It's not my fault internet is expensive
All right. I'm back in Cesky Krumlov now, hanging out, hiking, biking, playing Settlers of Katan...? (Actually mostly I sit there perplexed while the boys, who get WAY too into it, try to get me to trade stuff and tell me where I should and shouldn't build my roads. But I'm getting better...I came second last night.)
I've been to Sarajevo, Mostar, Dubrovnik, Zagreb again, Lake Bled, and Vienna for a second time.
It's been very, very hot until three days ago when it started to rain. But it's hot again now.
In Sarajevo I heard the call to prayer echo out over the red-tile roofs of the Turkish Quarter. I stared at bullet scarred buildings and walked over pock-marked sidewalks. I stood in the Jewish cemetery where the Serbian Army launched their attack on the city and looked across to the white crosses in the green hills above Sarajevo. I danced with the Bosnian kids to turbo-folk and listened to a former Bosnian soldier explain why he can't stand tourists who come to his city only to ask about the war. And I watched a lot of soccer.
In Mostar I walked along the former front line and sucommed to the voyeuristic urge to photograph the mottled half-buildings that remain. I drank coffee on the Muslim side of the bridge and ate dinner on the Croat side, amazed that a few days before this peaceful little town, divided by its famous bridge, had exploded into riots following a Croatian soccer game.
In Dubrovnik I fried in the heat and shunned the hordes and hordes of cruise ship passengers that clogged the alleys of the walled old city. I sat in the main square and watched the Croatia vs Australia game with hundreds of Croatian fans, and a few Australian fans, feeling the energy go from ecstatic to non-existent as the game ended in a draw. And I marveled at the lack of evidence that this over-priced and over-touristed, but beautiful, city was ever bombed.
In Zagreb I slept.
In Lake Bled I hiked and swam and got kicked off the grass by a very polite policeman as I was trying to read my book and enjoy my picnic.
In Vienna I looked at art.
I've been to Sarajevo, Mostar, Dubrovnik, Zagreb again, Lake Bled, and Vienna for a second time.
It's been very, very hot until three days ago when it started to rain. But it's hot again now.
In Sarajevo I heard the call to prayer echo out over the red-tile roofs of the Turkish Quarter. I stared at bullet scarred buildings and walked over pock-marked sidewalks. I stood in the Jewish cemetery where the Serbian Army launched their attack on the city and looked across to the white crosses in the green hills above Sarajevo. I danced with the Bosnian kids to turbo-folk and listened to a former Bosnian soldier explain why he can't stand tourists who come to his city only to ask about the war. And I watched a lot of soccer.
In Mostar I walked along the former front line and sucommed to the voyeuristic urge to photograph the mottled half-buildings that remain. I drank coffee on the Muslim side of the bridge and ate dinner on the Croat side, amazed that a few days before this peaceful little town, divided by its famous bridge, had exploded into riots following a Croatian soccer game.
In Dubrovnik I fried in the heat and shunned the hordes and hordes of cruise ship passengers that clogged the alleys of the walled old city. I sat in the main square and watched the Croatia vs Australia game with hundreds of Croatian fans, and a few Australian fans, feeling the energy go from ecstatic to non-existent as the game ended in a draw. And I marveled at the lack of evidence that this over-priced and over-touristed, but beautiful, city was ever bombed.
In Zagreb I slept.
In Lake Bled I hiked and swam and got kicked off the grass by a very polite policeman as I was trying to read my book and enjoy my picnic.
In Vienna I looked at art.
posted by lis at 3:15 AM
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