Deja vu, La Traviata

Last week after I returned from my vacation, the orchestra played La Traviata for the second time, and it brought back a whole slew of memories from my very first experiences with the orchestra. When I first came to Sarajevo in September, we started working straight away within 48 hours of our arrival. I was dealing with jet lag, culture shock, and nerves. Rehearsal seemed to fly by in a haze as I was sleep-deprived and unable to understand anything the conductor said. I remember being so conscious of playing every single note clearly, softly, and perfectly in time with my colleagues. I also remember being disappointed in myself when I would lose focus and play something below my standards. I was quite surprised by the fact that people in the orchestra would sing along with the soloists during their favorite arias. I thought that it was adorable that my bassoon colleague would swivel his spinning chair to play a duet with the principal clarinet. He was the one who told me where to start, and I was always so nervous of miscounting or misreading the cuts in our messy parts.

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.

Dubrovnik: Part III - The Hotel

the view from my room

I was quite thankful that I had the opportunity to go to Dubrovnik. My colleagues were going there to teaching in a classical music seminar for musicians from Bosnia, Croatia, and Serbia, so I tagged along too. The week-long seminar involves nightly concerts and daily master classes for strings, accordion, harmonica, guitar, flute, clarinet, and trumpet. I went to some of the concerts but did not participate in the masterclasses, since there was nothing for bassoon. Instead, Edo and I played duets in the lobby one night before dinner. The seminar was held in a 4-star hotel on the western side of Dubrovnik. I managed to get a sea side room with a spectacular view of the cove the hotel faced, and I definitely couldn't get enough of that view. There were a few walking paths along the sea that I explored almost every day I was there. I always saw someone fishing on the rocks below.

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.

sunset plus the shadow of a fisherman on the rocks

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.

the rocks below one of the walking paths

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!

Dubrovnik: Part II - Mount Srđ

I think my favorite part of the trip was the day I decided to spend hiking up Mount Srđ. I couldn't convince any of my Bosnian friends to go with me, but I think the solitude added to the experience. There are three ways to get to the top. You can drive up a winding, narrow road. You can pay 80 kuna for a round-trip cable car ticket (50 kuna one-way). Or you can hike for about an hour and a half. I've been wanting to go hiking ever since I got to Sarajevo, so that was the clear choice for me.

the endless steps up to the trail head

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.

beginning of the trail

one of my first views just above the forest looking west

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.

switchback with Lokrum in the background

cross memorial

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.

cows!

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.

Looking down at the city and Lokrum from the top of Fort Imperial

The Adriatic Sea

Bosnian border and Dinaric Alps

at the summit

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.

overlooking some ruins I found next to the fort

inside the fort

looking east toward Montenegro

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.

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.