Flipping Out Over Serbia

Sunbathing at the Fortress... This is the life.

Manga hostel staff is nuts! Love them!

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 the  National 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.

Parliament

Playing music on the pedestrian walk

Yum! Chicken Gyros!

Electricity at the Nikola Tesla Museum

The President's Offices

Children's clothing at the Museum of Ethnography

The cobbled streets of the Bohemian Quarter

Sankofa: Denver, CO

There's a West African symbol of a bird flying forward and looking over its back at an egg. The bird is typically referred to as the Sankofa Bird and the meaning of its symbolism is that "we should reach back and gather the best of what our past has to teach us, so that we can achieve our full potential as we move forward (www.duboislc.net)." As I head west, stopping at several domestic stops, Sankofa has become a reoccurring theme. You truly never know how blessed you are until you look back at all the people who've sewn seeds into your life and see how they've helped make you the person you are today.

We've been friends since I was 12.

When I tell people "I'm going back home," I'm almost always referring to Colorado. So, as much as I'd like to tell you about the beauty of the Rocky Mountains, I'll refrain. For me, coming home is always about reconnecting and grounding myself and this week I did just that!



Friends with growing families.

I've spent the last week having drinks and laughing with people I went to middle school, high school, and undergrad with. I've sat in bliss and re-lived stories about the "old days". "Remember that time we bought matching hammer pants and went to the MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice Concert!?" or "Remember that time you burned my hair off with that curling iron?!" I've also enjoyed hearing about where life has taken them, holding their children, and meeting their spouses. "Wow, look how far we've come!" or "Wow, look how much weight we've gained," are common comments.



My college roomate!

Every part of Colorado is tied to memories I have of growing up. When I look at the snowcapped Rocky Mountains in the west, I think about my first trip skiing in Vail and how I got altitude sickness and threw up on some poor woman in the ski rental shop. When I see the Colorado School of Mines "M" on the side of Lookout Mountain, I think about being a freshman in college and having to carry a 5 lb. rock up there as a part of freshman initiation. And when I drive through Denver's bustling downtown with its nightclubs and ridiculous amount of marijuana dispensaries, I think about trying to sneak into nightclubs as a pre-teen or going to spoken word events at Brother Jeff's while in college.

The Smith sisters from high school!

Interestingly enough, when my parent's first told my brother and me that we were moving to Colorado, we cried and whined for weeks. I swore that I would have to wear cowboy boots and hats to school and that we would be the only black people in the state. It didn't help that on the first visit here, the car slid on black ice and careened off the road into a snow bank; but they went looking for a better life. Thankfully, within weeks we made new friends and began to enjoy our new environment. Now, I couldn't imagine growing up anywhere else.

My BFF since college!

Colorado is where I learned to drive, where I got married, where I had my first job and started my first business, and where I call home. It is where I learned about the beauty of diversity and came to understand that listening to Metallica alongside Tupac didn't make me any less "black." It's where my neighbor taught me how to peel and roast chillies for authentic Mexican dishes and where my Imo taught me to make Korean kimchi. It's where I learned to dream, learned to explore and dare to do something different.

Now that I'm moving forward in my journey, I'm thankful for the past and recognize how each person and each lesson has contributed to my present and future. Just don't tell my parents! I don't want them to know that they were right.

Thank you, Colorado.

Insert Terminator quote here

Socially, my friends tend to fracture into four categories: work, school, church, and family. Of course there’s probably a miscellaneous category (insert GLEE quote here: “Cause everybody’s got a random”), like the local pizza shop owners that remember your name and preferences and chat every time they see you. But, for the most part those four categories cover the gamut for me.  With one week left, I’ve begun to say “see you later” to quite a few friends and emotionally it has been enlightening.

Take work for example.

Last week my co-workers said goodbye by hosting two different events. Over burgers, fries, cupcakes and chatter I realized that saying goodbye to work is really only bittersweet. The sweet part is not working… (insert Forrest Gump quote here:  "That’s all I have to say about that!”) The bitter part is leaving the people I’ve worked with.

For the last 4+ years, I’ve spent eight hours a day, five days a week, and 45+ weeks a year with the same people. We've celebrated each other’s marriages, divorces and new babies and we've grieved with each other when family members passed. We've volunteered together by lending out our talents or buying chocolate/cookies from someone’s kid. We've celebrated every holiday together at work events where we ate ourselves into oblivion and when Michael Jackson died we honored him with our own Thriller montage. We've argued, laughed, cried, and forwarded the most inappropriate work emails to each other for more than 1800 hours a year, so needless to say I’m going to miss these people.

My “school friends” will also be missed.

This week, we finally walked across the stage and received rolled up pieces of paper with advertisements inviting graduates to spend even more money with the college. Hard left: the exorbitant amount I had to pay to get a master’s degree should include photos, caps & gowns, key chains, license plates and everything else to “help commemorate my experience!” (insert What’s Love Got To do With It quote here: “You wrong Anna Mae.”) But I digress…

We worked in cohorts during my master’s program; meaning that I went through the entire program with the same eight people.  There’s no faster way to get to know someone, than to place them in a pressure cooker together and make them work. So, seeing these people walk across the stage and accept their degrees was completely gratifying – we did this together!

Whether it’s friends from high school, college, or church, at different times in my life I have literally captured pieces of myself in the presence of these people and now I understand how fabulous it is to have really great friends in the peripheral. I say “peripheral” because these are the friends who you may not talk to every day, every month, or even every year, but if you see them in public or know that they need help with something in private, you’d run over an old lady carrying a disabled newborn in a rush just to say “hi” or to help them in whatever way you can.

With that said, see you later The Jones Group and bye, bye Mercy College. "Hasta La Vista, Baby!"