Happiness is a Warm Gun

Lubljana, Slovenia

Under a cloudless red-rimmed sky and a scorching sun, we watched a selection of the most beautiful women in Eastern Europe idle by until dusk, relentlessly tantalizing us with their tiny bikinis while we alternated between sitting at cafes drinking local brews and shots of rakkia - plum brandy - and playing catch and taking dips in the river Danube with our latest group of friends. Only the night before, Scotty and I sat at Martha's Pub in Novi Sad, believing it was our last night together after 4 months, toasting to and drowning our memories away in heavy shot glasses of aqua absinthe. We recalled the good times and bad, the company we've kept and the money spent, the tourist traps and lucky discoveries, the tales never to be retold and the friendships forged in minutes. (but I then decided to go with him to Slovenia the next day!)

Gazing out along the river in Novi Sad from this man-made paradise beach on a river, or from the Petrograd fortress that rises above it nearby, we could hardly believe we were staring out at ruins. A local kindergarden teacher on a bench in the city center recounted to me her memories of hiding in her river-front home while NATO war planes destroyed the city's 3 main bridges. "It was a dangerous time here." Aside from the provisional barge bridge that sill stands today and the pillars of those destroyed 6 years ago, you can hardly tell anything happened in this city of 300,000. The objective of the bombings was to cut off "supply lines," although if you talk to people here they will laugh at that idea and say it is all just politics. Roughly 10% of the population are students, out of school since last week and partying on the beach like Pauly Shore during Spring Break 1991. This place is a serious challenge to the good looks and fashions of Plovdiv. I will return. Hey Chino, I cried across a perfect beach, "define heaven."

Our companions in Novi Sad were a group of university students recently liberated for summer but not yet returned to their homes in Bosnia. They were perhaps the most friendly and welcoming bunch yet, and the one Jewish member of the crew, Jaelco, was delighted to meet me. More important than the beers we drank together or the stories shared were the conversations about what we as Americans so terribly misunderstand and mis-learn about the wars in this region. Slavisha and Alexander enlightened us a bit during our walks to the beach, shattering all assumptions and the small factual education I had acquired. The fact is, the simple notions that world media outlets create of Serbs slaughtering Muslims or entire communities raging against others are absurd. Each village was a different story; Serbs against Muslims, government troops against Christians, Muslims against Muslims. Slavisha and his family fled to Hanover, Germany until 1993. He and Alexander were reunited only by accident after they found eachother studying in the same town, Novi Sad, 7 years later.

So we were embraced by a group of Bosnian university students, and what followed was 2 days of drunken revelry and certainly one of the finest nights of my trip at Club "Sterija." While the talented local gypsy band Absolutno Romantico belted out traditional Bosnian and Serbian tunes and original favorites - a solid drummer and two talented guitarists finger picking and strumming hard rhythms - a Sunday evening evaporated while a packed club sang along. I sat alone (Scotty passed out earlier from a rough day on the beach) in the corner with a group of Bosnians that gather each week to sip Montenegro white wines and take in the atmosphere. Each song was a new experience, as the crowd cheered and Ricky or Slavisha or Alexander or Banir or Jaelco explained to me its meaning or what was happening; e.g. "that girl over there just declared that she will run naked through this club if you do not play her favorite song!" When Ricky's girlfriend Dragona was mentioned in a song, he raised both arms straight up in the air in recognition, smiling like an idiot. Just when I least expected it, and 3 bottles deep in wine, the band made an announcement honoring the presence of the American "Fox" and apologized for not playing any Jimmy Hendrix for me. We all toasted repeatedly to the crowd of kuchke. Please excuse the language, but what a fuckin awesome time.

Talking to Binar was one of my favorite conversations, another Bosnian who had been working in town for the UN and EU for the past 7 years. He is currently working for the EU Police Mission, helping monitor police work in the area since the end of the most recent conflict and stressed out by the 26 different nationalities and languages he deals with. Underpaid and underappreciated, he found it hard to believe that UN positons were so highly sought where we come from. The grass is always greener I suppose.

It's been nice to finally begin encountering a majority of young people that actually speak decent English. The girls I meet at the bar for instance, though quiet, are usually the most fluent. People may still hate the American government, but they cannot deny their envy of many of the other fortunes and systems we have been blessed with and their frustration with the difficulty of attempting to visit our country. There is absolutely zero feeling of danger in this area, and Serbia has exploded up my list of top destinations to return to. Our week in Serbia was fantastic.
After Novi Sad Scott and I went back to Belgrade to catch a train through Zaghreb to Ljubjlana, Slovenia. This town, Ljubjlana, from which I am now writing, is more or less like travelling to Interlocken, Switzerland. Upon arrival through picturesque, if rainy, Julian Alps, we met a very cool girl from western Canada, Christine, who toured the city and castle and bunked up with us for the night at a hostel. Christine is on her way to Spain for a summer intensive language program - I am jealous - and helped fill us in on what it's like in her hometown of Vancouver. She is also a talented athlete, and I am now fairly knowledgeable about a sport that gets little attention at home, but that is played very seriously in over 40 countries: Ultimate Frisbee. Did you know it was invented in the late seventees at a highschool in New Jersey!? I've only played for fun, but I experienced Mardi Gras in New Orleans a few years ago with part of the Michigan team, who helped school me on how to throw the disc, but who also drank too much and their habits have hurt the team's performance...Perhaps one day it will be accepted as an Olympic sport.

So we three walked the city and toured the castle. The castle has been transformed into a modern art museum upon original roman ruins. It would be the perfect place to take a girl, with make-out points and a "drip room" with sound effects where an original well once stood. We took pictures from the tower and watched a 3-D film while wearing dorky glasses, about the history and archictecture of the city. The film was fantastic, except it rushed to the credits without telling you what happened when Slovenia went to war with Yugoslavia after declaring independence and being invaded in 1984! I believe they have only been independent since 1991. Their cultural history is very impressive.

Scott and I spent today in Bled, an Alpine glacier lake town outside of the city. It is simply gorgeous. We paddled out to the Church of the Assumption on an island in the lake's center, and ate Chinese food and drank some beers at some local spots when the daily onslaught of rain began. Tomorrow I will go to soem famous caverns outside of town - some of the biggest in Europe - before heading back east to Zaghreb and south to the Dalmation Coast.
On a final note, I just want to wish our dear friend Anika the happiest of weddings this weekend. She was none other than Scott's prom date, and the first of a series of friends soon to be married. Mazel Tov!