someone please inform Elizabeth

Observations

Being that I seem to have been neglecting my responsibilities to this page for about a month, I am finding it hard to figure out how to summarize the last few weeks while still retaining the concise, simple articles, I've been known to try to write, but haven't quite mastered.  I feel know, that, to paint a fresh picture, rather than re-tell my experiences, to which, i will return to re-telling, I will elaborate on a few items that have grabbed my attention.  This list is by no mean exhaustive, or its items of any value to anyone else but me.  

Showers

I've seen showers here that resemble the showers that I am used to seeing, this being a stand-up shower with a mounted head.  I love these showers, they encourage sloth and laziness while allowing participation in active hygiene.  With these, I looked forward to waking up in the morning just for an opportunity to use it.  However, the majority of showers I've spotted in the occasional friend's bathroom, have been of a different model.  They usually consist of a basin, more or less resembling a bathtub, with a hand-held handle which can be rotated and adjusted for one's cleaning needs.  This can be done while standing up, or, as I have adopted, sitting.  I know that this is by all means a more effective, and water conscious solution to the stabilized shower head, and I want to like this style, really I do, however, it seems to have taken the very soul of bathing in a shower, that is, doing absolutely nothing, right out of the entire process.  By moving my arms, I feel the sanctity of what I've come to learn has been violated.  On another note, when I don't have two hands available to bathe, I must put the handle down, and as I do this, the water pressure moves it to a degree, annoyingly spraying the washing machine adjacent to the basin.

Washing Machines

I have one in my bathroom.  I use it as a table. 

Intellectual Property and Copyright Laws

Virtually nonexistent.  There are several examples.  Perhaps my favorites are the Dolce and Gabana leather belts sold in between a collection of umbrellas and a Coke machine.  Maybe it is Pizzaria U2, though I'm not sure if this counts as any sort of infraction upon the band of the same name's trademark agreements, or if the photos used inside count as simple decorations, but I'm almost sure they would ask for a cut of their income, of course, to be used in designer clothing and African aid.  To a lesser extent, the same may be said for Club Bill Gates.  Also, the photocopy place that uses Fantasia-Era Mickey as its illustrated scribe hard at work.  I went inside, it's a Xerox.  Perhaps the best though, is the very visibly traded black market DVDs and Videogames in the Center.  I'll be watching Quantam of Solace before any of you.

Soft Pretzels

Soft pretzels are served with sesame seeds, not salt.  Better than I would have thought.

Bakeries in general

These are the saving Grace of evenings out and early morning classes.  Many are open 24 hours and are filled with both salty and sweet pastries.  Perfect for ending a night with Patrick.  You buy pretzels here.

Walking

People waaaaaalk, they don't walk.  Makes more sense when translated.  Really though, I wish I could join them in this quality.

Public Kissing

Everywhere.  Tongue is normal.  Again, I enjoy how relaxed they are here.

Harlem Globetrotters 

Still terrible, even in Sarajevo.  Not Sarajevoss fault.

Adults talking to strangers' kids

This is completely OK here.  People will stop on the street to talk to children, treat them like children, but not ignore them like children, its great, and so far, no Amber Alerts or screams of "stranger danger."  I don't know why this doesn't happen in the U.S., but fearing the judgements of total strangers, I'll refrain from pushing the issue.

Daily Tram Rides

Great, and after speaking with Sandra, I'm an artful dodger of fares.  It's so crowded, perfect for those lonely at heart.

Student Films

As pretentious as those in the U.S.  Best buying from the Streets.

An appology...

I know it has been a while since I last checked in, and I'm sorry about that, but if we look on the brighter side of it, me not checking in, it must mean one of a few things:
   
    a) I am alive and busy with school (Bosnian language or grad school)
    b) I am alive and busy with new friends of both a Bosnian or international origin, most of varying                ages, but me always being the youngest
    c) I am alive but too cold and never want to move from my bed near the radiator to get my
        laptop because I have an irrational fear of my laptop bursting into flames on my bed
    d) I am going on a date with some girl whose father is the Tom Brokaw of Eastern Europe
    e) I am at a cafe drinking lots of hot chocolate
    f) I am looking for an affordable coat
    g) I am haggling at the local open air fruit market
    h) I am busy  preparing for an interview as an English prof. at an International School
    i) I am singing karaoke on the NATO base with a bunch of international peace keepers
    j) I am studying (again)
    k)I am exploring Bosnian commercial centers
    l) I am eating lots of Bosnian food with lots of meats to put on some weight for the winter
    m) I am hosting couchsurfers
    n) I am researching my topics
    o) I am fighting with ASU to give me my financial aide
    p) I am taking the tram all around the city to explore
    q) I am watching American football while making pancakes with an American couple living here
    r) I am running to and from the bakery more often than I'd like to admit
    s) I am looking for a translation of Pynchon, James Joyce, and Kahlil Gibran in Bosnian
    t) I am visiting another ASU student who has been here for a year but is not teaching in a town 3
        hours away
    u) I am watching discovery channel with satellite tv
    v) I am attending the after party of a festival for the empowerment of women hosted by my
        university
    w) I am in the preparing ideas for the planning stages of writing a textbook with the Institute of        
        Young Linguists and Translators based here
    x) I am drinking a beer at the brewery here (notice "im blacked out" is not on the list)
    y) I am taking pictures and videos to put on the blog
    z) I am upset that I can't get my pictures and videos to upload on to the blog and set my laptop on
   my bed as the computer's punishment
   
Now I will let you review the list, and see which reasons you think are real reasons and which are fabricated as to why I have been away from my computer and will let you guess as to what I have been occupying my time with here, but I will give you a hint in the form of a cliche:  "write about what you know."

Feel free to tell me that I'm liar.

Until you come waving your bloody flags, I leave you with this:

red's a "go fast" color

Waking up for the first time in the apartment, it is very clear to me that some sense of permanency was sorely needed.  I spent the majority of the evening watching old American films, like The Graduate, Dick Tracey, and Child’s Play 2 with Bosnian subtitles. Oddly enough, this was helpful.  I now know the word “u redu” to mean, in slang, "ok" or "alright."  Perfect.  However, this was no reason for the amount of sleep that I received.  It wasn’t until 2:30 the next afternoon that I woke up, and hardly after 4 before I actually made it outside. 

Once outside, I made contact with Sabina about renting an apartment in the building that her family owns.  We made plans to meet in about two hours, which would be somewhere, around 7 o’clock.  To murder time, I took a walk toward the far end of the center, more towards Ileđija, which is the newer, more modern, part of Sarajevo.  I took the side roads past parts of what was once Olympic City (Check for Winter Olympics ’84) and past the Club, which resembled some type of underground catacomb, that I had visited with the English boys from the hostile a few days earlier, and headed toward the Holiday Inn, just past the mid-construction new American embassy.  It started to look like rain so I headed back, and once I reached the center, took a seat under the awning of an outdoor café and cake shop called “Michelle,” and ordered a cup of coffee.  From here I sat and observed in a fashion that, if I could actually understand what most people were saying, would be considered creepy, but since I can’t pick out more then 53% of the words they were saying, I was a deaf observer with a stare distant form their conversation, but focused on everyone who passed by.  Their outfits were impeccable, and they were often distracted by the well-groomed Pomeranian sitting with the people sitting next to me. 

I ordered another cup of coffee and continued with all my focused attention divided in this manner.

It started to thunder, but nobody left from the umbrage offered by the awning, and it soon reached 7:30 so I headed the hundred or so meters to the 150-year-old Catholic Cathedral behind which the apartment is located. 

It started to rain, and I hurried inside the buildings.  People stayed beneath the awnings.

Sabina and I discussed everything about the apartment as she held on to her adventurous 9-month old daughter, Sarah.  We spoke about how she graduated form the music academy and that, though her husband is a librarian, he is more interested in music now than she is, and that he build a recording studio above my apartment,

    For those keeping track, that is the second recording studio that’s been in the same building as where I    live.

and that we should all work on recordings together after I move into the apartment, and that I should also meet her sister, who will live next to me, who had just come back from a year at some med school.  I agreed. I took the keys, and, by her insistence, her umbrella, braved the rain, and headed back towards my temporary residence in Basčarsija.  As I walked back through the center, I started feeling a bit more at ease.  It was official that with these keys, that I am now a resident and have the right to walk up and down these alleys as often and as directionless as I chose because I live in the apartment building right near the historic and central Cathedral.  These were not cafes, bars, and shops that I knew of, they are now my local cafes, bars, and shops.

New confidence, new hunger.  I didn’t feel like eating anything too heavy this late so I headed to the bakery and asked for something that looked decent.  The worker simply said “cheese,” and I, assuming she meant that it had cheese in it, said “u redu,” paid, and left.  To me, this bread looked like a pretzel with sesame seeds in lieu of salt, which was fine, but when I bit into it, I noticed that it wasn’t pretzel bread, but more like a croissant, but with a pretzel exterior, which was a bit disappointing, but I was hungry.  There was definitely cheese inside, a particular type of white cheese which seems to be on everything.  If this makes sense, it is like feta cheese in texture, but both creamier and saltier than feta.  Really, I think that this is the Balkan substitute for salt in their cooking.

    Confirmed! Kenan said that Bosnians have too mild of salt.  This is an extrapolation, but certainly along    the same line of thought.

I went into the Konzum store

    Konzum sounds similar to “consume;” it’s a grocery store. surprise!

to buy a juice, and saw some a bottle of facial cleansing cream before the checkout.  I bought both and left.  Upon exiting, I read the back of the bottle, noticed that it was for cleaning off make up form the face, shrugged my shoulders, and headed to the temporary apartment.

It is dangerous to live above the office of a well-educated and internationally known Franciscan who established an organization promoting religious group interaction and tolerance.  I stayed up till three or four reading various books from many full cases, which reached up to the ceiling, each compartment, filled to capacity.

I had one of the oddest, and most clear dreams ever that night.  Most of it took place in my old neighborhood, also including a part in front of my old friend, Jared’s house, which he hasn’t live in, nor have I been in, for several years. At one point I entered into my old house, but inside, I was an adult and surrounded by older men in suits who were speaking in broken German.

    I don’t know German, but I was clear in my dream that, it was, in fact, German.

I wasn’t clear what they were saying, and there was no elevation in vocal tone or in any sort of heated discussion, but at one point, an old white man next to me translated.  He said that he had just told the other man, “I will cum in my arm hair and wipe it on your plastic face.”  Embarrassed by this display, I turned my head and looked at a pile of mail, and on the first one, I noticed the address “8317 E. Southern Ave.”  I live on Southern Avenue in Tempe, which is definitely not where the house I was dreaming about was located, and also my home is not that far east to be 8317.  I now try to think what those numbers will mean.

I woke up, slightly more punctual the next morning (Thursday August 28, 2008) slightly more punctually, at just after noon.  I could hear the rain hitting my floor-height window (yes), and laid in bed.  I had planned to move my stuff over to the new, permanent apartment, but the rain would make dragging to full bags about a mile much more difficult and frustrating.  I, instead, watched a subtitled version of Kurt Russell’s Escape from New York, an impressive piece of work from stunt coordinator, Dick Warlock.

    I can’t imagine what hanging out with a guy with that intense of a name could be like.

The  rain eventually stopped, and I went out to grab some lunch and find some free wireless internet before I took to dragging my bags across town.  Sometime during this journey, I ran into Kenan, and we decided to go grab a coffee.  We talked, mostly about Bosnian culture, like why all the people dress so well and go to these nice cafés even though most don’t have too much money, and why Bosnian women stalk men like wolves.

From here, we grabbed one of his friends, and we headed to the bars to drink nothing alcoholic, where I was introduced to countless faces that will be a blur until I see them three or four times more.  It’s a small city; it should happen quite quickly.

bulletpointed

A new attempt. 

These won’t be as long, but rather short because I haven’t been able to catch up with myself.  Bullet points might make this more interesting, and this will occur in chronological order.

I wake up

[Recap]I take a call from Zilka, I might have a great apartment in the center, but in the mean time can meet her and live in the office apartment, which is usually occupied by a Franciscan Munk, nicknamed the Red Munk because of his love for Communistis (Tito) and Jesus (Jesus), but he is on vacation and can also live in the Monestary.

I hang out at this apartment and meet Amir.  Amir plays in a band as is a pretty rad guy.  He  shows me the recording studio downstairs with everything.

I meet up with the British boys and impress them by knowing about subtle Tesco in America.  Wed make jokes, drink, and draw in each others journals.

We decide to head to the Sarajevo Film Festival closing celebration.  It’s busy so we go to club mash.  One buys a bottle of grapa; I don’t partake but rather continue talking with one of the guys.

We head out after Mash closes to the club. It looks like an old catacomb, but filled with club equipment and lots of alcohol.  We dance on an overlook in a dark room.

We stay till 5:30 am and then Dan and I go home, all the while discussing football in the UK.

I’m now a new castle fan.  They sound like a fun club.

We go to the bakery next door before bed, and though we left early, it is very light out which makes it difficult to sleep

I wake up and, along with the British boys, go to lunch.  Afterwards I led them on a walking tour of Sarajevo, starting with Sarajevo’s best ice cream (egipat), quickly followed by all the religious buildings around the area and a stroll around some homes.  We finished at the Irish Pub in Novi Grad to watch the Manchester football match.  There is video of this too.

We go home, rest up, and use the computers.  I check my email and my facebook.  Email takes forever, about an hour.

We decide to go drinking again and start by playing some drinking games outside the hostel with other kids.  The UK will now know how to play race horse.  I eat peanut butter filled pretzel sticks amongst this all. 

We head out in looks for a club, and after several strolls, I find out that the job market in London is shit, two of the boys I’m with are about to eb doctors, and that I should really like Fullum soccer club.  I haven’t made up my mind yet.  We find a pub and I chat with a really nice Bosnian named Kenan.  He says that he will help me around Sarajevo.  Kenan, Johnny, Dan and I grab burek and eat it among the pigeons at the water fountain at 2:30 am.

I vow to go to bed, but end up turning a bit.  It was just the burek settling.

Next day I wake up, say goodbye to the British boys after breakfast (by this time, we had picked up each others accents and slang) and head, via tram, to talk with my professor Đjermana and her co-worker, Sandra, who will actually be the one instructing me.  We talked about how we had been, what will be going on in class this year, and about some really interesting oppertunities for me.
Sandra showed me around more of Ileđija. 

I went back, and planed to meet Zilka to see this other apartment offer.  In the meantime, I took a group of girls from Austria, Christin and the one with drealocks, who I met in the hostel on a second tour.  We tried to see the National Libraryćs art exhibit, but it was closed and we went on a long walk to check out the goat bridge.  We walked back and afterwards, they bought dinner, but I went on another oke to see another landmark, the remnants of what was once a fortress nestled in the closest mountains in Sarajevo. 

Afterwards, I met with Zilka and saw the apartment.  It is great, and I’ll talk about it later…probably with a  movie.

I then re-met with the girls from earlier, this time joined by a young German metalworker named Fillip.  We all went for a late coffee.  I decided that I needed a scarf. 

I accidently woke the Swedish girls up in my room when I was trying to hop into bed.

I went to breakfast, and ordered, as a breakfast item, begova čorba, a type of chicken soup, with bread.  This gave me energy and I went on an all day walk about the city with these girls.  We saw the library, a historic Serbian restaurant, a park coffee shop, my new potential apartment, an open air market, and a new bakery.

I called about the apartment in the meantime and made sure to set a date to get everything worked out.

We separated for a bit and then reconvened for dinner.  We went to Željo’s because Fillip had promised some guy that he hitchhiked to Sarajevo with that he would try it.  We then remained at the hospital for a bit until we all went separate ways: them, home, and me to move my stuff into the borrowed apartment.

Caught up.

teenzone

Before I moved outside the next day:

Fuck, I only got maybe three hours of sleep before my brain failed to yield to dreary temptation and instead gave way under the weight of all my concerns.  What am I doing here?  Why am I in a youth hostel and not an apartment?  How will I study and research without the internet? Why did I think to pack 16 condoms, but not a towel?
   
    My dad reminded me about the condoms

Where will I do laundry, should I not unpack, how did I ever think that this was going to be a good idea, I can’t even stand the thought of eating Bosnian food for a year, but even before that, I can’t stand looking like an idiot each time I order something that I don’t think that I’ll be able to stand for a day.
It may seem that these are all rather petty questions and concerns, but it seems that when you aren’t provided the opportunity of not just home court advantage, but a court alone, they are heavier.
I stared up at the messages written on the underside of the bunk bed above me reading and rereading the messages kids had written on the wooden support planks.  None of them really provided anything useful for me.

After what seemed to be hours, I went out.

After I moved outside:

Downstairs I saw Gael and Benedict sitting at the table outside of the restaurant partnered with the hostile.   They were drinking their morning coffee so I ordered a breakfast, a bowl of thin tomato soup and riced potatoes and some breakfast bread on the side.  Gael commented on how it looked like jail food, but he ordered one as well and we did our best to eat it in its entirety.
  
     I had forgotten to eat the day before

Before Gael and I reached our goal, Christina joined us and we all decided to head back to the film festival and catch another movie.  We settled on a Bosnian/American one called Buick Riviera.  This one was playing in the National Theater, which was about a 15 minute walk away and started in 30 minutes.  Gael and I decided to forgo our own competition and hurry to the National Theater.  When we got there, we were ushered in through the giant red carpet display where a few nights before, celebrities from around the world had proceeded to the opening ceremonies of the festival.  They removed no decorations from the night before and it felt surreal to be involved in the face of such décor and majesty in front of this grandiose theater.  It was a heterosexual princess fantasy come true. 

The movie was depressing.

Afterwards, we all went, grabbed food together, and went on our separate paths with plans to all meet at the theater at six, which left about four hours.  I decided that I was going to take this period and explore other areas outside the center.  I took the bridge (Princip Most) across the river and went through the neighborhood and alleys with really no direction.  This is where the old Jewish cemetery and synagogue are, but I didn’t even think about this till later.  I continued walking along the river till I hit a mountain and decided to hike a little bit just to get a more elevated view of the city, and while on this mountain found a little suburb/town.  At this point, I became regretful that I didn’t have the foresight to change out of my old dress shoes before hiking so rather than see this area while uncomfortable, I will go back and explore with better footwear. 

I went home and decided to try calling Zilka again.  This time, Zilka picked up and we were able to talk.  She informed me that she had found a place for me to stay temporarily, which was right near Princip Most and Baščarsia and that she wanted to meet me there.  We met and she showed me the apartment, which currently belongs to a Franciscan Monk, Marko, who I had met earlier this year at the same conference where I met Zilka, but that he was on vacation, and when he comes back, agreed to stay in the nearby monestary.  This place was great and I agreed to move in promptly.  This alleviated, for the time being, alleviated some of the concerns that had kept me awake the night before.

I quickly noticed the time was about 5:00 and started heading to the box office to catch the next film.  When I got there, I noticed a large vinyl banner proclaiming, in English, “TEEN ZONE.”  As if emanating from the banner itself, one of Nelly’s songs from 2002 was blasting.  I swore that I hadn’t noticed this before but wrote it off.  I went in, bought my ticket, and headed down the street to get a coke at the same bar as the night before, and came back just shy of six and the music wasn’t there.  I waited for Gael and Benedict, but could not see them, and decided to go in on my own.  After climbing a number of stares, I started noticing all they younger kids going both up and down the stairs frantically and laughing.  This too, I ignored.  When I finally entered the auditorium where the movie was screening, kids were screaming.  Absolute madness, and it persisted until the end of the movie.  It doesn’t even matter what it was called, it was probably pretty good, but I couldn’t hear a word and reading the Bosnian subtitles left a lot to be desired.  I booked it back to the ticket office and picked up a ticket for the screening of something-Kaufman’s new film with Philip Seymour Hoffman, Synechode, New York.  Seeing as something-Kaufman and Kevin Spacey were the special guests of the festival, this screening was a big deal and held in a giant outdoor theater, holding upwards of 3,000 people between two maybe six-story apartment buildings and an older school gymnasium.  The screen was suspended by wires and there were enough beer, coffee, and popcorn vendors to make the whole thing seem like a festival within itself.  The movie played, and the Bosnians didn’t get it.  This could be because the actors spoke too fast, the translations were poor, or for the fact that this film had several separate frames of reality which caught me, a native speaker, off guard on a number of occasions.  Either way, it was a long movie, and many people left, but I’d definitely recommend it to James.

I went home and had a beer or two with two girls at the hostile as I watched the English boys drink an entire picnic’s table worth.

Bed.

and when i arrived

I arrived at Sarajevo International Airport around noon, putting my total travel time at about 17 hours.  We touched down, and whether I just knew myself too well, or I was satisfying my own prophecy,
   
    Likely the latter

I felt truly homeless for the first time in my life, but being exceptionally grateful for not being rejected at the German airport and seeing no better option, I changed in each piece of American currency, minus a check from my cousin that I had neglected to cash,
   
    $25 dollars coming December 16th

for Bosnian convertible marks ({[c →k]+m} = km), then withdrew 80 km more from a nearby ATM machine, which is an effective, and not so expensive way for me to avoid getting a bank account here or carrying my passport around whenever I want to play the currency exchange

and headed out the door, luggage in tow, to look for a taxi to take me to the only part of Sarajevo I felt comfortable enough with, the Center, which was about twenty minutes away when using aggressive cab drivers as an effective meter.  I explained to him that I would need a hostile close to Basčaršia, the Turkish quarter of the center, and he drove me to a place that he recommended highly. 

Once at Ljubićica hostel, I walked into the office to negotiate a duration of stay and a price.  With me were two girls from Spain who were checking in for two days.
    
    They wore bright clothes and were not ones for talking. 

We were all shown to our room and settled in quietly since the boy, who I would later find out, was from Sweeden,
  
     His name was Rasmus

was asleep and we had no intentions of making our entrance an inconvenience.  Without changing clothing, I set out for what was the next most important task at hand, finding a cell phone so that I could get into communication with Zilka

    Zilka is a PhD who, from what I know at this point, that is to say, very much subject to change, is the     director of CIPS, the Center for Postgraduate Studies, and will be leading my religious studies        
    program. 

in regards to the status of my apartment.  I asked the lady at the front desk, who now had my passport as collateral for returning the keys to the room to her upon checkout, where I could get a complete phone.  She recommended heading to the post office to buy it there for around 100 km.
  
     That’s about $76. 

Looking for the post office took much longer than it should have.  It seemed as if everyone here was directing me to the same post office, but I couldn’t put together all the pieces of the puzzle that they had to offer until I absolutely tried my hardest not to follow any of it, and only then did I find the post office. 

There is video of this.  It’s long and lacks narration, but that’s probably for the best.  

Eventually I found the post office, picked up a SIM card with 10 km worth of credit and found a cheap Samsung phone in a mobile shop.  I promptly made all the necessary calls
   
    Zilka, Mirzana, Emir, and Sanjin.
        Emir is a friend of Mirzana’s that I met last year.  He was and actor, but is now a television        
        producer.
    Sanjin is Mirzana’s boyfriend and my professor for a short amount of time.  He’s still a a professor         and speaks with the best British accent that I’ve ever heard.

before I headed back to the hostile.

On my way back, I received a call from Emir, who, though knowing that I came in that day, still sounded somewhat caught off guard with excitement on the phone; this was comforting.  We took in a coffee at an art gallery’s café, taking conversations as they came, in half English and half Bosnian.  It would be really easy to communicate here if this bastardization was acceptable to everyone. 

Once I got to the hostel, I sat with a large group sitting outside the hostel, most of which was made up of Portuguese boys playing a drinking game with two American girls.  Not partaking were two older-than-twenty-looking people.  They were French, named Gael and Benedict.  As our introductions continued, the drinking game turned into a kissing game, and the noises from that side of table became louder and less appealing to be an outsider, though I’m sure being a participant was fun.  Gael and Benedict mentioned that they would be going to a movie at the film festival that evening.  This had been an option I had considered but not looked into so I picked up a program and began reading alongside those drawing cards and tonguing.
   
    This sounds normal for me

As I was reading, a German girl named Christina sat down next to me, introducing herself and showing some interest in a film.  Quickly, we decided to run down, get tickets for “Estellita” and grab a bear along this row of outdoor cafes.  This area was beyond busy.  Amongst all the restaurants, there was only one chair, right next to the projection screen showing the Olympic football game between Bosnia and Bulgaria, which meant that, indirectly, every movement and every moment we shared together, so did the rest of this avenue.  I had a mineral water to calm the nerves.

We saw the movie, it was good.  I think it was Slovenian, but that’s all I will write about it.

We went home and made plans for the morning.

A Continuation of the Previous Entry: Second Phase Embark

Munich Airport is Gattica.
   
    Microsoft Word Suggested Spelling for Gattica:   Attica, Attic, Lattice

If the word Gattica evokes past Ethank Hawke, murder, incinerator, wheelchair, and space exploration towards wasted space, glass constructs, black and silver aesthetics, and suspended analog clocks, then we have a shared cognitive construct of this place.  Additionally, it’s part mall, imagining itself a city with many ports to many destinations.  There are corridors of shops, back alley entrances, and restaurant concepts closely resembling aptly put street cafes.  Perhaps, most striking is the sex-shop located right next to the currency exchange station, which I can imagine results in the crossing of curious exchanges among the groups frequenting the separate venues.
The back alley entrance referred to above is mostly addressing the back alley entrance to the sex shop, conveniently this is next to the men’s restroom exit.  I’m not sure if more quizzical looks would be exchange here or in front of the currency counter. 
It’s 1:00 am Phoenix time, and I have been traveling for fifteen hours at this point.  My media center didn’t work on the plane over, and I feel, having not read the Chronicles of Narnia, that my grasp of the plot is only something I could commit to knowing if there weren’t any follow-up questions.  This was then the perfect opportunity to sleep, and I proceeded to have dreams about the bridges I built or burned before my trip. 

So far I have escaped rejection from any airport security, and I am hoping that this ease should continue until I finally get settled in whichever hostile or hotel I can find and afford.  Lying down on that bed flat and back first as I haphazardly let go of my luggage handles is what I look forward to the most.  At that point, I can take everything else on with confidence and conviction.  Without a temporary stay, my feet will weigh a great deal more. 

My immersion begins here at gate H-21 with those who I will share a closed cabin and close quarters with quite shortly.  As I arrived, I briefly feared that I would only see and hear German, and would understand absolutely nothing, recognizing fully that I am a guest of this country, and no am at the cultural wills of a society I knew nothing about.  This quickly changed as I sat at the gate with others traveling to Sarajevo, listened to them speak, and realized that though I knew they were speaking Serbo-Croatian and could recognize a few words, they might as well have been speaking German, only increasing my awareness that though I’ve been here before with a group of American students large enough to construct a small and self-sustaining Western-bubble in Eastern Europe, I am alone this time, and rather than build and maintain my bubble, I would be entering and becoming part of theirs.
I’ll need that bed (krevet) before I’ll be able to do that.
   
    That bed would yield little sleep.

An arduous beginning to the end of a year of preparation

Its only two hours after the plane took off, and am currently on route to my first stop in Chcago.  I can only imagine that by now we are soaring discretely over the sprawling fields of corn and wheat that make up the more western portions of the Midwest.  This is of course only a guess, as there is no monitor set to track our progress, only one showcasing the natural qualities of rural China.  Slowed images of slow moving silk worms can only give me so much information about what’s going on below me.

Either way, the distraction is a welcome one.  After only taking in about four hours of sleep, my dad and I threw what had preoccupied me so heavily the evening before into the back of the car, draped a sweat for the airplane over it, and headed towards Sky Harbor.  Once, we hit the Northern exit on the 51, I managed to take in a few minutes of extra sleep in the middle of our conversation about radio hosting and package deals with advertisers.  After I awoke and clarified that I was, in fact, sleeping, we quickly reached the airport.   We parked the car and proceeded to the check-in area.

I forgot the sweater.

At this counter, it was brought to my attention that my passport didn’t have the visa markings for entry into Bosnia.
I’m going to Bosnia.  This whole page will be dedicated to discussion about what that all will mean.
This wasn’t a surprise to me, I had contacted to Bosnian embassy two months prior to ask about entry.  The rule for US citizens is that there is no entry visa required for people staying 90 days or less, one just has to register at the local police station.  Noting that I will be there for a year, I asked about student visas, and was informed that I wouldn’t require a visa if I was at the university there, it would just be a different document that I would fill out at the police station.  It’s easy.  The check-in clerk however seemed to believe something completely different, and insisted that I needed a visa, and that if I boarded the planes that would put me in motion to Sarajevo
      
    Sarajevo is where I will be staying.  It’s the capital city.

that I would likely be turned around and sent home at my own expense, and at minor legal trouble for the airline.  I took my passport and my boarding pass, dropped off my cell phone with my dad, and we headed towards the security gate.  We sat for a while outside of the security gate, and once again checked the entry requirements for Bosnia, and from what we could tell, it seems that I won’t have any problem.  Additionally I checked my email word from Mirzana
   
    Mirzana will likely be the first character introduced in this story.  Mirzana was my Bosnian/Croatian        /Serbian professor at the 101-102 level during Summer 2007.  She’s intelligent, talented, beautiful,     and lives in Sarajevo. 

I will be the second character introduced.  My name is Matt(hew), and I am an undergraduate senior at Arizona State University.  I’m average height with brown hair, and what has been said to be impeccable eyebrows.  I wish that I was better at playing soccer.  I forget sweaters.
regarding housing opportunities.

I recently found out that there was an error in communication between myself or ASU and the University of Sarajevo in regards to housing assistance.  I left here on the 19th of August and will arrive on the 20th.  They were not expecting me until September so no housing arrangement had yet been made.  As the wheels of the airplane touch down in Sarajevo in a few hours, I will be truly functionally homeless for the first time in my life.

She mentioned that she is on holiday in Croatia currently, and wouldn’t be back until sometime in September, and that she didn’t know of anyone who is currently renting out a room.  With this in mind, assuming I don’t get barred from entering the country, I will try and take a cab from the airport to the hostile I stayed in last year, Studenski dorm Bijelevi.  If this option isn’t available, it will certainly make this trip more memorable, but I’m confident that at least something could be arranged for a short period of time while I look for places to rent. 

I closed the computer, held it under my arm so that I wouldn’t have to take it out again as I went through security and said goodbye to my dad.  We gave each other three hugs, which on my part, was something that I could have given many more of, but I wasn’t quite sure how one could go about saying goodbye for an extended period of time as nervous as I was and am while at the same time trying to look brave and prepared for something that I had for the last year, worked so steadfastly to pursue.  The furiousness of the last few events didn’t lend much time or attention to gather and assess the consequences of success.   

Resting my back against a concrete pillar in a fully loaded departure gate is where I finally settled into these thoughts.  I imagine a similar style pillar nine to ten months from now will be the place where I weigh the benefits of this process with this earlier sentiment and calculate my gross adjustment, and only then will I know if either pillar session was really worth it.

I’ll remember my sweater then.