To commemorate 20 years, Sarajevo's main street was filled with empty red chairs, each of which represented one of 11,541 people who were killed during the siege. There were even smaller chairs near the Children's Memorial to represent each child. A screen displaying the names of all of the victims stood roughly every 50 meters along the street, while nearby speakers blared a heartbreaking rendition of Albinoni's Adagio in g, the piece Vedran Smailović, the Cellist of Sarajevo, was most known for performing. People stopped to place flowers, teddy bears, and other gifts on the chairs in memory of their loved ones. Others gathered around the screens to watch their loved one's name appear on the lengthy list of casualties. Though most of the people I saw were reverent, some of them caught me offguard. One lady was grinning ear to ear while she happily took photos of the memorial. I don't think she really got it...
As I walked along the street from Ali Pasha's Mosque to the Eternal Flame, I was quite moved by the vastness of the memorial. In fact, I could not bear to look at the screens with the victims' names or truly listen to the music that looped endlessly throughout my 20-minute observance. I've heard the statistics from the war: how many people died, how many children died, how many shells fell on the city per day, etc. I've heard stories from my friends who were in Sarajevo during the siege. I've even watched real video footage from some of the massacres. Nothing prepared me for this though. It was the first time I could actually comprehend how much was lost during the war.
I have seen the signs of war damage every day since I came to Bosnia six months ago. There are still houses in my neighborhood with clear mortar scars and bullet holes. Next to those houses are new ones though, a symbol of hope and forward progress. On the tram ride from Ilidža to the center, it is hard not to notice the skeleton of a building so damaged that you can see the beautiful mountains through its remains. Closer to the center appears a cemetary covering an entire hill with densely-packed tombstones. Even my daily walk in the center is accompanied by the passing of a Sarajevo Rose. I am continually impressed with Sarajevans' ability to continue to live fairly normal lives in a place so touched by the scars of hatred.
If there is only one thing that I take away from my time in Sarajevo, it will be one part of the mindset of its people: the inclination to celebrate life. People here seem to live their lives to the fullest. They tell someone that they love them instead of waiting and making excuses for themselves. They take time to eat lunch or drink coffee in the sunshine. They make plenty of extra time for family and friends. Sure, I've realized in the past that these things are important, but it helps to be reminded of that. Coming from a society which seems to value success in terms of career rather than happiness, I found that I had to change my mindset quite a bit in order to feel like I belong here. I truly hope to be able to continue to party hearty when I go home.
Megan, Alisa, her friend, and I all piled into the crowded Holiday Market Bus one Sunday. We had to stand up in the isle, but the ride was rather short: roughly half an hour. Like my other bus-rides here, my eyes were glued to the windows as we wound our way up the mountain. The depth of the snow grew more extreme as we drove, and I was amazed at this bus's ability to navigate the snow-covered mountain road.
By the time we reached the resort, I felt like I was in Narnia. We took a short walk further up the mountain before meeting Mattia, who had taken an earlier bus so that he would have more time to ski. Evergreens lined the path as we trudged through the snow. It was so beautiful. When we found Mattia, we all grabbed some mulled wine and food in a nearby restaurant. After filling our tummies with hot food, we ventured back out into the cold to enjoy the snow.
Us girls weren't brave enough to go skiing, so we rented sleds instead. It was so much fun to act like a kid again. But between the teenage boys who blocked the entire hill while they waited to jump over their friends as they sledded down the hill and the fact that our sleds weren't made for steering, I managed to learn a new Bosnian word: Pazi! (Watch out!) Hehe.
We didn't let our wariness of skiing keep us from riding the skilift though. We wanted to see the bird's eye view of the mountain, but as soon as we made it halfway up the lift, we realized it may have not been the best idea. We hit a very dense fog, the temperature dropped at least 10 degrees, and it became incredibly windy. As Megan pointed out, it felt like we were in Chicago! ...except I wasn't dressed for that weather... Everything was covered in at least a centimeter of frost, and our hair had turned white due to the cold! I imagine that the skiers going up the lift we were wondering what these four crazy women were doing riding it up and back in the cold, wind, and fog. Oh well. It was still worth it.
We spent the remainder of our time there alternating between sledding and enjoying a hot beverage inside. I enjoyed every minute of it! I was really hoping to go back to the mountains again before the snow melted, but my schedule didn't allow it. I guess that means I'll have to come back to Sarajevo in the future. :) Three years ago, I had never set foot on a mountain, and now I almost can't imagine a life away from them. Even while walking to the tram to go to work in the morning, I bask in the glory of their magestic peaks.
One of my favorite things to eat during winter is chili, so naturally, I made it during our huge snow storm. It can be fairly difficult to find ingredients for American foods in Bosnia though. I was quite thrilled to find everything I needed in the Konzum in the Sara Centar. Here's what I came up with:
We knew a blizzard was going to hit Sarajevo today. I would have just stayed in my apartment the entire day, but I had a gig to play that night in the city. We live about an hour's commute away, and the snow had been coming down rather heavily since noon. Megan and I left over 2 hours early just to be sure that we would get there in time. We bundled ourselves up in our winter gear and trudged through the 5 inches of snow that had already fallen. When we got to the tram station, I was a little concerned because I heard several people say, "ne radi," which translates to "it doesn't work." When we got onto the platform, we saw one of our colleagues. She informed us that she had been waiting there for half an hour already. Fortunately, our timing was perfect. The tram that was sitting at the stop started moving within 5 minutes of our arrival. We chose to take the second, less crowded tram.
Everything was going well for the first third of our commute, but then the tram started moving backwards! My first thought was, why on earth are we going back to Ilidža? This proceeded for the next 5 to 10 minutes, during which the tram had exploaded with conversation, as people tried to figure out what was going on. But just after Megan and I discussed contingency plans for getting to our gig, it started moving forward again. Perhaps it just needed a little more momentum to move through the snow that was pushed into the intersection by cars crossing the tracks. We made it to Bašćaršija with enough time for me to buy a much-needed hat before our gig.
By Wednesday's rehearsal, we were able to get to the theater without too much trouble. We took cabs from Ilidža. There was a bus that took people from Ilidža to where the tram started working too, but it looked rather crowded. Fortunately, the tram was working all the way from center to Ilidža by Thursday. The walk to Ilidža is a little trickier now though. The sidewalks are completely covered with snow banks taller than me, and the streets have been effectively reduced to one lane. Therefore, everybody has to walk in the middle of the street (which is actually quite a normal thing to do here) and then jump into the snow banks whenever a car goes by. It's fun times.
I had a hard time adjusting to the air when I first arrived here. State-side, I have seemed to outgrow my asthma. It doesn't bug me too much when I forget to take my daily inhaler, and I rarely have to use my fast-acting one even when I do an intensive cardio workout. Here though, I can always tell when I haven't kept up with my medicine. During the first week I was here, I took my fast-acting inhaler before rehearsals because of all of the smoke in our work environment. People smoke everywhere here, and it is almost impossible to avoid unless you become a bit anti-social. It is quite rare to find a place in Bosnia where smoking is forbidden, since it is ingrained in their culture. It bothered me in the beginning before I was used to the smoke. In fact, during our first opera performance, I remember having to drink water to keep from coughing because of the smoke that filled the pit during the intermissions. Nobody actually smokes in our rehearsal or performance spaces, but it creeps back into those areas from the cafe and the lounge. After a couple of weeks though, I rarely had to fight back coughs.
I have also noticed that any time I go away from Sarajevo, I go through the same break-in period when I return. It happened when I returned from Munich for Oktoberfest and after our tour in Italy. After my most recent trip, my transition to the smog was quite bad. In addition to the usual coughing and extra congestion, I was sick with a cold. Luckily though, I was able to avoid the rooms that most people smoked in without feeling too much like an outcast. The first week, the orchestra only had two performances and two rehearsals. The second week, I had nothing with the orchestra and instead played in a conducting recital at the music academy, which is the only place in Bosnia I have found that has “no smoking” signs. However, I never went into the faculty lounge where my friends were drinking coffee (and thus also smoking) because my sickness made me too sensitive to the smoke.
I can confirm that the air here is much worse in the winter. I think that was the main reason I caught a cold when I returned from the clean sea air. Many days when I look out my window in the winter, I can't even begin to see the hills that are only a few kilometers away from my building. I live close to the airport and can also hear when the planes aren't land due to the intense smog. I can feel how the air is more dense with pollution than it was when I arrived in September. I've never been to Los Angeles, but apparently Sarajevo in winter is like LA in the summer.
The moral of the story is that if you are really sensitive to the air for medical or other reasons, be prepared when you come to Sarajevo. It is a beautiful city, especially in non-winter months and is definitely still worth the visit.
By now, I have transformed into a confident Bosnian musician. I worry much less about playing things perfectly during a performance and concentrate on having fun like my colleagues do. During this rehearsal/performance cycle I even caught myself humming several of my favorite arias. I no longer get tense during woodwind chorales but play the bass line at a comfortable dynamic. If I play too softly in La Traviata, nobody will hear me since the bassoons are too far back in the pit. I was also more comfortable during this performance because I was used to pit's size. It would be a bad place for someone with claustrophobia, especially in the back row. I have developed a nice system for making my little bassoon nest within such small confines though.
I think the difference that struck me the most between my first performance and now is how much more I can understand. I no longer need Edo to translate for the conductor and tell me where we are starting. I can generally understand when the conductor is asking for something from the orchestra, like playing softer. I understand when they say how long the breaks are or remind us what time our next rehearsal is. It feels nice to no longer depend on other people for the basics of a musician's life.
Having never stayed in a 4-star hotel before on my own expense, I intended to take advantage of some of its best amenities: the pool, jacuzzi, and sauna. The day in the sauna was the best. When I met Alisa and her friend there, they fixed me some tea and told me to take a “tropical shower.” I'm not entirely sure what was tropical about it, but it smelled great and felt fresh. In addition to a main lounging area, the sauna had three specialty rooms: one dry, one steamy, and one in between. I honestly, had some problems in the steamy one and had to leave after only maybe five minutes. I did not enjoy most of that time because I spent it concentrating on breathing in the intensely humid air. I guess is wasn't a place for someone with asthma. My favorite room was the one in between, which Alisa first described to me as the one “for babies.” Oh well. The best part of the sauna wasn't any of the steam rooms though, it was the foot jacuzzi. My feet were quite sore from my adventure on the mountain the previous day, so as soon as the jets turned on, my face lit up in relief. It was exactly what I needed.
Away from the sauna, I gained a new perspective on my colleagues' lifestyle and attitudes. I was the only one of the Americans to go on the trip, so I was constantly surrounded by Bosnians. I learned that out of all of the regions that used to make up Yugoslavia, Bosnia's people have the most notable sense of humor. When anything happens whether it's good or bad, jokes will apparently pop up there first. It's not like in America, where we have to wait a certain amount of time before joking about something or else risk it being deemed inappropriate. I also noticed that they aren't afraid to go after what they want. As a musician, I am always determined at least to become a master of my trade. However, I felt pushed by my colleagues to become a little more strong-minded. If you stand around without deciding what you want in their culture, nothing will happen. You have to decide what you want and take the actions to see it through. It's not enough just to tell someone that you're going to pay for the next round of coffee. You have to actively butt in and get to the waiter first. Speaking of, Bosnians are also quite generous with their friends, sharing whatever food or alcohol they are enjoying at any given time. Without any special prompting on my part, my roommate kept on buying me things like candy bars when she went to the super market. Even walking around the old town, when Edo would stop in a market and get a juice for his kid, he would get a beverage for everyone else too. I have never seen sharing on this scale in the US...not even in the more rural areas of the country. I might have to bring back this mentality when I return home in June.
I also learned a little bit about Croatian culture, at least through the eyes of my Bosnian friends. I found it entertaining that the Bosnians kept on mocking how the people of Dubrovnik speak. I don't know enough Bosnian to hear the difference, but apparently they have a weird accent, even to other Croatians. It must be similar to the differences between the Boston accent and the Southern accent in the States. I also heard tradition Croatian music in the bar on the main floor of the hotel. It had some similar characteristics such as the mode, but it seemed to have a more relaxed and mellow feel both in tempo and timbre. I wonder if it reflects pace of living in Croatia. It seemed like Croatians do things at their own pace even more so than Bosnians. One of the nights we were down at the bar, it took at least 20 minutes for a waiter to even come to our table. I'm not sure if that's just how they are or if that's how they are when a bunch of Bosnians are partying in their bar.
One great thing about spending an entire week away from my English-speaking friends is that my Bosnian improved quite a bit. I learned even more ways to say hello and goodbye and to wish people well. I was almost always in a group with at least three other people, and I enjoyed listening to them speak to each other. I felt bad every time they stopped and repeated a story in English so that I could fully understand. Most of the time, I observed them intently, trying to use their hand gestures and facial expressions to infer what they were saying. I don't think it actually worked, but it helped get Bosnian into my ear. Alisa's friend was the person who helped me the most with my Bosnian. When Alisa wasn't there, I would speak to her in English and she would respond in Bosnian (well, Serbian really). We understood each other pretty well without a translator. She spoke fairly slowly and simply, and I think she is the only person I have met who speaks to me at least 90% of the time in Bosnian. By the end of the week, my mind was much more adept at producing the sounds in the Bosnian language. I would no longer sound out words slowly, letter by letter like I have in the past, and it felt good. I was quite proud of myself when I returned to Sarajevo. I managed to take a cab back to my apartment by myself without saying one word in English. Yeah!
The easiest way to find the trail is to start from the Pile Gate in Old Town. Slightly to the west is the Hilton Imperial Hotel, and a side street equipped with tons of steps appears just to the right (east) of that building. Just follow the steps up the mountain to the last major street: Jadranska Cesta. There is a bus stop along the road and just to the right (east) of it is the trail head. Honestly, this part of the hike is the most grueling. The rest of the way is a piece of cake...much easier than hiking the Ute in Aspen, CO.
The official trail starts in the midst of a forest, so there is ample shade and greenery blocking most of the views of the city below. The trail itself isn't all that beautiful. It is covered in rocks of various sizes, so I felt like I was forced to look at where my feet were going so that I didn't twist my ankle. There are no pretty flowers or anything, causing the mountain side to be mostly grayish-green. However, when you venture to look up from the ground and turn your back to the mountain, the view is absolutely amazing. Once I got past all of the trees, I had to take a little break to admire the view.
I think one of the reasons that the trail isn't too steep is that it zig-zags all the way up the mountain. This fact has earned the path the nickname “serpentine.” I didn't count the switchbacks because it wasn't necessary. Halfway between each switchback stood a cross with a roman numeral on it counting up from the bottom of the trail. Each one also had a bushel of plants, some stones, and a candle decorated with the Croatian flag. I think that these serve as memorials for the fallen heroes of Croatia, as the fort at the top held back invading armies since the 1800s.
About halfway from the forest to the summit, I started having to dodge some piles of animal feces. They seemed to be getting fresher as I hiked up the mountain, and eventually I found the source: a herd of cows. I've come across dogs, mountain goats, and llamas on the side of a mountain before, but never have I seen cows so adept at navigating the steep surface of a mountain in search of food. When I got to the top, I met their owner. However, my Bosnian wasn't good enough to have an interesting conversation with him. I also found some horses and billy goats there. Their presence amused me.
I spent over an hour and a half on the top of the mountain taking in the views. On the other side of the mountain is the Bosnian border, complete with the snow-topped Dinaric Alps. The Adriatic Sea stretches for miles to the south, and you can see an aerial view of the old town from the summit as well.
I spent almost the entire day alone. I only saw a few other people hiking up the mountain, including a couple of Japanese ladies who enthusiastically waved at me from the top of the fort when I was heading back down the trail. Being alone made it possible for me to fully comprehend everything that I saw on the top of the mountain though. At the summit stands the Fort Imperial, a fort that was built by Napoleon and successfully held back invaders for many years. It was also the first place that was attacked by Serbian forces in 1991. The fort functions as a memorial for all the people who died in the invasion in the 90s. About 80% of the building is still in ruins with signs that warn potential trespassers of unforeseen dangers. The rest of the building houses the Dubrovnik During the Homeland War exhibition. I paid the 30 kuna to go inside, and it was actually a rude awakening. Yes, I've heard and read a lot about the war, but sometimes it takes other kinds of exposure for it to truly sink in. In one of the rooms of the exhibition, they were running video coverage of the siege complete with explosions and fires from the shells dropped on the Old Town. I've seen this kind of war coverage before, but I had never seen such disturbing footage from a war that took place during my lifetime. As I looked at the date on the corner of the screen, I couldn't help but think about what I was doing the day that this video was taken. My heart sank as I comprehended how many lives were taken or ruined because of this violence.
During the rest of my time at the top of the mountain, I thought about the simultaneous existence of devastation and beauty. I have seen so much war damage in Bosnia, but I am always cheered up by little trinkets of life that spring up in the midst of the ruins. The Fort Imperial stands at the top of Mount Srđ as a reminder of many brave souls who defended a city that was being attacked by hate. Dubrovnik has recovered though. The city thrives from the thousands of tourists who visit the gorgeous beaches in the spring and summer months. Apart from the various memorials of fallen heroes, there are no signs of the war that wreaked havoc on such an important city. I only wish that mankind would be incapable of committing such atrocious acts of violence.
We made our way down the Stradun to the spot Alisa recommended for postcard-worthy pictures, a pier just past St. John Fort (Trdjava sv. Ivana). There, we found quite a few benches and stray cats. These strays were not like that ones I've seen in Bosnian though...they were quite fat and healthy. They were in just as much need of loving as the ones in Bosnia though. The view from the pier was spectacular. Besides the quaint Croatian houses and endless Adriatic Sea, we could see Lokrum, an island about 1 kilometer away where people go cliff diving. After our picture break, we continued weaving our way through the streets of the Old Town in order to ensure that I had seen everything. I contemplated spending 70 kuna to walk the City Walls that fortify that part of Dubrovnik, but even if I had wanted to, the entrances were closed. I had no regrets though because I was planning on hiking up to Mount Srđ the next day and knew the view of the old town would be fantastic.
On the way to my last point of interest just outside the city walls, Alisa showed me Ivo Grbić's house. He is a rather famous Croatian painter who survived the most brutal attack by Serbian forces on Dubrovnik. On December 6, 1991, his house suffered a direct hit and burnt down, but he managed to save a few paintings from the blaze. There is a famous picture hanging on the side of the restored house from that day. In the photo, he stands wrapped in a blanket in front of his burning house and gives the Serbs a hand gesture that means FU. I thought that was a really cool story. Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture of it because I thought I'd be able to find it online. No luck though.
On the third day of my trip, I ventured back to the Old Town with my colleague Edo, his family, and my clarinetist roommate for week. We stopped for coffee at a cafe on the Stradun, just like Edo had suggested I do before we even left Sarajevo. It was calm, sunny, and relaxing. The city was peacefully empty. Since the weather isn't hot enough for most seaside activities, tourists tend to avoid Dubrovnik in January. I enjoyed listening to everyone around me speak Bosnian while I watched the some kids play with the pidgins that were close to the Bell Tower.
After coffee, we made our way over to the aquarium. It cost 40 kuna, and yeah, there were some pretty cool fish in there. However, it was much smaller than I expected. It only had two rooms. Perhaps it's better to go during tourist season, since it seemed like they were in a transitional stage. A set of stairs seemed to lead to another part of the aquarium, but it was roped off. Oh well.
We wandered around the city after that to kill time until Edo's wife's rehearsal was over. Honestly, there isn't a whole lot to do in Old Town unless you want to go into all of the different museums. Without the museums, you can see everything in no more than 3 hours including a coffee break. I just tried to take in the sights as effectively as possible and enjoyed breathing the clean sea air. :)
In addition to switching from the comfort of being behind a curtain to being thrust into the blinding light of spectators and paparazzi, a pops program produces other obstacles with concentration. We played about 20 pieces of music during each half of the concert. This requires context switching between each of those pieces. They vary from transparent and exposed arias to comfortably unison marches, and the flow of music making is disrupted as applause fills the hall between each piece.
After the concert, our Otes gang and several other members of the orchestra stayed in the theater to celebrate. The orchestra manager arranged to have a party in the theater on account of how late it would be by the time we finished the concert. It was complete with delicious, catered food, loud music/karaoke, and good people. Drinks were BYOB, so we shared everything from beer and wine to rakia and rum. I arrived at the party around 10:30, and before I knew it, it was already 2012. The changeover was a little bizarre though. In the US, we typically countdown the seconds to midnight, highlighting the suspense and anticipation of the new year, but that didn't happen here. One minute, we were eating, drinking, dancing, and listening to traditional Bosnian music. Then seemingly out of nowhere, everybody was wishing each other a happy new year (sretna nova godina) and the best of luck. Another US tradition is kissing someone special at midnight, which was also a non-issue here. I kissed everybody at midnight...European style.
The party continued for another few hours after midnight. During that time, we saw our conductor dance and our colleagues sing karaoke. It was one of the most enjoyable New Year's celebrations I've had and one that I am not likely to ever forget.
