Places I've Been and Things that I've Seen

In Sarajevo I read a lot. Zadie Smith. She's a champ.

In Croatia, a south african retiree told me and Kamilla that 'communism had made the croations grumpy.' She then told us that the 'turkey people will just bend over backwards for you.' I'd say Turkish myself but hey. This woman had the best South African accent EVER and I don't know if Kamilla quite understood why I kept talking to her. Oh Liz, if you had only been there...though we may have lost composure and started giggling!

Louise and I caught overnight buses in Turkey to cover the long distances between the places we wanted to see. Buses in Turkey are amazing. It is like flying (back in the day when flying meant free food and customer service.) One bus even had wifi and headphones for listening to music. A bus attendant comes and gives you water and such. AND, when I left my phone on one of the buses, I got a dude to call the company and it was back in the town I was in 12 hours later! How's that for service!!!

I flew business class from Sarajevo to Istanbul. This was not intentional. I believe it was an error made due to late-night flight booking. It was pretty funny though. I got to sit in the business lounge where plastic surgeryed women didn't eat the peanuts I was gorging on and there was free juice. Then, on the plane I was given real cutlery because rich people don't hijack planes and they pulled a little curtain across so I didn't have to look at the peasants.

We had the best kulfi (indian dessert) I'd ever had in Istanbul. I doubt they make it so good in India. I will have to go check.

My host in Sofia, Bulgaria works for an NGO that helps Roma people living in the ghettos. Her co-worker had just quit after 6 years of working with local sex workers because she can't live on the pay anymore and they can't get more funding. Iskra (my host) was mighty generous despite the fact that I now knew how minimal her salary was. She paid for the dinner she made me and then slept at her boyfriend's place so I could have the bed. Yep, she left a girl she had just met alone in her apartment. I can't believe the trust people have put in me. I did the dishes the next morning. Least I could do really.

While I was in Croatia, an Australian went missing and died. Teresa and Rowan were in Nepal at that time and two Australians died in a plane crash. Creepy.

Travelling with Louise is tops. One can forget sometimes how entertaning one's own family can be. Louise has this habit of saying totally random stuff at strange moments as if it isn't funny. It is funny but she never seems to think it is. It is said in a way that you can laugh at her without feeling like you are mocking her, but at the same time you don't think she is being consciously witty in order to impress anyone. The quotes I managed to write down follow and you may not find them funny. But I did. And it's my mum, so damn well agree with me or there'll be trouble.

Louise in defence of endless window shopping: I think I was arabic in a past life. Or German baroque. I'm just decorative.

Maeve: Ah! Apparently Tsar Boris of Bulgaria sided with Hitler but then refused to send Bulgarian jews to the concentration camps saving 50,000 lives.
Louise: mmm, good reason to name your son Boris.

...meanwhile, interesting fact about Bulgaria, non?

I heard my first call to prayer in Sarajevo and thought it atmospheric and un-western in a cheesy-touristy-exoticising-the-other kinda way. Sometimes it would happen at the same time as church bells. By the time I had spent two weeks in Turkey I had lost patience and religious tolerance. I don't care if people want to pray at 5am, I want to sleep. In a strange switch of alliances, I appreciated the smell of Sarajevo's cevapcici (tiny fried meat matter) more than the burek I lived on for 3 days. But this was mainly because of the masses of raw onion they were served with and the wood smoke from the fires, both overwhelming enough that I could not smell the dead stuff.

Kamilla and I spent some time devising amusing ways to convince baffled guesthouse owners that we wanted a double room not a twin after an unsuccessful first night. We didn't get to dress her up as a boy in the end but we did have a VERY funny time with the man who owned our guesthouse in Dubrovnik. I chose him because unlike the others hassling us at the bus station he stood quietly aside with a sign that said "Inside Old City." Once we got in the van, we realised it was the end of the silence. He prattled on about the greatness of his business, leaning away from the steering wheel to point to his reference in some obscure Korean guidebook or to point into the distant suburbs claiming that this giesthouse or that guesthouse was way out there. He spoke of its cleanliness, location (not actually inside the town but right next to the wall so we forgave him) and value for money. He continued to sell his wares at top vocal speed even once we were inside, taking us into both bathrooms, pointing at his large supply of cleaning products, putting his head inside the shower cubicle, inhaling and saying "see! we clean every day!"

In Turkey, stuff is sold by theme in individual areas. When wandering through town we came to a whole suburb devoted to hardware, taps, doorknobs etc., spilling out onto the street. Louise was not wildly into this suburb and politely suggested (i.e. firmly insisted) that we head for a more enjoyable quarter. The bookshop street was great. And just when I was yearning for thermal longjohns, we came upon camping, fishing and outdoor town - right next to our favourite baklava joint!

I saw a land mine action team still at work in Sarajevo. Sarajevo is still covered in bullet and shell damage and packed with crumbling buildings, unlike Dubrovnik which, despite also coming under heavy fire is near perfect.

They drive crazy in Turkey. Though I have since discovered that the true speed demons live in Romania. My oh my, they go sooo fast. In Turkey we had a driver who's first day on the job it was. He got lost and then semed to be falling asleep. Louise and I were sitting in the front seat of the minibus and kept trying to do things to wake him, but it was hard as he spoke no English. Louise considered doing what she thought was the 'international gesture for sleeping' to show that she sympathised but was then concerned that he wouldthink it was the 'international gesturefor do you want to come to bed with me?'

In Zagreb, Croatia, my host Jelena gave me rakia (alcohol - spirit) that her Serbian girlfriend had made. She had stored it with fresh mint and honey and it was a flavour sensation. Whycan't I have a Serbian home-made-alcohol-producing lady friend? Why I ask?

I've punched through a lot of books lately so any suggestions would be appreciated. Though nothing obscure, as I am trawling book exchanges. I went to a charming one in Veliko Turnovo, Bulgaria run by a Welsh woman. We chatted about books and I ended up selecting Perfume by Patrick Suskind. I gave her Amsterdam by Ian McEwan and now I feel like I ripped her off. Sometimes I am mildly concerned/amused by how many sights I miss because I think I'd rather sit in a cafe and read

soon to come...Bulgaria and Romania aka The Countries That Mother Me