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.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Getting Here and Now
After hours of sitting in a small cramped chair, listening to my iPod blaze away in my ears. To running around from airport to airport, forgetting that I was wearing a belt which sent off the metal detector,in which I was led to a cubicle to be scanned. I finally got off the tiny plane that landed in the small airport of Sarajevo. The other passengers and I were herded out of the airplane, everyone impatiently wanting to get out quicker then everyone else. Especially since we were 30minutes late. Before we boarded I was asked what time the plane was suppose to originally leave, and I told the man 14:25. In which he looked at the new time stating 14:45 which then turned into 15:15, the man was angry and frustrated and wanted to talk about his frustration. I did not however because I wanted to delay as much as possibly to not speak Bosnian, I ran to the bathroom. Though when we finally arrived to Sarajevo's International Airport we were met with only 3 airport staff members, whom were there to check our passports to see where the passengers were from and what was the purpose of our visit. I pulled out my blue United States Passport, while I snuck looks at the other passengers pulling out their own passports. I have this uncanny need to determine where other people are from. I passed the check and I was able to relish the fact that I wouldn't have to board another plane for another four weeks. For the first time, I felt as though I couldn't contain my happiness, which I had no idea was brewing, that I was going to see my grandmother, my uncle and one of my cousins. Then it happened, I saw them, they saw me, an automatic recognition in our eyes for one another and I was able to relax- to go with the flow and let them take care of me. My journey of being by myself across the world was done. I had survived.
And now I'm here nine days letter still sitting in my uncle and aunt's home in Tuzla. The first day I was left to venture by myself outside of the apartment. It was glorious and I felt as though I was small all over again, when my mother Ema gave me the trust to be able to walk to school by myself. Even though it was across the street, being small and crossing the street without my mom, was the first taste of freedom and independence I ever had. So ignoring the fact that my uncle was very fearful of me being by myself, and he even had to call me after 30minutes to check where I was (I was in a park across the street, because I choose to draw instead of venture into stores), it still didn't take away the awesomeness to be free once more. At least for 2hours.
After my 2hour spree of walking around, sitting, and attacking bugs that wanted to attach themselves to me. I slowly walked back to the apartment complex, after struggling to open the front door to the main building and was able to slip passed a woman leaving the building, I came back to my temporary home and was met with the smell of Bosnian Burgers. Yes, Bosnian Burgers. I really have never understood why American influence has become popular around the world but it is. I had pizza two days ago for breakfast, Bosnian Pizza. My cousins love it, and I love Bosnian food. And I bet your wondering if the Bosnian Burger was the best I ever had? As much as I'd like to believe that what my cousin Selma said is true, 'Bosnian Burgers are so much better then American' (To which she was referring to McDonalds, but who can call that a burger -Dino said Faruk's burger should be called McFaruk-), I will say that In N Out and Duke's has won my heart in being still my number ones.
Lesson Learned this time? Bosnian wasps are ridiculously frightening. Especially after it comes back after trying to fan it away with a book.
And now I'm here nine days letter still sitting in my uncle and aunt's home in Tuzla. The first day I was left to venture by myself outside of the apartment. It was glorious and I felt as though I was small all over again, when my mother Ema gave me the trust to be able to walk to school by myself. Even though it was across the street, being small and crossing the street without my mom, was the first taste of freedom and independence I ever had. So ignoring the fact that my uncle was very fearful of me being by myself, and he even had to call me after 30minutes to check where I was (I was in a park across the street, because I choose to draw instead of venture into stores), it still didn't take away the awesomeness to be free once more. At least for 2hours.
After my 2hour spree of walking around, sitting, and attacking bugs that wanted to attach themselves to me. I slowly walked back to the apartment complex, after struggling to open the front door to the main building and was able to slip passed a woman leaving the building, I came back to my temporary home and was met with the smell of Bosnian Burgers. Yes, Bosnian Burgers. I really have never understood why American influence has become popular around the world but it is. I had pizza two days ago for breakfast, Bosnian Pizza. My cousins love it, and I love Bosnian food. And I bet your wondering if the Bosnian Burger was the best I ever had? As much as I'd like to believe that what my cousin Selma said is true, 'Bosnian Burgers are so much better then American' (To which she was referring to McDonalds, but who can call that a burger -Dino said Faruk's burger should be called McFaruk-), I will say that In N Out and Duke's has won my heart in being still my number ones.
Lesson Learned this time? Bosnian wasps are ridiculously frightening. Especially after it comes back after trying to fan it away with a book.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
I'm Too Use to California
I never thought the ideals of a Californian would be too relaxed. I forgot the years of pestering my mother would do about what I was wearing, and how I dressed opposite of the weather. I always had this notion to know what I should wear and that I'd be comfortable in the weather no matter what. But coming to Bosnia, my family doesn't understand that I know weather. I know at least spring/summer/fall weather, and if it came to winter then I'd surely want to listen to everything they had to say.
When I first arrived at Sarajevo, I was given the opportunity to take a shower. It was 7pm local time but 8am in California (so do the math, my plane left at 2:50pm-> I traveled all day and all night, and I was delayed in two places because my first plane was late. We ran into extreme turbulence where even the airplane flight attendants felt the need to scurry back and buckle themselves up, because while they were passing out food the enter cart was jumping up and done. During this I was left to try to comfort the person next to me but I knew for a fact that she has probably been on as many flights as I had.) So when we arrived to Sarajevo I showered and then ate filled bell peppers.
The next day wound around, and we were off to go down the main part of Sarajevo, the Austrian, Turkish and more rustic part of town. But it was raining and after running a few errors, the window wipers seized to function anymore. Which is a problem when it is raining. So my uncle, Faruk, after attempting to fix it himself, drove to a local car repair shop. We waited, Selma, Mika Sophia and me in the car for about an hour and then decided to go walking back home. The rest of the day was filled with basically sleeping, eating and then going to a few more mall stores.
Next day, I woke up with my hair greasy. My hair tends to get like this because its thin and so I need to wash it at least every other day. I prefer everyday. I then proceeded to wake up with my grandma's face close to my nose, and being sweet and grandmotherly as possible, she completely woke me up. I then asked if I could wash my hair and this was said with a no because its cold outside, Ill get a cold, so I can't take a shower but later, much later you can. Me, being stubborn decided no I cannot wait because it kills me feeling my hair being a slim ball. I decided to put my head under the sink and lightly rinse it with water. Coming back down I was at first just acknowledged but half way through breakfast my grandmother noticed. And said she had to, she absolutely couldn't let me go outside for the absolute truth that I would get a cold. (Note: I do this all the time in California, even if its 30degrees F). I was then made to sit on this armchair in which then my grandmother proceeded to dry my hair with a very old hair dryer which cannot dry for the life of itself. It took 30minutes to dry my hair when it should have taken 5minutes. All while I am sulking but reminding myself I should act pleasant and be thankful. Finally my uncle came in the room and she stopped but as I began to get up she asked once more do I want her to dry my hair again, and I said no as quickly as possible and jumped out of the chair.
I'd really prefer to wash my hair whenever, but family knows best about my health. The worst thing is that I came into the country sick and while it was raining, which is the worst of luck I could have wound up with. Though I do appreciate the concern from family, it seems unsuitable to be so woundly concerned about my health when I have indeed survived past this part. I'm still alive aren't I? (For 17 and 2/3 years- to be exact)
P.S. Isn't it crazy that at a certain age we stop including the 1/2s 1/4s 3/4s to our age. Yes of course we were more excited when we were kids to reach the new number. I don't think we even realized what the number was suppose to represent, we just assumed it to be great because we got presents for it. It'd be nice to be as excited each year as we were when we were kids.
When I first arrived at Sarajevo, I was given the opportunity to take a shower. It was 7pm local time but 8am in California (so do the math, my plane left at 2:50pm-> I traveled all day and all night, and I was delayed in two places because my first plane was late. We ran into extreme turbulence where even the airplane flight attendants felt the need to scurry back and buckle themselves up, because while they were passing out food the enter cart was jumping up and done. During this I was left to try to comfort the person next to me but I knew for a fact that she has probably been on as many flights as I had.) So when we arrived to Sarajevo I showered and then ate filled bell peppers.
The next day wound around, and we were off to go down the main part of Sarajevo, the Austrian, Turkish and more rustic part of town. But it was raining and after running a few errors, the window wipers seized to function anymore. Which is a problem when it is raining. So my uncle, Faruk, after attempting to fix it himself, drove to a local car repair shop. We waited, Selma, Mika Sophia and me in the car for about an hour and then decided to go walking back home. The rest of the day was filled with basically sleeping, eating and then going to a few more mall stores.
Next day, I woke up with my hair greasy. My hair tends to get like this because its thin and so I need to wash it at least every other day. I prefer everyday. I then proceeded to wake up with my grandma's face close to my nose, and being sweet and grandmotherly as possible, she completely woke me up. I then asked if I could wash my hair and this was said with a no because its cold outside, Ill get a cold, so I can't take a shower but later, much later you can. Me, being stubborn decided no I cannot wait because it kills me feeling my hair being a slim ball. I decided to put my head under the sink and lightly rinse it with water. Coming back down I was at first just acknowledged but half way through breakfast my grandmother noticed. And said she had to, she absolutely couldn't let me go outside for the absolute truth that I would get a cold. (Note: I do this all the time in California, even if its 30degrees F). I was then made to sit on this armchair in which then my grandmother proceeded to dry my hair with a very old hair dryer which cannot dry for the life of itself. It took 30minutes to dry my hair when it should have taken 5minutes. All while I am sulking but reminding myself I should act pleasant and be thankful. Finally my uncle came in the room and she stopped but as I began to get up she asked once more do I want her to dry my hair again, and I said no as quickly as possible and jumped out of the chair.
I'd really prefer to wash my hair whenever, but family knows best about my health. The worst thing is that I came into the country sick and while it was raining, which is the worst of luck I could have wound up with. Though I do appreciate the concern from family, it seems unsuitable to be so woundly concerned about my health when I have indeed survived past this part. I'm still alive aren't I? (For 17 and 2/3 years- to be exact)
P.S. Isn't it crazy that at a certain age we stop including the 1/2s 1/4s 3/4s to our age. Yes of course we were more excited when we were kids to reach the new number. I don't think we even realized what the number was suppose to represent, we just assumed it to be great because we got presents for it. It'd be nice to be as excited each year as we were when we were kids.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
So, Let's Skip Ahead
Note to the few viewers- I am sorry my last post had a bad grammatical structure with yous and Is. Anyways, on with it
Instead of updating from Sarajevo, the city I was named after and also where I landed, I am now in the industrial city of Tuzla (Two- Zla). I have actually been here for four days and yet I am totally still unsure what day of the week it is, afraid that if I ask it will be only answered with the 26 of June. The house I am in is with my Aunt and Uncle, Amira and Faruk who are way too nice for their own good. It is strictly impossible for me to be cold (I feel that I am always sweating with the constant badgering to put on socks, slippers, jackets, long sleeves, and if I had brought scarves that would be a necessity too) and it is also impossible for me to be hungry. I don't think I have been hungry for the past 6 days that I have been here because I am constantly being fed, I think I have six meals a day. Even eating after all this I am asked if I am still hungry and that I haven't eaten enough. Yet the thing to understand is that they are not overbearing like my grandmother who lives in Sarajevo. And I adore them, as well as my cousins, though I refuse to actually hold a long conversation with any of them. My vocabulary consists of ne(no), da(yes), dobro(good - I say this way too much), isveni(I äm sorry) and other words that are very practical.
My lack of knowledge of how to write Bosnian is also horrific. Example: I have been reading this book called The Fountainhead, some may know it and may detest it but I find it intriguing and a book I can literally not put down (Example within an Example, I spent one night reading until 2 by using my own camera to light up the book +There is a menu for a tutorial which stays on for 5minutes, I discovered a method in which I could hold the camera and scroll the tutorial to keep constant lightage+) so anyways, I was reading this book and still am. Two nights ago I was sitting in the TV-Family room and time passes by, from 9 to 10 to 11 and I'm reading wondering why is Faruk and Amira are still up. I finally get up and say goodnight, going to my cousin Selma's room to sleep. I notice then the bustling of the couch being transformed to a bed. In which it finally dawns on me that I had been sitting on their bed and delaying them the thing they both needed the most, sleep. Here I am trying to be like a fly on the wall, but instead being an elephant in the way to necessary human relaxation. And of course I felt terrible, and of course you may be thinking it is not a big deal, and let me say how wrong you are. It was to me. So I brewed and brewed and couldn't sleep. I was left there pondering how to apologize to them so I got one of my cards and wrote them in English what I really needed to say and then in Bosnian, what I could translate. It took me about 5minutes to figure out to spell 1 word in Bosnian which was isveni (I am sorry, and I still don't know if that's spelled correctly). So then opening the door very carefully, I crawled out into the hallway, not knowing where to put the letter, I dropped it in the middle of the floor and then skittered back to my bed. I finally was able to sleep.
This is what ignorance and not knowing how to write Bosnian, left me with. A situation which was unneeded and made more dramatic in my head then by anything else. So all in all ignorance is not bliss if you cannot be completely ignorant of everything around you.
Day 6
Instead of updating from Sarajevo, the city I was named after and also where I landed, I am now in the industrial city of Tuzla (Two- Zla). I have actually been here for four days and yet I am totally still unsure what day of the week it is, afraid that if I ask it will be only answered with the 26 of June. The house I am in is with my Aunt and Uncle, Amira and Faruk who are way too nice for their own good. It is strictly impossible for me to be cold (I feel that I am always sweating with the constant badgering to put on socks, slippers, jackets, long sleeves, and if I had brought scarves that would be a necessity too) and it is also impossible for me to be hungry. I don't think I have been hungry for the past 6 days that I have been here because I am constantly being fed, I think I have six meals a day. Even eating after all this I am asked if I am still hungry and that I haven't eaten enough. Yet the thing to understand is that they are not overbearing like my grandmother who lives in Sarajevo. And I adore them, as well as my cousins, though I refuse to actually hold a long conversation with any of them. My vocabulary consists of ne(no), da(yes), dobro(good - I say this way too much), isveni(I äm sorry) and other words that are very practical.
My lack of knowledge of how to write Bosnian is also horrific. Example: I have been reading this book called The Fountainhead, some may know it and may detest it but I find it intriguing and a book I can literally not put down (Example within an Example, I spent one night reading until 2 by using my own camera to light up the book +There is a menu for a tutorial which stays on for 5minutes, I discovered a method in which I could hold the camera and scroll the tutorial to keep constant lightage+) so anyways, I was reading this book and still am. Two nights ago I was sitting in the TV-Family room and time passes by, from 9 to 10 to 11 and I'm reading wondering why is Faruk and Amira are still up. I finally get up and say goodnight, going to my cousin Selma's room to sleep. I notice then the bustling of the couch being transformed to a bed. In which it finally dawns on me that I had been sitting on their bed and delaying them the thing they both needed the most, sleep. Here I am trying to be like a fly on the wall, but instead being an elephant in the way to necessary human relaxation. And of course I felt terrible, and of course you may be thinking it is not a big deal, and let me say how wrong you are. It was to me. So I brewed and brewed and couldn't sleep. I was left there pondering how to apologize to them so I got one of my cards and wrote them in English what I really needed to say and then in Bosnian, what I could translate. It took me about 5minutes to figure out to spell 1 word in Bosnian which was isveni (I am sorry, and I still don't know if that's spelled correctly). So then opening the door very carefully, I crawled out into the hallway, not knowing where to put the letter, I dropped it in the middle of the floor and then skittered back to my bed. I finally was able to sleep.
This is what ignorance and not knowing how to write Bosnian, left me with. A situation which was unneeded and made more dramatic in my head then by anything else. So all in all ignorance is not bliss if you cannot be completely ignorant of everything around you.
Day 6
Friday, June 25, 2010
What I wrote in My Notebook: Ze Start
When walking into an airport, the most interesting section of the airport is the international flight terminal. The first thing I notice is the kind of people that surround me, most of them foreign or first generation Americans that are all bustling around you. And whatever flights are during that time, it determines what part of the world these people are most likely from. Which is self-explanatory. Also whenever I arrive, I have this obscure urge to speak in a language that those around me most likely would never of heard of. It feels almost trendy, and after I feel guilty to use the rarely spoken tongue of my mother's, knowing that I cannot claim true testament and ownership of what should be my native tongue.
I always thought that traveling alone would actually give me a sense of importance and maturity but as I ventured around airports by myself, I realized that there really is no time to self indulge and pat myself on the back. Even having hours to spend on a airplane, I think how comfortable it is to be sucked up into my own little world where knowing is really going on except that I have to eat this candy that is in my bag. It all feels natural. Except the only thing dampening this peace is my constant running nose, my sore throat and my temporary deafness. I am left to think about my landing and how un-pleased I am that I have to see family, because at this point in time I would rather just sleep, even on the floor if that is possible.
Also what I have noticed traveling by myself is that I am more prone to get lost, or just feel bedazzled by the fact that I have no idea where I am going.
Example: Frankfurt airport, instead of actually knowing where to go I was confused by the fact that there was a railing to take me to the terminal, which then led me to a huge main court, where the arrow that is meant to direct me to my terminal was leading me into a men's suit store. In all honesty I felt that I had no purpose to be in the men's suit store. I've never felt comfortable in men suit stores because I get a sense that this store is way too fancy, that they actually customize a suit to fit your body. Oh the joys of what manufactured retail has done to my sense of perception.
Though back to going to Bosnia, I am scared shitless. Of what_ I am not entirely sure. Being in Slovenia already made me feel awkward, because I felt idiotic asking whether I am suppose to go through the metal detector. I truly wish that I will be able to speak more adequately in Bosnian and get rid of my American accent (which has helped me create nonexistent and new phrases in Bosnian). It's even sad to consider myself Bosnian when I can't even speak correctly. I should just dub myself an American, a Yankee- someone who is attempting to be more cultured but is actually not even close. I have become a sad panda.
End of Day 1
I always thought that traveling alone would actually give me a sense of importance and maturity but as I ventured around airports by myself, I realized that there really is no time to self indulge and pat myself on the back. Even having hours to spend on a airplane, I think how comfortable it is to be sucked up into my own little world where knowing is really going on except that I have to eat this candy that is in my bag. It all feels natural. Except the only thing dampening this peace is my constant running nose, my sore throat and my temporary deafness. I am left to think about my landing and how un-pleased I am that I have to see family, because at this point in time I would rather just sleep, even on the floor if that is possible.
Also what I have noticed traveling by myself is that I am more prone to get lost, or just feel bedazzled by the fact that I have no idea where I am going.
Example: Frankfurt airport, instead of actually knowing where to go I was confused by the fact that there was a railing to take me to the terminal, which then led me to a huge main court, where the arrow that is meant to direct me to my terminal was leading me into a men's suit store. In all honesty I felt that I had no purpose to be in the men's suit store. I've never felt comfortable in men suit stores because I get a sense that this store is way too fancy, that they actually customize a suit to fit your body. Oh the joys of what manufactured retail has done to my sense of perception.
Though back to going to Bosnia, I am scared shitless. Of what_ I am not entirely sure. Being in Slovenia already made me feel awkward, because I felt idiotic asking whether I am suppose to go through the metal detector. I truly wish that I will be able to speak more adequately in Bosnian and get rid of my American accent (which has helped me create nonexistent and new phrases in Bosnian). It's even sad to consider myself Bosnian when I can't even speak correctly. I should just dub myself an American, a Yankee- someone who is attempting to be more cultured but is actually not even close. I have become a sad panda.
End of Day 1
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