In a city where español echoes off the walls of the tall skyscrapers, I, Sara have taken on the quest to actually learn this beautiful language once an for all by coming to live in this city for a month. And I've already been here a week, which has given me time to actually come to the realization that I am living in Argentina right now.
With the gorgeous architecture that is apparent anywhere you walk, with the busy streets everywhere you wander, it's impossible to not be pulled in by the vibe of Buenos Aires. It truly is the Paris of Suda America. Note: America is in the word South America and claiming to be American (instead of from United States) severely bothers the locals here and I am forced to correct myself and then feel embarrassed. But onward! Buenos Aires with it's "Pink House" standing in the middle of Plaza de Maya, is an interesting site to see. Still everywhere you go the art of graffiti has over taken the city, which in some respects is very cool looking and in others you think "Why haven't they painted over that yet?". Buenos Aires in a whole is interesting. A lot of Buenos Aires consists of old elevators (which is quite awesome) and old subway trams (where everything is made out of this deeply colored polished wood). There are cafés everywhere and you can buy empanadas at any place, in which now I am determined to try every empanada and deem which one is the best. And what pulls it all together are the people of Buenos Aires, their italian accents weaved into their spanish making the language sound like silk. They hold themselves up with a European type of posture, but are ones that when music is around, everyone starts to dance and sing. I essentially feel that its a perfect mix of Europe and South America together to make the people. And though many have rumored that the Argentinians are rude, I have not encountered one rude person. (Only problem here though is stealing).
That above, in a sense is my brief description of Buenos Aires (which consists of neighborhoods which are extremely different then one another). I live in a cozy place called "Casa de Loca" in which my house 'mother' is very wild and extremely kind, but still goes out at the age of 60, as though she is still 20. I have 2 roommates, one in which I share a room with and the other who is studying here for a year. Through this I have discovered that the buddy system is actually convenient.
I have much more to write about but to cut things shorter- it's pretty sweet here if you know what I mean.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Festives
Recently it was the day of the dead, three days ago to be exact. The holiday is set on November 2nd and it is meant o celebrate dead ancestors and relatives, November 2nd being a day where they visit us and what not. This year I was set out to find jewelry theme'd for this holiday, not exactly celebrating the holiday myself but because the certain style doesn't TRULY come out until this certain time of year. Though what makes us feel the need to celebrate with one another these things we call holidays? Would we set out to get together with family members or friends like we do for holidays? I presume so but our environment in the United States makes become so introverted, to become individuals.
I became an individual last night, I went to first Friday which is a assumed to be where all these artists and those interested in art, come together on the same night (every first friday of the month) and come talk, share, enjoy one another. I came by myself and went through the rounds of galleries just to see if anything new was around, and said hi to artists that I somewhat kind of know. But other then that I was by myself, and couldn't help but feel lost in this celebratory environment. I then proceeded to wander over to a big studio called Stoneworks, where the owners of the place, Michelle and Guy, have new entertainment every first Friday. They serve the best food and have the best energy. Though me being by myself and only socializing with Guy, I was struck by how shy and unconfident I am being around people that I don't know, but have the same interests as me. It's as though I just felt like a lie, being this "artist" and that I don't REALLY know what I am talking about. That I, Sara, have nothing to say and I will just make awkward conversation.
I was then set out to talk to some people and stay around long enough to watch the belly dancing. The belly dancer's costumes were a day of the dead theme, with their faces painted in palette of white and these obscure colors decorating their faces, their eyes surrounded by black paint. I began to talk to this man who was eager to show his art work on his iPhone, and told me about his life. We laughed and enjoyed the show, and then I bolted out the door at 9:13 to meet my friend for a 9:40 movie. I then ran into the face painter, having never had a day of the dead face painted on me before. I gave her a donation of 10 dollars and she proceeded to decorate my face in reds, oranges, white and black. I felt calm and excited just to find out what would become of my face, as well as everyone surrounded around me, seeing what the artist would create. I was done, and bolted out the door at 9:30. Vaguely knowing how my face actually looked.
I was met by a transformation when I looked into the mirror, Sara was no longer Sara, but instead she was this masked being. It's simply amazing what paint can do, even face painting, I did not look like myself. This is not because it literally physically transformed my face but instead made and illusion to somehow give no definition to my face. It made me different. I became an even more obscure individual. I was unrecognizable, and looked at with eyes that judged and did not know what in the world happened to this "girl's" face. Walking into a movie theater like that, I was ostracized without even realizing it. This was most likely because I wasn't in the art world but now in "normal" world where you blend in with everyone else.
Sometimes I'm tired of blending in, then other times I will dress as plain and unnoticeable as possibly, so nobody realizes I am there.
My own psychology? It fails to be reasonable
I became an individual last night, I went to first Friday which is a assumed to be where all these artists and those interested in art, come together on the same night (every first friday of the month) and come talk, share, enjoy one another. I came by myself and went through the rounds of galleries just to see if anything new was around, and said hi to artists that I somewhat kind of know. But other then that I was by myself, and couldn't help but feel lost in this celebratory environment. I then proceeded to wander over to a big studio called Stoneworks, where the owners of the place, Michelle and Guy, have new entertainment every first Friday. They serve the best food and have the best energy. Though me being by myself and only socializing with Guy, I was struck by how shy and unconfident I am being around people that I don't know, but have the same interests as me. It's as though I just felt like a lie, being this "artist" and that I don't REALLY know what I am talking about. That I, Sara, have nothing to say and I will just make awkward conversation.
I was then set out to talk to some people and stay around long enough to watch the belly dancing. The belly dancer's costumes were a day of the dead theme, with their faces painted in palette of white and these obscure colors decorating their faces, their eyes surrounded by black paint. I began to talk to this man who was eager to show his art work on his iPhone, and told me about his life. We laughed and enjoyed the show, and then I bolted out the door at 9:13 to meet my friend for a 9:40 movie. I then ran into the face painter, having never had a day of the dead face painted on me before. I gave her a donation of 10 dollars and she proceeded to decorate my face in reds, oranges, white and black. I felt calm and excited just to find out what would become of my face, as well as everyone surrounded around me, seeing what the artist would create. I was done, and bolted out the door at 9:30. Vaguely knowing how my face actually looked.
I was met by a transformation when I looked into the mirror, Sara was no longer Sara, but instead she was this masked being. It's simply amazing what paint can do, even face painting, I did not look like myself. This is not because it literally physically transformed my face but instead made and illusion to somehow give no definition to my face. It made me different. I became an even more obscure individual. I was unrecognizable, and looked at with eyes that judged and did not know what in the world happened to this "girl's" face. Walking into a movie theater like that, I was ostracized without even realizing it. This was most likely because I wasn't in the art world but now in "normal" world where you blend in with everyone else.
Sometimes I'm tired of blending in, then other times I will dress as plain and unnoticeable as possibly, so nobody realizes I am there.
My own psychology? It fails to be reasonable
Saturday, October 16, 2010
So I was thinking
I haven't posted in a long time and I had all this information that I wanted to talk about. All these moments in which I enjoyed Bosnia, which I may do at some point soon. I honestly was so excited but when I got home the desire ran from me.
Instead in this post I just want to write. First I want to talk about depression, for the reason because I try to relocate thoughts of past memory of times I was supposedly depressed.
What is depression? To be quite brutally honest I have no idea, people write about it, it'd in books, medical publications and internet forums. Though the thing is it doesn't make sense. At all.
Here is why, I've always, ALWAYS considered myself so incredibly lucky, the stars were in my favor. The world was a vast continuous ocean of knowledge and discovery that I have this desirable urge to sweep through with a comb. I want to be apart of this thing that we call the world. I knew I had the tools, the magic at my finger tips to achieve all this. That I had and have never a thing to complain about. I don't DESERVE to complain. Sometimes this is pointed out as having terrible self esteem, and I've been told that I'm allowed to complain. But I feel guilt and shame for thinking about complaining and then actually complaining. Why would anybody want to hear me?
Why am I writing this, not so people can hear me but to actually put thoughts in my head onto something more solid.
And yet, I feel like this utter failure for not being able to take the reins of my life and use all these wonderful gifts to accomplish the greatness that I want to accomplish. I question myself every other day and I compare myself to other people. One minute I love me and then the next I want to improve me. Then I think what do people see in me, because all the people in my life are just utterly amazing and here I am just Sara. And I wish to the gods and heavens that people see that they are amazing. Maybe some say the same for me but in my head it doesn't make sense.
Is this depression? No, some may say it is but I don't believe it for one second it is.
When I was 12 to the age of 13, I was depressed. I don't even remember what I did in those times. Except that I walked everywhere by that age and I remember just thinking of killing myself, but the only thing stopping me was the fact that I'd hurt others in my life. I didn't want to talk to anybody, I didn't notice things anymore. I dressed in black because I thought I would be cooler, but then it didn't even matter anymore. I just wanted something to change but nothing in my mind would change. I would continue walking feeling dead. I cried a lot too, I still cry a lot to this day but I cried so much in that period that it was exhausting. I couldn't wait to sleep and I dreaded getting up in the morning.
Is this depression? I said it was but when I talk to myself I feel as though I was this drama constricted child that didn't know what to do with herself.
But is depression only depression when it's passed a certain time frame? Could my depression be 7days long? Because I feel like when I was 16 I was depressed too. It was heartbreak, betrayal, sadness, exhaustion, and unable to comprehend or care anymore. I couldn't eat for a week because I literally felt like puking every time I smelled food. I cried so much. My heart was being ripped out of my chest, and it felt like someone was grasping my heart and choking the air out of it.
Was that depression? Or the numb feeling that came after that, which lasted for a few months.
I still think about death and I accept the fact I could die tomorrow or in the next 2 minutes. Is that bad? Envisioning the possibilities of death and then wondering how much people would care? Because I can imagine certain people in my lives being heart broken but I of course would want them to move on and be happy. But I wonder if I really am that someone they would miss or just the idea of me is missable.
I'm not depressed, I just think about dark things. I use to be unaffected by what anybody said about me but now I slowly have started to take things personally. Just that I feel less wanting to impress people and instead just want to explore myself.
I haven't had the opportunity to actually put myself in the position that I have envisioned myself being in. It's become this harsh reality. A reality of what, I'm unsure.
I still will keep the optimism in my spirit and continue to envision myself in a new adventure that will make me learn things that I wouldn't of otherwise.
Ciao
Instead in this post I just want to write. First I want to talk about depression, for the reason because I try to relocate thoughts of past memory of times I was supposedly depressed.
What is depression? To be quite brutally honest I have no idea, people write about it, it'd in books, medical publications and internet forums. Though the thing is it doesn't make sense. At all.
Here is why, I've always, ALWAYS considered myself so incredibly lucky, the stars were in my favor. The world was a vast continuous ocean of knowledge and discovery that I have this desirable urge to sweep through with a comb. I want to be apart of this thing that we call the world. I knew I had the tools, the magic at my finger tips to achieve all this. That I had and have never a thing to complain about. I don't DESERVE to complain. Sometimes this is pointed out as having terrible self esteem, and I've been told that I'm allowed to complain. But I feel guilt and shame for thinking about complaining and then actually complaining. Why would anybody want to hear me?
Why am I writing this, not so people can hear me but to actually put thoughts in my head onto something more solid.
And yet, I feel like this utter failure for not being able to take the reins of my life and use all these wonderful gifts to accomplish the greatness that I want to accomplish. I question myself every other day and I compare myself to other people. One minute I love me and then the next I want to improve me. Then I think what do people see in me, because all the people in my life are just utterly amazing and here I am just Sara. And I wish to the gods and heavens that people see that they are amazing. Maybe some say the same for me but in my head it doesn't make sense.
Is this depression? No, some may say it is but I don't believe it for one second it is.
When I was 12 to the age of 13, I was depressed. I don't even remember what I did in those times. Except that I walked everywhere by that age and I remember just thinking of killing myself, but the only thing stopping me was the fact that I'd hurt others in my life. I didn't want to talk to anybody, I didn't notice things anymore. I dressed in black because I thought I would be cooler, but then it didn't even matter anymore. I just wanted something to change but nothing in my mind would change. I would continue walking feeling dead. I cried a lot too, I still cry a lot to this day but I cried so much in that period that it was exhausting. I couldn't wait to sleep and I dreaded getting up in the morning.
Is this depression? I said it was but when I talk to myself I feel as though I was this drama constricted child that didn't know what to do with herself.
But is depression only depression when it's passed a certain time frame? Could my depression be 7days long? Because I feel like when I was 16 I was depressed too. It was heartbreak, betrayal, sadness, exhaustion, and unable to comprehend or care anymore. I couldn't eat for a week because I literally felt like puking every time I smelled food. I cried so much. My heart was being ripped out of my chest, and it felt like someone was grasping my heart and choking the air out of it.
Was that depression? Or the numb feeling that came after that, which lasted for a few months.
I still think about death and I accept the fact I could die tomorrow or in the next 2 minutes. Is that bad? Envisioning the possibilities of death and then wondering how much people would care? Because I can imagine certain people in my lives being heart broken but I of course would want them to move on and be happy. But I wonder if I really am that someone they would miss or just the idea of me is missable.
I'm not depressed, I just think about dark things. I use to be unaffected by what anybody said about me but now I slowly have started to take things personally. Just that I feel less wanting to impress people and instead just want to explore myself.
I haven't had the opportunity to actually put myself in the position that I have envisioned myself being in. It's become this harsh reality. A reality of what, I'm unsure.
I still will keep the optimism in my spirit and continue to envision myself in a new adventure that will make me learn things that I wouldn't of otherwise.
Ciao
Friday, July 16, 2010
Hello from the Center of Sarajevo
Okay so this is just a quick update, that will not be a blog post of what I have been doing but just to update everyone that I haven't had internet for 12days. One I went to the coast and now I am in Sarajevo once again, now just with my Grandmother until Sunday. Which we will be with my Uncle, Aunt and cousins once more until I get on a plane on Tuesday. The thing that really is quiet wonderful about traveling is that if your on the other side of the world, when you come back you gain a day. Meaning that even though I left on Tuesday, when I came to Bosnia it was late at night on Wednesday- so instead of having an entire day to wander around, I had dinner and slept. But now I'm leaving Tuesday and arriving Tuesday in California.
Right now I am paying for the amount of time I am on the computer but it is not expensive. When I have more time I will update everyone on my adventures.
Tons of Love to the world out there, especially to those who understand what I am talking about.
Right now I am paying for the amount of time I am on the computer but it is not expensive. When I have more time I will update everyone on my adventures.
Tons of Love to the world out there, especially to those who understand what I am talking about.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Scrambling
It's easier to dislike something then like something. To find flaws and faults then pros. Maybe because it seems repetitious to gloat about something. I can speak wonders of Tuzla, how there's always kids outside playing, how it's incredibly green that they don't plant fake grass, how beautiful the people are. There really is a lot but the thing I find the most bothersome about this place is that there are so many defaults. It's not to say that Tuzla or the rest of Bosnia is super different from my home in Ventura (even though it seems my Bosnian family think I'm going through a cuture shock), but many things that I've seen just are over exemplified and over excreted to the point that what becomes a nuisance is plan just disgusting. Like I said before, I love Tuzla and Bosnia but here are some things that just twist me the wrong way.
- The Amount of Graffiti:
I'm actually in awe of graffiti, when it's done well on empty walls and it's done to symbolize a meaning of sorts. It's expression, it's art. Though the problem is that when graffiti is in certain places it shouldn't be. Like schools, every single school here is covered in graffiti- meaning Universities, Elementary schools, High school, all of it. It's just sick, instead of having a clean environment for kids, graffiti is plastered on the walls. Also homes, this is where people LIVE, if it's a fence or a random wall then yes I understand but when there is graffiti underneath your very own window it's just absolutely degrading. There is so much graffiti that I know it's meant to not faze people, but when it becomes over powering and hateful and whatever else it can be, it's just not right. It's not morally right, in my opinion. I believe graffiti should be kept to bridges and empty walls and fences, not schools.
- How Men Dress here:
Yes, in Europe when people go out for the evening, they dress much more sheek and classier here then in America. Europeans have style, which we presumably don't as much. Sure everyone looks the same during the day time to us but what really annoys me here is that most men/boys wear sweatpants, pajama pants, bad pants. I don't know why but, in America or anywhere I have been, the majority of men wear jeans, pants that fit or that actually look as though they were making an effort. I have no idea why this bothers me so much but it just does.
- Animal Treatment:
Okay so this is one instance but it really bothered me and I still can't forget it. When we drove to a town where there is a big Bingo store (It's basically a walmart + ross + vons), we went into the Bingo store, wandered and then drank some coffee, then left. When we entered the parking lot to head home, there was a man with his car, in the middle of the parking lot, with his dog sitting in the trunk. At first, I wasn't sure what the purpose of this was but then the dog started whining and this dog was huge. The dog started to try to get out of the trunk but it's owner kept pushing the dog in a small little trunk, with groceries in it to squish into this trunk so that he can slam the trunk door shut. Eventually, the dog was tightly compacted into the trunk and they drove off. This should not be done, at all especially for such a big dog. I could imagine if for some reasn this dog was claustrophobic, it had a heart attack a million times over.
So I know, me ranting about what I dislike is not the greatest topic to cover but when something itches the skin, you need to scratch it, even if it's not good for you. Remember, I love Tuzla and Bosnia and my family and everyone here, but once in awhile it's not as dandy and romantic as it sounds.
Today, July 5th, we are heading to Croatia to the Island of Korcula. I'm extremely excited because returning to ocean for some reason just makes me think of home and I'm automatically more relaxed. It's interesting to think that when I'm at home I don't notice the smell of the ocean until I'm right next to it, but when I haven't been around the sea in awhile and I'm in a town near the sea - I smell it right away. Time to swim in the prettiest, bluest water and then dine on fish and shrimps. Maybe I'll meet some English speaking people.
- The Amount of Graffiti:
I'm actually in awe of graffiti, when it's done well on empty walls and it's done to symbolize a meaning of sorts. It's expression, it's art. Though the problem is that when graffiti is in certain places it shouldn't be. Like schools, every single school here is covered in graffiti- meaning Universities, Elementary schools, High school, all of it. It's just sick, instead of having a clean environment for kids, graffiti is plastered on the walls. Also homes, this is where people LIVE, if it's a fence or a random wall then yes I understand but when there is graffiti underneath your very own window it's just absolutely degrading. There is so much graffiti that I know it's meant to not faze people, but when it becomes over powering and hateful and whatever else it can be, it's just not right. It's not morally right, in my opinion. I believe graffiti should be kept to bridges and empty walls and fences, not schools.
- How Men Dress here:
Yes, in Europe when people go out for the evening, they dress much more sheek and classier here then in America. Europeans have style, which we presumably don't as much. Sure everyone looks the same during the day time to us but what really annoys me here is that most men/boys wear sweatpants, pajama pants, bad pants. I don't know why but, in America or anywhere I have been, the majority of men wear jeans, pants that fit or that actually look as though they were making an effort. I have no idea why this bothers me so much but it just does.
- Animal Treatment:
Okay so this is one instance but it really bothered me and I still can't forget it. When we drove to a town where there is a big Bingo store (It's basically a walmart + ross + vons), we went into the Bingo store, wandered and then drank some coffee, then left. When we entered the parking lot to head home, there was a man with his car, in the middle of the parking lot, with his dog sitting in the trunk. At first, I wasn't sure what the purpose of this was but then the dog started whining and this dog was huge. The dog started to try to get out of the trunk but it's owner kept pushing the dog in a small little trunk, with groceries in it to squish into this trunk so that he can slam the trunk door shut. Eventually, the dog was tightly compacted into the trunk and they drove off. This should not be done, at all especially for such a big dog. I could imagine if for some reasn this dog was claustrophobic, it had a heart attack a million times over.
So I know, me ranting about what I dislike is not the greatest topic to cover but when something itches the skin, you need to scratch it, even if it's not good for you. Remember, I love Tuzla and Bosnia and my family and everyone here, but once in awhile it's not as dandy and romantic as it sounds.
Today, July 5th, we are heading to Croatia to the Island of Korcula. I'm extremely excited because returning to ocean for some reason just makes me think of home and I'm automatically more relaxed. It's interesting to think that when I'm at home I don't notice the smell of the ocean until I'm right next to it, but when I haven't been around the sea in awhile and I'm in a town near the sea - I smell it right away. Time to swim in the prettiest, bluest water and then dine on fish and shrimps. Maybe I'll meet some English speaking people.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Swimming In the Middle of Eastern Europe
Okay, maybe Bosnia is not anywhere near the middle of eastern Europe, but in the city of Tuzla, we are not close to the coast. Meaning the assumption of swimming in salt water is that you can't. But never fear, Tuzla is here, Tuzla being a major salt producer of Eastern Europe, where the entire city is on top of a salt reservoir that actually moves the city up and down based on the amount of salt water is underneath or how much of it is being drained. It's quite amazing. In the middle of Tuzla, there are two man made lakes of salt water, the perfect place to be when summer comes around. Which has basically just started after days of rain. The lakes floors are river rocks and the 'sand' around the water is exactly the same. These lakes are actually quite healing to the body, clearing up sinuses, reducing swelling and other things that normal water could not do. Why am I talking about this? Today we went swimming and it was the best feeling, reminding me how much I'm in love with water, especially the sea and how spoiled I am to live in Ventura because I can swim every day if I wanted to.
After fusing around because I forgot the bottom half of my bathing suit in Sarajevo, my uncle and I ventured down the street to a local bathing suit/under garments store and I selected a 5 dollar bathing suit with lemons. It was great, especially throughout the entire time I was swimming I would be called 'leeeemon' 'mali lemon' 'lime'. And even though my eyes burned while I opened them under water, it was all grand. Though the thing about swimming is the fact that after baking in the sun and swallowing salt water a couple times more then necessary, everything you do afterwards seems to be too much effort. A nap seems the best idea in the world. Instead of giving into that, I decided to watch tennis and football for two hours and awaited dinner to be served.
In other news, my cousin Dino, who is a year older then me and who has been studying his head off for 2weeks, passed his test to enroll into the best Technology/Math university in Tuzla. During these two and a half weeks, I barely glanced at what he was learning because the fact of the matter is that my brain wants to avoid Math until school starts in August. Which seems so soon. So congratulations to Dino, and to his future 4 years of studying his head off like he did for 2weeks. I wish there were more days in the year to extend the time before I have to actually be an adult.
After fusing around because I forgot the bottom half of my bathing suit in Sarajevo, my uncle and I ventured down the street to a local bathing suit/under garments store and I selected a 5 dollar bathing suit with lemons. It was great, especially throughout the entire time I was swimming I would be called 'leeeemon' 'mali lemon' 'lime'. And even though my eyes burned while I opened them under water, it was all grand. Though the thing about swimming is the fact that after baking in the sun and swallowing salt water a couple times more then necessary, everything you do afterwards seems to be too much effort. A nap seems the best idea in the world. Instead of giving into that, I decided to watch tennis and football for two hours and awaited dinner to be served.
In other news, my cousin Dino, who is a year older then me and who has been studying his head off for 2weeks, passed his test to enroll into the best Technology/Math university in Tuzla. During these two and a half weeks, I barely glanced at what he was learning because the fact of the matter is that my brain wants to avoid Math until school starts in August. Which seems so soon. So congratulations to Dino, and to his future 4 years of studying his head off like he did for 2weeks. I wish there were more days in the year to extend the time before I have to actually be an adult.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Rain, Rain, What a Beautiful Day
I love rain. Though the best kind of rain is where the rain starts to pour out of no where. It's as though the clouds are expressing their most raw emotions, it becomes bold, brilliant, exuberant, and vividly expressive. This is when the earth seems to be cleansed in the most thorough way. As sudden as the rain began, it seems to stop suddenly with no indication as to what prompted it to stop. All that remains are puddles of water, left to reflect the skies current mood at the time.
The first time I ever came to Bosnia, when I was much smaller, was when I realized that summer here is like summer in some tropical place (Hawaii, Florida), because in the summer Bosnia has this random rain come out of no where, lasting for 2hours or 10minutes. Then the cloud passes and the entire sky is a beautiful blue. I remember the first time this happened to us in Sarajevo, my mother and I. We were walking down the main plaza, close to the old Turkish area. All of a sudden, rain started to pour on us and out of no where these men with umbrellas to sell, were flying around like flies to people who had no umbrella. We took shelter under the mass of table umbrellas that were used for the cafe customers. And then we just stood until it was gone. I was quite perplexed by the entire scene, that while I walked down the same street I remembered what happened. Even though it wasn't significant at all.
Today in Tuzla we had that sudden rain come across the city. Where half the city is being drenched by rain, and the other has the sun shining down upon it. What makes it seem so grand is that it seems as though it's raining with the sun being out, that the rain is coming from nothing at all. After it stopped, my aunt Amira, my cousin Selma and I walked around a bit. And even though Amira commented how dreadful the rain was, I silently disagreed because of how spectacular the rain is. How the rain filled the holes and gaps in the ground and how it made the place glistened. I will agree though that rain somewhat dampens the mood for adventures but without it there wouldn't be the abnormal lush greenery you find in a country like Bosnia. I'll say that I like alive rather then dead.
The first time I ever came to Bosnia, when I was much smaller, was when I realized that summer here is like summer in some tropical place (Hawaii, Florida), because in the summer Bosnia has this random rain come out of no where, lasting for 2hours or 10minutes. Then the cloud passes and the entire sky is a beautiful blue. I remember the first time this happened to us in Sarajevo, my mother and I. We were walking down the main plaza, close to the old Turkish area. All of a sudden, rain started to pour on us and out of no where these men with umbrellas to sell, were flying around like flies to people who had no umbrella. We took shelter under the mass of table umbrellas that were used for the cafe customers. And then we just stood until it was gone. I was quite perplexed by the entire scene, that while I walked down the same street I remembered what happened. Even though it wasn't significant at all.
Today in Tuzla we had that sudden rain come across the city. Where half the city is being drenched by rain, and the other has the sun shining down upon it. What makes it seem so grand is that it seems as though it's raining with the sun being out, that the rain is coming from nothing at all. After it stopped, my aunt Amira, my cousin Selma and I walked around a bit. And even though Amira commented how dreadful the rain was, I silently disagreed because of how spectacular the rain is. How the rain filled the holes and gaps in the ground and how it made the place glistened. I will agree though that rain somewhat dampens the mood for adventures but without it there wouldn't be the abnormal lush greenery you find in a country like Bosnia. I'll say that I like alive rather then dead.
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