To Vienna

Today, I love you publicly.

I love you on the internet, in front of my friends and total strangers.

I love you on a strange street, window-shopping; in a white-washed non-descript hotel; and eating alone. I love you reading a book in a cafe. I love your foreign office, bad cable and irregular German verbs. I love public transportation. I love those missed phone calls and my own stupid schedule. And time zones.

Today, I love you privately.

I love murderous butterfly kisses, running up the stairs and melty ironed rugs. I love the lies we told that ice cream clerk, just to get a free scoop.

I Prefer My Own Morals, Thanks

Two weekends ago, Megan and I headed up to Grand Forks to visit KD, who will soon be packing up her life to the great wilds of Wyoming. The drive itself takes the greater part of 6 hours, but we managed to hit an enormous thunderstorm and wall-to-wall traffic, so it took us a little longer.

A while ago KD posted on her pet peeves, namely, dogs being left tied up in the their front yards, essentially neglected. On this drive, my pet peeve kept slamming into my eye-line every thirty or so miles. That is, billboards with overt and stupidly obvious moral directives. As if I was going along my merry way and a billboard reminded me to be a good person. OH! If the BILLBOARD says it....!

It should be said that an inordinate number of billboards just so happen to be pro-life. Now, I don't have anything against the pro-life movement, but their ads are just so ridiculously dumb that, well, it's ridiculous.

For example:

• Choose Life!
• Pick Life!
• Life rocks!
• etc

Each one, of course accompanied by a baby in a flower pot, a baby wearing sunglasses, a baby giving the thumbs up, a baby riding a motorcycle, blah blah blah. (As a side note: why don't they ever have photos of babies projectile vomiting? Or screaming their lungs off? I hear they do this much more often than riding motorbikes).

Again, I must emphasis that, even though myself I am pro-choice, I have no beef with the pro-life movement. It's just that their message is so ridiculously OBVIOUS. I mean, what would the alternative billboard say: Kill Your Bastard Spawn Today?

It kind of reminds me of the line in the move Juno, where she calls the clinic and says, in complete deadpan irony: "Hello. I'd like to procure a hasty, painful abortion please." I mean, come ON, I'd like to believe that no one enters into that decision lightly, much less be swayed by a billboard.

This is not a pro-life rant. I only pick this example because they have somehow so proLIFErated along the highway that they are hard not to miss. My other favorite is the billboard outside of Sauk Center that showed a sillohuet of a man thinking, and a bubble coming from his head saying "What if I swore less?" I used to always give that billboard the finger.

Megan, a soon to be pastor, brought up a point I'd never thought about. As someone who makes it her lifes work to comfort and counsel others, she felt that these moral directives were kind of insulting. While trying to encourage "good" deeds, they were also distilling (and distorting?) her art form down to a simple catch phrase.

The other thing that gets me on these is that I have no escape. I HAVE to drive on that highway; it's the only way to get home! In essence, I'm tricked into seeing someone else's moral vision for my life because I can't NOT look at the road.

Hmm...How about a sign that says "Stop reading billboards?"

The last thing that gets me is the assumption that I'm NOT already doing those things. I've never had an abortion, nor do I swear all the goddamn time, so why do I need a reminder? It just seems so....assumptive. Assumptive to the point of invasive.

Anyway, it just annoys me that whoever has enough money can spew their moral directives my way. Advertising is one thing, but I prefer my own moral highway, thanks.

Home

I'm up at the farm this weekend - visiting an old friend who's moving away. It so happens that my parents are away, so I'm the only one staying at the house.

At times, I've had considerable doubts about my decision to move back to Minnesota. I was really angry and miserable the first three months - mostly at the weather but also through sheer exhaustion. Now that the weather has gotten warmer, it's easier to appreciate the lower cost of living and pollen-and-excessive population-free environment.

But I'm only truly grateful for my move when I make the drive north, to my parents farm and my childhood home. I'm grateful that I have the chance to visit with my favorite uncle, kiss my beautiful, sassy and rapidly ageing aunt and visit with my best friend's parents. I enjoy a walk on the prairie, for no reason other than that I'm HOME. I am grateful that my childhood room is basically unchanged, the well-water still tastes sweet and that basically, things change very slowly in rural America.

I am so. grateful. to have these things.

Of course, I'm fortunate (and sometimes unfortunate) that my mother instilled a proper amount of nostalgia and empathy in me, so that I crave being around things that remind me of my past. Also, this draw really only works for places that you've never moved from - places that your parents chose, settled and stayed in for over 40 years. And places where the memories ARE sweet, or atleast bittersweet, so that you want to relive those feelings again.

Tonight, I'll be home along in my folk's place, but this doesn't creep me out. I love the silence here. I love this kooky old place. (I love they have cable!) And if Iget into trouble, I know where the shot guns are...

Hallelujah!

I love, love, love days like today.

1) Saturday
2) Sunny and gorgeous (if, a little stuffy in my apt).
3) waking up to the sun on my face
4) whole weekend in front of me
5) did I mention the weather is gorgeous?
6) having time to clean my apartment
7) coffee shop round the corner
8) library opening at 10 - my book on hold is here!
9) shopping with my sister
10) clean laundry

I am a ridiculous nerd, I know. But there is something about being wide awake early on a sunny Saturday morning, with the weekend stretched before you that just.....sigh. Puts me in a good mood.

Now I'm going to go enjoy it!
M.

Blurghhhh.

Look, there's no reason for me to feel like an enormous crab today, but I just do. OK?

I woke up this morning to a beautiful day - and I was psyched because today was the day I promised I was going to bike to work! Hooray!

Normally, I love biking. I mean, ridiculously, love biking. I should've drawn this conclusion, when, even as a second-grader, I biked the five miles from my farm into Megan's house just for fun. Without telling my mom. Barefoot.

So, for all intents and purposes, I should've been in an awesome mood today. Save the fact that I just wasn't.

The bike ride wasn't the greatest - uphill most of the 10 miles - and I had woken up stiff and sore from my new "latin-hip-hop" dance class anyway (I can see you cringing now, Kate, and you'd be right to do so). Not only that, but I had a bunch of crap to deal with at work today that I didn't really want to do, which didn't exactly make the ride zip by.

That, and I'm just kind of.......blurrrghhh.

I don't know if it was the shitty coffee, the so-so bike ride, the middling work, PMS or what-EVER, but today is just one of those days where I shouldn't have gotten out of bed.

I am a lump. A lump of luke-warm human fleshwad that slips through your fingers and melts in your lap - probably in between your thighs and the couch, leaving a nice brown stain where you need it most (it's chocolate - I swear!)

Luckily, Scarlett O'Hara said it best - "Tomorrow is another day". Therefore, I'm officially pressing the re-set button and going to bed.

Good night.

Baby-Ho's are a No-No

After spending some time roaming around the internet on this one, I'm not sure that I have much to add. However, I recently picked up a book at the library called "The Lolita Effect: the Media Sexualization of Young Girls and What We Can Do About It." I'm only a couple of chapters in, but so far, it's a fairly interesting read. (I can't wait to get to the part on what we can do about it - lock them in the basement? Poke their eyes and ears out? Subscribe only to Highlights?)

If you haven't seen a magazine cover, television show - or even the morning cartoons - in the past ten years, then you probably won't understand the premise. But for the rest of you, it's pretty cut and dried: the media sends mixed messages. Young girls wear hip-huggers, lipstick and tube-tops at younger and younger ages. Pre-pubescence is the new hotness.

I'm on board with the messages in this book, especially since I was in Pamida this weekend, wasting time (god bless small towns and their thriving five-and-dimes..) and I wandered down the toy aisle to come face-to-navel with THIS:

Yes, that is an enormous "baby" doll, wearing a string bikini and a BJ face. I can't find the photo at the moment, but there was another doll that advertised having "designer diapers."

Um...?


If you're curious, there's already alot of angry mom vomit all over the internet about these things, which is why I say I really don't have anything more to add. (If you're really interested, check out these postings: Is it Just Me, Or is Everything SHIT?, Her Bad Mother, and this is the best one because it's an open letter to Target and it made my laugh till my sides hurt: Mama Drama)


One thing I like about the book I'm reading, is that it doesn't deny that everyone - yes, even children - have sexuality. While admittedly, the idea of putting the words of child and sexuality together in the same sentence makes me feel gross, I do agree with this premise. However, (and admittedly, I'm only a few chapters in), I'd argue that a child's sexuality is just that - childlike. Underdeveloped. So densely fogged that these seemingly overt messages are blunted by their own minds.

Sigh. There are so many things to be afraid of for my (future) daughter. So many things I'd like to tell her to watch out for, to be strong for and laugh at. I want her to know right off the bat - something that took me years to understand - that no matter what you use on your face, you'll never look like Alicia Silverstone, and that's ok.

Also, I want her to know that sex is not a toy.

But, while I would argue that letting kids play with sexy babies is not the _best_ way to encourage their personal growth, it also isn't the end of the world. So rather than get up in arms, I'm going to have faith in the literalness of my (yet forthcoming) children:

Sometimes a doll is just a doll.


......Here's hoping.

Screw You, Citibank

I've been sitting on this for a few weeks now. I just can't seem to get myself to spend _more_ time in front of a computer after I get home from work. However, I feel others should be forewarned.

I called Citibank a few weeks ago. I happen to have quite a bit in student loans from them, and I was following up on a phone call I made back in January, wherein they told me to call back in May.

Interest rates are low low LOW right now. I've been lying in wait, trying to capitalize on these low rates by consolidating the few loans I have left that are unconsolidated (which are now at a whopping 7.22%). The current student loan rate is 3.5%.

So yes, that's quite a savings.

I call them up and say "Hey, I'd like to consolidate these loans!"
And they say, "No can-do, Ma'am."

I'm sorry, - wha?

I get the manager on the phone, who tells me the same thing. "I'm sorry ma'am, but as of May 1, we no longer offer that service."

Not only was I TOLD to call back in May (fed rates usually change July 1, so I wanted to call closer to that date) but I was NOT informed that Citibank would "no longer be offering this service as of May 1."

How come I wasn't notified?

"We're not required by law to do that, ma'am."

Durrrrrrrrrr...

This makes me so angry. It's not my fault that Citibank stock is languishing; that for a bank that manages money, they're not so good at managing their own. I think the thing that makes me the most angry is that, while they take liberties to inform me of just about every other g__d__m service they DO provide, my legal friend (who writes BOOKs on this stuff) believes that they are not legally required to inform me when they stop.

How. Aggravating.

Now, my master plan is to find another lending institution that will buy out my current loan and replace my interest rates with something, shall we say, more favorable. However, easier said than done. I may talk a big game, but I'm thus far only ankle deep in my adult finances and I suspect this will take longer for me to figure out that just a ranty blog post. Although I have faith in my ability to figure it out, this might be a tough one to do alone.

Anyway, consider yourself notified.

And SCREW YOU, Citibank.

It's Over Already?

It's tough to come off a weekend like this one. The HMF was here and we had a FANTASTIC time. On Friday evening, we saw The Fall - a cinematic smorgesborg of color, texture and imagination that was filling, but not overwhelmig. If I could paint that film and do it justice, I would.

Saturday it was supposed to rain, so imagine our surprise when it was sunny and humid. We were going to check out the MN History museum, but the weather was so unbelieveable, that we had brunch with friends and left immediately for outside. We borrowed a bike from my co-worker and biked across Ford bridge to Minnehaha park, down to Lake Nokomis, to the bandstand at Lake Harriet where we listened to big bands and ran into old friends, had ice-cream on Lake Calhoun (where we ran into MORE people we knew!) and then home via the newly paved Midtown Greenway bikepath on 27th street (which I didn't even know existed! Talk about a magic discovery!). We arrived home four hours later, pooped, but smiling.

After that, we showered and headed to Punch in Highland park. By that time, it'd been 6.5 hours since we'd last ate, so the pizza and wine were terrific! We got ambitious and rented a movie for the couch, where we promptly fell asleep after the first 15 minutes.

Needless to say, there's a void to fill today - and every day until I see him over the 4th of July. It's nice that we've traded our day-to-day errands for only fun stuff when we see each other, but it's like having ice cream for every meal.

Anyway, I'm glad the weather cooperated. This week, I'm excited to have volunteering and volleyball to look forward to, otherwise it would be bleak.

More Photos from Sarajevo

Emira and I get caught up...

An Orthodox church and old men playing street chess

A filled in "mortar shell rose" in the sidewalk

A fantastic trip!

Photos from Dubrovnik, Croatia

The view of Old Town Dubrovnik from the outer walls

Emira and I at the water's edge on the island of Lubron

My new camera is awesome!

Supermodel pose in the island of Kolocep

Francescan Monestary on the island of Lubron

Photos from Bosnia

Thanks for the fun times, Emira!

Emira and I eating spinach pies with yogurt in Sarajevo

The main square in the Old Town part of Sarajevo where we were eating the spinach pies (above)

Beautiful beautiful Bosnia

Me with Emira's students in Trajvnik, the former capital of Bosnia

Vacation?

After almost a full twenty-four hours of traveling and/or sitting in various European airports, I arrived safely yesterday evening to a city in full summer glory. The lilacs are blooming, the bicycler's are out and the neighborhood has come alive. It's not exactly sipping cappucino's and wandering cobblestone streets, but it's the more familiar, more comforting US version. I am home.

Upon reflection, it's tough for me to label the last week as a straight-up "vacation". I will never again underestimate traveling in a former war-torn country. That's not to say that I took it lightly before going, but Bosnia and it's history is so complex, it's easy to get in over your head quite quickly. Even "normal" conversations rapidly turn political, and there is still a seething unrest over the Dayton Accords which leads to mixed reviews of Americans, who lead the talks.

That said, this trip was a rounding success. I believe that travel is not necessarily about escaping, it is about discovery as well. Good travel challenges your world views, educates and leads to self-reflection and rumination. While not always relaxing, and usually conflictingly uncomfortable, I am definitely a more well-rounded individual for having made the effort in the first place.

Now, time for Memorial day!

EuroSong

Once a year, each European country sends a song to compete in that Euro-awesome tradition known as "EuroSong". You in America may remember this from a few years back when this band from Finland won with "Hard Rock Hallelujah". Big news in the US, mostly because they looked like the undead version of Battlefield Earth cast-members.

Anyway, last night Emira and I watched the first semi-finals, which included Bosnia's song "Attempt". The English version can be found here, although Emira cautions that the Bosnian version is much better. Plus, the performer usually has chickens on stage....

For me, the best song of the night either had to be the turkey puppet from Ireland, OR Estonia's dudes dressed in the Estonian flag with women flopping all around them. No wait, Azerbaijan had people dressed as devils and angels flying about - THAT had to be the best.

Mostly this just justifies to me that television is crap everywhere. I will no longer feel ashamed of "The Biggest Loser" or "So You Think You Can Dance?" because really, television is universally stupid.

The End.

Crime and Punishment (?)

Last night, Emira, her friend Bronwyn and I, went out on the town. As we exited the first bar, walking down the street there was sudden "POP!" behind us. Emira turned, and I wheeled around to see two youths about ten feet away smash the driver's side of a car window and jump in.

My first thought – they’re stealing a car in broad daylight.
My second thought – perhaps they have weapons.
My third – perhaps they don’t want witnesses.
My fourth – let’s run.

We ran about twenty feet, and stopped in a doorway, wondering what to do next. I didn’t see what the thugs did next, but Bronwyn said she saw the whole thing. They reached into the car, hopped out, crossed the street and walked blithely away, with their hoodies up, blending into the crowd. That’s why she started running, so we wouldn’t be keeping the same pace. We debated and debated on what to do.

Myself, it has been drilled into me to keep a low profile. Never ever ever mess with the cops in a foreign country. Not good idea. But neither did I just want to act like nothing had happened. Emira asked a neighbor who popped his head out of a window right above our heads if we should call the cops. The neighbor took a drag from his cigarette and cynically said, “Why bother? They’re not going to do anything.”

Huh. We ended up just leaving. Knowing it was not really a violent crime helped soothe our guilty minds, but it was still unsettling. Emira and Bronwyn filled me on the recent spate of youth crimes, including one where a group of boys killed another youth on a crowded public tram at 7pm – stabbed repeatedly.

This morning I got up and googled “youth crime, Bosnia” and this story popped up. Turns out, there’s not really anything Bosnian authorities can do to anyone under 18 as there’s no juvenile system in place. It’s strange to think that there is this horrible violence going on and no one – including us – does anything about it.

The more and more I travel the more I realize that we are all just inches away from mass chaos, and it doesn’t matter if you’re in Bosnia or the US. A few special ingredients: disregard for rule of law, polarizing politics and a cowed public is really all it takes. And while I’d like to think I’d be part of the counter-revolution, I’m schooled by experiences like last night, when it’s far better to melt slowly into the crowd, than risk retribution by feral youths or the scrutiny of an inept police investigation.

Back to Sarajevo

Emira and I arrived back in Sarajevo no worse for wear about an hour ago. Since the bus station is in the middle of the city, I got a better look at the main part of town on our way in, and it was interesting to compare to the one we'd just seen.

On the way down, Emira and I talked alot about the ravages that war placed on the town, and it's easy to see. There are many many buildings with large chunks (and small bullet holes) pock-marking the facade. There are even apartment complexes with perfect circles where grenade launchers hit them. I was surprised that these buildings were still standing - as I guess I'd always thought that buildings that had been hit with anything larger than a bullet would immediately collapse. Indeed, I stand corrected now, as most buildings are still in tact, they just look heavily acne-scarred. You can guess it does not make for such an awe inspiring landscape.

Dubrovnik, of course, sees more tourists and, as I understand it, was not heavily seiged by the Serbs. While our guidebook claimed six months, Emira hotly denies this, stating that it was only TWO weeks and that fourteen people lost their lives. It's hard to get an objective view on things (although I'm of course, predisposed to believe Emira) but a nice outline can be found here.

Because the Old Town in Dubrovnik is a UNESCO World Heritage Site , the damage was fixed rather quickly, unlike Sarajevo, which has seen only a slow rebuilding. Don't get me wrong, there IS construction going on - and there are certainly a whole lot more going for it than I expected (drinkable tap water, excellent bus system, a WHOLE lot of Volkswagons...) - but there is still a decidedly run-down feel to the place. And sometimes, the war legacy literally smacks you right in the face, like when you stumble on the sidewalk over "mortar shell roses" (divets left in the sidewalk) or, as I did, came face to face with a tank outside Tito's Bar. (Although, to be fair this tank was from WWII.)

Anyway, interesting stuff going on. And yes, if you didn't know, there was a war here - but there isn't anymore.

M is for Mortal Shell Roses;
M.

Sunday in Dubrovnik

This morning, Emira and I awoke to a beautiful morning, with the sun shining over the Old City and our rented room. We meant to get up earlier - but seeing as this is also my vacation, managed to sleep in until 8:30. I made coffee from the tiny machine our landlady set outside the door, along with home-made apple strudels.

With my camera newly charged, we walked took the long stairways (about 500 steps, straight down) to the Old City gates, in search of a bakery. We wound up at a tiny grocery store, where I bought yoghurt, and later Emira found a bakery where she bought a meat pie. She claims it's not as good as what we could get in Bosnia...

Around 10:15, we found ourselves at the port, looking for boat trips to the various islands around Croatia. We ended up booking ourselves for the student rate to the Elephiti Islands: Kolocep, Šipan, and Lopud. We bought a few souvenirs from a nice old lady and then met the boat at 11am. As the day was young, and the Old Town fairly well explored, we were both really excited to see some of the surrounding area.

The first five minutes should've tipped us off to the crazy adventure we were in for. It was a double-decker boat, but the moment we left the harbor, the guides announced that everyone should get off the top deck, due to high winds. Huh. That's when Emira turned to me and asked if I'd packed the dramamine. Nope, I said, it was back at the room.

Whoops.

Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on the prow, staying a safe distance away from Emira's head, hanging off the side. We both must have looked a little green, because the captain and most of his crew came by to see how we were doing. We ultimately ended up at the back of the boat, praying to JC and breathing in the lavendar sachets that I bought, to keep us from collectively hurling.

The first island was relatively close. Once we wobbled off the boat and set to exploring, it was really lovely. The islands give off a mediterranean feel - kind of like a Monet painting, with all the poppies, rosemary plants and yes, even some cacti. The port was super peaceful and surrounded by awesome paths, one of which led us to an abandoned church and cemetary. We headed back to the boat for a catered dinner of fresh whole fish, cevapi, cole slaw and all the terrible terrible wine we could drink. We laughed ourselves silly.

After that, it was one to Sipan, which was ok, but we only had forty minutes and there wasn't much to see. The last island, Lopud, was the best. We had 1.5 hours to check out the Francescan monestary, the botanical gardens and to eat a huge calzone the size of my head. Plus, have I mentioned that the cappucinos here are to die for? Like, three inches of foam and two of delicious dark coffee. I've had six today already and I think I might type all night. Anyway, we had some cappucinos in the port.

By this time, it was 4:15 and we had to head back to the boat. I was seriously not looking forward to it, and it turned out my instincts were right. The wind had only intensified, and it was two hours of absolutely hell. Once out into the wind, we were broadside to the shore, meaning we took the brunt of all the waves right into the bottom of the boat. My shoes were soaked, not to mention my shivering legs (good thing I was wearing a skirt, because my jeans would've never dried). Also, neither of had jackets and Emira kept her face flat against the table, trying not to hurl. I had to stare at the horizon, because it was the only thing that wouldn't move.

When I teased Emira that JC must not have heard her prayers for today, her only answer was, "Hey, the dude can't be at our beck and call. There are also wars and shit to take care of." The laughing did kind of help the nausea to subside, but not by much. I'm sure the crew thought that we were certifiably nuts.

Anyway, we got back a little wet and worse for wear into the port at 6pm. Neither of us wanted to talk much, so we marched back up the 500 flights of stairs shivering and swearing all the way. I hopped right into warm clothes and bed while Emira collapsed right on the floor. It took us a good hour to collect ourselves (and comb out the serious wind-hair) before we were ready for supper.

We marched BACK down the stairs and back into Old Town right about the time it started to rain, but we were not to be daunted. We ended up at a very cute local restaurant in a back alley, out of the way, and had a heart-warming meal of delicious pasta and lots of wine (ending with cappucino, of course). Now Emira is waiting patiently while I regail these adventures to teh interwebs at the same internet cafe as last night, and then we're going to gingerly test the night-life here. I say gingerly, as I think both our systems are still kind of nautious...

Anyway, that's all from here. We're back to Sarajevo tomorrow, but this has been the best of best breaks for both of us, all hurling aside :)

M is for motion-sickness;
M.

Conversations with God

On the bus yesterday, I watched as the formerly brilliant sky clouded over into a dull grey aroudn noon. Worriedly, I turned to Emira and said

Me,"Looks like it's clouding up. I hope it's not like this when we reach Dubrovnik."

Emira, "Naw, don't worry about it. I put in a good word with the JC."

Me, "Who? JC Chasez?"

Emira, "No, fool. Jesus Christ!"

Me, "But, you're Muslim!"

Emira, "Don't worry about it. JC and Mohammed have a time-share on my soul."

A point that was later proven when the sky cleared and a beautiful afternoon opened before us in the Old City. Obviously, I need to get on the JC's good side.

This Country Makes Me Poop

Not sure if I'd suggest drinking until one am, waking up at six to catch a crowded bus at 7:15 am for an eight hour trip through the mountains with hang over.

BUT, luckily it's over. And worth it.

Emira and I got on the bus this morning, and, after a rough start (ie motion sickness and some slight constipation), finally woke up and got the juices flowing about the time we ate a meat pie in Neum, on the small strip of Bosnia that's actually ON the Adriatic.

During the eight hours we mulled over the three president problem and decided that some "redistribution" was in order. That is, Bosnia was in a perfect position to share leaders with other, more unfortunate countries that don't actually HAVE leadership, per se. Like Somalia. I think this funnier when we were both sick.

Anyway, we arrived around two pm and found a room just above old city, in one of the many windy cobblestone streets. Apparently it's quite common for families living around the area to let rooms out to total strangers. Luckily for me, Emria had been here three weeks ago, knew where to look and, most importantly, speaks the language. We scored a terrific room with a private bath and terrace for little over $30/night for each of us. (Trust me, this is a steal).

The day, although initially cloudy, has cleared up to be a sunny, gorgeous 70 degree perfect day. We wandered in and around the old city, checked out the history museum, re-charged my camera battery (I know, I know), ate gelato, had terrible seafood (which was surprise - that it was terrible, I mean) and we are now chillin' at an internet cafe, testing out plans for tomorrow. We may take a boat tour, we may just lay on the pebble beach and drink cappucino's (the best I've ever had in my life! And,,...happens to help with constipation...not MINE of course...)

So far, so good. Emira and I travel well together, as we have in the past, we fight like sisters and laugh like drunken sailors. Dubrovnik is amazing - at least, the old town portion. It's surrounded by these old walls (which we walked around today), red roofs and cobblestones - much like an old Europe feel. I love the sun, I love vacation, I love relaxing.

That's it for today.
M.

Stuff I Never Knew

Bosnia is actually split into two parts - the Federation of mostly ethnic Bosnians and Croats and the Republika Srpska (sounds like Serb-ska) filled with mostly Bosnian-Serbs. Right now, Bosnia has THREE presidents, representing these three ethnic groups. The Croats and the Bosnians, for the most part, get along under the Federation, which has 51% of control in Parliament (but 70% of the population, according to Emira), while the Bosnian-Serbs have 49% representation. All this came about through the 1995 Dayton Accords, which effectively ended the war here but with THREE presidents (rotating out every nine months) one has to wonder - how long can this keep up?

I Have Beer Fingers...

Dear Readers;
I have arrived in Bosnia safely. I missed my connection in Munich, and had to stay the night there, but I met a nice Bosnian lady and a fun Kenyan/midwestern with whom to pass the time. Anyway...I'm on vacation so what's an extra night in Munich? I slept most of the time anyway.

I arrived in Bosnia this morning at noon. Flight uneventful. My friend Emira met me at the gate, looking fabulously long-haired and we immediately jumped a cab out to her house in Visnjik. It's a great apartment, right near Old Town, which we immediately took off for.

After exploring around for awhile, we sat down to eat cevapi (che-vapi); essentially beef links with pita and sour cream. It was very very good, if not colon-stopping. We poked around old town, checking out the main mosque, Orthodox Church and even Synagogue, but then grabbed some backlava. Walked around some more, and then hit her favorite bar, which we holed up on for about three hours, drinking beers, harassing the bartender and generally, catching up.

Which leads me to my post title...apparently, Emira has beer fingers. I don't know what that means, but after three liters of beer, I don't really care.

I called the HMF over skype, and then called my friend Alex, whom some of you might remember from my Malawian adventures two years ago. Turns out he was reassigned to Sarajevo about six months ago, so now we're going to hook up at an Italian restaurant and re-live old times.

Ahhh...vacation.

Tomorrow, we're off at 7am to catch a bus to Dubrovnik (Croatia). We'll see how that goes, but so far, so good!

M.