Božić na Sarajevo

I have to admit that I had a little apprehension when it came to spending the holidays away from family this year, since I knew it would be very different. Fortunately, I had a pretty awesome Christmas, and it's all because of the the wonderful people I've met here.

Being outside of the US during the holidays is in some ways a huge relief. Sarajevo's population is predominantly Muslim (at least 70%), so Christmas is definitely not a big thing here. In the US, Christmas is commercialized to the extreme. Retail stores start selling Christmas decorations in early November, and Christmas music plays on the radio around the same time. I always avoided shopping the day after Thanksgiving, since all hell broke loose as people try to take advantage of the Black Friday sales. Driving is also much scarier between Thanksgiving and the day after New Year's in the US because people are stressed out about meeting deadlines and figuring out what to buy their families for Christmas.

In Sarajevo, things are much different. It almost felt like Christmas didn't exist until around the 18th or so. That's when I finally started seeing lights on some of the houses in our neighborhood and a few Christmas sections in the supermarket. The Fox channels on tv even started showing a few Christmas-themed commercials. And then there was the Coca-Cola Sarajevo Holiday Market. It was kind of like a mini-version of a Christkindlmarkt in Germany. The perimeter was lined with quaint wooden houses in which merchants sold everthing from souvenirs to whiskey and crepes. There was a kiddie train off to the side, and a large white tent housed a biergarten-inspired restaurant. A rather large Christmas tree stood in the middle of the market grounds. Since the traces of Christmas were scarce, I felt the need to create my own spirited atmosphere by spending almost three entire days baking cookies and listening to the same four hours of Christmas music over and over again. I apparently can't have Christmas without mountains of cookies.

Lights in the Neighborhood

On Christmas Eve, my bassoon colleague Edo invited a couple of us over so that we could spend the holiday with family. It was a very nice Bosnian-style evening. We sat around the living room and talked while drinking beer and rakia and eating homemade bread and assorted sausage. Soon the principal flutist and his son came over to join us. Edo's wife had put Christmas decorations up, and we enjoyed the smell of amazingness in the oven. I don't remember the name of the dish, but it was cooked in a clay bowl that was hundreds of years old and passed down through the generations. The ingredients in the bowl included at least three kinds of meat, potatoes, carrots, green beans, and cabbage. The point was to bake it until the top was completely black. In addition to this hearty dish, we ate homemade bread, beats with garlic, salad with pumpkin oil dressing, and a chicken soup for dinner. It was a delicious.

After dinner Edo, his wife, and our flutist pulled out instruments and started jamming, Bosnian style. Edo owns at least two drums, an accordion, a couple of bassoons, a saxophone, a guitar, two upright pianos, and two sazes (not really sure how to make that one plural). So, he took the accordion, his wife and the kids played the drums, and our flutist played guitar. Tim joined in on some bottles and even learned a couple of drum riffs by the end of the night. Edo and our flutist took turns singing. I would have joined in too, but I was at a loss of what to do or where to start. I have no idea what they were playing or singing most of the time until out of nowhere they played a song by Stevie Wonder. Ha! It was quite the scene.

Edo plays accordion

We stayed over until about 11:30 that night talking about everything from astrology and witchcraft to the source of our flutist's son's Clemson hoodie. At the end, Edo graciously provided us with the closing song of the night: an ethno version of Bolero on the piano. Tim and I then caught a ride home with Edo's best friend, who stopped by after dinner. And thus Tim experienced his first white Christmas as a fresh layer of snow fell from the sky.

The next day was also quite eventful and enjoyable. As soon as I woke up, I started baking cookies so that I could bring my family's best tradition to the Christmas get-together that night. I was able to take a break from the cookies to have Christmas supper with Tim. My family usually does lasagna, but I opted for an easier version: pasta with a loaded red sauce. He had brought up his computer, so we watched the movie Elf while we ate. After he went back to his apartment, I continued with my baking frenzy and finished everything just in time for the party. The tray of cookies I brought included gingersnap, sugar, chocolate chip, and personalized gingerbread men. They were well-received.

As soon as I walked into Matt's apartment, I felt the Christmas cheer. There were icicle lights in the doorway to their living room, a small Christmas tree in the corner, jazzy Christmas music playing over the speakers, and several friends chatting happily to one another. Everybody wished each other a Merry Christmas with a handshake or a hug and the European-style kiss on the cheeks. After everyone arrived at the party, Matt and Ivana handed out the presents from Santa. We all opened them at the same time, and there was immediately a roar of laughter and commotion that lasted for at least 20 minutes. Everyone had gotten a silly hat. We put them on, traded with other people, and combined several hats into one giant cacophony. Best Christmas party idea ever. The rest of the night passed in a flurry of conversation, music, and good times.

The Otes family with silly hats

Throughout this past month, I have had several conversations with locals about their views on holidays. It was especially interesting to hear a Bosnian perspective on Christmas. Apparently, a lot of Bosnians put up what I would consider to be Christmas decorations to celebrate the coming of the new year, not necessarily Christmas itself. That would explain all of the lights in our neighborhood, which I doubt contains any Christians outside of those in our Otes family. Also, I've heard just as many fire crackers this past week as I did when Bosnia was still in the running for the Euro Cup playoffs. Admir explained to me that this again is because of the coming new year. Finally, I have learned that Bosnians both celebrate every holiday and celebrate no holidays. There is a fine line between the two in this culture. Bosnians know how to sit back and enjoy their life as it is in the moment, whether it's on a Tuesday night or Christmas Eve. No matter what, this time of year is the same for everybody; it is a time to celebrate hope and family. After all that they have been through, Bosnians may be some of the most grateful people in the world.

Learning Bosnian

One of the interesting and entertaining aspects of living here is learning Bosnian. If you know Bosnian, Croatian, or Serbian, you will be able to communicate almost anybody in former Yugoslavia. When Yugoslavia was dissolved into smaller countries, each new country adapted the original Serbo-Croatian language into something they could call their own. Bosnian seems to be the most complicated of the these languages though. As I have discovered over these past 3 months, Bosnian has 7 cases, and I've only really learned one so far: nominative. I don't know a whole lot yet, but this I think is what makes their language the most complicated one I've seen so far. It's like German on crack.

Of course, the first thing we learned upon our arrival besides zdravo (hello) and pivo (beer) was how to count. Rehearsals for the orchestra are run in Bosnian, and numbers are an essential part of understanding where a conductor wants the orchestra to start. Unfortunately, numbers confused me a lot for the first month I was here. Many of them have similarly sounding syllables, and people abbreviate them differently. It reminds me the problem of hearing the difference between 13 and 30 in English. Also, because of the different cases, the endings to the numbers change to agree with the noun they modify. This really tripped me up in the markets. Bosnians would say 'dvie marka' instead of the 'dva marka' I was expecting. I would then give them three marks because I thought they said 'tri marka.'

Since we've gotten here, we've had several information-packed lessons with one of the women who works for the orchestra. She has the certification to teach Bosnian, and man is she a good teacher. Everything we have learned has proven to be quite useful. Our first lesson involved learning how to pronounce the Bosnian alphabet. Everything in Bosnian is pronounced how it looks, so once we get those sounds down, it'll be a breeze. Even having been here for 3 months, I am still struggling with it though. They have quite a few soft consonants that all sound very similar: č (tch) and ć (ch), c (tse) and s (se), dž (dje) and đ (je) and ž (dge). Then there is the elusive lj sound. Ivana says that it is made by saying ye and adding an l sound to the front of it without quite touching your tongue to the inside of your mouth. Unfortunately, this sound is a part of a word I use almost every day when I buy bread (hljeb) from the bakery. Another difficulty with pronouncing Bosnian is the fact that they tend to cram a bunch of consonants together like in the word 'prvi' (first). It seems like the letter r is kind of used as a vowel, since they roll their r's. I've never been able to do that, so it might be a while before I can master it. Besides the alphabet, we have learned common rehearsals phrases, how to telling time, how to read dates, basic present-tense verb conjugation, and how to form questions. I am always looking forward to our next lesson.

I never would have thought that I would ever move to a country before learning the language. It's made for some interesting communication issues here. Since my vocabulary is very basic, I generally get two reactions to speaking Bosnian. First, there are the people who I fool with my ability to say hello and ask how they are doing. They just kind of ramble in Bosnian at me, and I usually just smile and nod. Eventually if it's someone I know, I'll ask for them to translate. Otherwise, I am forced to admit that I don't really speak Bosnian. The other reaction is laughter. Let's face it, I sound funny when I speak Bosnian, and sometimes I can't hear the difference between how I'm saying it and how it should sound. All of the embarassment of failing at Bosnian will be worth it though when I can finally go into a store and have a real conversation with the person behind the counter. Sometimes I feel a little dependent on English speakers here, and it would be nice to go somewhere new in the city and not have to worry about people there being able to understand me.

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round....Most of the Time

I've only been in Bosnia for a little over two months, but I have already had my fair share of bus adventures. These are my stories.

The second weekend we were here, Megan and I bravely got up early after a night of celebrating our friend Ina's birthday to take a day trip to Mostar. Everybody had told me how beautiful the city itself was, but I didn't realize how much I would enjoy the bus ride. I couldn't even attempt to sleep because the Balkans were so beautiful and I couldn't keep my eyes off of them. For our first bus experience in a country with a language we didn't understand at all, it was quite a success. We didn't have too many problems finding the bus station or buying tickets, and the bus was nicer than we were expecting. We were even able to find people who spoke English to help us along the way, though we were both a little worried that something was lost in translation and we would be stuck in Mostar for the night. It was also a little unnerving that every announcement was made in Bosnian, so we didn't really know what was happening most of the time. We decided to stay on the bus during the pausas. After all, it would be better if the bus didn't leave without us.

The bus line here is called CentroTrans or EuroLine, and they have coach buses complete with a tiny bathroom and curtains to block out unwanted sun. The tickets that you get here seem to be even sketchier than MegaBus reservations though. There, at least you know they have confirmation of your purchase. Here, all they have is a perforated sheet of paper that will easily fall apart if you fiddle with it too much.

If there's one thing I've learned in Bosnia, it is to be much more laid back with my travel plans. Matt and I wound up going to Munich for Oktoberfest on a day's notice. Unfortunately, our rehearsal schedule for October didn't come out before the 30^th, so we weren't allowed to officially book our tickets until then even though we were pretty sure we had a 10-day vacation. So we looked at the bus schedule online and then went to the bus station first thing the morning we wanted to leave. It worked out. I found an English-speaking ticket seller again and confused him by asking to schedule a return bus trip. Apparently, they don't do that here. We just had to trust that we would be able to get back to Bosnia on our given day of choice.

The trip to Munich was 16 hours there and 17 hours back. It was just like riding a Megabus except that for every time you would cross a state line in the US, you had to deal with border control. Our passports were checked twice per country line: once to leave the country we were in and once to enter the new country. In a car, it's relatively simple and quick, but since there are so many people on a bus, we had to go outside for every check and wait in the cold. We were awake at 11pm for the Bosnia-Croatia border and then again from 2-3am for the Croatia-Slovenia border. It was a little painful. Everyone on the bus was complaining particularly about entering Slovenia though. There was almost nobody there at 2am, yet we had to wait 45 minutes at each side of the border before we could get through. Slovenia is the most recent country to join the EU, so I guess they make it hard for certain people to get into the country. Matt and I didn't have any problems though. I feel like it was a bigger deal for us to get into Croatia than Slovenia, while it was the opposite way for everyone else on the bus with Bosnian passports. At least Slovenia was our last passport check, and we could sleep soundly during our crossings into Austria and Germany.

Unfortunately, Matt had bad luck with sitting behind people who invaded his bubble. On the way there, a rather large woman leaned her seat back as far as it would go and writhed around frequently to get comfortable. That meant that she was basically laying in Matt's lap the whole time, poor guy. After entering the Croatian border, the guy who was sitting next to her started talking to us. There was a little bit of a scene with our passports at one point because the border control officers tried to keep our white cards that prove we are legal residents in Bosnia, so he was curious about us. He offered to translate for us for the rest of the trip and tried to get the lady to put her seat up a bit. On the way back, Matt once again sat behind the seat that was reclined all the way. An older man was sitting in it, but he spent the bus ride sitting forward in his seat looking out the front windshield. Matt was pissed at the time, but now we realize that maybe it wasn't his fault. The seat could have been broken.

Matt and I definitely noticed a difference between the people traveling to Germany and the people going back to Sarajevo. On the way there, it seemed like most of the other passengers were Germans. They were well-behaved and quiet most of the time, and I was able to understand some things by asking them in German what was going on. The only things that disturbed me were the border stops and the Bosnian sitcom that was playing until midnight. However, on the return trip, we were riding with a rowdy bunch of Bosnians. We met this guy who apparently held the world record for catching the largest bass. He was quite outspoken and said some fairly offensive things about Germans. I think he was the ring leader of the party in the back of the bus. They picked up some alcohol in Slovenia and drank it the entire night while singing Bosnian folk songs at the top of their lungs. I was amazed at their ability to make noise for that long though. When they weren't singing, they were talking drunkenly to each other about something. How do you come up with that much to talk about? It was a 16-hour bus ride!

Thankfully, I have not been on a public bus since those trips, but we have traveled quite a bit with the Philharmonic. We played a couple of concerts in Zenica, which is about an hour and a half away from Sarajevo. The Orchestra hired buses from the same company I used for my previous trips. I guess there's not much to be said about these bus trips to Zenica except that I think they will be a monthly occurrence.

Our bus ride to Italy was a bit more eventful. Again, we hired a bus from the CentroTrans company and made the 12-15 hour trek to Pordenone, Italy. I was a little wary of riding in a bus for that long only a week after getting back from Germany, but it wasn't bad. Yes, we had to get off the bus for most of the passport controls, but I wasn't dog tired during all of those stops. I particularly enjoyed seeing what the border crossings looked like during the day though. There were designated lanes for buses, trucks, cars, and even bicycles! Apparently, people who live near the border bike across it all of the time. I can see why; the bike lane was moving much faster than any other lane.

I also enjoyed looking out the window every once in a while to take in the scenery. The landscape from Sarajevo to the western border of Slovenia wasn't nearly as good as traveling south to Mostar, but when we were crossing into Italy, it took my breath away. Maybe there was a romantic version of Italy in my head, but we saw the sun setting behind this mountain that was right next to the road. I didn't even try to get a picture of it, but the image is forever burned into my mind. I was so enthralled with the scenery that I twisted in my seat to take in every possible second of it.

Since the bus was full of Bosnians, we made a lot of stops for smoking and coffee. They never really said how long the breaks would be though, so we just went with the flow. Luckily Adi, the second flute/piccolo player of the orchestra, was in charge of keeping us on task and made sure we didn't leave anybody behind. On the way back, we made fewer stops so we made pretty good time. I could tell the Bosnians were getting antsy though because as we pulled up to a cafe about 3 hours from Sarajevo, they all chanted “Čorba, Čorba, Čorba!” Apparently the soup was really good at this cafe. Matt ordered it, and it smelled delicious. I'll have to get it sometime while I'm here.

I already mentioned in a previous post about the fact that our bus caught on fire a couple of hours away from Sarajevo. That was fun. I can't say that this only happens in Bosnia though. I've definitely been stranded on the side of a highway waiting for hours for a replacement bus in the US several times. Yay, bus travel...

My Typical Slobodan Dan: Vrelo Bosna and Pizzaria Ildžis

It seems like we have a lot of time off these days. After a grueling rehearsal schedule in preparation for our all-Tchaikovsky program a week and a half ago, it was much needed. The weather has been nice and sunny though, so Megan and I have been trying to take advantage of that while we still can. There is a park in Ilidža that is quite famous and reminds me of everything I like about Evanston and Aspen combined. It is called Vrelo Bosne, which is the source of the Bosnian River. Admir and Arvida showed it to us the first week we were here.

There is a 2 mile path called Ilidža Alley that runs from Ilidža to this park and is lined with trees. Every time I'm there, I can't help but think of walking down Sheridan Road in Evanston. The path is paved, and every once in a while you have to step aside so a car can pass. You can also ride in a horse-drawn carriage if you're feeling lazy. I haven't done it yet though. Walking is a great workout, considering the fact that it take about 2.5 hours from my apartment.

The park itself consists grassy areas separated by forks in the river, which you can cross via wooden bridges. There is also a cafe where you can chill and order coffee and food. The source of the river is at the far end of the park. It's amazing that such a small trickle of water can produce such a large river. I have spent some time sitting on a bench and reading by this part of the park. Unfortunately, it has already started to get too cold for that, since a mountain blocks the sun by 2pm. The beauty of the mountain and fall foliage makes it completey worth it though.

The best part about the walk to the source is that I pass by my favorite restaurant on the way: Pizzaria Ildžis. Outside, you can enjoy the cool air on your face and watch the stray puppies play a couple of feet from you on the grass. Inside, you can enjoy all of the nick-nacks and warm up next to the fireplace. The first thing we noticed when we went there was that there is a no kissing sign right by the entrance. I guess that means the restaurant is quite the romantic place. They have really good food too. Their pizza is fresh, their pancakes (read, crepes) delicious and their beer plenty. It's a good place for tourists to go, since there is no need to worry about not being able to communicate. All of the waitors speak English, and there is a translated menu.

Today marks the first real day of rehearsal that I've had since the Tchaikovsky concert, so I guess it's back to the grindstone. We went to Zenica on Saturday to perform the Bosnian opera, Hasanaganica, but then we had a few more days off before rehearsing Giselle this morning. Hopefully, I'll still be able to enjoy the outdoors during the few remaining days off (Slobodan dan) we have this month.

Italia!

A week ago, the orchestra went to Italy to perform the MESS twice, and it was a blast. After being in Bosnia for a month and a half, we were quite excited to enjoy the comforts of Western Europe. There was fast and free wi-fi, the streets were clean, and the air was fresh. The only problem was that since we were staying in such a small town, all of the restaurants were closed by the time we got out of rehearsal. Our first full day there, we had rehearsal from 12 to 1:30. Siesta starts at 2 though. Luckily, Matt, Tim, Ivana, and I found a restaurant that would at least serve us sandwiches and wine for lunch when we wandered in around 2:15. The restaurant specialized in meat and wine. When you walked in, all you could see was legs of pigs hanging from the ceiling. They had excellent porchietta though. We also had the house red wine, which was my second favorite wine of the trip.

The city of Pordenone was homey and cute. It had a couple of “squares” that were intersections for at least 5 streets. There was an amazing chocolate store on the main shopping drag, and we passed quite a few clothing stores with fine, Italian fashion. In the older part of the city, we saw buildings that were built as early as 1347. Even though I have seen my fair share of Europe, I am always still fascinated by the fact that there are buildings that old. We don't have that in the US.

Since the city is so small, it didn't take us too long to find the theatre that we performed in. It looked like it seated about 600 people, and it was much roomier than the National Theatre in Sarajevo. We performed the Sconcerto both nights, and I have to admit that I think it went better the second night. It takes a lot of concentration to play that piece. First of all, you have to make sure to filter out the movements of the actor and only concentrate on Maestro Lena's movements. Secondly, the piece was set up like Corigliano's pieces with numbered cues for different events in the place of the traditional bars of music. And finally, there are a lot of notes on the page. We had played through it twice in the same day before the first concert, so between that and being way too excited about being in Italy, my mind was spent.

Luckily though, we didn't have a rehearsal or a sound check the second day. Therefore, Megan, Matt, Ivana, and I went to Venice with the maestro, the translator, and a few other people from the orchestra. I thought more people would want to go, but they all stayed in Pordenone because they thought it was going to rain. Their loss. It didn't rain until we were eating lunch and about to walk back to the train station.

I really enjoyed my time in Venice, as little as it was. We spent a few hours wandering through the labrynth of alleys that make up the city. I'm not really sure what the plan was originally supposed to be. Alma, the translator, and Marco, the conductor were kind of leading the group since they've both been to Venice before. There were a few things lost in translation though, so I didn't realize until halfway through the day that they were frustrated with us stopping to take too many pictures and enjoying the views of unimportant streets. The city was everything I thought it was from movies and tv shows. I also think that the weather gave it a special mysterious character with the overcast clouds.

We didn't get to ride in a gondola, but that's okay. I did have the best coffee I've had since I started drinking coffee in Bosnia, and I got to have my Italian pasta (I had pizza the first night, so all was good). I got canelloni with ricotta and spinach. Delicious! We only stayed in Venice for about 5 or 6 hours, but it was a lot of fun. I feel like we bonded with some colleagues in the orchestra that we haven't interacted with a whole lot, and we had some interesting conversations with Alma and the conductor. He apparently, had conducted at Oberlin before, so he and Matt bonded over that. Music definitely is a small world.

My favorite part of the trip to Venice besides looking out into the water was St. Mark's Basilica. First of all, the square was flooded, so we waded through water at first to get a good look at it. It was pretty cool. There are actually planks that they laid out to let you get from the street to the middle of the square without getting your shoes and socks wet though. But the Cathedral is so intricately constructed. Megan and I shared our fascination with the fact that anybody at any time in history could build such a gorgeous building. Even with the technology we have today, I think it would still be quite a feat.

We left Venice at about 3pm so that we would get back in time for our last performance of the MESS. It went pretty well. After that, Megan, Tim, Flobens, and I went out for some wine and food, and we happened to pick the same place where Maestro Lena, Alma, and a couple of other orchestra members were sitting. It was a good night. We split a bottle of local white wine and had a chicken and cheese pastry thing while Megan had some cheese with bread. On the way back to the hotel, we saw Matt and Ivana sitting at the wine bar we were at the previous night. I tell you, it was quite a small town.

Our trip was amazing, and I wish we could have stayed for a few more days. I hadn't been to Italy before, and I had many other things I wanted to do and foods I wanted to try. Oh well. Maybe I'll get to go as a tourist one day rather than an international performer. Ha, I can't believe I can say that I've played with a professional orchestra in Italy.

On the bus ride home, the magic of Italy wore off completely about 2 hours from Sarajevo. I had just gotten out my computer to watch a new episode of Dr. Who when I started hearing people freak out. Bosnians are the most laid back people I've ever met, so I knew something was up. Eventually, I heard Ivana say, “The bus is burning,” in the calmest voice ever. When I looked back, I saw smoke. We stopped right across the street from a cafe, so we just took our instruments off the bus and got some coffee while we waited for a replacement bus. Way to welcome us back, Bosnia.

A wink may not be what you think...

It takes a while to learn the ropes when it comes to social norms in any culture, and I have found it especially interesting to adjust to the non-verbal language here in Bosnia. The first thing I noticed was the winking. In America, you only wink at someone if you are flirting or if you want to make it clear that you are joking. But in Bosnia, people wink just to say hello. As a woman who is usually creaped out by men winking at me, it took a while to get used to. The Bosnians and Albanians found it quite amusing that I had such a problem winking in the beginning of my stay here. It wasn't the physical act of winking that caused the problems but the mental hurtle of winking without jokingly being seductive or something. Now I can wink without too much effort and without exaggerating the gesture. I can even wink at people in the orchestra that I don't know all that well.

Bosnians are also much more touchy-feely than Americans, and I have to admit that some of their touching definitely makes me uncomfortable. For example, I've seen young girls who are just friends holding hands and kissing on the lips during my commutes on the tram. It is also quite common to see couples making out on a street corner in broad daylight. One of our favorite restaurants in Ilidža has a no kissing sign on the entrance, and I understand why. In America, people often frown on that much PDA (public display of affection). I guess I draw the line at the excessive kissing. I am okay with my female colleagues in the orchestra rubbing my arm when talking to me. They also hug me as some consolation after making fun of me or when I make them laugh. Ivana even comes up behind me and rubs my neck/shoulders for a second to say hi.

Men also touch more here, although I think I am thankful that I haven't been on the receiving end of that affection. In America, guys don't touch at all, but here, there is definite patting on the shoulders. I guess most of the physical contact I've had with men involve hand shaking. People also shake hands quite frequently here to say hello, goodbye, and congratulations.

And then there is the kiss on the cheek. This is a very rare greeting in America, but it was the first thing I did when I got to Sarajevo and met Alisa for the first time. This can be quite awkward to do if you're not expecting it or if you're expecting a different number of kisses from the other pary. Not all people you meet in Bosnia will do this, but I find it is more common with women than men. When men do it, it seems to be the equivalent of the awkward bro hug in the U.S. They have to make it manly some way, so they just avoid touching each other at all costs and hover about a centimeter away from each others' cheek.

When it comes to smiling, I have found that Bosnians do it a lot. When I first got here, I put on my default international face in order to fit in. Then I just realized that I was just acting German and that all the Bosnians on the tram and the streets weren't actually glaring at everyone. See, I quickly learned in Germany that if you smiled at a stranger they thought you were flirting with them, so I wanted to avoid sending that message. But since Bosnians are friendly even without a beer in their hand, it is quite okay to smile.

Finally, I must mention that people count on their fingers differently here. It's the same as in Germany: thumb is 1, thumb + pointer is 2, etc. This is quite important when you are mentioning how many of something you would like in a bakery or a market. It also helps if lose track of rests in rehearsal and look at someone counting on their fingers. I have finally managed to change how I count on my fingers thanks to Oktoberfest. The waitresses would give me a funny look if I ordered two beers and hold up my fingers like a peace sign, so I had to learn quickly. I still haven't learned to stop giving people the thumbs up though. Some people understand what it means, but others look very confused. After all, that symbol means 1 to them. I'll get used to the extra touching here maybe by the time I go home. I apologize now if I wind up invading your bubble.

Oktoberfest Digest

After the MESS, we had 10 days off from rehearsal with the SPO, so Matt and I decided to go to Munich for Oktoberfest. How often do you actually have the opportunity to do something like that? After a 16-hour bus ride and a much-needed German style breakfast, Matt and I set out for the Oktoberfest grounds. What we found surprised both of us.

See, I thought that Oktoberfest consisted of just a bunch of tents that served expensive but tastey liters of beer and people sitting around singing drinking songs all the time. I didn't realize that it was actually a carnival. What a horrible idea, lol. Let's all drink liters of beer and then go on a roller coaster. There's something that your stomach will love. We passed many different types of rides on our way to the beer tents: traditional roller coasters, dizzying rides, the drop of death, and carousels with swings. There was even a freak show and a haunted house. The only difference between the scene outside of the tents and a big American fair (like, say, the Minnesota State Fair) is that instead of a million different kinds of fried food, they have soft pretzles, bratwurst, and leberkäse.

About half the people at Oktoberfest wore traditional Bavarian clothes. The men's outfits varied from läderhosen and a normal shirt to the läderhosen plus knee-high socks, matching shirt, and feathered hat. Simiarly, the womens' outfits combined tradition with modern style. Some women wore the darker colored dirndles that are at least knee-length with a sleeved white undershirt. But then there were women who wore shorter dirndles that were bright pink or neon green and barely any undershirt. At least I didn't see anybody wearing the halloween costumes you see in the US. I may or may not have given in and bought a traditional dirndl. :)

As you would expect, the scene inside the beer tents (or Festhalle) was quite a spectacle. We learned quickly that you shouldn't stand still on the outside of the seating area even to scout out a free table. Either the waitresses will run you over while carrying 7 liters of beer or a security guard will tell you to keep on moving. There are at least 200 tables that seat 10 friendly people in the tent, and a raised platform in the center of the tent has a polka band with all the typical instruments plus wagner tuba. They play everything from American songs to traditional German drinking songs. It seemed like the traditional German/Bavarian songs happened during the day. Later in the night though, they started singing American pop songs in German. I couldn't even sing along in English because I was so distracted by Hey Jude being in German.

After 2 days of Oktoberfest, Matt and I had a chance to explore Munich for a couple of days. We needed a change of pace from the excitement of Oktoberfest. We went on half of the New Europe walking tour, which I actually did the last time I was in Munich. It was okay though because I had forgotten a lot of what I had learned the first time. I can't believe that I forgot the story about the Devil's Footprint in the Frauenkirche though. Basically, the devil struck a deal with the architect to help him build the church as long as he didn't include any windows. The architect was clever enough to hide the windows from the devil on the initial inspection, but when he returned after it was completed, he saw the windows. See, during the devil's first visit to the church, he only looked at it from the doorway. After it was completed, he took a few steps inside, where he could see past the columns to the windows. The devil was angry and stomped in the foyer, leaving a footprint that you can still see today.

While wandering around Munich after the tour, Matt and I were fortunate enough to run into the best street musicians. Our favorite was the duo of accordians we stumbled upon when they were playing Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor. It made our day. I wrote down a name I saw on the cds they had propped up on their case, but apparently, that was just a composer who wrote a piece they recorded and not their group's name. They played at Karlstor both days we were there. We also saw a drumming group that put on an exciting show in the English Gardens during our last day.

During our stay in Munich, Matt and I realized that everybody had the same reaction when we told them what we were up to. They thought we were crazy...even the people who just decided to drop everything for a month or so and backpack across Europe without a definite plan. The Germans we met at Oktoberfest were just confused. I'm not sure they understood why anybody would move to Bosnia for a year. Why not? Yeah, I enjoyed being out of Bosnia where I could breathe clean air, practice my German, and take advantage a few more of the conveniences I'm used to in the States (like a dryer), but by the third day, Matt and I were feeling nostalgic. We decided to sit down at an outdoor cafe in Karlsplatz and enjoy a nice, long cup of coffee, Bosnian style.

Bosnian Food Digest: Čavapi

Before coming to Bosnia, Megan and I had coffee with her husband's Bosnian guitar teacher, and he told us all about food and living in Sarajevo. So when we wandered around Baščaršija with Mattia after the second day of rehearsal, I was quite inclined to try one of the most famous kinds of Bosnian food: Čavapi (pronounced Che-vah-pee). It's a kind of street food that seems to be the Bosnian version of Turkish doner or a Greek gyro, since it is cheap and very popular. Čavapi consists of a pita filled with little sausages and a side of raw onion. The little sausages have a specific seasoning that is like nothing I have tasted before. I'd try to describe the flavoring here, but I can't accurately remember it. I found some čavapi seasoning in the grocery store the other day though, so it may be possible for me to make my own sometime, hehe.

When you order čavapi, you get to choose how many of the sausages you want. We all (except for vegetarian Megan) ordered 10, and that was almost too much to eat. It was basically our only real meal of the day though, so it worked out fine. I would suggest to order 5 if you don't want to feel like you're going to explode with čavapi goodness. Also when you order, I recommend that you ask for a side of kajmak (pronounced ki-mac where ki is like it is in kite). It is basically spreadable butter with bits of Bosnian goat cheese in it. The čavapi tends to be a little bit dry, so the kajmak helps give it more moisture. Plus, when did anybody ever go wrong with adding butter for flavor?

You don't have to look too far to find a place with ćavapi. Almost every place in Baščaršija has it, and we have found it shops in Mostar and Zenica as well. It's never on the menu at nicer sit-down restaurants though. The čavapi we had at this restaurant was only 6 KM, and that's in a rather touristy part of Sarajevo. There's nothing like a meal that will stay with you for at least 4 hours for only the equivalent of $4.

The Mess

Our third concert with the Sarajevo Philharmonic this season was a part of this theatre festival called the MESS. And what a mess it was. First of all, on the day of the first rehearsal, public transportation workers decided to go on strike, so buses and trams weren't running into the city. We live on the outskirts of Sarajevo, so it takes a 20 minute walk to the tram and then a 30 minute tram ride from there to get to work. Luckily for us, Admir helped us get a cab to rehearsal. Traffic was pretty bad, and we kept on seeing people sitting around at the bus stops trying to hail a cab. Other people we saw just gave up and walked wherever they were going. It wasn't a bad day to be walking, since it was sunny and in the 70s.

The SPO's contribution to the MESS was a piece called Sconcerto by Battistelli, an Italian composer. Honestly, it took me all week to figure out what the piece was about because of reasons I'll explain shortly, but I think it was a cool idea. The piece is staged so that there is the orchestra, a real conductor, an actor conductor, and an actor English horn player. The real conductor was sitting on a short stool in front of a black backdrop while the actor stood behind the backdrop and did his thing. This involved pretending to conduct us and giving a scripted Italian monologue throughout the piece. Apparently, his commentary was mainly about how the state of the world has effected classical music. The premise of his speech is that the reason modern music sounds dissonant and unpleasant is that the world is in a bad state. The piece quotes Brahms Symphony No. 3 in small snippets, and during those points, he wonders why music doesn't sound like that anymore. The actor who is planted in the orchestra seemed to be mainly keeping the faux conductor on track during the piece, but there is a point where he sings along with the orchestra. I wish I knew what was really going on there.

Rehearsals for the MESS were extremely exhausting mentally. See, we thought that rehearsals would be run in English because the conductor speaks Italian and English, but the faux conductor was there with a translator. Therefore, rehearsals were run in three languages: Italian, Bosnian, and English. It surprised me how little the conductor wanted to talk though. The actor was in charge most of the time, giving long speeches in Italian which were then translated into Bosnian. I think he was explaining the point of the piece and how we were supposed to act. I talked to Ivana, the principal cellist, during one of the breaks, and she said that we were supposed to just look confused. Apparently, she saw the look on Matt and my face and decided not to mess with it. We definitely looked confused. Rehearsals for this piece felt really long for all of us. Between not understanding what was going on and getting through the piece very slowly because of extra breaks, extra talking, and a little bit of chaos, my brain was shot. The day we had a double service (two 3-hour rehearsals in a day), I stared blankly at my music and tried to tune everything out until I heard the conductor say where we were starting in English.

The good news is that even though I'm not really sure what was going on during the piece, it was received rather well in Sarajevo. We got a standing ovation. They showed Bosnian supertitles during our performance, so the public had no problems understanding the faux conductor's speech. We will take the piece to Italy next week, where we will perform it twice in two nights. The performances are in a town about an hour away from Venice. That'll be fun.

Sarajevo Philharmonic

Playing with the Sarajevo Philharmonic is going to be an interesting experience this year. Remember how I was worried about playing at 442? Well, I had nothing to worry about there. With the reeds I make, switching to a No. 1 bocal is all I need. I guess I didn't have to adjust too much from playing at 441 this summer at Aspen. The problem is that wherever we tune, the pitch tends to rise from there. I've been keeping my pitch down to 442 as much as I can stand, since I often have the root (main pitch) of the chord. It doesn't help all of the time though.

I do have to say that even though I was dealing with a lot of new things the first few days, I was quite taken by how much fun everybody in the orchestra has. I know that we have fun at school, but everyone is so serious about music there. Nobody would dare sing along with their favorite opera arias or bob along with a cool bass line. However, in Sarajevo this kind of thing happens all of the time. It bugged me at first, but then I realized that I would rather play with people who clearly enjoy what they are doing than play with some stuffy orchestra that makes me feel like I have to walk on egg shells to fit in.

I've also noticed that I tend to be a bit shy as an orchestral musician, especially compared to the musicians in the Sarajevo Philharmonic. Edo for example, always has something to say with his bassoon. I might not agree with how he says it, but the fact that he always making his opinion heard in the orchestra will force me to be more outgoing with my own playing. After all, we are a section and therefore have to blend.

I said before that being in Bosnia is always an adventure, and playing in the orchestra is no exception. It'll be a great experience for me. We have already performed Verdi's La Traviata and Brahms Symphony No. 4 in concert, and later this fall we will play Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 6, Peter and the Wolf, Verdi's Masked Ball, and Bizet's Carmen. I am quite excited to finally play such good repertoire.

BBI: Home Sweet Home

As a foreigner who doesn't have international calling or access to internet to my apartment yet, BBI has become my safe haven. BBI stands for Bosnian Bank International, which I think is the company that owns the building. It is essentially a Bosnian mall equipped with everything American malls have and more: a food court, expensive clothing stores, restaurants, a grocery store, and a fitness center. We went there our second day to get food and phones and were quite thrilled to discover that it also has free wi-fi. Score! That's where I have been for the bulk of my internet access during my time here. I am unsure how to truly convey the sense of security and comfort I feel going to BBI. It feels like a little piece of America amongst this strange land. Sure, they have inclined people walkers instead of escalators, but it feels nice and commercialized.

Besides free wi-fi, I think one of the coolest things about BBI is their giant chess boards right outside. I had to wait a week to get a picture of this because there is hardly ever anybody playing when I walk by. Jennifer, if you and Mark ever come to Bosnia, you have to play a game here. I haven't payed enough attention to the games to see if the people playing are actually good, but I imagine they would be. Who would go play a giant game of chess with lots of spectators if they weren't any good?

When we have double service days (translation: two 3-hour rehearsals in one day with a 5-hour break in between), I usually go to BBI to use the wireless. You can use it up on the 4th floor where the food court is without feeling too obligated to buy anything. BBI is equipped with a great DM store too. It's a German chain that has mostly beauty products and a little bit of food. That is where I have had the most success in finding American brands of things like shampoo. It's a bit more expensive than the Bosnian brands, but at least I know what it is.

The first time I went here was with the other Americans, Alisa, and Mattia. Mattia is an Italian horn player who also lives in our building. We were downstairs waiting for our id pictures to be developed when he and Tim decided to check out the arcade. Yes, there is an arcade in the mall. :) I should have snapped a picture while they were playing one of the car racing games. Oh well. I may have been distracted by the wi-fi.

Zdravo!

I've officially been in Bosnia for thirteen days, and every single one of those days has been an adventure. Luckily for the four of us who decided to move to a strange country for a year, the Bosnians are some of the most hospitable people I've met.

Enter Alisa. During our first two days, she set up our bank accounts, introduced us to our fellow musicians with the SPO, taught us how to say hello (zdravo) in Bosnian, and took us to m:tel to buy cell phones. Oh, and she was also the one who picked us up from the airport. She may not be a musician, but she did a fine job of helping us get settled into living here.

Then there are all of the people I met my first night: Admir, Arvida, Ingrid, Morena, and Ivana. Admir was the first person I started to get to know here, since all the girls had to be at a violin sectional rehearsal that night. Before running to rehearsal, they had made some bow-tie pasta with tuna and left it for us Americans to eat. I was quite grateful for since I had no Bosnian currency but quite the appetite. I dug into dinner while Tim, the trombonist who flew with me from Munich to Sarajevo, took a nap. Then I stayed and talked to Admir so I wouldn't fall asleep while waiting for Megan and Matt's flight to get here. Admir has played principal trumpet with the SPO for three years and is originally from Bosnia. He apparently learned English by watching American movies and tv shows, which is quite impressive, considering how good his English is. His girlfriend Arvida and the other girls are Albanian and study at the Academy of Arts in addition to performing with the Sarajevo Philharmonic. Everyone speaks English rather well, but there is always something for us to teach them. For some reason, I used the word noodles to describe the pasta they had cooked for us the first night. Now, almost every time I see them, they say, “Noodles!” with a rather long oo sound.

Perhaps not too surprisingly, I spend the most amount of my time hanging out with the other three Americans who came to Bosnia with me. Megan and I went to school together at Northwestern. She is here to play principal oboe, and sometimes I can't believe she came because she just got married about a month ago. We have worked great as roommates though. :) As I mentioned above, Tim plays trombone and just graduated from University of North Carolina. He tends to keep to himself quit ea bit, but he is quite the character when he's in the mood to be social. And finally, Matt plays french horn and has delayed his senior year at Oberlin to be here. He always cracks jokes and looks at the positive side of life. We were pretty inseparable for the first few days, but I think we are all starting to get used to being here and have become a little more comfortable getting around on our own.

I know it's already been almost two weeks, but I still wake up in the morning and have a hard time believing that I'm living here now. All of us have dealt with the culture shock in different ways: sleeping, writing, and socializing. I think I picked the socializing route, but as I get more settled in, I am becoming more of my old self. Adjusting to life in Bosnia is no piece of cake, so a lot of my entries will cover things that I found useful to know about during my time here. You'll be updated on more of my adventures in the days to come!

Sara goes to Sarajevo

About 11 weeks ago, I was accepted as the second bassoonist of the Sarajevo Philharmonic for the 2011-2012 season. This is the story of a 10-month adventure in Bosnia.

My flight leaves in 6 hours, and I have thoroughly messed up my sleep cycle. I got about 5 hours of sleep last night. Maybe that means I'll be able to sleep on the plane for once though. At least I'm packed and ready to go. It's still a little weird for me to know that I'll be in a country I know very little about in 24 hours, but that's what makes life exciting.

The thing that makes me the most nervous isn't the new country, language, and currency, but it's the fact that I'll have to play at A=442 Hz. For you non-musicians, the orchestra tunes to an agreed frequency on the pitch A before every rehearsal and performance. In the United States, most orchestras tune to 440 Hz, but in Europe, they like a little sharper, brighter sound, so they tune even as high as 445 Hz. The Sarajevo Philharmonic tunes to 442 Hz, which is much sharper than I have ever intended to play. Since I have had a history of problems playing even at 441 Hz, I decided to arm myself with shorter bocals. I made the trip to Edmund Nielsen's while I was still in Chicago to pick a No. 1 bocal from the largest selection of Heckel bocals in the world. It turned out to be a good idea, and I finally made my decision of which bocal works best with my instrument this past weekend. I am also armed with a No. 0 bocal for the year, so I should be set. (The lower the bocal number, the shorter and therefore sharper the bocal.) Two days after I arrive in Sarajevo, I have my first rehearsal with the orchestra. Then the next night is my first performance. I hope I can adjust to the new tuning quickly enough.

I am unsure how soon I will be all set up with internet in my new Bosnian apartment, but I should be able to post again in a week.