Beggars

Sarajevo is not overrun with panhandlers. On sunny days, you may encounter aggressive beggars in the areas of town frequented by tourists. There are occasionally a few performers (with varying degrees of talent) busking on the main pedestrian thoroughfare. And there are often head-scarved women standing or sitting silently, head bowed, hand outstretched, near mosques.

The most surprising type to me, though, is the neighborhood beggar. Our neighborhood has our own beggar. She has a particular spot where she sits on the main street running through our residential neighborhood, summer and winter, sun and snow.

When we first moved here, I was confused by her presence. I wasn't even sure if she was begging or just sitting there to enjoy the sun. So I watched my neighbors. Many of them stop and chat with her as they hand her money or loaves of bread. Sometimes they slow down as they drive past to call out greetings and hand her coins. I wondered if she lives here in the neighborhood, but I've seen her walking toward our neighborhood before her morning shift, so I think she lives somewhere else.

Emboldened by the example of my neighbors, I give her money sometimes and stop to exchange pleasantries. She has a very strong accent and almost no teeth, so I find it very hard to understand her, but I think she's blessing me and my children (she loves Eleanor!) and telling me I'm a good mother.

I love the kindness and gentleness with which everyone treats her, the dignity and respect they give her. After all, she's just sitting there doing her job.

Names

I have a hard time remembering people's names here because most of them are so unfamiliar:

Darko, Radomir, Timor, Mila, Rua, Emina, Ratko, Goran, Henna, Inan, Adi, Armin, Ajdin, Aldin, Dzena, Mirala, Irfan, Nena, Esma, Goca, Luna,...

When I meet someone new, I have to silently chant the name to myself if I have any hope at all of remembering it. But while all my attention is focused on just remembering the name, a Bosnian hears someone's name and instantly knows that person's ethnicity.

Names are Serb, Croat, or Bosniak. Which explains one reason that ethnic divisions survived Tito's attempt to squash them and are not going to go away anytime soon.

But these subtleties are entirely lost on me. I, for example, have no idea if I have achieved ethnic diversity in these snapshots of grafitti. I think Andrej must be a Serb or Croat name since it's the name of an apostle. And Emina and Hasan I'm pretty sure are Bosniak names. But the rest? Haven't a clue.

A Pillar of Islam: Charity

One of the five pillars of Islam is giving charity. Muslims revere not only alms-giving but also charitable foundations of many types. Near our home is the Bosnian Institute, just such a foundation.

Adil Zulfikarpašić was born in Bosnia but fled during Tito's regime. He lived in exile in Switzerland and got very rich there (banking, I believe). Late in his life, he came back to Sarajevo, purchased an old Turkish bath, and renovated it into an amazing facility.

In the old part of the building, there is an auditorium where concerts are held and some of the bathing facilities have been renovated as museum galleries, showing typical Bosnian furniture, for example.

In the newly-constructed part of the building, a fantastic twentieth century art collection hangs on the walls (my college kids and I spent a completely absorbing afternoon there during the Christmas holidays). The new part also holds a great research library. I've been doing research in it and am very impressed with their holdings and with the helpfulness of the staff.

All of this--museum, art gallery, library--is free and open to the public. As one of the beneficiaries of the charity of Adil Zulfikarpašić:  many, many thanks.

Steep streets, here and elsewhere

On the right you can see the rail, handy for pedestrians trying to make it safely down this road--which cars also drive.

Recently I found this article online about the steepest streets in the world. They range in grade from 32% to 37% and are all in the United States and New Zealand.

This makes me wonder: exactly who is it who says these are the steepest streets in the world? And do we really believe that the very steepest streets in the world also happen to be in the countries with active zoning commissions and rich traditions of self-promotion? None of the steepest streets are in the Himalayas? or in the Andes?

Or in Sarajevo?

We have tried many times to take photos showing how very steep the streets of Sarajevo are (see the photo above, for example), but I can't capture it. Inspired by this list of the steepest streets, I decided to use math to show just how steep our Sarajevo streets!

Basically, the grade of a road is a ratio of how far it rises vertically over a horizontal distance. So if you imagine the surface of the road as the hypoteneuse of a triangle, you just figure out the lengths of the other two legs, divide them, and multiply by 100.

This would, I imagine, be a piece of cake with a surveyor's transit. Which I don't have. You could also figure it without too much problem with a measuring tape and a level. I don't have a level either (though I did find directions for making a homemade one; all I would need would be a length of surgical tubing; sigh).

In the fine expat tradition of making do with what I have, I pulled out my fabric dressmaker's measuring tape and decided that I would measure only roads where the masonry on buildings along the road gave me a pretty good indication of what was level.

My conclusions?

30% grade is really, really steep. Even steeper than most streets in Sarajevo.

Our street, for example, is 15.3% until the steps begin. (At the steps, the grade steepens to 34.7%! Take that, Eldred St. and Fargo St., US New & World Report's third and fourth steepest streets.)

The street that starts just below our steps (seen in the photo at the top) ranges from 17.5%- 19.9%.

Steep though not quite world-record steep.

But I measured only my neighborhood, with only my homemade measuring apparatus. I suspect there are other, even steeper streets in the city.

And I doubt there are many cities that could claim the sheer number of steep streets that Sarajevo has. So bring on the surveying transits! Let's find some new steepest-in-the-world streets.

Meat, Meat, and more Meat

When we read Little House in the Big Woods, we decided Pa would feel right at home here, smoking his meat to last the winter.

Smoked meat is a very typical Bosnian food. People smoke their own--an acquaintance gave us a packet of meat he had smoked himself.

Or you can buy it at the market.

And I have decided that smoked meat, sliced thin and used as a topping, is what gives this, the best pizza in town, its distinctive flavor.

Call to Prayer

The longer we are here, the more I forget to notice things.

One of the things about Sarajevo that startles at first and that now I, sadly, barely hear, is the call to prayer. Sarajevo is a city of mosques--there are minarets all over the city--and atop each minaret is a speaker through which the call to prayer is broadcast five times a day.

The mosques obviously don't coordinate their clocks, because one call to prayer will begin and then a few seconds another and then another and another, the sound cresting and then dying away.

It's a sound I love.

Surprise in the park

I never know what I'll stumble upon in the park.

Comic book fix

Every few blocks is a trafika like this where you can buy newspapers, magazines, minutes for your cell phone, cheap toys, and cigarette lighters.

Because I'd never seen any Alan Ford comics for sale before, I was surprised recently to see three in the window of the trafika we pass every day on the way to school. You know how once you learn a new word you start hearing it everywhere? I decided it must be like that--I learn about Alan Ford comics, so I start seeing them.

But two days later (as I was still debating whether to buy one to try to stuff into our luggage for the trip home) they were gone. So I guess they must sell out very quickly, and maybe I never did see them before!

Before and After

Lots of rebuilding has gone on in Sarajevo in the past decade. But there's still a lot of cosmetic damage left over from the shelling. The facade of Isaac's school, besides being painted an institutional green, still had lots of superficial damage when he started school this year.

 But they closed the playground for a month and redid the entire facade. It's beautiful now.

(Now that the playground is open again, teachers are using the outdoor classroom. Isn't it sweet? a half-circle of stone benches faced by the wooden bench, all circling a newly-planted tree. Why didn't we have an outdoor classroom in elementary school?)

Fizzy fun

When we travel, we love to cruise grocery store aisles looking for unfamiliar soda pops and cookies.

And we buy them.

Isaac suggested we buy Cokta when he saw it on the grocery shelf. It's a favorite of one of his school friends.

We had a big debate over whether Cokta is trying to act like Coke or not with its red label. It doesn't taste like Coke, anyway. David thought it tasted exactly like chinotto, a soda he used to drink in Italy.

A few days after we first tried it, a new advertising campaign went up all around town. Good thing we tried it when we did. I'm not sure I would have been inclined to taste it after seeing these ads. Maybe for the hardcore Twilight fan...

Rafting in Bosnia

The Huffington Post published a list of eleven reasons to visit Bosnia. Some of them I'm dubious about--a Bosnian pyramid?--but reading the list you do get a sense for what a gorgeous landscape Bosnia occupies. Three of the eleven reasons have to do with Bosnia's rivers.

It's a stretch to say that the rafting season has started, but we wanted to go down a river before we move next month. Last time we were here we rafted the Tara River--a fantastic trip. This time David found us a tour guide for the Neretva River, just an hour out of Sarajevo. We were the first trip of the season and probably their next one won't be for another month.

They weren't quite sure how to outfit children, but they made do with short style adult wetsuits for Isaac and Eleanor.

The trip was spectacular.

Our tour guides were skilled at maneuvering the river and great at gauging our responses to make sure we got the trip we wanted. They even paddled upstream when they realized we weren't kidding that we wanted to jump from the rocks into the (snowmelt--brrrr!) water.

Isaac--unlike me--was fearless jumping in.

Part of the river cuts through a deep canyon. Springs of fresh water pour from the walls of the canyon, feeding the river. (And the Huffington Post list is right--the water is safe to drink and delicious.)

On the left, you can see a spring pouring out of the canyon wall.

Another spring.

Eleanor and I liked leaning over the side of the raft and watching the rocks three and four meters down through the clear, beautiful, sweet water.

After our trip, we went back to the home of one of the guides, and his family grilled fish and chicken for us outside and served us dinner in their garden.

Bosnia is hard to get to right now--there still aren't good roads into it or easy train trips or even many affordable flights--but it is such a beautiful place that someday you will be sorry you didn't get there while it was still a quiet place.

My interview of Susan Anneveldt, a friend from Holland, is up at Mormon Women Project.`

The long reach of a benevolent (?) dictator

We loved the name of this cafe near the National Museum.

"We are Tito's."

And on the back of the banner, "Tito is Ours."

Happy International Workers' Day!

While Americans are going about their business as usual, most of the world--including Bosnia--has the day off. It's May Day!

Here in Sarajevo, it's an official holiday both today and tomorrow since May 1 fell on the weekend. Banks and many stores are closed. The streets are quiet. It's a day for picnics, sunshine, and hanging out with friends.

Only a few vendors are selling today at Markale, the downtown produce market.

The normally traffic-clogged thoroughfare along the river.

 Happy May Day!

Climbing on the tanks

The most recent war in Bosnia is so obvious that sometimes one forgets that Bosnia was occupied territory during World War II and has a robust World War II history with its own heroes and villains and thrilling resistance stories. A park in the center of town displays some World War II tanks and armaments.

Isaac and Eleanor love the park because no one bats an eye if they clamber all over the things. As Eleanor put it, "It's just like stuff in a hands-on museum in America except you can climb on it."

The Royal Wedding in Sarajevo

The British Embassy rented the poshest cinema in town and invited all UK citizens in Sarajevo to a watch a live feed of the royal wedding. (Note the white tablecloths on the cinema cafe tables--not their usual casual state!).

The rest of us weren't left out, however. The huge screen on the mall adjacent to the cinema showed the wedding, too, and many, many people stopped to watch.

No matter where you are, everyone loves a wedding!

Sarajevo Zoo

Right before a zookeeper warned Eleanor the donkey would bit her hand if she kept trying to feed him.

When we first moved abroad, we didn't go to zoos. A zoo you can do back home; why do it in Europe? When I realized that my two year old had never been to a zoo in his entire life because of this policy, I decided that I needed to rethink things. Since then, having visited several European zoos, my attitude is very different.

There are traditional zoos, like the ones in Rotterdam or Vienna. But we've had great experiences at more quirky zoos, too, like a small private zoo in rural Austria and the fascinating Apenheul in the Netherlands.

Sarajevo has a zoo, too, with a very sad history. Before the war it had 150 animal species. The siege line was at the zoo, and even if there had been enough food to feed the animals, those who tried (and some did) risked their lives. By the end of 1992, eight months after the siege had started, all the animals had died (a gripping New York Times article from the time).

When we lived here in 2002, the zoo was struggling back. It was, as I remember, mostly cramped cages lining the sidewalks. Enterprising Sarajevans set up charcoal grills and sold cevapi (traditional Bosnian sausages) along the sidewalk.

In the years since, a lot has happened at the zoo. There is a huge playground, the biggest and best-maintained one I've seen in Sarajevo. The landscaping is lovely, and the animals are in well-designed enclosures. I don't know what the official statistics are, but the kids and I counted 32 different types of animals (including 2 types of ponies, three types of goats, and assorted chickens, geese, and ducks)--nowhere near what the zoo once had, but the animals are well-selected and fun to watch.

On sunny days, the zoo is busy and the playground, especially, rings with children's happy voices. Yes, you can visit zoos in the US, but no zoo with the history this one has.

Soft play, or what to do when the weather's bad

Scattered about the city are indoor playgrounds, called "soft play" by English speakers. Some of them are connected to shopping centers, some free-standing. You sign in your child and for a small fee the staff supervises their play while you run errands. After her initial rush of intoxication at the bright colors, Eleanor has decided she is not so fond of them unless she has a friend with her. If she's with a friend, though, she loves soft play.

Do they have these in the US too? I know about IKEA's play area drop-off, but that's it. I think it's a European thing (which explains why IKEA, which originated in Sweden, has them), but maybe I'm just clueless and they're all over the US too. Kind of a nice option for when little ones are exasperated with errands.

Bosnian cooking measurements

Most American recipes use volume measures for ingredients--a cup, a tablespoon. Most European recipes use weight measurements (grams). Luckily for me--since I don't have a scale here--my new Bosnian cookbook also uses volume measurements.

This is our scale for now. 

But the measurements are all new to me. It measures ingredients in glasses, fincans, soupspoons, tablespoons, and coffeespoons. In the US, I could just go to the store and buy a set of standard-sized measuring spoons and cups. Not the case here. Cooks measure with the cups and spoons they use for eating.

To my surprise, comparing the mismatched cups and spoons in our house, I have discovered that they are perfectly consistent in size--all my mugs hold exactly the same amount of liquid, all my spoons hold the same amount.

With some detective work, I've figured out American equivalents for each measurement.

A "glass" is a full mug, or 1 American cup.

"Fincan" is the tiny little cup that you use for strong Turkish coffee. We don't drink coffee, so we don't have any fincans in our house, but when I use a 1/4 cup measure to replace "fincans," the recipes seem to turn fine.

A "soupspoon" is equivalent to an American "tablespoon."

A "tablespoon," confusingly, is equivalent to an American "teaspoon."

And a "coffeespoon" (the Turkish influence in Bosnia--coffee is the standard, rather than tea) is equivalent to an American 1/4 tsp. measure.

Onion-skin Easter Eggs, Bosnian-style

Here in Bosnia, Serbian Orthodox families traditionally dye Easter eggs with onion skins. We decided to do our Easter eggs the traditional Bosnian way.

First, we gathered leaves and blossoms, dipped them in egg white and affixed them to the raw eggs. (Happily, only a few eggs got dropped by my enthusiastic 5, 6, and 7 year old helpers.)

Then we carefully put the decorated eggs into an old nylon stocking. Not carefully enough, it turned out.  The stocking knocked the foliage off all but one of the eggs. Every experienced Bosnian egg decorator I asked about it told me I just didn't do it carefully enough.

We dumped onion skins on top of the eggs--we've been saving the colored skins of our yellow onions for weeks now. Today at the produce market we saw an enterprising vendor selling not only onions but also bags full of onion skins.

I covered the whole mess of eggs and onion skins with water and squirted in a bit of vinegar, too, about a tablespoon. We boiled the eggs for 15 minutes, turned off the heat, and let them  continue to soak in the onion skin water for about an hour (until dinner was over).

The last step was to dry off the eggs and rub a tiny bit of oil into the shell to make them glow.

I had been dubious about how well our brown eggshells would take color, but the results, even without the shadows of leaves and flowers, were beautiful. Not pastel: vivid and gorgeous.