Dubrovnik: Part I - Old Town

Last week, I took a much-needed vacation from the cold, dreary Sarajevo winter and spent 6 days in Dubrovnik, Croatia. It was the best decision I've made since I moved overseas. During my time there, I spent a couple of days exploring the Old Town (Stari Grad), which is the biggest tourist spot in the city.

side street

The first day, my trusty tour guides Alisa and her friend took me all over downtown Dubrovnik. Our hotel was barely within walking distance, so we took the bus there. It runs every 15 minutes or so on weekdays and only cost 10 kuna one-way (less than 1.5 Euros). It dropped us off right outside of the Pile Gate, one of the entrances to the fortified part of the city. I instantly fell in love. It reminded me of Venice but with less water and more stone. Every building is extremely close to its neighbors, and the side streets are only about 5 feet wide. Walking down Stradun, the main drag, you can see that all of the narrow side streets leading up the mountain. The Croatians decorated the stone windowsills with plants and hung clothes lines from one building to another.

My trusty tour guides

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.

Panoramic view of the square by the Bell Tower

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.

strolling along the old city port

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. :)

iconic view of the city walls

Sretna Nova Godina!

Every year, the Sarajevska Filharmonia puts on a New Year's Eve Concert, and it is a highly recommended attraction for tourists and locals alike. Ticket holders enjoy a a break from the orchestra's pops concert with a cocktail hour serenaded by chamber groups from the orchestra during intermission. This year's program consisted of popular classical repertoire including the Overture to Fledermaus, the Drinking Song from La Traviata, and Radetzky March. It was quite well-received by the audience. Our last official piece of the program was the Waltz from Khatchaturian's Masquerade Ball. In addition to the image that Matt put into my head about the piece (people dancing and suddenly realizing that their masks were stuck to their face) somebody had the bright idea of letting loose a bunch of red and gold balloons. They were flying and popping all over the place, adding to the ambiance of the piece. It was actually a pretty cool effect to close out the concert.

From a musician's point of view, even though the content of the program was quite light, it was still challenging to keep concentration throughout the duration of the concert. I have noticed that I have difficulty getting into the groove of performing here, and I think that it has to do with the nature of our performance space. In the majority of orchestras in the US, musicians file out on stage at their own pace and begin warming up there. This allows woodwind players to create their little nest of cases, reeds, water, and other necessary items for their performance. However, in Europe, everyone files onstage at once, leaving very little time for nesting before the concert master comes out to tune the orchestra. I should be used to it, since that's what I have had to do at Northwestern for the past 7 years. However, I find myself extremely distracted backstage in Sarajevo. It is dark, slightly chilly, and without chairs. We wait roughly 30 minutes, chatting amongst ourselves to pass the time until we file onstage in a semi-organized fashion. Upon arriving at my seat, I often find myself slightly discombobulated for the first few minutes of the program, and the performance passes like a dream.

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.

Perhaps another reason I was a little distracted during concert was the thoughtful gift my bassoon colleague gave me. It was an old bottle filled with lozovaca, a type of rakia made with grapes. (Don't worry. I didn't drink it until after the concert.) I wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he told me about it earlier in the week, but I was quite impressed when he gave it to me. It was a glass bottle covered in old leather, one of Bosnia's famous exports. As you can tell from the picture, it has a lot of character and will be perhaps my most prized souvenir.

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.

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.