Dancing the Charleston in Romania

I crossed the Serbian border into Romania May 19. My route was Belgrade to Timisoara - one of Romania's westernmost cities and, incidentally, where their 1989 revolution started. I rode in a mini-bus with three foreign students; two from Portugal and one from Finland. They were on their way to Cluj, in the heart of Transylvania. They ended up missing their train in Timisoara, though, because we were held up at the Romanian border for about 1,5 hours waiting for the computers to kick back on. While annoying, this delay was worth it since I had the experience of listening to a Serb (our bus driver) curse at the border guards and then turn to all of us and say, "Welcome to the European Union".

This delay was notable because I had crossed seven borders in the Balkans without ever having a delay. I was almost disappointed at how slick and smooth all of the border crossings were. No half-wild canine units intimidating us, no torture and no bribes. It was surprisingly tame. Then, as soon as we got to an EU border (Romania) we entered a land of considerably higher dysfunction. Beyond the border crossings, I would say that, all in all, the Serbs, Croats, and even Bosnians, to a degree, have their country in order more than Romania.I might be a little biased though. After "getting to know the Balkans" for a month, familiarizing myself with the language and culture, it was a big shock to come to Romania, where the language is completely different and I am hard-pressed to find similarities. I'm having to start over here, which is a little tougher than when I arrived in Serbia.

I stayed a night in Recas (just outside of Timisoara) with a peace corps volunteer who was friends with Chelsea, my friend from Austin who is one year into her 27 month term as a peace corps volunteer in Romania. I met Chelsea in Bucharest on May 20 and then we came back to her town in eastern Romania - Barlad. After traveling all the way across Romania, I will say that transportation is much easier here. Compared to the Balkans, where mountains make train travel very limited and bus travel extremely bumpy, gliding along smooth tracks across a very (mostly) flat Romania for the same price as in the Balkans has been a welcome relief. The trip from Bucharest to Barlad was plagued by a broken WC that filled our whole wagon with the stench of sewage, but if you sat next to the window, you could hardly tell.

Star-Students dancing the Charleston







I've had an amazing time in Barlad so far. Chelsea teaches English to tenth graders here and I've offered my limited teaching skills in exchange for a place to stay. We came up with a lesson plan Sunday night on the train and have been implementing it to all of our classes so far this week. The lesson basically consists of handing the students a piece of paper with instructions on how to do The Charleston (the dance, youtube it if you aren't familiar). So after they figure out the vocabulary and what all the words mean, we all stand up and actually do the dance together. Hopefully, by the end of the 45 minutes, everyone has perfected the charleston, we put on some White Ghost Shivers jazz music from Austin and we partake in what is technically called "cultural exchange". If the class is particularly quick, they will teach us a traditional Romanian dance as well. Only two classes out of five have managed this though.




This was one of the most enthusiastic classes. They were a really fun bunch. 

Getting into a rural Romanian classroom has been fascinating. The most shocking thing so far has been when, a few times when Chelsea is calling role, we find out that a certain student (female) is no longer in school because she has dropped out and gotten married. This doesn't seem the least bit strange to the kids. Chelsea and I try to stifle our surprise, but it's tough to do.

It seems like each class has a few students who carry the lesson. About 10% of the class really, whole-heartedly participates while the rest sit in the back wearing aviators and playing games on the cell phones. Chelsea admits that discipline is a problem. Apparently, they've been on better behavior for me, their guest. It doesn't help that the classrooms are little echo-boxes of tile and concrete so that the slightest shuffle of papers consumes the whole room. Some carpeting in those rooms would really help the noise levels.

I was talking to Chelsea last night about my impressions of the first day of class and my general observation was that, like in most small towns, you can tell that these kids' world is pretty small. They have grown up with a very small, limited number of people surrounding them and, as long as they can master these people with charm, humor, flattery or whatever little tricks, they have won. I see an inability to think beyond the borders of Romania and sometimes even beyond the borders of Barlad. English is a very abstract idea to them - a kind of plaything and they aren't really sure how it can be applied in life. I tried my best to teach them that they needed English to talk to me since I understood no Romanian, but I don't think it really got through to them. A few kids engaged with me and responded to questions - mostly after class when their classmates were out of range. One kid came up to me and volunteered "Osama bin Laden. Shot in the head."

"Yes," I replied,"do you think it will make a difference?"

"Yes... difference... no more September 11"

Then he smiled and walked away. I guess this was a success. It was about a deep as a one on one conversation I've had with a kid here. I don't tell this little story trying to make the kids look dumb, I really just want to get across the idea that it's hard for these kids to relate to anything in English when the only time they speak it is in the classroom. In cities like Belgrade or Budapest, there are English language movies, tv shows, advertisements and all, but out here, you don't see any signs of English (there is no movie theater) and so they are victimized by a centralized education policy that says they must learn this language without them really knowing why they need to. These kids aren't the type that want to learn for the sake of learning (they are at the second tier high school - not bound for university), so their question is valid.

Their worlds are smaller because of it. These kids aren't diplomatic. They don't see much value in interacting with an American beyond making fun of their funny talk in order to impress the girl sitting next to them. This sounds too harsh now that I write it - it's not like every kid is an indolent country bumpkin. You can see in the video that some kids really did want to participate. It's just that most kids know their audience and who they need to please to make it in this little town. I am not on that short list. I'm ok with that, it's just an important thing to keep in mind when traveling around rural areas.

Made it to the Metropolis!

I made it into Belgrade, Serbia Saturday afternoon after a 10 hour bus ride from Podgorica, Montenegro that left first thing Saturday morning. I had ended up staying up all night in Podgorica. When I noticed the sun coming up as me and my (British) host were in the middle of a heated debate over US world supremacy and China and all that type of stuff, I figured that I may as well get a headstart on my trip to Belgrade and so made my way to the bus station. The sun was already fairly high in the sky bt 630am and I was completely blinded by it. The central European time zone borders go WAAAAYYY too far to the east. I guess that's just another example of these ex-commie states wanting to be more like the west....

The last time I posted was Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzogovina - in other words, three countries ago - four countries ago if you count the 15 minutes I spent driving through the little sliver of Bosnia along the coast that cuts Croatia in two. From Sarajevo, I took the train further south to Mostar, then to Dubrovnik, Croatia along the coast. Then to Kotor, Montenegro, then Podgorica, then Belgrade. It'd be ideal if I could add a little map to the side of my blog that shows my route. Does anybody know how to do that?

I've been trying to avoid being a tourist this past week and trying to get a feel for real life, but the Dalmatian coast is not a good place to do this. Not that I'm complaining. A friend of my host in Zagreb was kind enough to put me up in his five star hotel in Dubrovnik for two nights - he even gave me a seaside view! IMPORTANNE RESORT, people! If you ever go to Dubrovnik or are thinking about a good place to go for a summer trip, I highly recommend Importanne Resort in Dubrovnik, Croatia. See the pictures I added to my flickr stream for some visuals.

I used my time in Dubrovnik to catch my breath a little. The hotel was a few kilometers outside of town and was nice and quiet -  a perfect place to decompress after spending about 10 straight days in the city. Mixing up city life with more rural life is very important. I guess I can hardly call Importanne Resort rural though... but you know what I mean.

From Dubrovnik, I took the bus along the coast to Montenegro - The Bay of Kotor. This place is amazing! The largest fjord on the meditteranean. Kotor is located at the very southeastern most tip and is the biggest town on the fjord. It is also the home of the oldest and most well preserved walled town and fort on the fjord - an example of how their strategic location at the end of the fjord appears to have helped them over the years. I actually got to stay with a host in the old town, behind the walls and everything. It's amazing how you can really feel the effect of the walls. Passing from "new Kotor" to "old Kotor" is full of contrast. Inside the walls, you don't hear any cars (they aren't allowed in the old town, and probably wouldn't fit, anyways) nothing is more than about a 5 minute walk away. I got a good taste of the village life there.

View from our fishing spot in Kotor Bay

However, I can also appreciate modern amenities now. My host was great in Kotor, but his apartment, to be honest, sucked. He was in a tiny basement flat where the water would spontaneously shut off and his cat would take morning shits in the shower. He was also hosting four of us couchsurfers, which was about 3 more than he had space for. I ended up sharing a bed with two other people one night, sleeping shortways across the bed to make space. I value this experience as insight into the life of poverty in a tiny, walled, old Adriatic town. It was a great time, though, and Micky, our host, was very gracious. He took us fishing and "octopus hunting" at this beautiful spot along the fjord.

View of Kotor from the fortress

Even though everyone told me not to go to Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro, because "there was nothing to see there", it was perhaps my favorite city since Sarajevo. It was the perfect example of how you shouldn't just blindly follow Lonely Planet and, that if you have someone to show you around, you can have a great time anywhere. In this case, couchsurfing came through again. I stayed with a Brit teaching english there and we met up with two other couchsurfers at a bar and had a great night. In the process, I learned a lot about Podgorica, too. Sure, it's not the most tourist friendly town. No sections of the original wall left, no Austro-Hungarian era administrative buildings or old Ottoman markets left. Instead, Podgorica sits in a plain in southeastern Montenegro that gets invaded and destroyed about every fifty years, according to my host. This allows the city to reinvent itself about twice a century, making it much more modern and less distinctive. But, as I learned in Podgorica, "distinction" and tourist attractions do not necessarily make for a livable city. Podgorica seemed very livable to me. Small town, but a capital so there were things going on and young people and liveliness. Podgorica was free of the single file lines of middle age American tourists shuffling through narrow streets complaining about all the walking and wondering when was their next meal.

Blankets for Pilgrims to Ostrog (Orthodox monestary near Podgorica)

And now I'm in Belgrade. The capital of former Yugoslavia and my last checkpoint during my stay in former Yugoslavia. It has been cool to see all the provinces of Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Montenegro first before coming to see the center of it all. I think being able to contrast Belgrade with its surroundings has allowed me to appreciate the city more. You can see how it really is like a London, Paris or Berlin for Southeast Europe. Compared to the rest of the cities in the neighborhood, it's clear that Belgrade is the most metropolitan and "capitalesque" of them all.


Friday I take off for Romania, where I'll meet up with a friend from Austin who is doing peace corps in eastern Romania - a little town called Barlad. I'll be sure to update from there.

In the Heart of the Balkans

I am writing this post from Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzogovina, which is kind of weird, since as a kid, I remember the name ˝Sarajevo˝ being associated with bombings or sniper shootings or some horrible thing. These days, Sarajevo is a thriving city... well, it at least looks thriving to ME. According to some ethnic groups in the area (i.e. Serbs) there is a dire shortage of their own people here, having been kicked out in the early 1990s... but that's going down a very complicated road that you can read about on Wikipedia or something. This is about MY trip to Sarajevo - not a history of who has ruled and conquered this place over the centuries.

I got into Sarajevo Wednesday night after a stunning, five hour bus ride from Banja Luka in the north. Bosnia's roadways aren't very developed, which makes it all the more adventurous. The two lane road we took from Banja Luka hugged the side of a cliff that plunged down into first the Vrbas and then the Bosna river, which starts just a few miles south of Sarajevo. 

We got in at about 9pm and, taking the advice of a local I had met on the bus, I ventured into the suburbs of Sarajevo with him looking for a cheap hotel. (I've been couchsurfing or staying with friends ever since Iceland, but the couchsurfers of Sarajevo don't seem to be as gracious as their fellow countrymen.) He dropped me off in front of this place called ˝Banana City˝- probably the sketchiest hotel I have ever seen in my life. Even if the lights HAD been on, I wouldn't have tried it. So, with night progressing, I found my way back to the tram and made my way into the city and crashed at the first decent looking place I found. It was the most expensive night of the trip, but whatever, I had deserved it after making it through western Europe for a month on an average $40 a day!

I spent about an hour or so on Thursday just poking around the city. This place is way cool - it's the first city I've been in so far where I feel like I'm really in the east. There are mosques EVERYWHERE and you can hear calls to prayer throughout the day (although I haven't been woken up by one yet) and the center of old town feels almost like... Africa or the Middle East or something. I'm not sure because I've never been to either. All the buildings are one story and made up of shop fronts. These days, they are all tourist shops, restaurants or cafes, but the low buildings and narrow streets feel much older than the standard boulevards and 5 story buildings or western Europe. Plus, the main street is being renovated now, so it's just dust and rocks right now, with no signs of any work going on to improve it soon. The uneven surface and dust rising from pedestrians gives the street an even older feel. Judging by other streets, they'll put down concrete tiles eventually, but I think they should just keep it how it is. 

Mosque to the right, shops to the left

I've spent most of the time walking around the hills of Sarajevo, from where Serbian forces held the city siege between 1992 and 1995. Nobody could really tell me about hiking trails, so both Thursday and today (Friday) I just started heading up hill and eventually found streets and dirt roads and goat paths to my summits. I have been nervous both days about landmines. On Thursday, when I climbed the southern hills, I ran into a woman herding her goats through the woods and was just waiting for her or one of her herd to get blown to smithereens, but she seemed pretty confident in her footsteps. About a mile later, I saw a big sign advertising a Greek initiative to clear the area of landmines. I guess they're finished?

Today (Friday) I climbed up Treboviča, the mountain to the north of Sarajevo. Go check out my Flickr page - I just added a bunch more pictures.  It took me about seven hours and was about 16 miles as far as I can calculate. This trip was much more exciting. About half way up the mountain, I took a road up about a mile that turned out to be a private drive. D'oh. But I ˝talked" to a workman there and figured out a way to get further up via a little footpath. This path quickly faded out though, but I happened upon a lumberjack who had lived in Augsburg, Germany for a few years, so he was able to help me get further up to where his colleague was working who then, in limited Italian, showed me the trail that took me all the way to the top. Sheesh!

Once I got to the top, I felt like I had really earned it - like I had had an adventure. And the predictable way back home was not nearly as exciting, but was much quicker, which my stomach was happy about.

It's amazing how quickly the city disappears out here. Sarajevo is a big place, and very metropolitan, but after walking about 30-45 minutes in either direction, you start finding goat herders, lumberjacks and the roads turn to dirt. It makes the city even more remarkable, because you realize that it's surrounded by a wilderness that constitutes most of the rest of the country that Sarajevo is supposed to govern.

Passing Frontiers

I made it into Zagreb, Croatia yesterday afternoon after a 3 hour train ride from Ljubljana. Just to fill all of you in, I left Germany Easter Sunday; got a ride with a girl driving from Freiburg to Munich, then caught a night bus from Munich to Maribor, Slovenia. I had perhaps one of my best couch surfing experiences ever in Maribor. The guy I stayed with lived out in the hills outside Maribor and had a wine cellar fully stocked with his Dad's wine from his vineyard down the road.

Swing Dancers in Ljubljana. My host is the Zoran, on the bottom left.

One observation I've had so far about southeast Europe is that there is a constant theme of "frontiers". Every country sees themselves as on the eastern frontier of Eruope. Germany thinks that it's carrying the burden of the West because of Eastern Germany and Poland. Slovenia sees itself as the frontier of the European Union - the last country to the southeast where Euros are accepted. Croatia is the eastern frontier of Catholicism and sees itself as absorbing the the eastern Orthodox and Muslim influences next door in Bosnia and Montenegro.

I'm sure the further east I go, the more reasons I'll hear for why that particular country I'm in is on the eastern frontier. Bulgaria is the last country before Turkey; Turkey is the last country before the Middle East!

A rare sign of Russian presence in Slovenia. This "Russian Chapel" was built right after WWI as a tribute to Russian prisoners of war who died in an Avalanche building a road for the Austro-Hungarians so that they could get troops to the Italian front.

The road built by Russian POWs during WWI

Overall, the pull is back to the west, though. It is very obvious, here at least, that these "frontiers" are western oriented. Nobody is complaining of being the westnern-most Orthodox country, or having to suffer to the Protestant influence of Germany. I suppose that at some point, Russia's influence will kick in and I'll see a more eastern oriented frontier, but that hasn't happened yet. Maybe in Serbia?

The plan from here is to leave for Banja Luka, Bosnia-Herzogovina on May 1, then on to Sarajevo and then Mostar. I'll be in Belgrade by May 13 and Bucharest by May 20. The Balkans are a pretty small place, but so dense. A month will not be enough to see much at all. I'm doing my best though.

Das Vaterland

I haven't really had time to sit down and write an entry that would do justice to the flood of memories, thoughts and observances that I've had sine returning to Germany on Monday. AFter 4.5 years away, I'm finally back - and staying at Heidi's house. It's like reliving my early twenties all over again. The bad and the good.

The idea behind coming to Heidi's was to find a place to rest and relax a little. Spend some time on a REAL computer (not just my iphone) to organize the next few weeks of my trip in the Balkans. On Easter Sunday, I get on the bus to Slovenia and I'll be in Croatia by the end of the week. After that, I have no idea. I'll get to Belgrade by mid-May, but before then, I want to see Albania, Montenegro, Bosnia and the (the disputed territory of) Kosovo (That was just for you Marko.) We'll see if that actually happens though. I'm torn between hurrying around the Balkans trying to see everything versus just going to find a nice little bombed out town in Bosnia and watch the flies congregate for a few days. It's all up in the air.

The past week has been all that I would have expected from Western Europe. The ferry from Iceland to Denmark was fairly austere, unless you were willing to spend heaps of money on heat lamp pizzas and french fries. I opted to bring my own food, which consisted of dried fish and canned peas. And peanut butter. I was still happy that I chose to cross the rest of the north Atlantic Ocean via ship, but I don't think I need to do it again.

In Aarhus, Denmark, where I stayed for two nights, I went to a theater festival (Quonga) with my couchsurfing host. Watching plays in a foreign language in challenging, but it makes you really pay attention to the actions of the actors and reactions of the crowd. Totally different experience. I enjoyed the plays with none or as little dialogue as possible. One such play was a re-enactment of a video game. They captured the style really well, in such a bizarre way that I could only expect from Scandinavians.

From Aarhus, I took the overnight train to Freiburg, where I've been since Tuesday morning. I hardly slept at all on the train and, as a result, had an interesting encounter at about 4am. In Hannover, our train had acquired a few coaches from another train. As I wandered through the hallway looking for some water, suddenly found that all the signs had changed from German to Cyrllic.  Hmm. Then, about half way down one of the coaches, this woman leaned out of her cabin and yelled at me "END WAGON!" And then we fought over whether or not I could buy a bottle of water. Really mean woman. It turns out that it was a train from Warsaw and she was one of the Polish crew. I instantly regretted not going to Poland (opting instead for more time in the Balkans) because, judging from her at least, it appeared that you had to fight for everything in Poland. That would have been fun.

Ok, that's all for now. I posted more pictures from Iceland up on my flickr page. I've taken a break from pictures in Germany. I already have enough of them and you all have already seen pictures of the Black Forrest before. I would like to draw your attention to the most recent pictures, as they catalogue the shaving of my beard. I couldn't take it anymore and I am now ten times more comfortable without it. I don't see how you Paul Bunyons out there can stand such facial hair.

Bye

Last Day in Iceland

Looking outside my window right now, I can see the Smyril Line Norröna ferry ship that´s set to take me to Denmark in a few hours. I will arrive in Hirtshals, Denmark Saturday at about 9am local time. Iceland has been great - a challenge at time due to the inhospitable weather and the inconveniences of being in isolated places during the off-season, but overall, I´ve had some great experiences, met some really good people and learned more about Iceland than I´d ever really wanted to know. So far, I´d really have to say that my best experiences here were walking down an empty road, staring at snow capped mountains, seaside cliffs or lava fields for hours waiting for a car to pick me up and whisk me off to some new and beautiful corner of this island. Hitchhiking is definitely the way to make your way around Iceland - and to make sure you get plenty of interaction with locals.

I need to keep this entry short because I have to get ready for the ship. Think rye bread, peanut butter and dried fish can sustain me for three days? We´ll see.  The meals on the ferry are €18 a pop, so I am going to do my best to avoid the cafeteria. Still haven´t had a chance to add pictures, but I´ve got some good ones. They´ll come soon enough.

Hitchhiking across Snæffeslnes

Before I start this post, I just wanted to check to see if anyone knows anyone in Copenhagen or Hamburg who I could stay with for a night or two? I´ll be in Copenhagen April 16-18 and Hamburg April 18-19. (Dates are flexible). I´m a really easy guest - all self-contained in my bag here. All I need is a flat surface.

Ok, now that we have that, on to the show!

The theme of the past three days has been hitchhiking. If I had lots and lots of time and a computer that worked (I´m semi-stealing time from one at a hostel in Borgarnes right now) I´d draw a map of where I just was, but since I don´t have either of those things right now, a verbal description accompanied by this map will have to suffice.




On Monday, my host in Borgarnes dropped me off at the highway intersection outside of town on her way to work and pointed me in the direction that I needed to go: Stykkisholmur on the Snæffels peninsula, in western Iceland. I had gotten lots of tips to go there and nobody was willing to host me further north in Akureyri, so I went.


I´ve never hitchhiked before. The closest I´ve come was doing ride-sharing in Germany, which is pre-arranged hitchhiking. It does not involve standing on the side of the road holding out your thumb though, waiting for some kind stranger to stop and pick you up, which is what I did Monday morning. It took me about an hour and a half before I waved down "Bill", an Icelander who had lived in Perth, Australia for a long time and so had taken this adopted, English name when introducing him to foreigners. His real name was ÞÖÆRFGmaAjurll or something similarly impossible to pronounce and unsimilar to "Bill".

Bill was driving from Borgarnes to Stykkisholmur to pick up a fishing boat he had just bought but whose trailer had a flat tire the night before and so required a second trip with a spare to fix it. I was thankful for the flat, as it meant that I got the chance to get a free ride with him that otherwise would have cost me close to $20.

After a night in Stykkisholmur that included hanging out in a natural thermal bath (they´re everywhere!) I hit the road again the next morning with the intention to travel further west along the Snæfells peninsula  - just to see how far I could make it. It´s hard to make solid plans when you´re hitchhiking. I managed to get three rides though that took me all the way to Hellnar, on the opposite side of the peninsula and right between the Snæfells Glacier and the sea. From Stykkisholmur to Grundafjörður I rode with a telephone repairman going out to fix the phone at the local school. He slowed down when we saw seals in the bay - nice guy. Then from  Grundafjörður to Hellisandur, I rode with a teacher, and then from Hellisandur to Hellnar I rode with a Dutch couple touring through Iceland. I think they picked me up for the novelty.

Today, from Hellnar back to Borgarnes, was the toughest day. Being way out on the peninsula, there wasn´t much east bound traffic. I lucked out with a construction worker, then a guy who owned his own fish processing plant drove me a ways, then an off-duty police officer drove me the rest of the way into Borgarnes. Overall, I´d say that just the experience of hitchhiking was the best part of the trip. The scenery was amazing and my morning hikes along the seaside cliffs were awesome, but the feeling of being alone on a very long, cold road, just waiting for a car to come by and MAYBE pick you up is a much less familiar one to me.

The longest I ever went walking between rides was two hours. That wasn´t because people didn´t like the looks of me, though, it was because nobody passed me. My spirits were pretty dismal this morning as I was walking along in the blistering wind, trying to catch rays of sun as storms blew intermitently overhead. My ears would play tricks on me and I´d swear I heard a car coming, but then it´d just turn out to be the wind.

But then the feeling of exhiliration that came when you finally did see a car and they finally did slow down to pick you up instantly wiped out any anxiety that you had been feeling up to that point. I didn´t care at all who was behind the wheel (most were middle aged men - all very friendly) as I figured dealing with them was preferable to dealing with the weather outside. I have way more respect now for Iceland since I know that I can (for the most part) get where I need to go by hitchhiking.

Now there is the question about tomorrow. I´m trying to get to Akureyri, which is way up north. I could take a try at hitchhiking, but Akureyri is a good 130 miles north. The bus is $40 - hitchiking is free, but certainly comes with its own discomforts. I suppose we´ll just have to see how I feel when I wake up in the morning. I´m pretty exhausted from the past few days of anxiously waiting for cars to come up from behind me. The road to Akureyri is much more traveled - I could even land a one-way ticket there...

The excitement of the road beckons.

Ben