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Globalization can be slow but it’s unavoidable. Big Brother has finally turned his eye on Serbia. Unlike many people I know I don’t see this as the end of civilization as we know it. Sure it’s somewhat mindless but it’s harmless and at times entertaining.
After the BB rehearsal – the unappealing introduction into the world of reality shows, which was a bit too real, reminding us of where we live and of all that is wrong with this country, the real thing is here, and it’s surprisingly decent.
What we could have learnt from the trial period is that Serbia seems rather superficial in selecting the only two decent looking people to go through to the actual show. But the one thing that really stands out, in my view at least, is the disproportional amount of attention on homosexuality. It is a topic in every episode, in conversations, on forums and in newspaper articles. After the appearance and later elimination from the rehearsal show of the first openly gay character on Serbian TV, we now see inklings of a debate or at least acknowledgement of an issue that is absolute taboo in our society.
Whether this was deliberately done to draw attention or not, I think it’s a good thing. It brings the problem into the homes of regular people, especially now that B92’s ratings have grown to levels they could only wish for with more intelligent programming.
I’m sure real surprises are yet to come. Personally I think it would be wonderful if Ivan and Marko hooked up. I’d enjoy it on both a symbolic and a personal level, but it’s not likely to happen. The good thing is that the first person to leave the house was kicked out by the housemates for being too intolerant to gay people. Hopefully some of what we saw on this surreal “reality” show will spread into our real reality.
It’s amazing how extraordinary events can make you remember completely insignificant details and forever embed an otherwise ordinary day into your memory.
I remember a cloudy September afternoon in Belgrade half a decade ago. Serbia was still enthusiastic and energetic less than a year after its conversion to democracy. Bitef, the theatre festival, was about to start, like every September, and after work (on the first serious job I ever had) I met up with a friend at a café in Kosovska Street to browse through the program and decide which plays to see. We made our choices and made our way in the weak rain to buy tickets. The ticket office was closed so I went home.
At home I found my transfixed family staring at the television and the surreal scenes from New York. I spend the rest of the day and night skipping from channel to channel in horror and morbid fascination, dreading the third world war which I thought would follow.
So what has changed five Septembers later? No WW3 for now, but, we live in a world which seems a little scarier and less safe. Maybe it is the same, only we are a bit more paranoid. I do feel, however that the world turned darker, more extreme, more repressive. Serbia turned darker too.
I have the disconcerting feeling that no lesson has been learnt from this terrible tragedy. Terrorism is no closer to being eradicated. Nothing has been done to address and prevent the reasons for its appearance. In the “democratic” world 9.11 has become yet another abused legacy of innocent victims - an excuse for human rights abuse and deepening prejudice.
In the woods of central Bosnia, young Slovenians, Croats, Bosnians and Serbs fought a fierce battle. This time, fortunately, they only used paint, the teams were mixed, and it was all in good spirit. Ironically, I spend the weekend ahead of the start of my civilian army service playing paintball. There goes my “objection to arms” argument. Hopefully no one will know.
As always when I find myself surrounded by people that I used to share a country with when we were just children we get along perfectly. Whether it was student seminars in Slovenia or festivals in Bosnia or now this meeting with my colleagues from the region, my generation seems open and genuinely nostalgic of times it hardly remembers.
But it’s not easy to forget what happened. It’s never far away, especially in Bosnia. Hiking in the mountain you can’t help but think whether there are landmines if you step off the beaten track, and every once in a while you come across a burnt house riddled with bullets. Paintball perhaps isn’t the perfect sport for that country. One of my Bosnian colleagues said it was rather disturbing when the “bullets” started whizzing past her head. I can understand.
All the war games bring me back to the beginning - and the army. In Montenegro, army duty has just been abolished. In Serbia we still have to serve, albeit with a civilian alternative. The good news is that I got what I asked for, an institution which is flexible enough so that I can continue working.
I am however angry that this outdated concept still exists. I am angry that for the next nine months I am only allowed to work in my company on contract and not full time, which technically makes me unemployed, all because the army is officially paying me 5 Euros a month! I even feel a bit guilty about the watered-down request I submitted for civilian service. Instead of saying what I really feel I wrote some general observations on pacifism. Yes, the result is favorable for me, at least as favorable as it gets. I did what was practical and pragmatic, I played a along. But by playing along we maintain a system which is rotten and should be dismantled. Such things really annoy me.
Guca is upon us once again. I do not intend to go. The sweaty public drunkenness and the cacophony of trumpets are really not my cup of tea (bottle of brandy).
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Guca, as such. Let people party in whatever way they see fit, but labeling this a supreme cultural event or saying that there is something uniquely and authentically Serbian in getting drunk and losing control is just wrong. “It’s a Serbian brand, it’s a Serbian brand”, desperate voices cry out to defend the festival from its critics. Sure it’s a brand. It is a big tourist attraction, an important event in the Serbian calendar, a moneymaking machine, but by no means does this guarantee quality or the “cultural” and “ethnic” aspect of the whole spectacle. People rarely think of the actual trumpeters’ competition. It is merely an excuse.
Some website in the UK has allegedly voted Guca and Exit as the top two festivals or carnivals in the world, even ahead of Rio. I have my doubts that this is probably a website frequented by Serbian diaspora, but there is another thing preventing me from jumping with joy at the fact that I live in the certified epicenter of world entertainment.
Within Serbia there is an evident disproportion in treating these two “world famous” brands. I don’t claim one event is better than the other (I certainly prefer Exit), as it is a matter of taste, but they are deliberately and forcefully confronted.
Guca is seen as traditionally Serbian and Exit as something foreign, even anti-Serbian.
The government and the media proudly promote Guca as Balkan joie de vivre whereas Exit is always marred by criticism of drug abuse and incidents.
Neither event is certainly free from corruption, accidents and illegal substances, the death toll of Guca drunk driving car accidents is not insignificant, but that is part of life and these ugly things do not make them less important or less Serbian.
Another thing that bugs me is the approach to organizing Guca. It is graciously funded by the state and still they have the audacity to postpone the event with only a month to go, potentially ruining plans of thousands of badly needed tourists, just because someone remembered that it was time for fasting!? And here I thought we live in a secular state.
Silly me, everyone knows that any good Christian believer has to be done with al that nasty fasting business before stuffing him/herself with fatty pork and liter upon liter of brandy and beer. After the fast, it’s perfectly all right. After the fast, you can indulge in as many pagan rituals as you want. The church can even rent its frond yard to accommodate this orgy of lard and alcohol, as it gladly does. The church, naturally sees nothing wrong with its flock indulging in large scale gluttony at is very doorstep, but it does have a problem with street theatre performances labeling them satanic, and getting the police to intervene.
Here I go again, but like with every other aspect of life in Serbia lately there is a terrible trend of primitive and shallow celebration of “nationhood”, “faith”, “tradition”. Will we ever learn that faith is something deeply personal, that nations do evolve, that new traditions are bourn and that national identity can encompass so many new things that only make it stronger?
Finally! After first being too busy and then sick (from being too busy) and than too busy again, I can finally get back to the simple pleasures in life. Like… sleeping, or eating, or writing my blog.
But I can’t think of a thing to write about. Working around the clock and stomach flu tend to leave a person uninspired. The constant rain isn’t a lot of help either.
Things change. They actually do. I’ve been following what I consider is some of the biggest news in years, and I’m very excited about the prospect that even what we consider hard facts can change in a day. How many planets are there in our Solar System? someone asks. Um, Nine? one would say. Nope. Wrong. Twelve… that is if you count the “plutons”, would be the new answer.
Off course conspiracy theorists (no shortage of those) could argue this latest change was funded by an international lobby of printers, already rubbing their hands and licking their lips thinking about the profits from printing new textbooks, dictionaries and encyclopedias, but I think there is nothing sinister about it.
It just proves that science is alive and kicking, thank you very much. And it can still change our world.
Sure, the Solar System hasn’t actually changed. Apart from the regular movements of its comets, asteroids and planets it is exactly where it was a few days ago. We cannot change the laws of nature, but we can and do change what we know and how we interpret it. We do change our perception. And that’s the wonderful thing. It shows us that no system created by man is everlasting and impervious to change no matter how used to it we’ve become. Sooner or later we learn something new, circumstances change, reality kicks in, and we have to accept it and move on.
This change of cosmic proportions will hopefully trickle down through space, carried by solar winds, and our gravity will pull it down to a global, continental, regional or local level. Nothing lasts forever. Isn’t it a relief? Whether it’s religious dogma or American foreign policy or the Serbian government or international borders. And still life goes on.
This latest Solar System enlargement has given a chance to some new heavenly bodies to have their time in the spotlight. And there are more candidate planets hoping to meet the criteria for admission. Our ever changing neighborhood gives hope even to those of us living in the Kuiper belt of Europe that our time might come.
Another thing we can learn is the power of compromise. Pluto got its final status, and it’s, well, less than a classical planet more than an asteroid. Some things you lose, some thing you win, it lost its moon but gained a twin planet and got to be the reference point for other planets. And I’m sure the Plutonians don’t mind. 
For a serious text on the subject: BBC
This is my appeal for the state to subsidize out-of-the-ordinary fast food. At least until eating habits of the Serbian people have changed and it becomes profitable.
The only falafel place in Belgrade has closed. The other day I went there for the first time in a while only to discover that it has been turned into yet another grill. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a Serb, I love grilled meats of all kinds, and pizza, and all sorts of yummy pastries from bakeries, but sometimes one just wants to eat something else on a short lunch break. And there isn’t anything.
Is it possible that in a land with such good food and such a love of food, there is no room for something with more spice, or rice? I guess the problem is that we see these types of food as something that will bring a little variety, something that we can eat every once in a while. And that’s obviously not enough. There are not enough people who see this food as their daily bread, or hamburger, or burek.
So basically, this is also my appeal to all people of good will from the Middle East, the Indian subcontinent, South-east Asia and the Far East, Africa and Latin America to come and settle in Belgrade in large numbers, building communities, bringing with them a breath of fresh air and a little variety. Maybe if we sit down and eat each other’s food, this will be a better place.
I’ve been home alone these last few days.
Last night, lying in bed without my lenses I looked out the open door of the bedroom and the red lamp at the far end of the living room seemed to be a ball of blood-orange light, like one of those summer sunsets over New Belgrade which paint the sky purple.
You rarely think about it, but Myopia sure can bring a different perspective.
Another thing I thought about this morning is that the new (not really new, but recently completed) National Bank building on Slavija is one of the ugliest buildings I’ve ever seen. It looks as if it didn’t even have an architect but that someone just pieced together every geometric shape imaginable.
So I thought I’d try something. And I’d like some involvement. I don’t know if I can pull this off, as only a few people actually comment on this blog, but here goes:
What, in your opinion, is the ugliest building in Belgrade? And Why?
I know that among the people who come here regularly there are some Belgraders, temporary, permanent or former, so I’m sure you won’t be short of opinions.
As for the criteria: Let’s not talk about houses or residential buildings, unless they’re unavoidably terrible. They get torn down and replaced. Also I’m not thinking of buildings which are in poor condition, gray, dirty and crooked. That can be fixed.
I’m thinking big. I’m thinking landmarks, buildings which have left their permanent mark on this city, one that will haunt us for a long time. So think government buildings, hotels, hospitals, museums, theaters, sport arenas, churches…
Also, to balance it out, if you want, say which ones you like, but try and avoid the usual favorites, like the Parliament or something
The overnight train from Vienna arrives at 6:27. I got up at five as I had to pick someone up at the train station. I decided to walk. I don’t even know how public transport works at this time of day.
I like being out very early in the morning. Everything is so peaceful and you’re the only one disturbing the peace. I like how I can hear the echo of my footsteps. I like how you can hear rumbling long before you even see a car. I like to look at the city without people and traffic, fresh and clean. It’s so unreal and out of context.
This was the first time that I walked from Slavija to the train station since Nemanjina street got a facelift. Think it looks great.
I got to the station on time. The train was naturally late. The station is filthy and stinks, so I decided to wait outside. The plato in front of the station actually looks great. Disregard the parked cars, the filth, pollution and construction work and it will make a nice square some day. It’s a pity that Korunovic’s post office building didn’t survive.
The train arrives and hundreds of young backpackers pour out of the train. I started thinking about first impressions. It’s a disgrace that people arriving to a European capital of nearly 2 million people by bus or train have to see what they see and smell what they smell. I know construction of the new train station is restarting and the bus station will be moved to New Belgrade, but this will take years and something needs to be done urgently. Maybe that’s why so many visitors like Belgrade, because after the first impression it can only get better.
I was trying to find a reason why being back from vacation is a good thing.
At my local market which happens to be the most expensive in Belgrade most fruit and vegetables cost 30 to 50 Dinars (35-60 Euro Cents) per kg, while in Montenegro the same products are 1.5 Euros. What causes this huge difference is beyond me.
At least now I can munch on as much melon and blackberries as I want looking out the window at the gray sky and wet streets.
I feel uncontrollably attracted to this rocky terrain. Maybe it’s an ancestral connection, but I really think there is nothing like the nature in Montenegro. The mountains are mighty and unbelievably beautiful.
For reasons beyond my control, my vacation lasted longer than planned (not that I’m complaining) so on Thursday morning we left Boka Kotorska. Once again we chose a less conventional route and started to ascend up the winding road leading to the cloud covered mountain tops. We passed this same road at dusk on our way to the sea, but now in daylight it’s even more impressive. The air was fresh from the rain which fell during the night.
Instead of turning west into Bosnia, we headed east to Niksic. The plan was to go through Zabljak and the world heritage Durmitor national park. Curiously, in all these years it is another place that I’ve never visited. And soon I realized how much I’ve missed.
Just before Niksic we passed wonderful lakes with lots of tiny islands. The city itself, as most cities in inland Montenegro is ugly and, to me at least, looks unlivable. But the nature is unreal, and the closer we got to Zabljak, the more my jaw dropped at the Windows desktop theme surroundings
The open spaces, the mountains and the huge sky reminded me of Brokeback Mountain. My suggestion to listen to the soundtrack was dismissed, unfortunately.
We had a picnic on the shore of the Black Lake. You have to pay to enter the national park. I’m not really sure if that is common practice, but it’s absolutely worth it.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. We passed the border into Serbia without even being looked at. We struggled our way through intensive construction work on Zlatibor and soon got into traffic jams stretching to Belgrade. 
I’ve had a wonderful vacation and I feel energized and relaxed. Let’s see how long it lasts.
Budva is a big city which caters to all needs – on the main promenade stalls offer everything from fish-themed temperature-measuring refrigerator magnets and inflatable marine animals to henna tattoos and hand-crafted jewelry. There are rollercoasters and hair salons, internet cafés and shoe shops, clubs and bars. The usual Montenegrin menu of fish, pizza or pancakes, expands to anything from Greek or Chinese to McDonald’s.
The old town is beautiful and completely restored with lots of attention to details.
A wonderful discovery is a place called Hot Moon with a great choice of tasty smoothies and delicious fusion food of Mexican, Indian and Montenegrin origin.
Although the ability to endure a day at the beach with tens of thousands of other people is something I’ll never develop, I see why the off-beach content attracts so many. It’s fun. In September, it’s perfect.
The quest for the perfect beach continued yesterday. We decided to go to a place called Perazica Do where my sister and I went a couple of times when we were kids. I remember the cute houses nestled at the bottom of a steep cliff , and a pebbled beach with turquoise water. I also remember a luxury hotel carved into the cliff on one end of the beach, its terraces and swimming pools. I’ve heard in the meantime that the hotel had closed and fell into disrepair, but we did not expect to find what we found. The hotel has been demolished as if a huge bite has been taken from the mountain. A crane towered above ghostly concrete remains and bulldozers were plowing what was once the hotel beach with its pools. The whole place was transformed into a huge construction site and debris and sand have covered the beach and muddied the water. Disappointed, we left. We’ll be back when the new hotel is built.
But, we were left with a dilemma - how to spend a pleasant day at the beach on the Budva Riviera the most crowded part of the coast? If you want peace, look for luxury. We thought of checking out the beach at Sveti Stefan but the 10 Euro price tag just for the parking was a bit too much. So we headed on to Milocer, where parking is only three Euros, but the beautiful Queen’s beach with its former royal residence is closed for the public so that the president can take a swim.
It was already noon, very hot and the traffic was terrible. Skipping Becici with its new fancy hotels on a very unappealing beach and Budva, we moved on determined not to compromise and to find just the righ balance of tourism and wilderness. Therefore one by one the ant colonies of Jaz, Trsteno and Ploce were eliminated. Even at the risk of being boiled alive, the five of us in a small car decided to take the back roads over the hills in the blistering sun and go to Bigovo. On the way the only life we saw were snakes and some sheep under an olive tree.
But it was worth it. Bigovo is a fishing village in a small bay, far from any important naval or terrestrial routes. It isn’t much to look at, but it is pleasant and laid back. Outside the village there is a nice beach. The water is very clean and there is a lot of fish and shells something I haven’t seen in Boka in many years. In fact on the town pier we find dried remains of some quite scary sea creatures. I hope the water is not that clean. 
Although Montenegro is now independent, the visit to Ulcinj was the only time that I ever felt as if I were in a different country. I’ve spend every summer of every year of my life in Montenegro, but this was my first trip to the south end of the coast.
The stretch from Ulcinj to the confluence of the Bojana River and the Albanian border is an enormous beautiful sandy beach, which for most of its 15 or so kilometers is divided into lots where different owners have created almost identical forests of umbrellas surrounding beach bars and crisscrossed by wooden walkways to keep people safe from the burning sand. The beaches have names like Copacabana or Malibu and outside on giant parking lots are seas of cars with mostly Kosovan plates (I didn’t immediately get what KS means so I was surprised by the number of tourists from Kazachstan)
After some wandering and instructions from a friendly guard of the nudist colony we managed to find a “wild” piece of beach near the confluence of the river which is home to the occasional bather, kite surfers and a shabby bar with a Brazilian flag. I’m used to the typical Montenegrin stony beaches but I did enjoy walking in the sand and there is nothing more comfortable for lying all day in the sun. The sea is shallow for more than you can walk without getting bored and a bit murky from the sand lifted by huge waves. We spend a lovely lazy day, and I’ll definitely come again.
As the sun started to set we went into town. The old town in Ulcinj sits on cliff above the sea, but is nowhere near as impressive as Budva or Kotor. I expected hammams and mosques. It is well kept and clean but there is no impressive architecture. It also seems a bit deserted.
Downhill, however, on the promenade by the sea everything is teaming with life. You can barely walk through the crowded streets. It is noisy, sweaty and smells of all sorts of food.
As I’m a huge fan we get some dönner kebabs with the help of an interpreter. Unfortunately it’s not nearly as tasty as in Germany.
Everything is familiar, but somehow strange, more oriental. Everyone speaks a different language, people even look different. Whole families, all generations from grand parents to crying babies, out on their evening walk, snake tamers, naked children lying on the sidewalk, begging. Incredibly loud Albanian music blasts from terraces of clubs. Crowds wait outside - apparently some huge Albanian star has a concert. Funnily enough, most young man look as if they just came out of a Turkish gay club, in garish, supposedly trendy outfits. The only uniting factor of all nationalities in former Yugoslavia seems to be Ceca who found her place even hear, “thundering” away from a café. Another thing that surprised me was the number of internet cafés. Elsewhere on the cost they are small and few, but here there are so many with hundreds of computers, and they are all full.
Ulcinj was really a unique experience, a different setting, naturally and culturally. I’m really glad we made the trip.
One of the interesting phenomena which have come to light with Montenegro’s independence is the real estate boom. In old Kotor town agencies have sprung up catering to pockets of all depths, preferably very deep. All along the coast demand exceeds the offer. Everything goes from fully furbished villas to empty shells of long-deserted stone houses engulfed by roots of fig trees. Similar to Croatia from a couple of years ago, foreigners with some cash to spare buy, invest, sell. First came the Russians, now it’s the English. Hollywood seems to be interested as well. Friends tell me Michael Douglass and Katherine Zeta Jones were looking at a house in Perast the other day. Houses change hands and their prices go up and up. I guess now is the time to invest before the realtors move along into Albania. Hear the coast is amazing there. There’s already talk of the next big thing.
View from Perast. Skolje Islands: St. George and Lady of the Reef
The Montenegrin coast, once isolated, was a peaceful haven where connoisseurs and us „locals“ could easily find a secluded place to enjoy the sea and the sun far from tourism, beach bars, rentable umbrellas and screaming children. But it seams more and more people are enjoying this type of refuge, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to find a piece of rock and water for yourself. Too often I find cars parked along the winding road through the bay at my favorite „secret” spots, where hidden tracks lead through the shrubs to immaculate beaches which I always thought were mine alone.
The car imposes itself as a necessary instrument in going further off the beaten track. A boat, naturally, is another good solution. 
We decided to spend a day at Miriste a small cove at the very entrance to Boka Kotorska looking beyond the fortresses that guard the bay onto the open sea. The road by land is narrow and winds through olive groves – the Mediterranean as it once was, excuse my copyright infringement. Although boats come here regularly from Herceg Novi it is not as crowded as Zanjic with its camp site, just a short walk away. It is not absolute isolation, as there is a restaurant, café, showers and all other modern facilities but the number and profile of visitors makes it very relaxing and pleasant.
The water is crystal clear and tropically blue, and the view is spectacular. Nearby on a rocky peninsula is the Arza fort, another nice place to swim and dive, where a couple of years ago after a long journey over rough roads I finally arrived only to hear Vivaldi echoing through the empty halls and find out that during the summer the fort is home to some other refuge seekers. On the far side of the bay you can see the forts in Croatia and in the middle the mighty Mamula fortress on an island with weird vegetation.
Just off Miriste beach is another small island with a monastery.
As we were a group of 10 people, we easily managed to charter a boat just for ourselves and set off to explore the Blue Cave just outside the bay. The huge sea cave is a great place to dive in the predictably very blue water. Our skipper also offered to take us to the nearby Black Cave, which I’ve never even heard of on my numerous visits to its well known cousin.
It’s absolutely fantastic! As you swim inside (the entrance is to low for boats of any kind to pass) the only light is coming from under the water so bodies of people in front of you have a fluorescent glow. Swimming further your companions start to disappear in total darkness. Through the black, holding hands, you reach the end of the cave where you can stand on rocks in the water. The water gets quite cold and you shiver looking back at the sliver of light from which you came as you listen to strange sounds of water splashing and what I imagine can only be bats in the darkness above you. Very exciting and eerie. Then you swim out into the warm Adriatic.On our way back to Miriste we stopped at Mamula, to swim and explore the wonderful fortress and its alien plant life. Stories of turning it into a casino are still there but I like it just as it is. 
Back at Miriste we spent the rest of the day playing games on the beach and after the beautiful sunset we went to Rose, a lovely fishing village nearby for a great sea food dinner. We made our way back on the winding roads listening to a Mozart cd which accidentally made its way into the car. But it sure made for a wonderful ride.
After a prolonged 20 day vacation I’m back in Belgrade, and back at work. I’ve only managed to post once from Montenegro, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been idle, just that every time I went to Kotor, the only internet café was either too crowded or didn’t have electricity, but it did have a wonderful fruit tart to help me forget why I came. I’ll organize my notes and photos today and share my adventures and impressions. Stay tuned...
Getting up at six on a Saturday is not really my idea of fun but we had to hit the road before it gets too crowded and hot. Serbia at dawn is bursting with (unused) potential. The nature is lush and beautiful.
On Zlatibor we take a break and visit Mecavnik. The village is cute although crowded and artificial. If only real people lived in villages like this one. You have to pay to get in. Not too thrilled to give money to Kusturica, but officially it’s for charity. Hope I’m not aiding and abetting war crime fugitives... 
For certain reasons we take the road less traveled and chose a route through Bosnia. It’s supposed to be fantastic, and it will be a welcome break from the usual trip via Podgorica. The roads are much worse though, we have been warned.
Munching on cookies my mother baked, we come to Visegrad. The famous bridge on the Drina still stands dominating the city and the river. It’s much more beautiful than I ever imagined it. Nature keeps getting more spectacular. Driving along the river through the Drina canyon, I simply don’t understand how come this country disintegrated so violently. How can so much aggression be stored in people who live surrounded by such fascinating beauty? Traces of the war are still visible everywhere, houses burned or scarred. People are apparently moving on. There’s regular life amid the signs of struggle. It’s strange and I feel uneasy. I hope this will work out. 
We stop at a meadow near Sutjeska and sleep a bit in a green flowery field. We are awakened by a cheerful yellow dog. Cows graze around us. The site of more battles this time from WWII the Sutjeska river provides even more breathtaking nature. The old stone monument perched on a hilltop, gray and forgotten is nevertheless powerful. Clear streams wind through a countryside reminiscent of the Lord of the Rings films.
The terrain becomes flat although we’re still high in the mountains. The surroundings look almost alien. Never been, but it reminds me of some pictures of Greenland. Bare land with shrubs for trees and a strange town of bland preassembled houses surrounding a huge power plant.
Lakes fill up the holes in this rocky terrain. Towns and villages seem lifeless and deserted.
We enter Montenegro at a remote border post. Policemen look surprised to see us/anyone, but kindly welcome us into the new state. The international road from the border looks more like a run down hiking path than a motorway. We navigate with difficulty, as the road is not wide enough for two cars to pass each other by, let alone a car and a truck (although we manage. twice), all the more difficult /scary, as on one side of the road there are sharp rocks, on the other an abyss. Fortunately there’s not much traffic. Since we left the main road in Zlatibor we only saw about a dozen cars and the two trucks (probably lost).
We pass through scary ghost towns, and further amazing backdrops, and as it starts to darken, we reach the mountain tops above Boka Kotorska. The view of the bay is spectacular, the road even more scary. We look with envy at the new modern road still under construction and begin our descent towards the sea
Arriving at our final destination, exhausted and happy to be alive, thrilled with the fantastic and horrifying journey, we pass out and sleep like babies. 
Hastily I’m constructing this post on the lap-top sitting under a lemon tree in the garden, trying to squeeze an impressive one day journey through three countries and some of the most incredible and diverse nature I’ve ever seen into a short text. Next time we’ll have to bring camping gear and take time to explore.
When I’ll be able to post is a big question. I’m not in a hurry to go into town.
As for Montenegro, it’s still the same. Nobody really talks about the referendum, but I sense my friends are divided about its outcome. I congratulate those who approve; I try to persuade others that it will be ok. I think it will be. They will be fine.
What certainly hasn’t changed is how beautiful everything is. We lie in the sun all day. The sea is refreshing, perhaps a little cold. In the evening the wind blows and it’s pleasantly cool. I can never sleep so well in Belgrade. I really needed this.
Now that twists of Balkan politics have turned me into an international real-estate owner, I’m off to my Adriatic summerhouse on holiday. It will be my first trip to Montenegro since independence.
I’m interesting in hearing what my former compatriots and continuing friends at the seaside think about the whole thing, but even more I’m interested in swimming in the warm see, sleeping, and generally lounging about, in the sun or in the shade.
I’ll spend the summer with Ivan, my sister, a number of friends, their significant others, and even some Dutch people I’ve never met, who agreed to sleep on the living room floor. Sounds like fun.
This badly needed getaway will also be a test for Reluctant Dragon. Will I be able to post and how often with very limited internet access? Will the change of scenery bring a breath of fresh air into my blog or will the see and sun make me too lazy to even consider posting let alone write anything?
Well, we’ll see. Even if I don’t write for a while, I’ll certainly be back in August.Have fun everyone and thank you for coming.
We’ve moved back to our apartment as our friends are coming back from vacation. No need to look after the dog anymore. I feel sad. I’ve grown quite attached to the little guy. He’s a loving and loveable dog, and I’m going to miss our walks, even those half-conscious ones at 6am after a whole night partying at Exit and the uncomfortable train ride from Novi Sad.
Indoors he is calm and quiet, but outside he becomes an uncontrollable torrent of energy. His favorite past time is digging up mole holes on a nearby meadow. He can spend hours digging until he can barely walk and collapses under a shady tree.
Unfortunately a few days ago leisurely activity turned into tragedy as he caught and, in the process, killed an unfortunate mole. He proudly paraded it around, and all attempts to get the dead animal out of his mouth were in vain.
Another hobby of his is that from time to time he likes to run away and although he doesn’t wander very far, he successfully evades capture and is not fooled by offerings of food or playful coaxing.
However, everyone has a weak spot. As Ivan put it: He likes moles more than he likes freedom. He was caught while he was digging, oblivious to the world around him. Just as the mole’s, the mole hole was his undoing. I guess, what goes around, comes around. Not that going home to get fed and being killed by a digging dog are very much alike. Bad analogy.
Anyway, the point is - as long as someone’s entertained, one can get away with anything. So don’t be caught in the mole hole.
Deep…
This years Exit was more international the ever, the official language seemed to be English, and I like that a lot. More and more people from other countries are finding Serbia an interesting tourist destination, hidden from the outside for so long, lovely, friendly, cheap and weird. The internet and other media are full of affirmative though somewhat shallow stories about the aggressive dictatorship turned party land. At the forefront, Belgrade is once again full of tourists. I hope this welcome contact with the world will help promote openness and tolerance. With this in mind I wanted to share some tourist related thoughts from yesterday:
Rude
I feel, and always have, that people who don’t pay for public transportation tickets deserve to get fined. Public transportation in Belgrade is far from perfection, but it’s much better than it ever was, and I don’t think we can expect it to improve further unless we all do our part.
Yesterday, on a trolleybus, I witnessed a quarrel between a guy and girl and the ticket controller. From what I could understand, the girl, a local, had her monthly ticket, while her friend, a tourist, didn’t have a ticket of any kind.
The ticket control guy said they could either pay the “penalty ticket”, give the girl’s personal data (tourist boy didn’t have a passport) or get out and wait for the police. He was polite, for ticket control guy standards. The girl accused him of being unfair and unreasonable for daring to pick on a foreigner, who “just got here and didn’t know he should pay for the ticket”!?!?
Really?! Unless he had come from, I don’t know, a village in central Burkina Faso where there is no public transportation, or some weird country where they have state-sponsored buses, he should know you have to pay for public transport.
Eventually they unwillingly paid for the extra ticket, after first pretending they have no money and then complained about this “outrageous” incident for several stops.
Cultural differences are one thing, this is just plain rude.
Beautiful Belgrade
Is it just me?
Have you ever noticed how Belgrade/your city looks better when you’re showing it to someone from abroad? I was taking some friends from Zagreb around town, and the streets seem cleaner and wider, the buildings larger and more monumental, the parks greener. Have you noticed how you yourself feel a bit like a tourist?
Is it that we tend to take people to the most representative sites, avoiding the ugly bits? Or is it that we open up and appreciate things more when we look through the eyes of others? Perhaps it’s that the superficial view of a tourist allows us to look at the surface, disregarding all social, political, communal, infrastructural complaints that we usually have? When you don’t delve deep, you just see the lovely facades, the great views, the lively streets and tasty food.
Belgrade is beautiful.
WOW! The Pet Shop Boys!!! … and the Scissor Sisters!!
The best show on Exit! Ever! Still recovering…
But let’s start at the beginning. We spend Sunday afternoon strolling around Novi Sad, which for those who don’t know, is a beautiful place, a sort of a tasty bite-size city, which you can explore, experience and enjoy in a short time. A lot has changed since my last visit, mostly new shops and cafes, but many buildings have had facelifts too. The city looks better and much more alive. Replacing the cobblestones in Dunavska Street with stone tiles is, however, a crime against humanity. 
Surprisingly for Novi Sad, I managed to eat some terrible food, a cardboard sandwich and detergent flavored ice-cream. It was hot and humid and as we sat on the grass in Dunavski park, I was feeling quite cranky and dark clouds were starting to loom. Literally. We decided to disregard the impending tropical rain storm and have a great time.
After a couple of drinks sitting on the banks of the frothy Danube, and looking at lightning tear through the gray sky above the fortress, a bit tipsy and in much better humor, we made our way across the river in the fleeting rain, past entrepreneurial people selling over-priced garbage bags as first-aid against the weather.
On a short tour of the fort, we wandered past half empty stages, as everyone was in the open-air cinema watching the world cup final. The skies had cleared as we got to the main stage, where Chicks on Speed had already started. They’re great fun, crazy, kitschy and humorous and we danced our way to the very front rows.
Then … the Pet Shop Boys - the first truly spectacular concert in the history of Exit festival - a simple modular set, which through lighting and projections changes from the lacy curtains of Suburbia to a marching ground for queer soldiers and a sky full of pink fighter planes; amazing dancers with great choreography; witty, sarcastic costumes; political references and ultimate pop music! 
Even before they got on stage we were all screaming like teenage girls on Mtv. (I must admit I feel a bit ashamed). Some songs from the new album, and a collection of hits from throughout their career, ending with collective hysteria to It’s a Sin and Go west.
My throat and neck were hurting from screaming and straining, my legs sore from jumping and dancing, but I was utterly happy.
And then, the Scissor Sister put on another amazing show, energetic and wild. The singer, a disco version of Jack from Will & Grace, has a wonderful voice and dances insanely. With the last atoms of strength we danced some more, not believing it was physically possible.
All in all, it was a wonderfully gay night, in every sense of the word. Aching and tired, but ecstatically happy, we headed to the train station, gobbled up some delicious fruit tarts on the way and fell asleep in the uncomfortable plastic seats.
Exit 2006 was a huge success. Keep up the good work, people!
P.S. Sorry for the poor quality of the photos, I have a crappy camera
We didn’t get to experience much of the festival atmosphere on the first day of Exit. Arriving to Novi Sad at 8, there was no time to lounge about, so we joined the streams of people flowing down city streets, across the bridge and onto the fortress.
Everything went like clockwork, and somewhat mechanically as we made our way past ticket control and police, got some drinks and arrived to the main stage, where the Cardigans appeared at 15 to 9, right according to schedule.
This seems to have surprised a lot of people, as it wasn’t too crowded in front of the main stage. In the past years Exit has become progressively more accurate. In the first few years, you could never tell who was playing where, and when.
The Cardigans were lovely. There was a friendly sing-along atmosphere as they played all their hits and some new songs. Some hard-core fans were there, screaming “we love you, Nina”, as she started playing her mouth-accordion. It was nice to hear Love Fool, and after some screaming and roaring, there was an encore, and they played Favorite Game, which is my personal favorite.
During the half an hour break after the concert we decided not to move, to keep our good spot close to the stage, and it was becoming increasingly crowded. Getting to the bar and back in these conditions is an impossible task, especially with a glass of beer, so pouring beer into a water bottle is a smart thing to do.
Franz Ferdinand appeared with a bang, and from the first moment the crowd went wild. For me, at first, it didn’t feel too right, the music was great, but the vocals were a bit weak, and there was a lot of pushing and shoving as drunken kids started to throw themselves around.
But very soon it got much better. You could feel the positive energy (and the heat) rising from the people, and on stage FF gave it their best, so we jumped and screamed without stopping. With every song a hit and an ecstatic crowd, some obligatory phrases in Serbian, a historic act of reconciliation with dedicating a song to Gavrilo Princip, and some frantic drumming in the end, the concert was a huge success. The spectacular fireworks that followed seemed very much in place.
Having learned nothing from previous years, at 1, I insisted that we head to the train station immediately, as I hoped there would be a way of getting back to Belgrade before morning. Off course we ended up sleeping on a bench waiting for the first train at 3 am. Serbian railways leave much to be desired, but arriving to the unfinished but already decrepit future Belgrade Central station, I was just too happy to be home.
Today I hope to get to Novi Sad and Exit a bit earlier. I don’t think the experience is complete without walking through town, or having lunch on the grass in Dunavski park. I want to check out the other stages as well. At least, now we know the train schedule, there is no need to rush. I’m sorry I missed Morrissey on Friday, but I’m sure tonight will be wonderful too.
I’m heading to Novi Sad today for the first day of Exit. I’ll also be back there for the closing night of the festival. Tonight I’ll be listening to the Cardigans and screaming to Franz Ferdinand! I have a feeling this time a Franz Ferdinand will fare better among the Serbs than his predecessor. On Sunday, I expect a pop extravaganza with the Chicks on Speed, Scissor Sister and the Pet Shop Boys.
Stay tuned for reports and photos…
Exeunt.
I tried hard, I read a lot, I made some improvements, took some advice.
Visitors finally started coming - not in huge numbers but steadily.
I was therefore happy to see 3 comments from anonymous people saying they rally like/love/are impressed by my blog.
But there was something suspicious. Vague and not really related to the posts, these didn’t look like comments of my blog, but of A blog.
I noticed a small link in the bottom leading to a page selling something.
Is this supposed to be advertising? Is this supposed to be effective advertising?
I will never EVER buy your product, whatever it is.
Using an automated service to send positive comments to people just to get them to click on your website is just pitiful.
Thanks for the compliments though :)
Writing about my suburban experience got me thinking about where I live now. We’ve recently moved into a new neighborhood, and immediately felt at home. It’s beautiful and alive, with the best outdoor market in Belgrade and some nice places to eat and drink at nearby.
But what I enjoy most are the little quirky details. Like the small shop I pass by on my way from work which always color-coordinates items in its window (see bad photo).
Nearby there is a stray dog that often sleeps on the roof of a car, and a while ago I saw a women parked on a corner, blowing soap bubbles out her car window.
This weekend we left our apartment in the city and went to a friend’s house to take care of her dog while she is vacationing with her family.
I very much enjoy the greenery, fresh air, and the big bathtub. I never considered myself a dog-person, but the dog is nice, friendly and well-behaved and I realized that one of the most relaxing things I’ve done in a long time was walking the dog through the forest on a cool summer Sunday afternoon. 
After that I passed out and slept for a whole 12 hours which for me is usually the first sign of being on vacation, although I’m not. Yet. I must be doing something right. I enjoy this.
I really like living in the city, and I don’t particularly enjoy the longer commute and the extra tickets I have to get for the bus, but the view of nature from the balcony, walking the dog and baby toys scattered around the house gave me a glimpse of how things might look one day in the (distant) future, and I think I won’t mind terribly when that day comes.
I’ve added some links to Reluctant Dragon. A collection of different formats with very different content, but generally an overview of things I browse through whenever I get the chance. Some inform me, some entertain me, some have inspired me, and some I wish my blog to resemble when it grows up.
I’ve been reading Belgrade Blog for some time. Their offer to exchange links was the first and very welcome, so now they share the BLOGS category with some other lovely bloggers. I just hope I can be as observant and insightful as the Desperate Serbwife.
BUILD is about something I enjoy – architecture - in the broadest sense, manmade or natural, great or small, good or bad, real or virtual. From the extremely well written BLDG blog on “architectural conjecture, urban speculation and landscape futures” to the much more down-to-earth Beobuild, a guide to actual construction in Belgrade with all its many flaws (these people are real enthusiasts, although the childish comments, obsession with size and hight instead of quality of buildings, and the occasional nationalist remarks can be quite annoying).
ARTS AND CRAFTS is a clumsily named design section covering fashion, furniture and much more…
And finally HELP! The friendly people who helped me figure out how this works.
There’s so much more that I like, so more links are sure to come.
After days of anxiety the dreaded day has finally arrived. As a 27 year old male citizen of Serbia, I no longer have any legal means to avoid army duty and today I handed in my request for civilian service. As of September I will spend nine months in the service of “the fatherland”.
Apart from my absolute lack of confidence in problem-solving capabilities of armed conflict and the belief that a conscript army is complete nonsense, I have more specific reservations about my “duty” to the state. On a practical note, I wouldn’t want to spend 6 months in unsanitary conditions, being cold and hungry and in danger of getting killed if I accidentally stumble onto a hiding place of runaway war crimes suspects. I don’t believe in either the capability or the good will of the army to entrust them with my well being. Most importantly, I don’t think I owe anything to a country which has, with active participation of this very army, systematically undermined any prospect of normal living, forcing me, and everyone else, to undergo isolation, uncertainty and even bombs. Yes, some things have changed, but I think I had enough. Even civil service is too much, but unfortunately unavoidable. Who knows, maybe I will get to do something useful for the community, but the army hasn’t for a second considered how those of us who work and support ourselves are to survive all that time without pay. Fortunately, people I work for are flexible and I think I’ll manage somehow. In august I’ll know where I’m assigned and what my duties will be. This whole business is an upsetting waste of time and energy, but it’s out of my hands so I’ll just try and go with the flow.
On my journeys through the world of troubled bloggers I found out there are people with the exact (Exact!) same problem as me. The number 32 keeps reoccurring. Not exactly the answer to life the universe and everything else, but could there be a deeper meaning to this never-changing number of visitors to a website?
In the meantime, Blogger kindly replied to another of my e-mails, telling me that actually there is no problem, and that, to cut the long story short, time heals everything.
I also found friendly good people, who share their knowledge with others and with their help I’m embarking on a quest to bring my blog the eagerly awaited readers, and satisfy my curiosity on who they could be.
My experiment with spontaneous visitation has failed miserably. It seems this requires hard work. An offensive in blog promotion - a new challenge, a new experiment, a new adventure! During the day I’ve registered my blog with several directories, so I’ll be writing and posting, updating and pinging away and see how things develop…
I’ve also become a proud user of something called a StatCounter. So far, in the few hours since I installed it, nothing has happened but I confidently expect good things.
Well, counter is ready. Who will be my first officially recorded visitor?
My almost proverbial optimism is a bit strained. Some people I know would probably try to convince me that I’m overreacting, but I just can’t help feeling as if a dark presence is looming somewhere above. I admit too, that I am nervous about other things and that in a few days I’ll feel better, but I have to express my frustration. There are bad things that we all know, have become accustomed to and live with, but at times they overcome me and I just can’t see the silver lining.
My latest surge of pessimism was sparked by a folk concert, of all things. The hundred thousand screaming fans startled me. What upset me even more is that I went out, while all this was going on, and the streets of my otherwise lively neighbourhood were deserted. Through open windows I could see the flickering lights of TV sets and heard Ceca as she poured into every single home. This is where Serbia is going. Where is everybody else?
The show, pompously announced as a grand spectacle, was in fact a bland recital where the singer in badly tailored haute couture clumsily paced left and right. But for people who do not know better it may have been a spectacle. And people still don’t know better. What’s worse, these people vote.
I can’t tell people what to listen to and who to vote for, it’s none of my business, but we can’t pretend that this is a proper democracy and that every choice is equally valid. Real music and musicians are not the same as the soundtrack of chaos and war in the 90s, criminals and war criminals. People who participated in, supported or instigated crime and conflict can not be seen as legitimate politicians. This weekend’s spectacle of silicone and cellulite is a picture of our past but could very well be the future.
Is it any wonder, then, that the radicals will almost certainly win the next elections? In the meantime, feeble attempts are being made to unite the “democratic block” against the radical threat. What democratic block? DSS are exactly the same as radicals, but afraid to say it in order not to lose even the small remaining following of people who are ashamed to admit to themselves that they are fascists too, so they cling to this symbolic “democratic” prefix. The democrats, on the other hand, have become slow and lazy after Djindjic was killed, trying so hard to be moderate and mainstream and appeal to the common people that in the process they have lost everything that had made them unique and appealing. The other so called “democratic” parties are not even worth mentioning as they are small and only exist to provide necessary votes for forming coalition governments, taking on new ideologies every time. LDP, GSS and their friends are the only ones with worthwhile programs and clear vision of a European future, but they are loathed by almost everyone and it will be years before they become a significant force in this country, if ever.
I also begin to change my views on Montenegro’s independence. I do still think that we could have had a better future together, but only if both sides are willing to work on it. And there is definitely no will in Serbia to resolve any important issues. Serbia is stuck, and if Montenegro is willing to work just that little extra bit harder they might actually see better days.
I only hope all my personal plans work out. Hopefully in a little over a year I’ll no longer be here and I’ll be able to criticise another part of the world, probably without getting too emotionally attached.
Free food and drink is everywhere. Opening nights, exhibitions, receptions… Having a friend who is flirting with a bartender also helps.
Last weekend was rather eventful in that sense, as if to celebrate the previous work week – the first week of regular blogging :)
It started with Friday’s performance of Macbeth by the Stockholm Dramaten theatre in the National theatre. The three hours of not too spectacular Shakespeare in Swedish, with some great performances, interesting dramatic solutions and amazing set design and lighting were followed by a champagne party at the excessively gilded upstairs lobby of the theatre.
Then it was off to a bar, where Ivan and I enjoyed our complementary cocktails as our friend was attempting to overcome her hesitation over becoming the other woman and finally hook up with the boy of her dreams.
Saturday’s rainy afternoon was the setting for a reception at an undisclosed western power’s embassy. More then eager waiters insisted that you help yourself to the gorgeous food, every time they walk buy. Not a problem, especially when you’re in canapé heaven. More drinking.
The night ended at a friends birthday party, again drinking too much, dancing and kissing and making a fool of oneself. Lots of fun!
Off course, in a sense, everything comes with a price. Sunday was a blur of hung-over couch-potatoing, and football watching, which admittedly, apart from the fading headache, is not that bad.
The best things in life are free.
I’m not sure about the rest of the world, but in Serbia it is considered good luck if a bird shits on you. Such an omen of luck just happened to me as I was coming back from my lunch break. It wasn’t even under a tree, but in the middle of the street. A bird in flight simply dropped its lunch on my shoulder. I didn’t feel particularly lucky. It’s just annoying, if anything.
Personally, I am more inclined to view shit raining from above as a sign of misfortune, especially in this age of bird flu, but then, who am I to argue with superstition.
I wonder, though, what this is based on. Is it supposed to represent some sort of karmic equilibrium - that something good will now happen to you as compensation for being shat upon from the heavens? Perhaps it’s about probability? The chance of a piece of bird feces finding you of all people as it falls, randomly dropped by an indifferent bird and shifted by winds might indicate that you are somehow special? Most likely it is an idea conceived by people to comfort themselves after their favorite shirt was ruined by pigeon poop.
Maybe I am lucky. Good fortune didn’t leave a stain. 
Could this be the luckiest town on Earth? taken in Venice, Nov 2005
In what might just become a series of articles, but is already a source of much frustration, I continue to wine about blogging. Last time I wrote about my writing troubles and the pulsating cursor at the end (strictly geographically) of an unfinished sentence which haunts my dreams at night.
I also complained about the lack of audience and its participation.
I’ll stay with this general subject for a while, but approach it from a slightly more technical aspect. I no longer have the instrument of measuring the lack of visitors to my blog. The counter in my Profile telling me how many people have read it, broke down, depriving me of even this modest and very vague but vital piece of statistics. At one point it simply stopped. At 32. I know what one might think - people just stopped coming. No. I had various people visit my page several times, just to make sure it’s broken. And it is.
Off course, I looked for help in all FAQ sections which referred me to support groups who referred me to Blogger help, who in turn referred me back to the FAQs…
Well, I guess I’m off for another round.
To be continued. (in)Definitely…
If it could only stop raining! I’ve been waiting so long for sun and the summer, and now it’s cold and it has been raining constantly for days. Will this ever end? Heating in June?!?! It’s just wrong. I want to sleep with windows open. I want to be woken up by sunlight. I want heat!
Blasphemous as I am, I used the evilest day in history to go and see the anathemised religious pulp-fiction block-buster, as I didn’t get what all the fuss was about. I mean, even if Jesus had a wife and kids, and it ever came out, I didn’t really understand why it would “devastate the foundations of mankind”. It’s not as if Christianity opposes marriage. Anyway, how would anyone be able to prove it? Based on hidden symbols? If you are looking for symbols, chances are you will find them. If one tried, one could probably find evidence that Jesus had a twin brother, who was actually the one married to Mary Magdalene, and crucified by mistake, so that when Jesus appeared, everyone thought he resurrected…
But details of the theory (any theory) are irrelevant. After actually seeing the film, which is, by the way, flat, badly constructed and visually unappealing, I realized that it’s not the story of this mediocre film/book that presents a problem. It is the basic principle of having theories, in the first place. The Christian church (in all its forms) is founded on a version of alleged events many many years ago - events which can themselves never be checked or verified. If you allow someone to dispute a part of this story, the whole story is in jeopardy. Whether someone is the direct descendent of JC or not, isn’t important. (It could never be proven, as there are no remains, and even if there were, how could you prove they really belong to Jesus, or his wife? Anyway, by now, he would have thousands of descendents all over the world, not one single heir.)
Therefore, what the fuss WAS about, is that regardless of whether Jesus existed, and whether he was the son of god, everything that happened after him was the work of men. So theories, such as the one in the film, do not necessarily question divinity of Jesus but the divinity of the church. The film reminds us that at certain points in history the church selected which scriptures to accept or reject, designing a mythology which suits its purposes. The church is a dogmatic structure within which thinking itself is a problem - the right to re-examine. It also reminded us that the church is, among other things, a powerful interest group, a political force, a financial giant, and as such uses any means to protect itself and its various interests, at the expense of anyone who stands in the way, with no more moral justification than others who do the same. So while I don’t believe in any of this anyway, and think this film is quite weak and most probably full of historical inaccuracies and deliberate misinterpretations, I kind of like the underlying tone of separating faith and religion and seriously questioning the other.
On this symbolic date, when the world could, I’m told, come to an end, a short story about one of the better films I’ve seen in a while and things which pose an actual threat to our society.
I expected V to be entertaining, as it was, but the serious and mature outlook was quite unexpected … and very welcome. The film elevates itself far above the typical black-white Hollywood action films. I guess the strong critical references to western societies could shake up a lot of people, primarily in the US, where many of the issues the film deals with are controversial or even taboo. There is a tendency in the world to be superficial and people, especially many Americans, tend to be too touchy about certain subjects and less wiling to discuss them.
But the film is wonderfully universal in condemning oppression in all societies – from obvious references to fascist states to Western democracies struggling with issues of privacy and human rights under threat from conservative governments on one side and dangers like terrorism on the other. More close to home, it is reminiscent of Serbia in the 90s – the sugarcoated TV reporting, the propaganda machine spreading fear and mistrust, the divide-and-conquer tactics of maintaining power by creating enemies everywhere. Consequences of this period are still painfully present and as destructive as ever.
I see this film is a warning that all our actions, or lack there of, have consequences, that as in the famous poem by M. Niemoeler what happens to others eventually reaches us and in the end there might be “no one left to speak out”, if we do not speak out against injustice. If the likes of DSS, the orthodox church, and other conservatives in Serbia and elsewhere had their way I can easily imagine Ivan and I being dragged out of our bed in the middle of the night and disappearing. I have always been an optimist and hope the world will come to its senses, but with so much human stupidity I have to be worried about the future. Wasting of resources, greed, double standards and false morality are pushing people into ignorance, fear and hate. That makes the warning more powerful and important. This does not just happen in distant countries in a distant time. The film shows what our own societies could mutate into. And in a globalized world, there is no standing aside. A Faithless song says “Whether long range weapon or suicide bomb, wicked mind is a weapon of mass destruction … we need to find courage, overcome, inaction is a weapon of mass destruction”.The key issue is individual responsibility. I’m not happy quoting politicians, but as the assassinated PM of Serbia said, paraphrasing JFK: “ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for yourself“. Nobody is going to help us if we do not help ourselves. And responsibility never ends. In a country where the power of people and its ability to push change was so evident, we must not forget it now, as we slide into conservativism and bigotry. “Remember, remember, the fifth of O… November”. Staying silent must not be an option.
This is not how it was suppose to be. I didn’t plan to post once a week.
But writing is proving to be much more difficult then I though. First of all, I never can find the time to do it, as I’m always busy with something else. Then, it’s hard to convert the flood of ideas on any given subject into a coherent piece of writing. I sit down and thoughts rush out, filling my screen with words and beginnings of sentences. But putting them into order and making sense of it, without writing a novel every time is almost painful.
Then self-censorship kicks in. One of the points of starting to write in the first place was examining the balance between private and public (or accessible to the public). And now, I’m having trouble with it. In the last few days important things have happened which will have huge effects on my life, provide material and inspiration and eventually give a whole new meaning and purpose to this blog. However, for now, I still feel they are too specific to let them loose on the internet. At this point I don’t want accidental visitors to (be able to) know who I am, however unlikely it may be, having in mind how huge the world is.
It sound insane. Such paranoia is unjustified (or is it?). In order to lose your privacy there needs to exist an interested public. This blog HAS NO audience. Sure, there have been some visits but nobody leaves any comments, and I have no idea who you people are. I’ve mentioned I was writing a blog to some friends, but deliberately didn’t want to spread it around yet. I wanted to see what happens naturally.
But maybe it would be good to have a couple of friendly regulars. Maybe it’s time for an offensive - getting an audience, establishing a style, determining a level of familiarity with potential readers.
I hope, in time, writing will come more naturally. I’ll pour regular amounts of well-constructed thinking into neat well-written posts on a regular basis to the delight of friends and unknown readers around the world. In the meantime I’ll try and post more often and be as interesting as I can. Thank you all for coming.
