Balkan Rose

From the Balkan doorstep of Budapest I have officially entrenched myself into the West Balkans, and can not imagine leaving. After realizing that the political situation in Belgrade was much ado about nothing, i took a sleeper train first thing to spend the weekend in the Serbian capital, and was not dissapointed. The city is not foreign to the effects of war, as half destroyed buildings were the first thing I saw upon exiting the train. The most famous site of the city, the citadel, has been conquered and razed some 40 times, changing hands from the likes of the celts, romans, turks, and finally, the serbs. It is an impressive stone structure that now houses a military museum, ranging from serb tanks and artillery, to weapons captured from the Albanian Kosovar forces, to bits of an American spy plane downed during the Yugoslav conflict.

The city itself is not aesthetically pleasing as most European capitals can be. It is strangely mixed between the communist blocks and large concrete squares of Tito to the quaint Art Nouveau structures so common during the Habsburg dominance of East Europe. Surprisingly enough, the Habsburg buildings are still in great shape, while the much more recent soviet blocks look as if they are on their last breath. I stayed in such a place, on the top floor of a sagging building whose insides stunk of smoke and sweat. If the place hadnt been so decrepit, I would have stayed longer. So, I took a bus to Sarajevo.

Interestingly enough, the bus from Belgrade, the serbian capital, only goes to the serbian part of sarajevo, which, unfortunately, was a three mile walk from the city center, not easy with an overstuffed backpack on your shoulders. And the route of the bus ride itself only went through the Republica Srpska of Bosnia and Hercegovina, adding several hours to the trip. But that is the way it is here now. Sarajevo has its serb part, its bosniak, or muslim part, and its croat part. Even its cemeteries are segregated as such. But I am getting ahead of myself. Sarajevo is, well, a surprise, an anomaly, almost a figment of ones imagination. The brutal seige that took thousands of lives is not forgotten, oh no, but has been embraced in a soulful and optimistic way that is characteristic of sarajevans and sarajevans only. Old bullet casings and mortar shells that destroyed so much of this city have been molded into pens, ashtrays, and the like, and the frequent holes from the mortar blasts which rained on this city for more than three years have been filled in with red paint, which the locals call their sarajevo roses. But the most enchanting part of this city is its old town, Baščaršija, and its turkish shopping district. The locals here are more than willing to share a conversation over a game of chess, a cup of bosnian coffee, or a slice of cake, and the stoned streets of this area and the numerous shops remind you that hey, this isnt capitalism, and thats whats so special.

Dont get me wrong, a simple stroll through the city will reveal all kinds of potholed sidewalks and pockmarked buildings, many of which were at one time missing huge chunks, even entire stories. They were simply patched up, not in any particular style nor care. But the people have not been so fortunate. While many have seemingly come to terms with recent events, its not uncommon to come across beggars on the sidewalks with missing limbs, living casualties of a passionate but pointless war. But the city moves forward at its own pace, strengthening its visible resolve and its soul.

Gridlocked in Budapest

I've reached the first stage of political gridlock in my trip, and it's caused me to slow down here in Budapest and contemplate my next move. My next planned stop had been Belgrade, but yesterday Serbia had a parliamentary vote which had many implications. Despite the literally dozen of parties that were competing in this election, it can be summed up as the pro-western democrats (who are eager for EU membership) vs. the ultra-nationalist/Milosevic loyalists. And the nationalists won. Now it remains to be seen if and when they can form a government, seeing as they, the winning party, only received 28 percent of the vote (because of the dozens of parties), and with no real political allies it remains to be seen whether they can form a coalition government. There is also the outside possibility that the several democratic parties could form a coalition and therefore take the majority back from the radicals, but not 12 hours after the first exit polls and they are already bickering about who they would appoint as prime minister, so that remains a shot in the dark as well. And what does all this mean for greater Serbia? Well, on Friday the UN plans to announce it's plan for the province of Kosovo, which many expect will result in independence for the ethnic Albanians (the majority) that live there. But because the ultranationalists won the election, the future of Kosovo is, as always, uncertain. It is well known that the radicals will settle for nothing less than the absorption of Kosovo into the borders of greater Serbia, already putting tension on the UN plan which has yet to be released. What does this mean for my trip? Well, a trip to Belgrade, and especially Kosovo, could easily accompany violent demonstrations in the area as a result of the political events that are transpiring. And anyone can realize that a demonstration, wherever in the world it may be, can quickly turn from peaceful to ugly, and from domestic to anti-American. So what are my plans? Beats the hell out of me.

Moving on

I will admit immediately that leaving Prague was the mistake of a lifetime. My last night there I found a bar that was showing the Seahawks game, and as it turned out the owner was an American from Chicago, and before I knew it I was sitting with him and his friends enjoying all the beer I wanted, for free (seeing as the Bears won, so I took the loss quite well!). A guy about my age from Finnland tried to pull the same stunt, so he sat down and started talking with us. His first words to us all were, "Are you American?". Yes. And without skipping a beat he launched into a drunken tirade, "I hate Americans. They are so awful. They are all like George Bush. So arrogant. I mean, my hatred for Americans runs almost as deeply as my hatred for the Jews." Before this last comment we were a bit stunned (why was he in this bar if he hated Americans?), but after the comment about Jews we just lost it, and threw his ass out of the bar. The next morning I took a train to Vienna, which is where I am now, and where I can not wait to leave. Granted it is a beautiful city filled with numerous sights and its cultural history is unrivaled, but it is crowded, expensive, and a bit too posh for my liking. And the food is terrible.....

I have also found myself a bit anxious to move on and suddenly have all this time on my hands before I need to be in Greece, so after Budapest (my next stop) the following destination is up in the air, although its probable that it will be Croatia and eventually the walled city of Dubrovnik.

Opening Chapter

Its hard to believe that I have now been in Europe for over a week, but even harder to think that I still have over six months left. I am way ahead of schedule, having skipped out on much of Germany and Poland, eager to arrive in Prague. Try as I might I found Germany oppressive, too much like home, but just different enough to keep me on edge. So I went straight to Berlin so that I could leave Germany behind me. Berlin surprised me with its abundance of classical architecture, all of which is heavily Greek influenced, and its museums, one seeming as if it had excavated half of Turkey for its Near Eastern exhibits. And while its been over a decade since the fall of the wall, its easy to sense how divided the city still is. You can see it in the buildings yes, but you can also hear it and taste it, and feel it at the core of you. Its no doubt a city with a wide memory. My favorite site in Berlin was Bebelplatz, the square in which the Nazis burned over 30000 books in 1933. Now in the middle of the square is a small, cloudy window, and when you look inside you see a white room surrounded by bookcases. Just a bit away is the inscription that reads in German, Where they burn books they will burn people too. On my last night in Berlin I went out to look for a fun European club, and at 9 pm, önly one hundred feet in front of me, was a shooting. The sound of it alone was enough to put a terrible feeling in my stomach. After that and the attack on the Greece embassy, it really makes me wonder if the Middle east is the dangerous place to travel.

I am now in Prague and have been for roughly four days, and can easily see myself lazily passing a week or two here. Just the thought of leaving brings back similar pains of leaving home, as I have already grown very attached to this city shaded by its Gothic and Art Noveau structures. The food here is surprisingly fantastic, and the beer cheap. The other night I must have had four or five liters of beer for the equivalent of about nine or ten dollars. This is a city I could definitely picture myself living in, and I envy Ben a bit for the time that he spent here. So I am in no hurry to leave. Its unbelievably refreshing to have no deadlines to meet, no dates to keep up with. One doesnt know how tiresome they can be until one is free of them.