In the News

Ross arrived on Thursday night.  It is so great to finally have him here!  However, I want to spend as much time as possible with him during the 10 days he's here, so I might not blog as much as usual.  Sorry readers!

In the meantime, enjoy this article about the American quartet that was just published online.  Ross had fairly good success understanding it by putting it into an English-Croatian online translator.  (There aren't really any good options for English-Bosnian, but Croatian and Bosnian are extremely similar languages.)

http://magazinmoderna.ba/index.php/stil/item/127-kad-je-muzika-život-amerikanci-u-sarajevu

The Daily Commute

           

I am going a bit crazy with the anticipation of Ross’s arrival tonight!  I knew it would be hard to be apart from him for two months, but I couldn’t even imagine how much I would miss him. I hope his travels go well.  Poor Ross had the final leg of his journey rescheduled, so it will take him 28 hours, and four layovers, to get here!  Right now, I am fluctuating between anxious, ecstatic, nervous, and relieved by his impending arrival.  So, in order to distract myself, I’m trying to stay busy cleaning, practicing, studying, and blogging.

            I have been meaning to write a post about my commute between Otes and Sarajevo.  It takes me about an hour each way every day, so it takes up a good 1/8 of my waking hours.  However, I really don’t mind it.  I’m used to long commutes after regularly schlepping from Evanston to the Chicago Loop for the last couple of years.

            My commute begins with either a bus ride or a walk from the front of my apartment building to the tram station in Ilidza. I think the bus takes about 10 minutes, whereas walking takes about 20.  However, taking the bus puts you at the mercy of the bus schedule. (The buses run about once an hour.)  I prefer to walk, especially because it sometimes is my only way of getting exercise during our more busy weeks.

            On the way to the tram, I first pass several blocks of small houses.  Despite the bullet holes and mortar scars left over from the war, the houses still look quite welcoming and cheerful.  There is always laundry hanging outside to dry, stray cats and dogs hunting for a meal, and people outside tending to their yards.  Everyone has a courtyard, garden, and fruit trees.  Cabbage patches and apple trees seem to be especially popular.

            After about 10 minutes, I cross the train tracks via a tunnel, and then the highway via a bridge.  I’m glad that there’s a pedestrian bridge, or the highway crossing would be a little scary.  Once I get past the bridge, there is a field with about a dozen small gardens and a basketball court.  I’m not sure who owns all the gardens (sometimes I see some old couples out harvesting).  At the end of the gardens, I turn left to head down the street that leads directly into Ilidza’s center.  

            After passing a few more houses and small shops, I have to cross the highway one more time.  (There is a crosswalk light.)  Entering the center of Ilidza can be a little overwhelming, since it is so crowded by an outdoor market.  Vendors sit on the sidewalk and hawk produce, handmade knitted woolen mittens, cheap plastic household goods, etc.  Well, they sit on the parts of the sidewalk where no one has parked.  You see, in Bosnia, people park on the sidewalk, forcing the pedestrians to walk in the street.  It seems a little backward to me.

            I pass about one block of vendors, as well as the downtown Ilidza shopping complex, called the Sara Centar. Right past the Sara Centar is the Ilidza tram station.  Starting October 1^st, I have been getting monthly passes, so I simply swipe my pass under a machine and can board the #3 tram toward Bascarsija.  Before I had my pass, I could go to a little kiosk next to the station entrance and buy a 1-ride or 10-ride ticket.  The kiosk also sells snacks, drinks, gum, and magazines, which is pretty convenient when I’m running late and forgot to pack a water bottle.

            A word of warning to anyone interested in visiting Sarajevo:  at most stops, you can board the tram without having to show your ticket.  So, once you board the tram, you have to run your ticket through a little machine to “validate” it.  You might be able to get away with a free ride if you board sans ticket.  However, there are guys who randomly come through the cars to check that you have one and that it’s validated.  If not, you have to pay a fine.  One time I was riding the tram with my friend Mattia, and his ticket had gone through the validation machine without actually getting stamped.  When the “tram cops” checked his ticket they pulled him off the tram and gave him the fine.  Poor Mattia.  So the moral of the story is to have a ticket, validate it, and then make sure that the validation was actually stamped.

            The tramcars themselves are quite old, and usually very crowded.  I have figured out where and when to board, so I can usually find a seat.  Standing isn’t so bad as long as I don’t have my heavy instrument case with me.  People in the tram are usually pretty considerate about giving their seats up to the elderly.  However, there seems to be no etiquette regarding personal space!  Sometime the train will be pretty empty, and someone will board and then come and stand with either their butt or their gut pressed right up against your face.  Yuck.  The best solution is to try to get a window seat so no one can stand next to you.

            I think that the trams are fairly safe, but sometimes the doors don’t close all the way and it makes me very nervous that someone is going to fall out.  So far, I have neither been in nor witnessed any accidents though.  (Matt was once on a car that derailed, but it was pretty minor and no one was injured.)  I think the biggest risk is getting pick-pocketed, so I always keep my purse zipped up with my arm wrapped over the top.

            The whole tram ride lasts about 30 minutes until I get off at a stop right in front of the National Theater.  I guess I could bring a book to read, but I like to pay attention and look out the window every day.  There is always something new going on.  We pass several landmarks, including a rebuilt Olympic swimming pool, the national TV station headquarters, the National Museum, the American embassy, and the ubiquitous yellow Holiday Inn.

            To return home, I pretty much make the same trip, but in reverse, although I do board a couple of blocks north of where I get off in the morning.  The tram makes a loop around the city center, so it is much fast to board the tram on its way back out of town.

The Otes Bunch

            Sometimes, I feel like my life in Otes would make a great sitcom.  I’ve got neighbors popping in for a drink, funny lost in translation moments, cute animals, friends with developing love interests….  What more do you need?

            Sunday was one of those days that especially felt like a sitcom episode.  The day began quietly and calmly, as Sara and I took a long walk in the park in Ilidza.  However, on the way home, Sara stopped by the market and arranged a date with the fruit vendor!  There is one stand in the market with a very nice, attractive young guy, who speaks excellent English.  (It turns out he is in law school.  A very educated fruit vendor.)  He always is talking to Sara and giving her free fruit, so she worked up the nerve to ask him out for coffee.  It sounds like the date was a little awkward (aren’t all first dates awkward?) but went pretty well.

            Meanwhile, (a good sitcom episode has to have multiple story lines) Matt and Tim have taken in an adorable puppy.  The little female mutt was so sweet!  She was very tired, and little bit clumsy, which made her extra cute.  Sadly, Matt and Tim cannot keep her, and there is nowhere to take her.  Matt tried in vain to find some sort of shelter for the poor thing, but alas!  So they fed her, gave her a bath and a warm place to sleep for a night, and then had to turn her back out onto the street.  She is so cute that I am hoping maybe someone else will find her and start taking care of her.

            On top of all of this, our crazy neighbor from the 7^th floor, Vaita, had a party, and convinced all of the Sarajevo Philharmonic people in our building to join him and his family.  You may remember me writing about this neighbor before—he is the same guy who crashed Ingrid’s birthday party in September.  He sure likes to drink, dance, and have a good time! Sara and I figure that we need as many friends as we can get in our building, after the whole mess with our other neighbor accusing us of throwing a bottle at his car.  So, I definitely wanted to meet Vaita’s family.  His wife was an excellent host, serving an odd combination of alcohol, Bosnian coffee, chips, and cookies.  She did not drink, but seemed quite tolerant of Vaita’s craziness…haha.  I had a beer, and then had to try a bit of Slivovic, which is liquor made out of plums.  It is powerful stuff, so just a little bit is plenty.  I switched over to coffee after that.  Bosnian coffee is really growing on me.   I realized that I still have not taken a picture of a traditional Bosnian coffee service!  Next time I have it, I will have to photograph the extravagant, handmade silver serving pieces and write an entry about the coffee-drinking culture of Sarajevo.

False Accusations: An Update

            On Thursday, Sara, Matt, Alisa and I went to the Ilidza police station so that we could give our side of the story.  Alisa did some research and found out that the police were legally required to provide Sara and I with a translator.  When she called the police station and asked for one, they said they were not obligated to provide one, so Sara and I privately hired an official translator to come with us.  Alisa reassured us that later the Sarajevo Philharmonic could sue the police for not providing a translator.

            Fortunately, when we got to the police station, they read Sara her rights, including the right to a translator.  So, the police made a phone call or two, and it was agreed that the police would pay for our translator after all.  It ended up working out to our benefit, since we wound up with the translator we chose (one recommended by the embassy) rather than one chosen for us.

            The policeman who interviewed us was pleasant and professional.  He had Sara, Matt, and I come into his office one at a time and give our accounts of what happened.  (There are no charges filed against Matt, but he chose to make a report as a witness, since he was watching TV with Sara and I last Saturday evening and knows we were quiet and went to bed early.)

It took forever.  Three hours, in fact.  First, the police had to read us our right and then have them translated to English.  After that, we had to give our report and have it translated to Bosnian.  The policeman typed very slowly, so it took Sara a good hour and a half to give her report.  Fortunately, Matt and I could simply confirm what Sara said, and add a couple additional details, so it didn’t take us quite as long.

While Sara was giving her report, Matt and I had to wait in the hallway of the police station, which was pretty entertaining.  Fortunately, a nice woman felt sorry for us, and brought us some chairs so we could sit.  While we were waiting, we saw a police officer escort a pretty skuzzy guy into his office, and much yelling ensued.  Hmmm.  Later, the guy (a suspect, I guess?) and his friends stood smoking in the hallway until the officer came out and chased them off.  Besides this, there wasn’t very much excitement.  It seems like the police spend a lot of time carrying paperwork from one room to another.  Oh, bureaucracy…

I felt reassured once our trip to the police station was over.  While Sara was being interviewed, I heard some laughter.  It sounds like the policeman who interviewed us thought that our accuser was wasting everyone’s time.  Which is so true!  There are so many “real” problems in our neighborhood, and it seems silly to be wasting government resources on investigating this case.  The policeman also told us, as we were leaving, that if our neighbor bothers us again, we can call the police in Ilidza and they will be there to protect us.  I was glad that we were treated kindly and professionally.  (Our accuser apparently works for the police himself, and I was worried that his colleagues would show bias against us.)  Alisa also seemed reassured that (hopefully!) nothing more would come of this, and that no prosecutor would take up this frivolous case against us.   So, now we just have to wait and see what happens… 

False Accusations

Written 11/8:

As I’ve said many times in my blog, most of the Bosnians that I encounter are good people.  Many of them are extremely welcoming, and excited and curious to meet me.  Just today, on the tram, I was sitting next to an older woman who tried to start a conversation with me.  I could say a few sentences, but then had to confess that, “I don’t understand Bosnian” (“Ne razumiem Bosanskom’”).  She smiled, gave me a very sweet squeeze on the arm, and wished me a good life as she got off the train.  It felt so special to have such a positive encounter with a complete stranger, whose life is so different from my own.

Unfortunately, there are some mean, xenophobic people here too.  There are bad people everywhere, I guess.  On Sunday evening, a man rang the doorbell of my friends’ apartment, and complained that a member of the Sarajevo Philharmonic had gotten drunk and thrown a bottle from a balcony onto his car.  He claimed that someone had witnessed “an Italian guy” do it on Saturday at midnight, and was completely sure that it came from the second floor, where my friends live.  Of course, on Saturday night, we were all asleep, being so exhausted from our week of preparing for the Tchaikovsky concert.  The only people who we in the second floor apartment were my friends Arvida and Morena, having a quiet night at home.  Another neighbor overheard the commotion and came out to vouch that there was no party going on that night.

            Sara got nervous about the accusations and decided that she wanted to throw away all of our empty bottles, left over from our Halloween party.  I told her not to worry, because we did nothing wrong and there was no reason to do anything.  Unfortunately, as Sara took the bottles down the stairs, a woman (the wife of the accuser) grabbed her bag, started scolding her, and pulled her and the bag back up the staircase.  Poor Sara!  Arvida heard the commotion and came out to translate.  The woman accused Sara, threatening to call the police.  Suddenly, her story changed, and she was so sure that the bottle had been thrown from our apartment on the fourth floor, rather than the second floor.  Arvida told her to go ahead and call the police, since we were in the right.  The woman turned white, and offered not to press charges if Sara gave her money.

            Aha.  She wants to take advantage of us, and blackmail Sara for money, I think.

            Sara stayed with Arvida in her apartment, and sent me a cryptic text message indicating she was in trouble.  After the commotion ended, I headed down the stairs to find out what happened.  Sara seemed very scared and worried, but I was angry.  How can people be so mean, assuming, and rude?

            The man and woman came back one more time to yell at us, threaten us, and ask for money.  Arvida brought Sara and me to the door and translated for us that we were asleep early on Saturday night, and knew nothing about what had happened to their car.  They stormed off, saying that we should expect to see a police inspector the next day.

            The next day, Monday, came and went without incident.  I figured that the couple realized that they were being assuming, had no case against us, and let it go.  Or that they were just trying to take money from us and had given up.  However, today, the man called Alisa, claiming that he was pressing charges against Sara, Arvida, the Sarajevo Philharmonic, and me!  I don’t think anything will come of it, and am not worried, since we didn’t do anything wrong.  As I told Sara, “there’s nothing illegal about taking the trash out”.  Just in case, Sara called the embassy to let them know what is going on, and we obtained a number to call in case of any legal emergencies.

            I have never been falsely accused of anything serious before, and it is at once scary, infuriating, and embarrassing.  It sucks to feel discriminated against, just because I’m foreign.  I did nothing wrong, and I hate that I might be an official suspect of a crime.  If anything, the woman who grabbed Sara should be charged with assault.

            I am also very sad to have bad relations with some of our neighbors.  It is bad to be a victim, but in some ways it is even worse to be viewed as a perpetrator.  I really respect and admire the Bosnian people, and am heartbroken that the feeling cannot always be mutual.  Maybe the man and woman are telling the truth, and their car was damaged.  Maybe they genuinely think that we had a party, and damaged their property.  It is true that us Sarajevo Philharmonic members have had a couple of parties, but we are guilty only of being a little noisy.  All of our neighbors are noisy too, and we would happily keep it down if asked.  If the man and woman truly believe that we are guilty, I feel sorry for them as well as angry.  If so, I really want to look them in the eye, and explain that I am a good person, and it is unfair of them to assume anything about me.

            In conclusion, ARGH! 

Bajram

Written 11/8:

            Since the majority of the population here is Muslim, we have a few days off surrounding the holiday of Bajram (pronounced “Bie-rahm”).  I am beginning to learn more about Islam, so I now know that Bajram commemorates the story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son.  I am sure most of you are familiar with this story, since it is a part of the Judeo-Christian literature as well.  In the story, God sees that Abraham is willing to sacrifice his son, Isaac, and at the last minute intervenes and replaces Isaac with a sheep.  So, on Bajram, it is traditional to sacrifice a sheep.  A lot of my friends thought I would totally freak out about this, but I actually approve of meat-eaters being more connected to the animals they eat (e.g. being involved in the slaughter).  I was also told that Muslims are instructed to eat 1/3 of the sheep themselves and then are supposed to give the other 2/3 away to the poor.  I really like this idea, and it reminds me of the Jewish tradition of “tsedakah”.

            Bajram itself began on Sunday.  The days leading up to it were quite chaotic in and around the markets.  Then, on Sunday and Monday, I went out for a jog/walk and was struck by how quiet and empty the streets were! (Though celebratory firecrackers frequently broke the silence.)  It reminded me of walking around on Christmas morning in the US.

Duvacki Qvintet Persempre

In other news, all of the principal woodwind players of the Sarajevo Philharmonic are forming a woodwind quintet, and since we have some free time, today was our first rehearsal.  We rehearsed at the Music Academy, which gave me the opportunity to go inside the building for the first time.  The music academy is situated on the third floor of a building very close to the National Theater, in the city center.  It looks very much like many of the music schools I’ve been to in the US: an old, long hallway, with classrooms, practice rooms, and offices spilling out sounds of rehearsals, lessons, and practice sessions.  Something about the building reminded me of Peabody, and I felt a little nostalgic for my undergraduate years. 

My quintet will hopefully give our first concert in early December, so we began to work on that program today.  We are playing light, easy pieces to start.  My Bosnian colleagues call the repertoire “limonata”, or “lemonade”.  In the US we’d call it a “pops” program.  Even though the music is not much of a challenge, I am looking forward to our concert.  I believe that we might be the first Bosnian woodwind quintet to perform in quite a long time…maybe since before the war.  So, the flutist, Sakib, told me that I will soon be a part of Bosnia’s cultural history!

A Vegetarian Diner's Guide to Sarajevo

Written 11/5:

When people here find out that I’m a vegetarian, they always say, “I feel so sorry for you”.  Or, “this is not a good place to be vegetarian”.  But I’ve had absolutely no problem finding delicious vegetarian food at restaurants here.  The one thing really I miss is spicy “ethnic” food: Mexican, Thai, Indian…but this has nothing to do with being a vegetarian.

So here is my personal guide/reviews of the restaurants I’ve frequented so far:

Pivnica:  I went to the Sarajevo “Pivnica”, which means “brewery”, with a large group of friend after my first performance here.  Of course, they are known for serving their beer, “Sarajevsko”, which is quite ubiquitous throughout Bosnia.  Not only do they serve their more popular blonde beer (my personal preference), but they also serve a “Sarajevsko Dark” beer.  The first time I went, I was impressed.  I got a vegetable risotto that was a little salty, but quite good.  I went back last night with another group, and we had a few problems.  First, Sara, my roommate, ordered a dark beer, and the server brought her a light beer.  She very politely reminded him that she had ordered a dark beer, but he refused to admit his mistake, and lectured her about how she had ordered a blonde.  Later, I ordered their “Pene Alfredo”.  This is funny because they misspelled “penne” on the menu, so instead of ordering penne pasta, one must order pene, which mean “penis” in Italian.  Of course, everyone teased me for ordering the dish, but I wanted pasta.  When the pasta came, it had chicken in it. L  I offered to let my friends eat it, but they insisted that I send it back, since the menu did not describe the dish as having any meat in it.  Of course Mattia had to point of that if I order “penis”, I should expect to get meat.  Haha.  Anyway, I sent it back, and the kitchen generously picked out all of the large chunks of chicken.  Maybe they thought I wouldn’t notice the small chunks…oh well.  So much for Alfred’s penis.  This is the only difficulty I’ve had as a vegetarian in Bosnia, and not a very big one.  I’ve had similar problems in the US.  It’s just part of being vegetarian and eating out.

To Be:  This is a very nice restaurant in Bascarsija.  It is a little pricey for a Bosnian restaurant, but is still quite reasonable compared to restaurants in the US. (I usually end up spending about 20 KM for a meal and a drink here, about $15.)  There are quite a few vegetarian selections on the menu.  I’ve had their vegetarian plate, which was one of my favorite meals in Sarajevo—a plate of Bosnian cheese, grilled eggplant, zucchini, and tomatoes, served with bread.  I went again this week and had the vegetable risotto, which wasn't really risotto, just rice mixed with sauce and veggies.  It was still very yummy and satisfying.  One of the best things about To Be is that they are very welcoming to foreigners.  Even if the server doesn’t speak much English, he/she will try to say at least a few words.  They are also very encouraging if you try to speak Bosnian, and will cheer you on.

Vegetarian Plate at To Be

Vegehana:  That’s right, Sarajevo has a vegetarian restaurant!  And it’s good.  They have a limited menu, which is fine with me, since I get overwhelmed by too many options.  Sadly, I’ve only been to Vegehana once.  I ordered a meal with soup, salad, fried cheese, bread, a savory pastry, and a potato dish.  Yummy and reasonably priced.  The only thing I didn’t like was that the fried cheese was served cold, which I found a little weird.  Even though I’ve only been here once, I’m including Vegehana on my “restaurants I frequent list”, because I’m sure I will go back many times!

Meal at Vegehana

Metropolis:  This is my favorite restaurant in Sarajevo.  It’s casual yet classy, cheap, with a good menu, wifi, and amazing desserts.  Who could ask for anything more?  There are quite a few vegetarian selections, but I always get the same thing, the vegetarian sandwich, because I like it so much.  Fresh bread with a soft cheese and grilled vegetables, served with potato wedges.  I also like to order the “aroma kafa”, which is a mix of iced coffee and icecream.  Guilty pleasure.

Pizzeria Ilidzis:  This is the best restaurant within walking distance of my apartment in Otes.  It is situated in the park in Ilidza, right near the path that leads to the source of the Bosna river.  There are probably at least a dozen vegetarian selections on their menu, as well as good coffee and good wine.  I really like their Spageti Funghi, spaghetti with mushrooms.  Pizzeria Ilidzis is also a great place to get coffee and a snack.  They have very good dessert crepes.  I’ve gotten the ones filled with nutella.  They are very rich, so I’d recommend splitting them.  Pizzeria Ilidzis also serves a traditional Bosnian pastry that is like a fried doughnut, served with cream.  They are too oily for my taste, but most of my friends love them.  I also like their homemade polenta here, which is served with a mix of yogurt and cheeses.

Nice outdoor dining at Pizzeria Ilidzis

There are also a lot of small, cheap restaurants that serve a traditional sausage dish called “cevapi” (pronounced che-va-pee).  Or course, I don’t eat cevapi, but I often come along with my friends who do.  I’ve found that I can order “kajmak” (pronounced kai-mak) and get a filling portion of flat bread and cream cheese for only one or two marks.  However, I’ve learned not to call the bread “pita” bread, because here “pitta” is something entirely different.  “Pitta” is sold at many “Pekara”s, bakeries, and is a flaky round pastry with various fillings inside.  There are three vegetarian kind of pitta that I like: sirnica (cheese), zeljanica (spinach), and krompirusa (potato).  They are very salty though, so I have trouble finishing a whole one.