The Bright Side

I was looking through some old files on my computer, and I came across this little piece I wrote when I was CouchSurfing through Eastern Europe in 2012. At the time, I wrote it for myself to try and capture how I felt at the time, and didn't feel comfortable posting it. Looking back I remember how grateful I was for everything in my life back home, something I'm guilty of forgetting.

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In a barely quarter full cinema in Sofia, Bulgaria, a movie is showing. A film memoir of Roman Polanski, it is fitting that a tale about a man with a life full of wonderful highs and horrible lows is the feature film of the night at the Sofia Film Festival. It comes to show how much the nation has changed in the last 20 or so years that such a festival is even able to take place – not much more than two decades ago, every form of mass-media in the government was heavily censored under the communist regime.

I'm sitting and watching the film as a guest of Mariana Melnishka, an esteemed Bulgarian writer, translator, journalist, professor and history buff, all of which have shaped her as a person today. But perhaps, more importantly at least in terms of her growth as a person, she lived in, suffered under and survived the aforementioned regime; one of which she is now an understandably incredibly outspoken critic.

But back to the movie.

Nearing its conclusion, Polanski, when probed about the turmoils, scandals, heartbreak he endured, talks about how his life has been a series of ups and downs. He puts forth the notion that in experiencing the lows, it makes him further appreciate the upswing and the highs. Out of the corner of my eye I spot Mariana rock back and silently clap to herself - it is quite clearly a notion she, and many of those around her, agree with. And understandably so.

I discuss this with her later, in the context of my trip across Europe – a journey from London to Istanbul and back, passing through much of Europe along the way. Two inquisitive people, two writers, two journalists (though, that journalism degree of mine has not been put to too much use of late) in a discussion about something they are passionate about – it's hard to decipher who is interviewing who and who is taking mental notes for something to draft later that evening. Mariana talks in more depth about her struggles under communism, and there were many; the loss of her family's property to the state, the passing of her husband due to his inability to leave the country for medical treatment, the lack of free speech or freedom to do many things are but a few examples.

But it is these struggles, like those of Polanski, which have galvanised her as a person and made her appreciate many aspects of life in 2012 that much more. Having food on the table is one – in her younger years food was sparse and when it was available for purchase, everything was bought in bulk as no-one had a clear idea of when it would next be available. Owning a house in a rural village is another – something that her and her late husband were simply not allowed to do, Mariana explains, as we sit on the deck of the home that her family and friends made with their own bare hands. 

The fresh air, the glow of the sun reflecting off the mountains in the distance, these are all things Marina continues to notice, point out and smile about. Things that I, with my comparatively blessed and well-traveled view, am less inclined to notice. Make no mistake, I wholeheartedly enjoy a beautiful landscape, but to appreciate the smaller things in our own backyard (literally and metaphorically) is  arguably forgotten in the Generation Y's of the Western World.

As I'd made my way across the Former Yugogslavia, through Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina and Macedonia, I'd encountered many people of similar volition. In Croatia, I stayed with a young couple, Helena and Davor. Davor grew up in a village called Vukovar, which was destroyed in conflict when Davor was all of 14 years old. Suddenly, he was a refugee in his own country – moving to Zagreb to continue his life. 

Davor speaks candidly about days spent hiding in a shelter underneath his home before seemlessly transitioning into conversation about more menial topics - his newfound enjoyment of the 'A Song of Fire and Ice' novels which he is burning through at a rapid pace, and Croatian players in the Premier League. It's not a deliberate change of topic, more of a open acceptance of the past – the ability to talk about it, acknowledge the horrors, and continue to move forward in life. To be successful, to laugh, to smile, to enjoy what you have – all of which of Davor has done. He has an important role with an internationl telecommunications provider, he enjoys cooking, and his positivity and enthusiasm for life is infectious – one needs only to glance over at him as he shows us his wedding video to see him smile fondly, tapping along to the background music.

The most confronting side of Eastern Europe was still to come, in Bosnia  - specifically Sarajevo. Bullet, mortar and grenade riddled buildings line the streets. The scars of the conflict are still ever-present, reminding tourists and locals alike of the atrocities that took place almost two decades ago. 

We're staying with a young man, called Dzemal, and I speak to him about his life in Sarajevo. He couldn't be much older than me - mid 20's or so - and when I ask him if he's lived in Sarajevo his whole life, he simply replies with 'unfortunately', the tone in his voice conveying a true sense of anguish. 

Leading on from this, with no prodding, Dzemal brings up the Siege of Sarajevo.  Like 40 percent of Bosnian children Dzemal was shot at.

"A bullet wizzed past my ear, I hid under a car,” he explains, before the conversation steers towards life in general. 

“I'm not a negative person", Dzemal explains.

"But I'm not really positive either.... I am...”

I can see from the motions he's making with his hands and expressions he's searching for a phrase.

“A realist?” I ask.

“Yes! Yes. A realist. In the middle.”

He then elaborates to explain that this viewpoint is heavily ingrained into his business and life – a desire to keep his hopes in check, perhaps a cautious approach that tends to lend itself more to a personalty trait than a cultural leaning. After all, Dzemal is, much like others I encountered in his city, generally upbeat, smiling, friendly, and also appreciative of the smaller things in life. 

Later, whilst offering recommendations of snippets of the city to explore and - having noted I have an interest in photography - panaromic views - he directs me to a hill, around the corner from his house.

Upon my return, when asked for my thoughts, I sheepishly speak of how confronting, even chilling, of an experience it was, as just beneath me were the graves of hundreds of people killed in the siege.

“Yes... but the view was beautiful, no?” he responds.

With the hills in the background and view across the city, he has a very valid point, however his ability to see the beauty in the midst of the tragedy, or to block out the overwhelming sadness, if you look at it another way, brings mixed emotions.

It seems to be human nature, regardless of where one is brought up that adversity motivates, that tragedy brings reflection and appreciation. Perhaps, again, it is less a cultural trait and more a condition of circumstance. It's hard to differentiate in some cases. Is smoking as a national pastime, and seat belts appearing to be an optional accessory a result of policing and lessened health education, or is it simply a result of people that have been raised in an environment with greater things to worry about are throwing caution to the wind, not sweating the small things? 

I've had people ask why I'd travel to countries that are hardly the most aesthetically pleasing, countries that are connected with adjectives such as ugly, dirty, or unsafe - often suffering from post-conflict damage or oppressive political regimes.

I guess my response is, and has been, that I feel there's much more to be gained and more to be learnt, from people who have experienced a life far different to mine, a life with hurdle after hurdle. If someone who, as a child was shot at, or lost family members in a horrible conflict, is able to get up every morning and go to work with a smile on their face, anyone can.

I've often heard Australia referred to as the lucky country and shrugged it off, the words washing over me. Talking about my upbringing and life back in Australia over the last few weeks, I've referred to myself as 'lucky' or 'blessed' more times than I can count. If I was blessed in my upbringing, I'm only more blessed to meet the people I have in recent weeks.

A Drive Through Former Yugoslavia - Sarajevo

Sarajevo was an incredibly eye opening experience. A true cultural melting pot, the Croatians, Serbians and Bosniak all having exerted their own influences over the years. It was also home to the Siege of Sarajevo which at over 4 years is the longest siege in modern history. It is estimated that 12,000 civilians were killed, including 1500 children.

We stayed with a young man called  Dzemal (pronounced like Jamal) in a house-sit, and we got talking about Sarajevo. He actually sighed and responded with "Unfortunately" when I asked him if he had lived in Sarajevo his whole life. He lived with his elderly mother in a humble but comforting 3 bedroom house, the loungeroom converted to one bedroom and covered off with a sheet allowing giving him the capacity to rent out what would have formerly been his room. 

The city was constantly under attack during the siege, with Serbian snipers taking up positions in the

hills surrounding the city. It is reported that an average of approximately 329 shell impacts per day

during the siege, resulting in 35,000 buildings being destroyed. For many of the buildings that survived, damage still remains to this day. Dzemal got talking about the siege and life during the conflict, recounting a story of how a bullet whizzed past his head so close that he actually felt it. And then, how, fearing for his life, he was forced to hide under a car. And all this discussed over breakfast 

We walked down the street from Dzemel's house and came across this. A massive memorial and cemetary for many of those killed in the siege. As a 20-something year old male, it hit home all the more seeing so many people my own age had been killed.

Timid and occassionally cute stray dogs roam everywhere in Sarajevo, and most of Eastern Europe to be honest. As a dog owner, being warned about the possibility of them having Rabies somewhat removes that urge to befriend them.

Walking through the streets, it was almost impossible to find a building in Sarajevo that was not riddled with

bullet holes, giving but the smallest insight into the relentless barrage of ammunition that rained down

across the city.

Mortar damage to sidewalks would often leave damage that resembled a rose. Where these exploded

shells resulted in the deaths of one or more people, they were filled with red resin to create a tribute

that has become known as the 'Sarajevo Rose'. These are throughout the city.

But still, people carry on with their lives. Much of the damage has not been fixed (it would require money they simply don't have). As I would begin to learn further through my travels into Eastern Europe, the struggles that many have endured were often used to spur people on, to remind them of what has happened, if only to help prevent further atrocities taking place again. 

Despite the extensive damage, there's many glimpses of beauty in Sarajevo. From the western european architectural influences (albeit many damaged) to some newer, modern architecture, Sarajevo is a city on the rebuild. 

A drive through Former Yugoslavia Part II - Plitvice to Sarajevo

In the former Yugoslavian/Balkan region, it is very common for private households to let out spare rooms in their house, or even renovate part of them homes purely for this purpose – an eastern european bed & breakfast if you will, generally a more no-frills version, however. We had opted to stay in one of these rooms (often advertised by signs on the building/street as either 'sobe', 'zimmer' or simply 'free room'). Our stay in Plitvice was extremely pleasant, though given our proximity to one of Croatia's most visited tourist attractions, we paid comparatively more (20 euro per person for what was made up like hotel room) than what we would pay elsewhere

As previously mentioned, we were yet to have any real sort of direction as to how to get to Sarajevo in Bosnia, for that evening. We knew it was a six or so hour journey, so we left fairly early, and after being unable to find a turnoff that Google Maps had advised us of the previous night, we purchased a paper map and were on our way. Generally, the journey was fine, direction wise through the long stretches, but trying to navigate through smaller villages with many unmarked roads provided moments of confusion. Perhaps more worrying were the condition of the roads themselves – potholes, hairpin turns and unsealed roads are reason enough to be careful when you don't have speeding roadtrains overtaking you with complete disregard for the wellbeing of other drivers. It was an experience to say the least, taking me back to the days of driving in Los Angeles months earlier – only that time we had a GPS.

While the roads were an eyesore, the landscapes either side were a sight for sore eyes, eons away from the preconcieved images I had of Bosnia. We could easily have been in Switzerland or Austria, such was the natural beauty. We passed through the picturesque cities of Kluj and Jajce - having a lunch of cevapcici at the former (Small spicy skinless sausages – what I assume the Australian brand 'chevups' are based on), before continuing on towards Sarajevo.

It was when we reached Travnik that scenes of war ravaged Bosnia came to the fore. Abandoned and destroyed buildings, apartment blocks with mortar shell damage halfway up the buildings and bullet shell riddled homes. As the sun started to set, and the weather turned for the worse it was quite a sombre and depressing experience, with the grey sky matching the damaged grey buildings of the city centre.

Not long after we had left the vicinity of Travnik and we were back driving through picturesque Bosnia, which seemed like a completely different world. Farm animals grazed freely as the massive winding roads curved through the mountains as the sun set with a more golden glow. It was if it were a movie-style set up juxtaposition, the landscape and sun providing some sort of symbolic backdrop.

As we approached Sarajevo, probably about eight hours after leaving Plitvice (so we were a bit behind schedule), we encountered the first real stretch of highway. The 130km/h speed limit was obeyed by little to no-one, despite the slight drizzle (which could provide an interesting point in the constant reduction of speed limits in Australia, but I digress...). The foothills surrounding Sarajevo providing dazzling views over the city, and it was hard fathom that a couple of decades ago it was these same views that allowed sniper fire to rain down upon the city.

Once we made our way into the city, we ventured into the Old Town, which with its strong Eastern and Muslim influences reminded me slightly of my arrival in Marrakech four years ago. Only this time I was in a rental car. Cobbled, unmarked and uneven streets, open squares and plazas that were equally shared by cars, motorbikes and pedestrians and a maze of one way side streets made for an extremely intense journey to our accomodation, and never before have I let out such a sigh of relief as I parked the car for the night. 

Update(s)

Unfortunately I got much too busy and side-tracked (travelling!) for the last section of my trip resulting in a huge lack of updates. I'm now back in Australia, and will be endeavouring to finish off the trip with respective updates and photos.

There's still a mountain of photos to come from the following countries:

Bosnia & Herzegovina

Macedonia

Bulgaria

Turkey

Hungary

Poland

Germany

Netherlands

Belgium

England

Dubai

Singapore

I hope to get these photos up over the coming weeks :)

Mark

A drive through Former Yugoslavia - Part 1: Plitvice Lakes National Park

A couple of action packed days in Zagreb, one of former Yugoslavia's more modern cities, provided us with a great starting point for comparing and contrasting what the rest of the region would entail over the next week or so.

After being dropped off at the Zagreb airport, we picked up our rental car and were on our way, until we noticed we had no GPS despite requesting one. A quick dash back to the rental car counter, and the saleswoman advised me that she had assumed we had our own GPS due to a conversation about smart-phones, and then advised us that if we were going to Bosnia, it was highly likely that the GPS would offer any real assistance with directions, and that a paper map would be much more beneficial. Had this advice come from someone else, it would have been easy to thank them for their advice, and proceed to rent a GPS anyway, but given it was the saleswoman herself telling me, I took her advice.

Our first day of driving was hassle-free, however (although I did instinctively go to change gears with my left hand as opposed to my right a couple of times), as we made our way to Plitvice Lakes National Park. By now many of the adjectives I'd use to describe the scenery have surely lost any meaning, but the combination of sprawling lakes, waterfalls and forest of many different hues combining gave an insight into why the park is one of the most beautiful and renowned in the world.

In trying to see more of the park than what was recommended in the time we had available to us, we missed the last bus back to the car-park, which resulted in a slightly creepy, yet tranquil, walk through an almost dead-silent park after nightfall, but we were both in agreeance that if you had to miss a bus and get stuck walking somewhere after dark, it was probably the most picturesque place to do so.

Zagreb, Croatia

We arrived in Zagreb to be greated by the enthusiastic, and very friendly Helena and Davor, a recently wed couple who had agreed to host us for our time in Croatia's capital. Helena informed us she had a big night planned, so after a splendid spread of Croatian cuisine (ajvar, kulen, young cheese etc), we picked up Helena's sister and were in the Zagreb old-town with a group of friends, drinking beer and being entertained by the Croatian folk trio playing traditional folk songs. Another table got into the spirit of things, as people were jumping up and dancing on tables, clinking beers.

The next morning we experienced possibly some of the best cuisine yet (I'm not sure how many times I've said that, but its the leader so far), in burek. A kind of stuffed pastry, its a Yugoslavian dish, though now some of the best Burek is said to come from Bosnia... or Macedonia, depending on whom you ask.  Luckily for us, upon hearing of our enthusiasm to eat some good burek, Helena had organised for her parents neighbour to cook up a batch for us to try. And try we did. We kept eating until we were full, and then kept eating more, it was that good.

Bosnian burek, in Croatia, with Helena's family

It was a massive struggle to try and stay awake with so much food in my system, as we headed up into the mountains of Zagreb and enjoyed an afternoon drink with panoramic views over the city, before heading back into the city. St Mark's Church was a highlight given its different and unusual appearance seperating it from the million other churches we'd seen previously. A quick trip inside the potentially heart-string pulling 'Museum of Broken Relationships' topped off with some cheap eats at a restaurant nearby topped off a super busy couple of days prior to our journey throughout the rest of Croatia via Bosnia started the following day.

Medvegrad

St Mark's Cathedral

Museum of Broken Relationships

Zagreb by night