Sarajevo to Zagreb
I here in Zagreb getting soaked. It's raining like mad. My luck with the weather finally ran out and damned if I can find an umbrella for sale. Zagreb, the capital city of Croatia, is like Belgrade: grand with monuments to itself strewn across the city. But the atmosphere is warmer except in this Internet cafe, Cafe Charlie. Dull and lifeless place. But it is early and it is one of the few around here that is open.
I drove with the bus from Sarajevo to Zagreb last night. Arrived at 6 a.m. Compared to the trip from Priština to Belgrade it was 1st class luxury. The heater was cranked up and no nasty drafts blew through the back. On the other hand, I ran into the first total asshole of the trip. A completely drunken young guy sitting across the aisle from me is trying to recline his seat. I help him - it was tricky and he was finally getting on my nerves with all his heaving and sighing - only to have him sit down next to me. I told him to get back in his own seat, twice, loud. He does and starts panting something like ˝yeah, yeah.˝ I look over and he has his dick pulled out of his pants masturbating. So I yelled at him, got the second bus driver and then yelled at him some more to put his fucking dick back in his fucking pants. Then I moved to a seat up front. A nice guy said not to worry, that they would make sure I was okay until we got to Zagreb and not to be scared. I wasn't scared. I was pissed off. It was if my annoyance at all the times gross things like that have happened just welled up inside me and then poured out.
A friend in Sarajevo told me a story about a Bosnian woman who was being hassled during the war by a Chetnik soldier, who was doing strip searches. He took the beautiful woman aside and told her to strip, clearly indicating that he was about to enjoy a thorough search. My friend said she responded by 1. asking him if that was the only way he could get some, and then 2. promply pulling down her skirt and underwear, and 3. saying, okay. then go ahead. The soldier was embarassed and promply told her to pull her clothes back up. When she walked away she told him not to dare touch a single one of the young girls in line behind her. Now that takes balls.
I tried to explain how in the United States, the media is full of images of women being raped, murdered, kidnapped, beaten. I can't count how many weekly crime shows center around solving crimes against women. It sinks in, at least with me. I realized how much when I watched an American crime show last week on the sat TV. I read a book once about a war photographer who described how months after he had been in all sorts of danger he suddenly became scared during on particular incident. He said people always wonder if they would be cowardly if put in dangerous situations and then spend the rest of their lives trying to avoid finding out. What our imagination conjures up is far worse than reality.
At any rate, I miss my little, chaotic Sarajevo. Yesterday, I walked to the top of the city where an old Austro-Hungarian barracks is disintegrating. The stone sentry platform in front overlooks the city. It was the most beautiful moment. The sun was beaming on the snow around, the mist floating about the mountains. It was silent except for the call to prayer echoing through the city as a flock of ravens cawed while flying overhead. I tried to remember each and every detail as I walked home. I wanted to trace my finger along the city like lovers do each others' face, imprinting in the fingertips the feel of the eyes, the lips, the cheeks, the hair. Too many times I have left people or cities without a proper goodbye, with an empty space where memory belongs.
P.S.
There are a few places worth a visit if you are ever in the Balkans - places that are seldom in the tourbooks. In Sarajevo, visit Cafe Tito. Cafe Tito stands out from all the other umpteen cafes in Sarajevo. Helmets from World War II are used as lampshades, and donated memorabilia cover the walls - Tito's photos and metals, a LIFE magazine cover when Tito was its "Man of the Year," posters of Bosnians thronging to the streets to see him pass by. You have to take the tram or a taxi out there. Just ask any Sarajevo Taxi driver (don't bother with the generic taxis drivers who don't know the city half as well and are likely to overcharge) where Cafe Tito is. If you take the tram, head out going past Skenderija, pass the Tito Barracks on the right (the future U.S. embassy site) until you see a Bingo parlor on the left. Cafe Tito is across the street, tucked down behind the fast food place, along the river. Then if you suddenly get the urge for a tattoo, pay a visit to Paja Tattoo and Piercing Studio. It's hard to find, but worth the effort. Go to the main taxi stand in the Skenderija section of town, next to the iron bridge. Across the street is a shopping center entered by passing the statue of a woman with outstreched arms. Decend the main stairs, go left and it is a hole in the wall place a few meters on. I got a beautiful tattoo there on Wednesday. It is my only souvenir besides the t-shirt that reads: I'm a Muslim. Don't Panic. I got John a Tito baseball cap, which is kind of like a Che baseball cap. If you should find yourself in Priština, Kosovo - a city that defies the senses by being a charming pit - make sure you go to a little music store on Nene Teresa street, between the Parliament, whose white gates are lined with laminated photographs of Albanians who were killed during the 1998-1999 war, and the Grand Hotel. That is the main thoroughfare through the city. A character who looks like he came straight out of some wise guy movie runs the shop. When cranks up the Kosovo-Albanian hip hop it floods out of his store so narrow it fits only two people at a time. He can be found on the sidewalk with a buddy playing some kind of shell game. All I can say about Zagreb is avoid Internet Cafe Charlie unless you want a sterile atmosphere and unfriendly help. That reminds me, in Sarajevo you get friendly help but blah atmosphere at the Internet Cafe Click, in the heart of the old Turkish Quarter. On the other hand, the keyboards can change to the English format, making it easier to type. The Euronet Y Internet cafe in Skenderija isn't so international, but it is cheaper by 1 KM. The savings add up after a few hours. The cafe is always busy and the music loud and good. There are many other Internet cafes. Ultimately I liked the Euronet one the best.
I drove with the bus from Sarajevo to Zagreb last night. Arrived at 6 a.m. Compared to the trip from Priština to Belgrade it was 1st class luxury. The heater was cranked up and no nasty drafts blew through the back. On the other hand, I ran into the first total asshole of the trip. A completely drunken young guy sitting across the aisle from me is trying to recline his seat. I help him - it was tricky and he was finally getting on my nerves with all his heaving and sighing - only to have him sit down next to me. I told him to get back in his own seat, twice, loud. He does and starts panting something like ˝yeah, yeah.˝ I look over and he has his dick pulled out of his pants masturbating. So I yelled at him, got the second bus driver and then yelled at him some more to put his fucking dick back in his fucking pants. Then I moved to a seat up front. A nice guy said not to worry, that they would make sure I was okay until we got to Zagreb and not to be scared. I wasn't scared. I was pissed off. It was if my annoyance at all the times gross things like that have happened just welled up inside me and then poured out.
A friend in Sarajevo told me a story about a Bosnian woman who was being hassled during the war by a Chetnik soldier, who was doing strip searches. He took the beautiful woman aside and told her to strip, clearly indicating that he was about to enjoy a thorough search. My friend said she responded by 1. asking him if that was the only way he could get some, and then 2. promply pulling down her skirt and underwear, and 3. saying, okay. then go ahead. The soldier was embarassed and promply told her to pull her clothes back up. When she walked away she told him not to dare touch a single one of the young girls in line behind her. Now that takes balls.
I tried to explain how in the United States, the media is full of images of women being raped, murdered, kidnapped, beaten. I can't count how many weekly crime shows center around solving crimes against women. It sinks in, at least with me. I realized how much when I watched an American crime show last week on the sat TV. I read a book once about a war photographer who described how months after he had been in all sorts of danger he suddenly became scared during on particular incident. He said people always wonder if they would be cowardly if put in dangerous situations and then spend the rest of their lives trying to avoid finding out. What our imagination conjures up is far worse than reality.
At any rate, I miss my little, chaotic Sarajevo. Yesterday, I walked to the top of the city where an old Austro-Hungarian barracks is disintegrating. The stone sentry platform in front overlooks the city. It was the most beautiful moment. The sun was beaming on the snow around, the mist floating about the mountains. It was silent except for the call to prayer echoing through the city as a flock of ravens cawed while flying overhead. I tried to remember each and every detail as I walked home. I wanted to trace my finger along the city like lovers do each others' face, imprinting in the fingertips the feel of the eyes, the lips, the cheeks, the hair. Too many times I have left people or cities without a proper goodbye, with an empty space where memory belongs.
P.S.
There are a few places worth a visit if you are ever in the Balkans - places that are seldom in the tourbooks. In Sarajevo, visit Cafe Tito. Cafe Tito stands out from all the other umpteen cafes in Sarajevo. Helmets from World War II are used as lampshades, and donated memorabilia cover the walls - Tito's photos and metals, a LIFE magazine cover when Tito was its "Man of the Year," posters of Bosnians thronging to the streets to see him pass by. You have to take the tram or a taxi out there. Just ask any Sarajevo Taxi driver (don't bother with the generic taxis drivers who don't know the city half as well and are likely to overcharge) where Cafe Tito is. If you take the tram, head out going past Skenderija, pass the Tito Barracks on the right (the future U.S. embassy site) until you see a Bingo parlor on the left. Cafe Tito is across the street, tucked down behind the fast food place, along the river. Then if you suddenly get the urge for a tattoo, pay a visit to Paja Tattoo and Piercing Studio. It's hard to find, but worth the effort. Go to the main taxi stand in the Skenderija section of town, next to the iron bridge. Across the street is a shopping center entered by passing the statue of a woman with outstreched arms. Decend the main stairs, go left and it is a hole in the wall place a few meters on. I got a beautiful tattoo there on Wednesday. It is my only souvenir besides the t-shirt that reads: I'm a Muslim. Don't Panic. I got John a Tito baseball cap, which is kind of like a Che baseball cap. If you should find yourself in Priština, Kosovo - a city that defies the senses by being a charming pit - make sure you go to a little music store on Nene Teresa street, between the Parliament, whose white gates are lined with laminated photographs of Albanians who were killed during the 1998-1999 war, and the Grand Hotel. That is the main thoroughfare through the city. A character who looks like he came straight out of some wise guy movie runs the shop. When cranks up the Kosovo-Albanian hip hop it floods out of his store so narrow it fits only two people at a time. He can be found on the sidewalk with a buddy playing some kind of shell game. All I can say about Zagreb is avoid Internet Cafe Charlie unless you want a sterile atmosphere and unfriendly help. That reminds me, in Sarajevo you get friendly help but blah atmosphere at the Internet Cafe Click, in the heart of the old Turkish Quarter. On the other hand, the keyboards can change to the English format, making it easier to type. The Euronet Y Internet cafe in Skenderija isn't so international, but it is cheaper by 1 KM. The savings add up after a few hours. The cafe is always busy and the music loud and good. There are many other Internet cafes. Ultimately I liked the Euronet one the best.
posted by A.W. Woodall at 12:33 AM
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