invitations to various embassy-related events later this month.   I’m happy that we are now feeling more included and will be able to meet some new people.

            After lunch, we were shown the embassy’s resource center/library, which doesn’t have many books, but does have access to many scholarly online databases.  It’s a pain to get inside the embassy, but the library may still prove useful to me later this year. (I might need access to some online resources as I begin working out a final project topic for my doctorate at Norhwestern.)  Sunshine also took us to the embassy store, which is filled with American junk food, and offered to buy us a few treats.  I decided to pass, since I’ll have plenty of opportunities to eat chips and candy bars in California next week, but Sara and Tim were able to get some of their favorite treats. J

            I also got to see some other new places in Sarajevo yesterday.  After our visit to the embassy, I went Christmas shopping with Sara and Ivana at a large mall located about halfway between the centar and Ilidza.  On the top floor was a store that is very much like a SuperTarget.  The grocery section was immense, and I was finally able to find a place where I can buy English Breakfast tea, and tortillas!  Later, my oboe student offered to point out a few shops and restaurants in Bascarsija that I am now anxious to try.  I am glad that I now have ideas for things to do this winter, and hope that I will be able to keep my life exciting and busy, even when the weather is a bummer.

Carmen

            Over the past two weeks, the Sarajevo Philharmonic has dedicated nearly 50 hours to rehearsing and performing Geoges Bizet’s Carmen.  Although Carmen is very popular, and part of the standard repertory of most opera companies, it has not been staged in Sarajevo in over 20 years.  Needless to say, there were many local musicians and music-lovers who eagerly anticipated the premiere. J  Some fantastic singers from all over the region were hired to come perform the leading roles.

            Now that the Carmen performances are over, I’m completely wiped.  I’m not sure I would have it in me to have a regular job with an opera orchestra.  The performances are so long, and usually the oboe parts are continuously exposed and challenging.  Carmen is no exception.  I was playing both principal oboe and doubling on English horn, and the majority of my solos were in the final hour of the show.  I have a very difficult time concentrating for 3-4 hours, and so when the time came to play my final solos, I couldn’t really give them my all.  At least I didn’t make any gigantic, glaring mistakes, but it’s still frustrating whenever I can’t put in my best effort.

            On the plus side, there were a few moments that always cheered me up and made me laugh.  At the beginning of the second act, there is a  flirty little flute duet, in which the conductor wanted an over-the-top exaggeration of the dynamics.  To show this, he did a little dance, shaking his hips and (a bit rotund) belly.  I called it his “sexy dance”, and had to hold in giggles every time.

            Of course, I also enjoyed all of the big hits, like the Habenera and the Entr’acte to the third act.  The two mezzo-sopranos who performed the title role had a few little quirks that made their renditions “special”.  One sang a few lines to the second act in a completely bizarre, phlegm-y voice, so it sounded like Carmen had gone howl-at-the-moon crazy.  The other Carmen played her own castanets, which was pretty cool.  (Usually, the singer will fake it, while a percussionist in the orchestra plays the part.)

            During our final rehearsal on Thursday, we had a long pause between the third and fourth acts.  The pause is supposed to be quite short, so we did not leave our seats, but for some reason on Thursday, it took extra time to reset the stage.  While we were waiting, I was getting nervous, because I have a large oboe solo in the Entr’acte that opens Act Four.  However, the principal flute player, Sakib, began softly imitating my solo, adding in “Bosnian-sounding” grace notes.  (Augmented seconds, for you music folks.)  I muttered “Bosanska Carmen” (“Bosnian Carmen”) and the whole wind section began to giggle and join in.  Pretty soon, about half the orchestra was playing the Ent’acte in 7/8 time, using a Bosnian scale, with jingling percussion adding icing to the cake.  Too bad I didn’t have my mini-tape recorder!

            After the final performance of Carmen, the whole orchestra was exhausted.  I usually go out and celebrate with my friend after concerts, but this time, everyone was too tired.  The tram was still running, so we caught it rather than taking a cab. 

The tram on Saturday night is usually full of young people on their way out.  Last night was no exception.  There were two young guys sitting in front of me, who began arguing.  It seemed like they were with a group, but no one else in their group seemed to want to get involved.  The argument escalated, and the guys began swinging on the hand railings and kicking at each other.  Everyone ran to the back of the train car, except for me, since I was trapped in a window seat with the fighting guys right next to me.  Yikes!  Just as I was about to hop over the seat behind me to escape, a “good Samaritan” guy walked over and broke up the “monkeys”.  Enough is enough, so even though the fighting stopped, I decided to exit the tram with Admir and Arvida, and take a cab the rest of the way home.  Oy.

MTV Bosnia

There is this guy that dances like a crazy person on the streets of Sarajevo.  I usually see him in front of the Catholic cathedral on my way to Bascarsija.  I laughed when I was watching MTV the other night and noticed that he is a star in the Balkans’ most popular domestic video.

A snowy evening

On my walk to and from Ilidza, I usually see the same stray animals every day.  Right after I turn up from my street, I usually see a white cat with a few brown and black spots.  It’s pretty shy, but sometimes it will follow me at a distance.  I was pretty upset when I turned the corner today, and saw it lying dead in the middle of the street.  I was walking next to a group of teenagers on their way home from high school.  They walked right up to the cat to check it out.  A boy gently picked it up and they took it with them road, presumably to bury it.  I was quite surprised.  I don’t think very many teenagers in the US would do the same thing.  Most of the people I’ve grown up with are pretty squeamish about death, and afraid to touch a dead animal. (And not just for hygienic reasons.)  America road-kill is often left in the road, repeatedly run-over until there’s not much left.  (A pretty ignoble end.)

Living here, I am constantly reminded of the “grittier” realities of the world.  The physical damage from the war can be seen on almost every building.  I thought that I would get used to it, but every time I ride the tram, I can’t help wondering, “how can people do this to each other?”  How can you just destroy the things that others have worked so hard to build?  How can you just try to kill someone who has never done anything to hurt you?

Less upsetting, but still unpleasant, is coming across the large amount of garbage that litters the streets of Otes.  Although it is ugly, it reminds me of how much people waste, and keeps me more conscientious about the packaging of what I buy.  There is no recycling here, so I try not to buy too many soda bottles or individually wrapped snacks. (Though I’m a bit guilty of buying packages of peanuts and pretzels to bring to the long midday rehearsals.)

            Yesterday, we had our first snow.  The snow covered up all of the trash, making my neighborhood look quite pristine and beautiful.  It smelled nice too.  I usually don’t like snow.  I’m more of a beach person: I prefer warm sand and sunny skies.  However, the snow made me so happy.  It was not nearly as cold as it is when it snows in Chicago, maybe because the mountains shield Sarajevo from the wind.  So I was comfortable walking outside, taking in the newly cleansed sights and sounds of my neighborhood.

View from my bedroom window

Lazy Sunday

           Since moving here, I have been very energetic.  I’m so excited to meet new people and explore new places, so I’ve had no trouble getting up and going out, even after busy days and late nights.  However, this weekend I’ve been so tired.  All I want to do is stay in bed.

            I’m not really sure why I feel suddenly worn out.  Maybe the three months of constant activity have finally gotten to me.  Maybe I am tired from the opera rehearsals.  We are rehearsing Carmen for performances on December 9^th and 10^th, and we have 40 hours of rehearsal to prepare!  It takes a lot of concentration to play well when we keep playing the same scenes over and over again.

            Furthermore, our water heater keeps breaking, so apartment is getting pretty cold. (We have steam heat, so we need hot water for it to work.)  I just want to stay under the covers all day.  This morning, I set up a skype date with Ross so I would be motivated to get up.  It was to no avail, because I just went back to bed right afterward.  Oh well.  A little R&R isn’t a bad thing, right?

Bosanska Kafa

            It is time for a long overdue post about Bosnian coffee ("Bosanska Kafa").  I will preface this post by saying that I always hated coffee.  I couldn’t tolerate the bitterness.  I love some bitter foods, like cranberries and horseradish, but for some reason I never liked coffee.

            “Living in Bosnia and not drinking coffee would be like going to a bar and not drinking alcohol.” (My roommate, Sara, helped me come up with this.)  Some people might not drink it, and it might be healthier to forgo it, but it’s pretty weird to refuse coffee here.  In fact, I’m not sure I’ve met anyone in Bosnia who doesn’t drink coffee.  In orchestra, we take a coffee break every hour!

            I laughed when I read the last two sentences of the Wikipedia article about Bosnia.  “Coffee drinking is a favorite Bosnian pastime and part of the culture.  Bosnians are believed to be the heaviest coffee drinkers in the world.”

            Coffee in Bosnia is linked to socializing.  When you want to meet with someone to talk, the polite and friendly thing to do is to sit down for a cup of coffee.  Everyone takes plenty of time drinking his/her coffee.  And by “plenty of time”, I mean that it can take hours to “go out for coffee”.

            Lucky for me, the coffee in Bosnia is completely different than the stuff we drink in America.  In my opinion, it’s much, much better.  Rather than putting the grounds into a filter, and brewing drip coffee, Bosnians grind their coffee much finer and put it directly into the brewing vessel, know as dzezva.  It is a lot like Turkish coffee, but not exactly the same.  The coffee is thick, rich, and chocolatey, and not at all bitter.  A sugar cube can either be added to the pot, or used to strain the coffee into your mouth. (There are grounds in the bottoms of the coffee cups, which I’ve been advised to avoid. “It will give you heart attack.”)

Perhaps my favorite thing about Bosnian coffee is that it is very small, but drank quite slowly.  I’m a nibbler, so it suits me well.

            The method is serving traditional Bosnian coffee is quite elaborate.  There is a long tradition of metalworking here, which yields beautiful handmade silver and copper coffee services.  A large tray is brought out, with a small dzezva for each individual, along with a teacup, a sugar cube or two in a small bowl, and a tiny spoon.  Sometimes each individual is brought his or her own small tray as well.

            Bosnian coffee is traditionally accompanied by a small sweet (lokum) dipped in powdered sugar.  They kind of remind of the Asian candies that I’ve tried: chewy, but soft, and very sweet.  The sweets are made with various flavorings, including rosewater, mint, and hazelnut.  I really like them, but they are small, so I nibble very slowly and try to savor them.

Bosnian Coffee with a bonus: fresh squeezed blueberry juice!

            I haven’t learned how to make Bosnian coffee myself yet, but I hope to do so before I leave.  I’ve seen people make it, but didn’t really pay attention.  Next time, I will. J  I think the trick is to set aside some of the water when adding the grinds, and then pour it back in afterwards.

            I should also mention that although the traditional Bosnian coffee is ubiquitous, Italian drinks, like espresso and cappuccino are also pretty popular, especially at more casual establishments and among the younger generations.  Also, a lot of my friends drink Nescafe, particularly at home.  It is so easy to prepare, and I actually like it if it is made with milk and plenty of sugar, rather than with water.  Nescafe definitely markets itself to teenagers and young adults here.  I see so many ads for Nescafe with people dancing and partying…they remind me of beer commercials!

            So…please, don’t forget to stop and smell the coffee. J

Visiting Sarajevo (by Ross)

Megan suggested that I contribute to her blog. Megan has already written about our experiences, and she has said most of what I have to say. I found Sarajevo beautiful. I thought her apartment was gorgeous. And, in Bosnia, I felt like I was a part of her “Otes Family”.

My most meaningful experiences in Sarajevo were talking to Professor R, and trying my best to communicate with people in the language that Professor R calls Bosnian/Croatian/Serbian. Professor R is a close friend of my student, Omer. Omer teaches English Composition at Loyola college, and he is an eager student with a true love of the guitar. He seemed apprehensive about giving me “errands” when I went to Sarajevo, but I am grateful to have met with his colleague, in order to run some “errands”. Omer had asked me to collect a book of translated poems from Professor R. On my plane-ride home, I read this book of poems about the “war” (this was no war.... it was a genocide with civilian targets), which Omer and Professor R translated... I cannot easily describe it.

Megan has written that the people in Bosnia seem somehow aware of their mortality, and that they seem willing to rest, to talk, to spend hours over coffee with those with whom they feel kinship. I thought this was true. We had one cup of coffee with our friends for over two hours.

Constantly, in Bosnia, I was thrilled with the positive reinforcement that I received whenever I tried to speak Bosnian (Omer, my student, says, “it is the language from hell, impossible”). Bosnian is difficult. I have never before dealt with a language that included “neuter” nouns, nor “cases”.

Now... Megan's life in Bosnia, as I perceived it: I experienced great friends, fast internet, hot water, cable television, many beautiful/sunny days........ and the day after I left, Megan's apartment's heat and water disappeared. Somehow, Bosnia seemed to therapeutically shift to reflect our moods when we were reunited. Everything was beautiful (and, to me, everything was new). I am excited to return to Bosnia and to spend time with Megan and her friends.

Somehow, Bosnia reminds me of Paris in the 90's (where I lived for a year at the age of 11). The colors, the street-musicians and beggars, the graffiti, the smoking, the BO: it all seems familiar. In a way, Bosnia seems less violent and less hectic than the United States.

Professor R told Megan and me that Bosnians affectionally call their country a nickname that roughly translates to “the land of earthly pleasures”. For me, Bosnia was a true pleasure. I was awestruck with the natural beauty of Bosnia and the kindness of its citizens (and oh, yes, the company of my beautiful wife!).

I will end with my own paraphrase of my favorite passage from the book of translated poems that I collected: “An old husband and wife are like wartime lighters: one without flint and the other without fuel. Only together, can they make a flame”.

California with Megan cannot come soon enough, and I eagerly await my next trip to Bosnia.