There are only a few historical events that occurred when I was a kid that I can recall with clarity exactly where I was when I heard about them. I was in class watching television with my classmates when the Challenger exploded. I remember that vividly. The Berlin Wall, Rodney King, Tiananmen Square, and OJ in the white Ford, amongst other things, are all events that come roaring back to mind. Unfortunately, for me, the Bosnian War wasn’t one of those things. I knew that Yugoslavia use to be a country and I knew that the gist of the Bosnian war centered on Bosnia’s independence, but that was about it.
Performing Arts School/Center
Unfortunately, my lack of knowledge didn’t shock me. I understand my nature; more willing to laugh than cry, choosing a movie with Steven Siegal over Steven Biko any day of the week. I also understand that there are events happening all over the world that I do not have direct knowledge of. However, it seems inconceivable that I missed over 100,000 people being killed and over 8,000 men in Srebrenica being executed in the 90’s! Even now, I’m not sure if my lack of knowledge was due to my age, if I chose to tune it out, or if it just wasn’t discussed much in the U.S news coverage. Whatever the case, as soon as I made it to Bosnia I became glaringly aware of my ignorance. Where was I when this happened?
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Neno on the far left leading our tour group
Sarajevo is one of those places that could easily be a tourist’s haven: well-planned city layout, deep historical roots, great shopping, nightlife, opera, theatre, and skiing really close. However, the city is still pulling itself out of the mire of the war, so they have yet to garner the tourist’s dollars their economy desperately needs. As such, they take what they can get and what they get are tourists, like myself, who come wanting to know more about the Bosnian War. Like Hanoi, like Phnom Penh and a number of other cities, Sarajevo’s tourist industry is now largely centered on war. As a result of this, I found myself surrounded by other tourists, mostly European and Australian, who easily conversed about the war and consequences of it. Not one to feel comfortable in situations where I’m out of my depth, I made it a point to use my time in Sarajevo as a history lesson.
Sniper's Alley
In order to get the most of my history lesson, I did two things. First, I read Black Soul by Ahmet M. Rahmanovic. Black Soul is an award winning, fictional book, based on true events and peppered with real statistics, historical quotes and news headline, about the Bosnian war. Although fiction, the story is a first-hand account of the war from a Bosniak Muslim’s point of view and it is amazing and captivating. I highly recommend it for those who can’t really sit down with a history book, but want to know more about the war while reading a storyline that hits you in the gut.The second thing I did was sign up for a 4 hour walking tour with Neno from Sarajevo Free Walking Tours. Neno is highly recommended on Trip Advisor and I was lucky enough to get a tour on his first day back from vacation. He is not only well educated on the historical and political aspects surrounding the war, but he’s willing to discuss personal facets of it as well. This tour was worth the exercise!
Names of the children who died from mortar attacks during the war.
Neno showed us Sniper’s Alley, Sarajevo Roses, the children’s memorial, and the Latin Bridge. More importantly he talked about growing up during the war and told stories of his mother burning flip flops to cook his school lunch on a makeshift stove. Neno also delved into a lot of the subjects discussed in Black Soul, including the genocide in Srebrenica, the systematic rape of Bosniak women, and the black market selling of food in Sarajevo, as well as, the selling of war victim’s treasures and organs in other parts of the world. The tour was also a look into the rich history of Bosnia before the war. While pointing out architectural features from the Ottoman Empire to the Austro-Hungarian times and sites built for the Winter Olympics in 1984, you can see that there is far more to Bosnia than war.
Latin Bridge: look up the history. Very interesting!
Interestingly enough, before traveling, I was a strong advocate for U.S non-intervention in international issues. I felt that countries should be able to handle their own disputes and that the American tax payers shouldn’t have to take on the “burden” of being the world’s police. Yet, as I shuffled through the atrocities that occurred in the Bosnian War, I wasn’t quite sure that this issue was as black and white as I had initially thought. The reality of the situation is that this wasn’t a war at all. More like soldiers taking on local firemen, teachers, writers and grocers who were learning how to be soldiers in defense of their country. This was slaughter by many accounts and my mind screams, “Where was I? Where were we? How did we as a nation, as a world, let this happen for so long before stepping in and squashing the whole thing?”
"Enough!" Spray painted throughout the city
Now, I’m sitting in a hostel in Croatia reading the news about a terrorist attack on the U.S embassy in Sarajevo and the answer is so simple. Just like the 90’s, things are happening in the world and I’m right here, you’re right here, reading about it from the safety of somewhere far away. For me, the difference is that I’ve been there. I know what that embassy looks like because I walked by it several times. Instead of the news fading in the background like someone else’s concern, I now feel incredible empathy for a country of people who were beginning to see the light and have now been pulled back into the muck of negative press.
This is one of the benefits of travel; international news becomes relevant because the world feels much smaller. I’m just saddened that I can’t see the entire world. This means that, for me, ignorance or indifference will still persist on many levels. Years from now, I’ll probably visit Sudan, see the effects of modern day genocide in Darfur and ask the same questions: “Where was I when this was happening?” or more importantly, “Where were we?”
Sarajevo Rose: After the war the city filled in the bomb craters , where people were killed, with red paint.
Sarcastic monument to the international community. Basically, thanks for the largely inedible food provided during the war. I read that many countries shipped spoiled goods and/or medicines that weren't useful because it was cheaper than destroying it in their home countries. SMH...
Children's monument
National Theatre
Hand knitted scarves?
Or perhaps a pen made out of bullet casings?
Bullet holes are still seen on the facades of some of the buildings
Before and After: the picture in the lower left hand corner is what this area looked like during the war.
On my last day in Belgrade, I found myself flipping a coin, surrounded by new friends, trying to decide whether I should stay or go. I desperately wanted to stay because I hadn’t had this much in a while and the staff at Manga Hostel really opened their city up to me. However, I also knew that I needed to go in order to stay on schedule. So there I was stuck in an R. Kelly moment of indecision (sing with me: “My mind’s telling my no…”). Leaving it up to fate, I pulled out a Serbian coin. “The shield is stay, the building is go!”
When I told people I was going to Serbia, they immediately started talking about war. For many Americans, the Bosnian war is all we know or can associate with Serbia. However, the beautiful thing about traveling is creating new associations. For the remainder of my life, when I think of Belgrade, I will think of amazing culture, fantastic food, friendly locals, and incredible fun. I think it's a fantastic place to vacation and I really encourage others to get out and visit. So here I go spreading the word.
Salsa dancing in the middle of Republic Square!
Belgrade is one of those places that doesn’t sleep; it’s a hedonists paradise. It has a reputation for being the party capital of Europe and I think it may be well deserved. To me, the city wasn’t a spring break type of party place, but more of a grown folks type of party place (think: Love Jones, Carlos Santana, Crush Groove, and George Micheal thrown into a blender; random and full of energy). The nightclubs close around five a.m, sometimes later, and the entertainment options are endless and so is the shopping. Further, no entertainment is complete without good food and Belgrade’s Kafanas are prime for filling that role. A Kafana is a café/bar/restaurant/music venue similar to any neighborhood Friday’s, but far more Eastern European in décor, food and people. In general, Serbian food is rich, hearty and deliciously sinful. Cabbage rolls filled with meat and placed on top of mashed potatoes swimming in broth leave me licking the spoon and counting carbs like crazy.
Nicole, my Aussie travel buddy, serenaded at Tri Sesira.
While in Belgrade, I fell in love with one particular Kafana, Tri Sesira (Three hats in English). Tri Sesira is popular in Belgrade and in the bohemian neighborhood known as Skadarlija. The food there was so amazing that I ended up eating there three times over next four days. It helped that they make my new favorite meal: Mućkalica. Mućkalica, which means mixed up, is made of grilled pork pieces in stewed vegetables. DELICIOUS! I’m posting the recipe here, in case anyone out there is interested in trying something new.
Mućkalica
"Europe, Nothing Without Serbia"
1 1/2 pounds boneless pork shoulder
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/4 cup water
3 medium onions, sliced
1 medium tomato, chopped
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 medium green bell pepper, cut into strips
2 ounces feta cheese, cut into 3/4-inch cubes (optional)
Hot cooked rice (optional)
Trim fat from pork. Cut pork into 1/2-inch slices; cut slices into 1/2-inch strips. Heat oil in skillet until hot. Cook and stir pork in oil over medium heat until brown, about 15 minutes; drain. Add water, onions, tomato, salt, paprika, pepper and red pepper. Cover and simmer until pork is tender, about 30 minutes, adding water if necessary.
Add green pepper. Cover and simmer until green pepper is crisp-tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Top with cheese.
Serve with rice.
Yields 4 servings.
**Recipe taken from www.7thspace.com***
Inside of the National Theatre
After a fatty food fest at a Kafana, you have too many possibilities for nightlife. During first night in Belgrade, my options were between a number of night clubs all with different themes from Latin to Pop to Hip Hop to Metal, or a blues festival, or a young composer’s concert. I also had the option to go to the Opera: Madame Butterfly. I opted for the Opera. The Opera is held at the National Theatre, which is an incredibly old, gilded and beautiful building. All of these events were taking place during the middle of the weekday, so I couldn’t imagine how much fun could be had during the weekend.
The daytime can also be fun.. Belgrade, like many large European cities, offers a free day tour. So many of the main tourist attractions can be viewed with a knowledgeable guide. The tour cover places like Knez Mihajlova street, Belgrade Fortress, Kalemegdan, Bohemian Quarter (Skadarlija), Republic square, and theNational Theater. A visit to the Cathedral of Saint Sava, the largest Orthodox cathedral in the Balkans and one of the largest Orthodox cathedrals in the world, is a must as well. Aside from tours Belgrade also has a plethora of museums that can be visited. These museums cover everything from African art to automobiles and there are actually over forty museums in Belgrade alone. My favorites are the Nikola Tesla Museum and the Museum of Ethnography.
Cathedral of Saint Sava - this place is massive!
While in Belgrade, I also went to a wine maze in the dungeons of the fortress. Table after table of small wine makers mingling with tasters among a setting of ancient ruins created a night to remember. I, honestly, nursed entirely too many glassed of Serbian, Croatian and other Eastern European wines, but I had an incredible time. Before this night, I had no clue that wine was even made in this region of Europe. After that night, I’m intent on learning the process of wine making while here. Stay tuned…
Beautiful old walls of the Fortress.
So here I was… Should I stay or should I go?“Sade will be here in a few days, you should stay for the concert,” friends reminded me. “The international jazz festival is next week, you should stay!” others said. I used to be so good at goodbyes, maybe even a tad bid cold hearted I’ve been told, but lately I’m finding it harder and harder to meet awesome people, travel together, and then separate not knowing if you’ll ever see them again. Thank God for Facebook.
Flip…
Building it is! Time to go.Sarajevo here I come. Bye, bye Belgrade. I’ll try to tell as many people about you as possible.
As I travel, I see more and more families with young children, backpacking together and learning about history, art, language and working with people from all walks of life by exploring countries foreign to their own. Of course, they are typically non-American and typically Caucasian; regardless, I find myself both envious and hopeful that one day when I have children of my own, I will have the wherewithal to expose them to other cultures through travel.
St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral - Bulgaria
When my mother was traveling with me, I asked her why she and my dad never thought to take me and my brother to countries outside of North America and her answer was that they simply didn’t know that these things were possible. The thought of packing up your family and going someplace like Vietnam was so foreign that it wasn’t even a thought. It occured to me that at times, parents can only teach their children the extent of what they know. However, good parents, like my own, will always try to make sure that their children grow to know, see and experience more than they did.
Statue of Skanderbeg - Albania
I can recall getting signed up for everything under the sun, when I was a kid. I went to pottery classes, clarinet and piano lessons, taekwondo classes, the Math Olympics, 4-H, and Girl Scouts. When you’re a kid, you don’t appreciate these things. I just wanted to watch Thunder Cats, collect Garbage Pail Kids cards, and play with my brother’s Castle Grey Skull and that’s it! Now that I’m older, I recognize that my mother understood that you have to enlist the help of good neighbors, knowledgeable friends and family, and more importantly effective teachers in order to erect a solid base for your children to stand on. Without knowing the word for it or having studied the concept, my parents were practicing synergy. Synergy is the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts; it’s teamwork.
So, when people learn about my trip and say, “Wow, who told you that you could do this?” or “Who gave you the idea to travel like this?” I can’t say, “Oh, I grew up traveling. My parents took me on excursions through South East Asia as a kid.” However, I can point to the multitude of people who my parents introduced me to and who at one point or another poured into me.
Kale Fortress - Macedonia
It was my mom’s friend Shari Hamilton, who was very passionate about doing the things she loved and would quit her job in a heartbeat to follow her dreams. She was the first black woman I knew personally who fearless, worldy, well read, and well traveled.
It was my elementary school teacher, Marty Richardson, who taught me what stereotypes were and systematically tried to break them by exposing me to Homer’s Iliad, figure skating and the wonders of Folk music. “You can like what you want. Do what you want and be what you want. You are not a stereotype,” she would say.
The Prizren Hammam - Kosovo
It was my middle school geography teacher, Mr. McCord, who made us listen to Pink Floyd and watch slides of his adventures backpacking through foreign countries. He jump started my wanderlust. It was a high school economics teacher, who taught me about Adam Smith and the concept of making choices and accepting consequences.
It was my Aunt Johnette, who would pull me to the side, give me a dollar or two and whisper, “It doesn’t matter if you are married or single, a woman should always put aside some money for herself.” All of the people worked like a team with my mom, who along with our prayers would make my brother and I recite “when I grow up I want to be self-sufficient, independent, and very intelligent.”
Memorial House of Mother Teresa - Macedonia
Teachers, both formal and informal, are the greatest resources in the world. Period. Hands Down.
So, I’ve written this entire diatribe and you have to be wondering where this is all coming from…. Well, Chad and I just finished traveling through major cities in a good part of the Balkans (including: Greece, Albania, Kosovo, Macedonia and Bulgaria) and my mouth is on the floor!
Let’s be honest...We ate our way through many of these countries. So my mouth could literally be on the floor because it’s exhausted from chewing big hearty meats, enormous vegetables and ridiculous amounts of bread. Side note: I have never in my life walked away from a table and while trying to keep my tights from automatically rolling down, longingly wished for the prospect of diarrhea. Yet, I did this almost nightly.Great food!
Where was I?
Changing of the Guards (President's Office) - Bulgaria
Yes, my mouth is on the floor because I am seeing and walking into places that I only learned about from teachers and it’s absolutely surreal.I’m looking at castles in the countryside of Albania and Kosovo that once housed the Kings in the history books my teachers taught from; ruins in Greece and Bulgaria that were the backdrop to stories teachers introduced me to; stomping grounds for Jesus, Paul and all of them that preachers use teach me about; and massive and old churches and cathedrals that were built before them.
For example, we walked up on a statue the other day and I asked Chad, “Who is that?” “Alexander the Great,” Chad responded. “I thought he was Greek,” I said. “Nope. Macedonian. Do you remember when…” he continued in a history lesson that I recalled having learned in school. This was another, “Holy crap! That happened right here!” moment and I was feeling really overwhelmed; overwhelmed by my surroundings; overwhelmed that I was getting the opportunity to see these things first hand; and overwhelmed by my journey. I am immensely grateful and God is so awesome that it’s scary sometimes.
Czar Samuil Statue - Macedonia
I know I write these “I’m so grateful” posts often and it can get tiring, but please bear with me, there’s a purpose. First, I have to pinch myself sometimes to realize that I’m actually doing this, that I’m actually here, and writing it down is the best way I know to make it concrete. Secondly, I think it is vital to expose yourself and your children to international travel and all that can be learned from it (especially black folks). Again, writing it down and sharing it is the best way I can express the emotional and social impact this trip has had, in hopes that others will take the leap. Lastly, I am nothing but a dwarf standing on the shoulders of giants, so I absolutely need to pay homage and say thank you to any and every teacher who has poured into me. I am in the midst of living my dreams and it would not have been possible without the teachers in my life.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
War Memorial - Kosovo
Partisan Statue - Albania
Ivan Vazov National Theatre - Bulgaria
Alexander the Great - Macedonia
Sunset - Patras, Greece
Ampitheatre at the Acropolis - Greece
St Alexander Nevsky (Daylight) - Bulgaria
George W. Bush Street (He is loved in these parts) - Albania
It’s probably too late to mention this, but I’m not very comfortable flying.
I’m not sure if it’s control issues or the fact that I’ve had some really horrible flights in the past. Take for example, the flight we took home from a National Cheerleading competition in high school. During the landing, that flight dipped, dived and shot back up into the sky so frequently and so violently that a flight attendant had to hold a trash bag out at the end to collect all of the puke bags.
Or take the flight my husband and I were on to Denver. He wasn't my husband then and we had purchased our tickets seperately. Unfortunately, he was upgraded to first class and of course ditched me in coach, where I was the only adult in the back amongst three rows of Girl’s Scouts. (I promise you that I cannot make this stuff up!) The weather was so bad that after a four minute death defying attempt to land, the pilot aborted the landing at the last possible moment. I still remember screaming so loudly that the Girl Scouts began consoling me. “Lady, it’s okay. We will be alright.” I was supposed to be the adult in that situation and it still shames me that it ended that way.
Someone once told me that you have to watch the flight attendants to know if something is wrong. So once on a flight to Tokyo, we hit a really awful patch of turbulence and the pilot screamed over the microphone in English, no less, “Flight attendants take your seats!” When those heffas took off running to their seats like NFL wedge busters… Well, you can imagine that I was convinced that that was going to be the very last flight I would ever be on.
With all of this said, you have to understand that at this very moment, I’m freaking the hell out! After one cancelled flight, we are finally on our way to Athens from Istanbul and the pilot has just announced that we will have to take off ten minutes later than scheduled because the Greek air traffic controllers are on strike. ”Strike?! As in not working?!” In my mind, I’m raising my hand… “Um… out of curiosity… aren’t air traffic controllers an important component of flying?” We are on the runway, I can’t go anywhere, I am sweating and having day dreams of a free for all of planes gunning it for the runway in a blind attempt to land themselves in some orderly manner similar to a Black Friday sale at Wal-Mart. Nothing good can come of this.
Fortunately, the strike was just ending, not beginning, and we actually made it to Greece in one piece; but boy was the airport empty. I mean EMPTY! I could have carried a kilo of coke on my back through customs, like a real mule, and no one would have been the wiser. What is going on here?
Answer: Protests and Strikes!
The Greeks are pissed and although I’ve had my head in the sand, in regards to news, for much of the last five months, I do know that it has something to do with the austerity measures the government had put into place to attempt to control their debt. I asked our host, Stelios, who owns the fabulous B&B Chad and I stayed at, what the specific complaint was and he broke it down.
He stated that Greece’s entrance into the European Union opened the flood gates for international trade. “The local manufactures cannot compete with the low costs of Chinese goods and have had to close their companies.” Like all snow balls, when one industry falls it affects the buying power of the people working in that industry and that affects other industries (e.g. retail) and the ball keeps rolling. In his opinion, this situation in corroboration with what was occurring in the international markets, lead to the downslide of Greece’s national economy. Unfortunately, the government had run up a large deficit during the “Golden Year’s” and now that the money wasn’t flowing they were having a difficult time paying their debts. In order to “help” Greece keep paying its debts, the IMF offered a bail out in exchange for changes (austerity measures) that Greece would have to implement in order to cut spending etc.
This is an over-simplified version of the situation there, but the gist is that the austerity measures the government has agreed upon have reduced the quality of living in Greece, drastically increased taxes and also lowered salaries in some industries. As a result of this, the Greek people are rightfully upset that they are left “holding the bag” because of government overspending, corporate greed, and corruption and they want change; thus the protests and strikes. Sounds familiar, right?
Chad and I were only supposed to be in Greece for six days, but as tourists we have to succumb to what is happening in the environment we are in, so our plans changed. For example, a year ago when I was planning my trip, the initial plan was to take the train from Istanbul to Athens. However, as a result of the austerity measures, Greece has cut all international train service in and out of the country; so ferries, buses, and planes are the only way to reach it. Mr. McKelvey was not sitting on a bus for 20+ hours, so we flew. The first flight was cancelled due to the air traffic controllers strike; the second flight was late. The next day the buses were on strike and the following day the trains were on strike. Figuring out which day we could leave the country on the cheapest possible route was proving difficult.
Despite the protest situation, we enjoyed our time in Athens by visiting the Acropolis, the Parthenon, and the Temple of Zeus. We also visited the beautiful all white marbled Panathenaic Stadium where the first modern Olympics took place. We walked for miles around the city and enjoyed Walking Street, where we ate like crazy people, and Syntagma Square, also known as "Constitution Square", where many of the protests in Athens began. There is so much to see in Athens and in the surrounding areas, but the transportation issues took a heavy toll on our planning, so we ended up only staying three days and attempted to make our way west to Albania as soon as possible.
After a marathon bus ride through little coastal towns and along miles and miles of beaches, we eventually made it to Patras, Greece. This little town is a main port between Greece and Italy and we were so tempted to just hop on boat and spend the rest of our time in Italy. However, we stuck to the plan and Patras proved interesting enough, as the town was essentially DEAD during the daylight hours and the businesses, bars and restaurants all opened after dark around 8:00 pm and stayed open until dawn. I have never seen anything like this and I think this would be a great town for Edward and Bella to live.
But I digress…
Like Athens, Patras had its own fair share of protests and protest concerts, which are far more fun, but can get just as rowdy; so, Chad and I don’t stay long and keep moving. As we continued our way towards Albania, I couldn’t help to notice the irony in this entire situation. At this very moment, there are protests in the streets of New York for much of the same reasons that they are protesting in Greece. The world is so small and very interconnected; but, while I’m naively moving around it, educating myself, things are happening in my own country that will have a major impact on me. Although these issues are having such a strong influence on both my home country and my host country, I feel like an observer, rather than a participant in both. Much like my bad flights, this time through Greece was simply like hitting turbulence on your way to somewhere else. And for the first time, I’m starting to realize that the landing back home may be just as rough. My future is, figuratively, up in the air.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. We will be landing in the world of reality shortly. Thank you.”
