and the Virgin Mary in a tortilla...

That beer bottle was FULL when I left it there an hour ago. The statue drank it! IT'S A MIRACLE!

No Slovenian Public Works were harmed in the making of this post.
It was like that when I found it.

One last Balkan post

I enjoyed my time in Ljubljana, despite my failure to get the memo that summer in Slovenia ends on August 28th at 3pm SHARP. Autumn here is just delightful, though.

Yesterday I rode the bus one hour to the mountain town of Bled (pronounced kind of like "blade"). Although I would have preferred to be a little warmer and less wet, I have to say that the weather actually enhanced the picturesque surroundings: a fortress on a mountaintop, looming over an emerald green lake. The fortress has been there for a thousand years, and in the mid-1800s the lake and environs were part of a renowned spa resort. The castle within the fortress is now a museum with a VERY comprehensive history of the area: I mean, they were dealing in geological time, showing how the mountain was formed and during which eras it was under the sea. I liked seeing the collection of fossilized shells.










Museums in Ljubljana were equally comprehensive. This country has the most impressive museums I've ever visited, and I'll stand under the blue whale at the AMNH and say it loud and proud. I went to the city museum, the ethnographic museum, and the contemporary history museum (I'm a sucker for 20th century European history. I daresay it's why I do all this traveling in the first place). All three were very engaging, and featured sound and video clips along with the artifacts. They really did a lot to immerse you in the experience.

So that concludes "Balkans Bonanza 2010". Since leaving New York on August 5th, I have visited Italy, Albania, Macedonia, Kosovo, Montenegro, Bosnia, Serbia, Croatia, and Slovenia. It has been an amazing trip, truly. Prior to this trip I had been to only one of the former Yugoslav republics (Croatia); now I have been to all seven.

In my amateur assessment, I'd say Slovenia is the most "European", and Bosnia the least so, owing to its Islamic Turkish heritage.

Kosovo was the friendliest because they were so "yaaaay, America! You totally came through for us in the 1999 war!"
(and believe me, "yay, America!" is not a sentiment you hear all that often overseas. Oh well, screw everybody else; I'll always have you, Kosovo.)

Macedonia was the prettiest but we were at a resort town on a 1,000 year old glacial lake so that's kind of cheating :-) Montenegro was absolutely gorgeous, too, as was the Croatian coast.

I think someday, when I'm planning another adventure, I'll come back to one of these countries and learn the language. Croatian-Bosnian-Montenegrin-Serbian-Macedonian are all pretty similar, and it is a fantastic language filled with loads of fun words (see below, "K is for potato"). If I were to choose a place to set up shop, I'd say either Split, Croatia - a happenin' city with frequent ferries to the gorgeous Adriatic islands - or Sarajevo, Bosnia, which is small and friendly and has the richest history.

But I sort of have my heart set on a different adventure this time around. My next post will be from England - if I have time and am not swept away with wedding festivities - and I recently purchased my ticket onward from England to my next destination. So feel free to start guessing where I'm headed next. :-)

Kids these days don't get enthusiastic about ANYthing...

Chick-Fil-A tests out its new ad campaign in a quiet corner of Europe

Scenes from a Museum

Hi.
My name is, um... Bill. I'm just going to chill out in this corner over here while you browse the museum. That way I can scare the ever-lovin' CRAP out of you when you emerge from the exhibit.

Apart from that I don't serve any real purpose, and I am certainly not connected to the museum exhibit in any coherent discernible way.

Have a nice day.

K is for Potato

The drought ends in Ljubljana

Here is how cute Ljubljana is: Ljubljana is so unbelievably charming that it managed to overcome perhaps the worst arrival of this whole trip.

I nearly slept through my stop on the train here from Zagreb. (Funny, I almost did the same thing on my way IN to Zagreb. I really need to remember that these trains are also going to OTHER PLACES. They're not just going to stop dead, flick on all the lights, and yell, "Everybody off! We've arrived at Natalie's destination!")
So I vaulted off the train and exited the station in the wrong direction. Wheeling around, I discovered a) a dearth of bakeries and b) the disconcerting realization, examining the existing bakery, that I am now in the E.U. and bread is a lot more expensive.
I collected a free map from the tourist information stand (manned by absolutely the cutest 20-something Slovenian guy who, when I stood aside waiting my turn, called over to me in fake-stern English, "Please approach the bench!")

Using my map I determined that my hostel was, um, a long way away. No problem; this is why I pack light.
Halfway through the journey, it began to rain. Also, the directions to my hostel sort of tapered off into vagueness, at around the same time that the main part of town tapered off into confusing suburbia. By sticking stubbornly to my directions ("just keep following that street....") I did in fact find my hostel, in a residential building with no sign save for an 8x10 card on the door that read "Confidenti Hostel".

"Confidenti" must mean "confidential."

The sign on the door - on the DOOR, mind you, NOT on my confirmation slip - read "Reception is open from 9-11am. Outside of these hours, please call xxxxx."
I rang the bell anyway. Nothing. I do not have a cell phone.

Fortunately, the door was beneath a small roof, because I sat there for a good ten minutes, staring out at the rain and willing someone to appear. When no one did, I hoisted my bags again and shuffled over to a nearby bar/cafe, where I ordered a cappuccino and explained my predicament to the waitress. She was SO SWEET - she disappeared, returned with her personal cell phone, and dialed for me.

The hostel owner arrived within minutes and was friendly and apologetic. He ushered me in to the cleanest hostel of the entire trip. I want to have a party in this hostel and invite the entire staff and clientele of the hostel in Belgrade and just say "SEE?!"

your guess is as good as mine

the main marketplace in Zagreb, 10am

taken from the exact same vantage point as the photo below,
I swear...note the spire in the distance.

the main marketplace in Zagreb, 6pm

a room with a view

here is my lovely little room in Zagreb, which I had to myself save for two polite British teenagers.


and here is the view from the little deck.

reminded me of Abby...

I'm on the _____ ________

Bottoms up!

I'm on the ______ _______

Fill my cup.

I'm on the ____ _______

ready to crash and burn, I never learn....

I'm on the ______ _______

I love that stuff!

I'm on the _____ _________

And I can never get enough!!

If you haven't figured out by now that I took the night train to Zagreb, then you do not have my permission to call yourself a Guns 'N' Roses fan.

Buenos dias, Hrvatska

5 a.m. is perhaps not the ideal time to arrive in Zagreb, but let me tell you: some people are still up. Walking from the train station past a lovely park, I passed a group of Croatian teens carrying 32-ounce cups of beer. One of them was carrying on in heavily-accented drunk-speak English.

“Why is he speaking English right now?” I wondered. “Is one of his friends English? Or is he just one of those people who carries on in a foreign language when they’re drunk?”

And I’m not saying anything here about my own proclivities except that on the very rare occasions when I do get drunk, it’s helpful to have a Spanish-to-English translator on hand. ;-)

But that won’t happen here. I don’t think I strung so much as two beers together during the whole trip with the guys, and I’m sure as heck not going to drink when I’m here by myself!

That said, I already love Zagreb and think it is on the whole safer, more charming, and more old-world than Belgrade. I don’t mean to slag Belgrade, but it just wasn’t my scene - although the desk employee at my hostel was the sweetest, friendliest guy I’ve ever met. Besides you, of course, Dad.

Zagreb is a city on a much smaller scale than Belgrade and has a higher concentration of green spaces and beautiful buildings. As I write this - nearly 6 a.m. by now - I am sitting at the edge of a white stone fountain, watching the sun rise. There’s a massive cathedral right in front of me, dwarfing the medieval-looking fortress wall next to it. And they just turned the fountain on, so now I have the sound of bubbling water behind me. I love watching a city wake up. There’s a guy unloading a delivery truck, another guy riding past on a bicycle, and a bunch of old ladies in head scarves setting out vegetables in the central market.

There’s also a young blond girl in a party dress and heels, clearly doing the “walk of shame.” This really is an all-night party town, from the looks of it. Those guys emerging from the bakery, tearing off chunks of bread with their teeth - maybe they are on their way to work, but they could just as easily have been walking home from the pub and decided, "Jeez, I'm STARVING."

And of course they would say it in English, because that's what drunk Croatians speak.

The word for “bakery” here, while I’m thinking of it, is “pekarnica.” So it’s a variant of the word in Serb, and has the same diminutive ending we used in Costa Rica to speak baby-talk to Lady (albeit with a different pronunciation). So every time I see it I think it says, “cute little bakery.”

But it no longer matters what the word for “bakery” is, because if I don’t eat something other than bread soon I am going to get scurvy.

Cyrillic for Dummies

First I want to thank you all for your comments, which are funny and engaging and really reassuring. Sorry I have not been good about sending individual emails and postcards, but your presence on the blog has made me very happy. I feel like you are all here with me, laughing at my stories and yelling at me not to hitchike! (oKAY. I only did it because Sam was there; I would never do it alone!)

Today I wandered around Belgrade - it's very, um, urban, and not all that charming. But the people are friendly and helpful. After several tries, I found an adaptor for my computer charger. I told the guy, "You just made my day. Now I can write to my dad again." He seemed to appreciate that.
I also bought a few snacks. Everything in this country costs 50 cents: cup of coffee, pastry, slice of pizza. And I used the free map provided by my hostel to explore a bit. The Nikola Tesla museum was indeed aces, as Andy promised. It's full of model machines he made, operated/demonstrated by the English-speaking guide. Tesla made extraordinary and uncalculable conributions to modern technology, and after wandering through his museum I can confidently say that I still don't understand them one bit. But I saw his ashes; they're in a spherical urn in a spookily-lit room.
I managed to find a few streets that are for pedestrians only, lined with cafes. And at the end of one of them I reached the ethnographic museum, which contained a very charming and thorough display of 19th century Serbian costumes and artifacts from home life. They had the implements needed for several of the major farming industries: corn, grapes, fishing, tobacco, and olives.In the late afternoon I walked up to the park. It was lovely and I'll return there tomorrow to see the old fortress. I was pretty worn out by the end of the day, I think partly because of the walking and mostly because my brain is tired from reading the language. I absolutely love this language; it is so fun to pronounce. I've developed an utter compulsion to read aloud every word I see (Sam spent several days in Sarajevo listening to "Zel-ya-NEET-sa: Spinach pastry. Krom-pee-ROO-sa: Potato pastry. Doh-vih-JEN-ya: goodbye. Mlee-YEH-com: milk. SEER: cheese. VEESH-na: cherry. Bo-ro-NEET-sa: blueberry. Bee-YELL-ee: white. Blash-chee-CHAR-na: Old Town. GAV-ree-lo PRINT-sip: dude who shot Franz Ferdinand and kicked off World War I. ZHEN-ska: woman.")
Here in Belgrade, the word-pronouncing continues, but now it's more challenging because the words are often written in cyrillic. nEKAPA is pronounced PEKARA and means "bakery". And that's just one of the easy ones.
I think if you say it out loud, "pekara" does in fact sound like "bakery," but maybe I've just been here too long.
The baked goods in this country, by the way, are total crap, and I should know because I eat about five of them every day. If you'd like to read about the best loaf of bread in the entire world, go to http://balkanbonanza.blogspot.com for Sam's rhapsodic description. I can't do it justice.

On a final note, I saw a picture of Gavrilo Princip - aforementioned initiator of World War I - and, is it wrong of me to say, homeboy was kind of hot?

Old-school Youth Hostel

From Sarajevo to Belgrade, I shared a train compartment with the most ADORABLE little old lady named Ivanka who, after I established very clearly through hand gestures and blank stares that I did not understand a word she said, continued to speak quite companionably to me in Serb throughout the nine-hour trip. In that time I gathered that a) she thinks my name is pretty and b) she has been to Australia. The Australia trip was sponsored by the number "two" - I DO understand the word "dva" with two fingers held up.

So either she has been there twice, or she went for two weeks. Or perhaps she went there with two people, or visited two cities, or enjoyed two beers.

I would continue this line of reasoning to suggest that she may have seen two kangaroos, but she didn't pantomime any hopping so I kind of ruled that one out.With one hour remaining we were joined by a handsome Serb named Milodrag, and I assure you I am not spelling that right. "New York City?" he said, "America...Red Hot Chili Peppers!" So we hit it off right away. "Faith No More...I hear them, festival, EXIT, in Novi Sad." Andy, I hope you are reading this.

At the conclusion of the trip I helped Ivanka leave the train by carrying her bowling ball collection (I'm guessing), much to the appreciation of her son who met us on the platform. He was very nice to me, and Ivanka and I said a fond goodbye. In all - and this is borne up by my experiences today as well - Serbs are extremely friendly. Andy was right - you find yourself really liking these people, and then you're like, "But wait, they bombed the smack out of the Bosnians for pretty much the entire time I was in high school."

Leaving the train station, I found my hostel very easily. I'm staying in the sort of place that I alone can enjoy. All of my past traveling companions - I'm totally talking to you, SAM. And Andy and Nick. And hell, let's throw in Dan and Sharon and Shaheen and Elaina and anyone else who's ever traveled with me - would shudder in absolute horror at the dorm bunkbeds, the grainy patchwork seersucker sheets, the crowded, mildewed unisex bathroom down the hall, the smoke-and-noise filled lobby. And, ok, I couldn't do this forever. But for 3 nights, I'm happy. There's something satisfyingly uncomplicated about locking all of my possessions into a bedside cubby. I was assigned the bed closest to the air conditioner, so I get to regulate it all night according to my own comfort level...no helpless freezing or sweltering for me. (and there's no one around to steal my blanket in the night, ahem, you know who you are!) The young guys running the front desk are super sweet and helpful. When I checked in, they looked in confusion from my passport to me and said, "Whoa. You look a lot younger than you are." I'll take that any day, thanks.

And being surrounded by the chatter of ten-years-younger travelers of all European nationalities is better for me right now than sitting in a hotel room alone with my thoughts. This was probably the best place for me to go after saying goodbye, one by one, to the guys.The "Balkans Bonanza" adventure of me, Andy, Nick, and Sam is over, but I'm only 1/8th of the way through my overseas sojourn. Mostly I feel pretty great about it - I feel lucky that I don't have to leave yet - but I do miss having the guys around.

I'm only on my own for a week, though, before I arrive in England for Naomi's wedding. (!!!!!)

DATELINE: Belgrade, Serbia    

Author: Natalie      

I wrote a nice loooong entry, but I cant get online from my computer so now im just on the public computer in the hostel. so this is just to let everyone know that i made it safely to serbia and am enjoying myself quite a lot.love and miss you guys, more to come soon i hope. xoxo Nat

A Survivor's Tour of Sarajevo

DATELINE: Sarajevo, Bosnia

Author: Natalie

Normally I am not so into guided tours, but yesterday's was amazing - thanks to Andy for setting it up. Our guide, Mustapha, was a 28-year-old Bosnian Muslim whose family survived the siege of Sarajevo from 1992-1995. The tour really helped me to get a better sense of what went on during the war. We started at the tunnel museum, visited a portion of the front line, proceeded to the hilltop Jewish cemetery for a view of the city, and culminated at the old Ottoman fortress for an even better view of the city. With that perspective, it was much easier to see how Serb forces completely surrounded the city and terrorized the civilians with shells and sniper fire. The first victims were two young female medical students who were shot while crossing the Vrbanje bridge in April of 1992. During the nearly-four-year war, over 11,000 people were killed, 70% of them civilians. That figure includes 1600 children under the age of 12.

The only area not controlled by the Serbs was the airport, a small strip of land in the Eastern region of the city. The airport was under the supervision of U.N. forces and was used to deliver humanitarian aid. Our guide was not so impressed with the quality of the aid provided - canned goods from 1972, he said - nor with the support of the U.N. who essentially did nothing to curb the violence against civilians. The Bosnian forces, with help from civilians, dug an 800-meter-long tunnel beneath the air strip to connect Sarajevo with the free Bosnian territory in the hills far beyond. Anecdotes from survivors suggest that the tunnel was mainly used for delivering weapons from the city to the soldiers fighting in the hills, and especially for bringing supplies in to the city from outside. It also contained an oil pipeline and an electric line, making it particularly dangerous due to frequent flooding. Our own guide was twelve during the war, and he vividly recalls receiving food packages from his father, a soldier. He said that he himself wanted to fight but was too young. He told us that for the first six months of the war, his family lived in a bunker with 80 other families - so, about 400 people total - beneath a municipal building in the center of the city. He recounted how he left his house with his mother and sister just five minutes before it was bombed.

The siege caught the population of Sarajevo quite off guard. "One day," our guide recalled, "My Serb neighbors just disappeared. They had been tipped off that the Bosnian Serbs were planning an attack against we Muslims, and they fled for safety." The tanks and militia began amassing in the hills surrounding Sarajevo soon after that, but the army told the Sarajevans that they were merely there for military maneuvers and practice drills. Then the shelling began, and did not let up for over three years. In all, some five million shells were dropped on the city of Sarajevo. With the belated diplomatic intervention of U.S. President Bill Clinton, the war ended in November of 1995 with the signing of peace accords in Dayton, Ohio.

After the tour, Andy, Sam and I went to lunch and ate a truly obscene amount of bread.

DATELINE: Budva, Montenegro    

Author: Natalie      

Greetings from Montenegro; my new favorite word is "kleptocracy". I miss Nick, but the remaining three of us are enjoying our further travels up through the Balkans, where the women get hotter and the pizza more expensive as we continue north. (Though I predict those pizza prices will dip again in Sarajevo). I haven't been offered anything resembling a dumpling this whole trip, which leads me to conclude that we are technically NOT in Eastern Europe. Andy's post covered our arrival in the coastal town of Budva, so all I will do is reiterate that the bus ride along the coast was ab-so-lute-ly beautiful. The seaside is framed by mountains and lined with craggy rocks. Budva is quite a bit more developed than I hoped - it's kind of a Montenegrin Wildwood - but today I had an adventure on a mellower beach. Andy went off on his boat ride, and Sam and I started out on foot. Based on an aerial photograph I had seen of the region, I decided that we could "hike up to the highway, walk over the ridge, and descend down to the water via this path through the woods here...". Not long into our hot, dry, sunny hike, we decided it was a better idea to cab it. Good thing we did - the hike that I had estimated as 3 miles was more like twelve. And that "path through the woods" terminated in a fifty-foot cliff at the water's edge. So, in conclusion, it's amazing how much you can't tell by looking at an aerial photograph. Sam and I had a perfectly lovely day on the beach, swimming and scrambling over jagged rocks, looking at sea urchins and live sand dollars, gazing at the mountains in the distance, and eating pizza at a little cafe. We've been getting along so well on this trip; it's really nice. I was happy to be there for the second of Sam's major motor vehicle adventures on this trip: last week Nick and I taught him to drive a stick shift in the mountains of Kosovo, and today I suggested that we hitchhike back to Budva, which he had never done before. We were quickly successful, and enjoyed the company of a nice Russian man who spoke not one single word of English. Not one word. Through the use of hand gestures and the occasional unexpected Slavic cognate, we determined that he was a mason by profession, and that he believes Montenegrins are very hard workers except for the ones who do nothing but drink and smoke.

DATELINE: Ohrid, Macedonia    

Author: Natalie      

on renting a car: Natalie: "Just get the cheapest one that's comfortable. It's not like we need spinning rims." Andy: "I think we do need spinning rims in the worst way. You've seen this town; what would people think?"

Take On Me

rockin' out A-Ha style: a photo-booth effects version of a self-portrait taken on the train to Tirana, Albania.

DATELINE: Ohrid, Macedonia    

Author: Natalie      

Side effects of reading your own travel blog while traveling: Andy: "Hey Sam, I read on the internet that you may be carrying a small compass. May I see it?"

Circus Ninja Gets it Right this Time

Back bend in front of the Orthodox Church in Ohrid, Macedonia.

poolside adventures of Circus Ninja

Natalie, showing off long scrape she received while doing a standing back bend into the pool: "See this? Occupational hazard."Sam: "Of what? Being a dipshit?"

Albanian photo shoot

Sam, holding camera: "Guys, you're blocking the donkey."

DATELINE: Durres, Albania    

Author: Natalie      

Question: what can you get in Albania for $1.10? Answer: a large plate of french fries. Or a round-trip train ticket from Tirana to the beach. We're on the Adriatic! We're in a really nice hotel! Food is cheap and beer is free (if you've already paid for nine of them and the restaurant decides you're cute). Funny things that happened today: Nick nearly decapitated himself while trying to get the "scenic view" on the train. Sam ate an entire fish: head, tail, and all. Andy wore jeans and construction worker boots to the beach. Tomorrow we're going to get him on a paddle boat in that get-up.

Meet the ninjas

Balkans Bonanza Dossier

NAME: Andy

CODE NAME: Izzy

ROLE: The Chief

STRENGTHS: Multimedia wizardry. Navigation. Planning ahead.

WEAKNESSES: Compulsion to "cover a lot of ground."

NAME: Nick

CODE NAME: Steve

ROLE: The Bon Vivant

STRENGTHS: Mechanical mastery. If you can touch it, Nick can fix it.

WEAKNESSES: Wine, women, and song.

NAME: Sam

CODE NAME: Axl

ROLE: Devil's Advocate

STRENGTHS: Good taste in music. May be carrying a small compass.

WEAKNESSES: Fussy.

NAME: Natalie

CODE NAME: Slash

ROLE: The Girl

STRENGTHS: Multilingual. Very light packer. Colorful fingernails.

WEAKNESSES: Doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut. Borrows other people's clothing without asking.

And we're off!

I hope I'll be able to manage at the airport

with all my stuff.

packing

Today I amused myself by seeing just how small I could make my luggage.

I'll publish pix of the fully-loaded bags when I have them. Here's the inventory:

BASE LAYERS

1 ballet-pink bodystocking

4 pair boy shorts

3 pair bikini briefs

4 thongs

zebra-striped bra (my "ze-bra")

turquoise bikini

black tank top

white tank top

camouflage wifebeater

lavender floral nightdress

lavender paisley scarf

I have so much cute underwear and no good reason to show it off. Story of my life.

DRESSES

turquoise plaid dress

orange A-line dress

red empire-waist dress

turquoise paisley tunic

blue flowered cotton lawn dress

SHIRTS

white empire-waist tank top

army green tee shirt

red "drama camp" tee shirt

PANTS

black "Jersey Royalty" booty shorts

black cotton long shorts

navy blue jazz-leg unitard

SHOES

silver Birkenstock thong sandals

OTHER

Toiletries and makeup: somehow this category ended up taking up a LOT more space than it should have. But every vagabond needs a good mascara.

Rain poncho.

Digital camera.

Laptop computer (Andy talked me into this. I already have to admit he was right, and I haven't even left the country yet.)

Earplugs, sleep mask, and travel pillow.

Wallet with photos of my niece and nephews.

Hebrew flashcards. Naturally.

Pouch full of lavender seeds. I travel in style.

Circus Ninja gets a new lease on life

This blog will henceforth be an account of my overseas adventures.

August 5-23: Albania, Macedonia, Montenegro, Kosovo, Bosnia

August 24-31: Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia

September 1-8: England for NAOMI'S WEDDING!!!

September 9-November 23: to be announced ;-)