I cannot deny my readers. . .

Given the overwhelming demand for the exploits of this broad to be continually shared, I have succumbed and will continue writing. I am currently back in Denver (see right) getting settled in and preparing for classes to start. Woohoo.

Goodbye, Bosnia

So I have successfully left Bosnia. Dee and I took a bus to Split, a ferry from Split to Ancona, Italy, and finally a train to Rome. From there, I joined Maria and Lauren. We trained it to Salerno, ferried from there to Positano, eventually ferried back to Naples, and parted ways. Since then I have taken a train to Rome, and from there to Munich. My plane home flies out of this amazing city. Before leaving, I will spend a couple of days with my great VS housemates, Jenny and Raphael. See you soon, US.

Sign of the Cross to You

Given recent events, I have come to the conclusion that no traveler has ever experienced as much hassle as I have. Here's an overview of what I've overcome this summer:

1) I got a hole in my shoe - had to be replaced

2) The bag I bought specifically for this trip ripped right through the handle - had to be replaced.

3) Due to an unforseen national replacement, my debit card became invalid - had to be replaced.

4) After a summer of having it repeatedly rejected, spending over $50 on phone calls, and being told 5 times that my credit card should work as my account is clear, I finally am told that there are sanctions against Bosnia that will prevent my credit card from ever working in this country. Wish they would have told me that the first 4 times I called. No replacement options available.

5) My passport was invalidated - had to be replaced.

Yikes - during the time at which I had no access to money and no valid passport I really questioned whether I would ever be allowed to leave. However, I am confident - not that everything else will go smoothly; but that I will eventually get there.

Crazy Lady in the Woods

I am not the crazy lady in the woods. At least, not the one I am blogging about. Last night I decided to be adventuresome, get up early this morning, and hike back up to the WWII memorial. Seemed like a good Sunday morning activity given our 100+ degree weather. About halfway up, I decided to take a break on a bench and drink some of my precious water. As I was sitting there, I saw an older lady hiking down the hill toward me. Upon closer inspection, I saw that she was wearing a long sleeved shirt with a sweater over it. That should have been my first clue. When she got close, she came right over to the bench and sat down about half an inch from me. That should have been my second clue. She began talking to me, despite my protests that "I don't understand". Then she started touching my arm, right on my scar - clearly asking what it was from. I drew my hand away and repeated that "I don't understand". That didn't deter her, however, she next began touching my rings. So I moved away from her. I get that there might be different cultural standards of personal space, but no other unknown Bosnian has ever touched me (except maybe in a line - they have really close lines here). I guess it was the heat, but she didn't seem to be understanding my nonverbal clues that I don't want her to touch me and she should leave me alone. She continued talking to me, and clearly indicated that she wanted some of my water. Having heard Savi and Michelle's story about sharing beverages and being just plain creeped out, I really didn’t' want to share my water with her. It's a long, hot walk to the top, and frankly, I thought I would need it. Besides, she was coming from the top where I knew you could refill water bottles for free (she was carrying one, it was just empty). Plus - if you're that hot and thirsty, take off your sweater, okay? But it was over 100 degrees, and she was old. . . was I really going to not share my water? So I poured half of my water into her bottle and decided I needed to get out of there. I left the bench and took off up the hill. Still feeling a little weird about the situation, I turned around to check on her. To my surprise, she was following me up the hill. This only inspired me to hike faster. I mean, if I can't out-hike an elderly woman in a sweater and skirt, something's wrong. I turned around a second time to see if she was gaining on me, only to find that the chase was off. Instead, she was about a foot off the trail, still in plain sight, pulling down her pants and squatting. Having seen just about enough, I turned back around and really started to book it up the hill. At least she wasn't following me any more. Seriously, if she had dropped out of a tree onto me on my hike back down I would not have been surprised.

Once she wasn't around I enjoyed the rest of my hike.

A day in the life

Vesna, one of our friends from the National Democratic Institute, took pity on my solitary state and invited me to her house for the afternoon. I had a great time. Having spent the morning in the pool (the temp yesterday and today was over 100), I was excited to have something to do. Vesna lives with her son and her parents, in what she described as a suburb of BL. When we arrived, her mother had prepared an amazing meal. My favorite part was a traditional food that literally translates to "pinch". It is basically a 'pinch' of dough deep fried. It seemed like a new year's cookie without sugar or raisins. You eat these with a spread somewhere between cheese and butter. Dee, Sandy, and I have often seen it at the market and could never decide what it was: cheese or butter. Now I know - it's neither. Either way, spread on these dough balls it is very tasty. My other favorite part was the beverage I was served. It was one Vesna's father's specailities: a 50/50 combo of red wine and coca cola. It took me a little time to rap my head around this mixture, but it didn't taste at all how I expected. Her father is convinced that mixing wine with coke diminishes the effect of the alcohol - to the point that cops won't be able to tell how much you drank. I don't think I'm going to test that. We also had amazingly tasty stuffed bell peppers.

Vesna's family was incredibly hospitable (something I have come to experience as the norm here). We had a very relaxing time after the meal, where I again went swimming in a small pool they have. When I left her mom gave me a basil cutting from their garden to dry and take home to America. The plant has religious value and was a very generous and appreciated gift.

Cultural Revelation for the day: The game of "MASH" is universal. Vesna's son (soon to be entering the 4th grade) predicted my future with an almost exact version of the game I played as a child (not to mention a couple of weeks ago with Dee). For the record, I will be marrying Tobey Maguire, living in Paris, driving the batmobile, and will have 5 kids. Can't wait.

Home Alone

Dee and Sandy headed to Mostar this morning. They are meeting with some people from Le Strada, an anti-trafficking agency. I believe it's the only agency entirely devoted to trafficking in Bosnia, but I could be wrong. I stayed behind because of prior commitments here. Since Dee has been getting so motion sick with the bus travel and because it costs about the same, the girls decided to rent a smart car for their trip. Too funny. Although it's pretty awesome that they can make it to Mostar and back on one tank of gas. I got a short ride in it - after which Dee was quick to assure us that the back is really not made for people to ride in.

Prijedor

Okay, last week Dee and I went to Prijedor but I haven't had time to blog about it yet, so here goes. Prijedor is a town about an hour away, it is smaller than Banja Luka, but still a decent size. It is also located in the Republic of Serpska. We have been working with a domestic violence safehouse there, and went up for two days to give seminars to the employees. The employees have all been hired/chosen, but none of them have ever done work in this area, received any training, or even started working yet. Although the safehouse is completely ready to go, they haven't opened yet because they are waiting on government paperwork. Given the regulations for employees, the people we were meeting with are not allowed to speak with the victims about anything related to their experience or domestic violence - that is the role of the psychologist and social worker. So our workshops focused mainly on self-care, common reactions, and the basics. This distinction seems very contradictory to the domestic violence movement in the US, and took a little getting used to. There are a lot of cultural differences that make this kind of response different.

While conducting the workshops and hearing from the employees was very interesting, probably the best part of the experience was actually staying at the safehouse. Two of the employees spent the night with us there. The safehouse is set up to be very self-sufficient, and that made for a good time. While we were there, the water went out. We had to draw all the water that we used from a well. They even heated up some water for us on a stove so we could bathe.

I should note - both of our hosts for the night spoke no English. Despite this barrier, we spent the entire evening with them and felt like we did a great job communicating. Okay - I felt like I did a great job smiling and nodding. While we may not have shared that much, it wasn't actually a problem.

We spent part of the evening working in the garden. Dee and I got to pick some beans. We also got to rock some nice winter weather wear- it was cold and they were bestowed upon us by our hosts. I wore that totally awesome vest and Dee got a swell sweater.

I think I drank a total of 5 cups of coffee that day. Our hosts were incredibly generous and after every activity it seems we got another beverage. The woman who cooked for us was amazing - the food was incredible, and most of it was freshly picked. We ate some of the beans and had apple cake made from apples grown in their orchard. Add home-made bread to that and it was fabulous.


Needless to say - good times were had by all.