Here We Go Again

Sad, Very Sad

If all this independence stuff is false, illegal and invalid, shouldn’t it be business as usual? We still have as much control over Kosovo as we did last week? If it weren’t for McDonalds’s restaurants, LDP and Albanian pastry shops we would have no problems whatsoever.

But hey, since we’re losing, let’s lose everything. We’re allowing the demolition of our own cities, cutting diplomatic ties with countries on which we heavily depend, we shouldn’t even sing anymore and choose our Eurovision representative. That’s how sad we are. We are so busy mourning the loss of our past that we don’t care we’re losing our future.

Just when you thought it was safe to go out…

As the police are once again ordered to let fascist thugs use Belgrade as target practice to vent their frustrations, the main parties plan to show the world some good old Serbian national unity, dashing all my naïve hopes expressed a few posts ago that change could be on the way.

On the other hand, the hysterical happiness of Kosovo’s Albanians makes me sad, as the country formally proclaims independence from an entity that for years has had no control over it, only to remain deeply dependent on various international organizations, desperately poor, divided and lawless.

There are so many things that are wrong with what happened yesterday in both Belgrade and Pristina. There is the story of international law and all the consequences this will have on conflicts around the world. I understand the difficulties in which Serbia as a country has been placed with its allies and partners supporting the partition of the country. Nevertheless, at this point in time I guess this was inevitable and unavoidable. How can you force a united population to accept something they are not ready to accept at any cost. Still, unilateral acts lead to frustration and aggression. Kosovo has its new symbols, but, indicatively, I did not see them anywhere in the celebrations. Neither side was willing to compromise, neither side was willing to talk, and now the problem remains only in a slightly different form. The international community was nonconstructive and biased and once again, there is a crisis, a long-term and potentially far-reaching crisis, and we are at the heart f of it. What worries me is that conflicts are not resolved they are cultivated and preserved to be reactivated at the next convenient moment.

What I wish for people of Serbia and Kosovo, whether in one, two or seventeen states, is independence from corrupt ill-meaning politicians, from religious inflammation, from false or exaggerated nationalistic mythologies. I wish us all personal fulfillment and peace of mind.

New Museum

With the clouds moving quickly, as they seem to do so often in New York, across the blue sky in the background, the stacked up boxes of the New Museum building seem as if they are swaying, as if they are going to fall over. Does this building work? Hell, Yes, says a rainbow striped sign on the wireframe façade. On the outside it does look like piled silver containers, implanted among the old buildings of the lower East Side, but on the inside it feels like a proper building, simple, and white, pure, spacious and functional gallery space with natural light pouring in from skylights and rare windows. The “Unmonumental” exhibition is a mishmash of a whole lot of things. Some fun video work, excellent collages and interesting installations. Worth a visit? Hell, Yes.

Picture stolen. I actually forgot my camera

Diary of a February

“Snow Surprises Road Workers” - a title seen every year in Serbian media when out of nowhere snow falls in the middle of winter. I felt like a Serbian road worker yesterday, when out of a blue sunny sky a snowstorm descended upon New York and this morning as I checked the weather and saw the ominous “feels like -21C”. Lulled into the comfort of a warm sunny winter, I was in shock to see snow in February. Those whose warnings of the harshness of New York winter I laughed off must be happy now.

I’m reading Valjarevic’s “Diary of Another Winter” on the subway and am thoroughly enjoying myself. Apart from the fact that it made me want to write some more, the book has had therapeutic effects. I guess I am learning things. At least I am aware of my problems and willing to try to resolve them. I have to learn to be more patient and to appreciate the little things in life, to see the beauty in the ordinary. And I think I’m starting to get there.

Oh and the elections are over and I didn’t get to say anything about that. Eventually I did go and vote to give Boris another chance. And honestly, I am happier with the results than I thought I would be. Although the country is going to hell and I’m glad I’m not there, at least the end of that ghastly coalition government is in sight, and with it hopefully the end of kostunica. So that would be one big problem out of the way.

But Serbia would not be Serbia if it didn’t find something to be divided about. And I’m not talking about politics or Kosovo independence but Eurovision. It’s the time of the year when we decide who will represent Serbia in… hm, Belgrade. On YouTube there is a heated discussion, full of insults and aggression over who should sing in the Arena in May.

Surprisingly, having in mind all the additional media attention, no really big names on Beovision this year. The overall quality of the songs is lower than ever. I guess everyone is saving their better work for some more exotic location. Not as much fun when you can take a taxi to the venue and not get to stay in a fancy hotel free of charge. Some names are popping up as potential winner, so here’s my view on the three main contenders.

Ridiculously named Beauty Queens, the back-up vocals from our entry last year, have another Molitva-esque power ballad, and look like they are ready to pose for a bridal hairstyles catalogue. I think not.

The much lauded favourite, another ethno hit from the Zeljko Joksimovic, stands a good chance of winning, but I hope it won’t. Apart from the fact that I think this song is actually about Kosovo, it’s just another in a long line of songs with the same recipe. The lyrics don’t really make much sense, but you add a few archaic words, some tears, dreams and stuff, a touch of rural through the mentioning of a domesticated animal, crop or something similar, a tone of religiousness, and superimpose that on an unidentifiable world music tune from somewhere between Iran and Ireland and you’ve got a Joksimovic Eurovision hit. But, really, this is getting a little old.

My personal favorite, and the only actually decent piece in the lineup is the even more ridiculously name Zoe in Groove Land or whatever. It’s catchy, positive and fun, and I hope they win. With a touch of calypso it has a sort of Little Mermaid – Under the Sea vibe. So if we fail to join the EU, maybe we can eventually join the Caribbean Union. In the spirit of the omnipresent US election, in my neighborhood: I am Reluctant Dragon and I endorse Zoe.

Angry Rant

Congratulations to Novak! He deserves this victory. It’s a shame he will soon probably have to become British or Monacoise to avoid sport sanctions. Good news about Serbia rarely come from within. Another of Serbia’s heroes from last year, the Eurovision Song Contest winner, despite her background and obvious inclinations, started to actively and enthusiastically support the radical presidential candidate. I’m not saying that she should have given her support to that sloth of a president of ours but she could have at least kept her mouth shut (when she’s not singing, that is). And on one of the Serbian poor quality roads which according to promises and plans should have by now probably been a 6 lane freeway a dog died in vain, as the interior minister lives to do more damage. His boss, the prime minister, has today successfully averted the danger of moving a step closer to the EU. He has valiantly chosen between keeping Kosovo and joining the European Union in the name of all of us. Pity that the first isn’t actually ours to keep and the latter doesn’t want us anyway. Simultaneously he has managed to give away control over some of the greatest assets of this country to possibly the only more corrupt system that his. Hey, as long as we’re all shareholders… In the meantime, I am bitting my rich shareholder lips as my misplaced sense of conscience is forcing me to go and vote for the man who has by doing nothing and allowing all of this to happen undermined any hopes of true democracy in Serbia. In my dream boris tadic tells kostunica to fuck off, live on national television 10 minutes before the electoral silence begins. But that’s not going to happen. I’m just wondering if it’s because he really is THAT stupid or because he’s as bad as everyone else. So I guess, I’m gonna vote after all. I’m such an optimist.

I’ve been up till four working on a paper. It’s a gorgeous sunny day in New York City. I’m off to sleep now.

Election Circles of Hell

One down, one to go. Or is there? Is there any sense in prolonging the agony or is it the right time for euthanasia? How long can we postpone the inevitable? I left Serbia, temporarily for now, but with every intention of making it permanent. Maybe it’s time to let it fend for itself. My candidate ended up 5^th. So we come to the delicate question: When is it time to stop compromising? To vote or not?

Now, I like Boris just fine. I remember him when he was just a psychology teacher. He was fun, and nice. I think, as a person, his set of values is in the right place. But we’re not voting for Boris anymore, are we? We’re voting for his policies, and his policies weakened his party and pushed it into a subordinate position in which they are bullied by kostunica into accepting whatever shallow pro-Russian, primitively Orthodox and uncritically traditional course for the country he has envisioned. If Boris gets backing from kostunica, it would clearly be blackmail again, another concession that civilized Serbia would have to make in order to avoid having a radical president. But is it worth it? Sure, the slow trickling of reform will continue, but the country will only sink deeper into lethargy. Should Boris be rewarded for his lack of courage and vision?

On the other hand, nothing but coming to power can stop the growth of the radicals. And let’s be honest, it will happen sooner or later. If nikolic is president, I’m sure it wouldn’t be long before we have a radical government. So what would that mean? In the short run, to be mild, nothing good. But it could get kostunica out of the picture forever. It could undermine the very existence of dss as their supporters would finally have to decide between DS and the radicals. It could liberate DS from their dss masters.It could strengthen LDP. And finally in power, the radicals would have the chance to show their incompetence and break all the impossible promises they have been free to make all these years. Preident Nikolic could be the one to finally, officially and unquestionably loose Kosovo.

So the question remains. Which of the two options that torture my conscience should I choose. To vote for a Kostunica-dominated status quo, or to stay firm, and for the first time ever not vote and let things take their course, even if it means a despicable victory for the radicals. Well, the next two weeks will show. Let’s see who supports whom, and who has what to say. Any ideas?

Breaking the Silence?

The polling station(s) have closed. My civic duty done, I can now freely speak of the by-gone election without breaking the silence. At least in the States. Except in LA where there is still another hour to go. And most other counties where Serbian citizens can vote. And off course Serbia itself. Anyway, who cares…

New York was in an election mood. The top of the Empire State glowing in red, white and blue, the coulors of the Serbian flag. The Times Square subway station was unusually deserted so I concluded everyone must be voting or at least watching news of the elections on their TV sets. We made our way past the Nikola Tesla Corner on 6^th Avenue and came to the consulate building where a sign in Cyrillic letters said Polling Station No. 3 – Njujork. In the ballot box, almost as many pieces of paper as employees of the consulate.

Examined by ultraviolet lights and sprayed against repeated voting (in case we decide to commit trans-Atlantic electoral fraud), we cast our votes, in the Olympic spirit of taking part and not winning. Just to see the balance of power. Now we have to wait for the result of our vote, a little longer than the rest of the electorate. I’m afraid I see some radical changes ahead.

Giving Thanks

Since yesterday was my very first Thanksgiving in the States, I feel it would be proper for me to give some thanks. First of all, the biggest ever thank you to Ivan, for surviving me during the last months of mood-swings, attacks of defeatism and nostalgia. Thanks to all friends old and new for their support during the same difficult period. Thank you to my school for keeping me too busy to be crazy all the time. Thanks to all the pilgrims and slaughtered Native Americans, and decimated turkey populations for making this holiday what it is, and enabling me to have two days off from work and school. Finally thanks to those of you who still keep reading this.

Keeping in Touch

On Sunday, I’ve had kind of a crappy day. In line with my bourn-again-student life, I work in a restaurant. This is certainly not as stressful and demanding as my “serious” job back in Belgrade, but nevertheless it can be exhausting, especially in combination with all the work I need to do for school. Basically, I haven’t had more than 3 hours of absolute free time in the last couple of months. But Sunday was a particularly bad day at work. A gray rainy day, when everyone wishes they had stayed in bed and a restaurant terribly overcrowded with demanding customers amount to cranky colleagues, a charged atmosphere and a lot of shouting all around. If I ever have to make another skim-milk decaf cappuccino in my entire life it will be an eternity too soon. On the way home I also managed to get hit by a bycicle while talking with Ivan on the phone, which left a big scratch on my right knee.

When I got home I checked my e-mail. Nobody wrote. In fact, nobody has written in several days. In my grumpy mood, I started to get irritated. Most friends, when they do write, begin with : “Where have you guys been” or “Why don’t you write” and my letters similarly contain a version of “Sorry I haven’t written in so long but… (good excuse)”. Well I don’t want to apologize any more. I don’t want to sound like some sort of victim, as I am not, but it’s my life that has been turned upside down. It is I who has to adjust and cope every day with unknown situations in a new environment. All my friends and family and everything I know have been carried away by the planet, rotating away under my airplane. For those still in Belgrade, only one person is gone, their lives go on as normal, and still they manage to criticize this one distant friend, who’s probably too busy to write as he’s spending his millions in fancy NY nightclubs (I wish).

Anyway, this is all in the past. Like good Diaspora Serbs we picked ourselves up that Sunday evening and went to a new friend’s belated allegedly slava-related dinner party. Had some good food, drank wine. On top of that I am now beginning to discover the charms of Facebook, so no more criticism. Now I only have to explain how come, contrary to everyone’s expectations our life is just so ordinary and normal.

On Adjusting...

We took the taxi home after a night at the opera. Driving up the ramps of Queensborough Bridge on a rainy night you can look down Manhattan’s glimmering avenues. Fog rising from the East River makes the thousands of headlights soft and blurry. Between the elegant iron arches of the bridge and the fluttering canvas of the construction work you can see the dark water and the huge city shining around it. It’s easy to forget that you live by the sea if you always move underground.

Our life in New York is finally moving beyond resolving problems, beyond just bills and school and work. We’re making friends, we’re finding time. Yesterday was a friend’s opening night. Her costumes were wonderful. The whole production was witty and intelligent and fun. Afterwards, it felt a bit like Belgrade - we mingled and sipped punch. I loved being introduced as the photographer friend for the first time. On the way home I smelled the sea air and was happy that we’re beginning to enjoy our new home.

Across the Universe … from a Good Film

What a disappointment. I have to stop getting all excited about movie trailers. This film is a quasi-artistic, pretentious Moulin-Rouge wannabe, with a story that doesn’t really work, songs that were forcefully squeezed in, bad acting and characters you don’t really like. It did not move me a bit, and I tend to get emotional…

The good side is that it brought the Beatles back, quite a few great songs that I had completely forgotten about. And visually, there are some great scenes. New York looks wonderful, and living here now gives you a whole new perspective, but I have the feeling that the film was made only to link together a couple of pretty cool music videos. I don’t think that was enough.

Live for the Holidays

It’s the 3^rd of November. Lights in the shape of snowflakes have popped up today in this corner of Queens. Shops are already starting to replace their spiders and skeletons with reindeers and snowmen. Just a few days ago the whole city was pumpkin-mad. I rode the subway with cavemen and commandos, I went to school with vampires and geishas. Today we’re already preparing for Christmas. I’m starting to understand. It seems people like to go a bit crazy during those two minutes of free time they have each week. If it means being allowed to go to work as the Wicked Witch of the East, all the better. It’s busy in America. I’ve been studying and working, plotting an unlikely big comeback to this blog and dreaming of having a weekend.

And Now For Something Completely Different, Or Is It?

Let’s now move as far away from homophobia as possible. Eurovision. It seems everything in Serbia has to be a reality show. Maybe that’s how we could choose the next president. Anyway, in true Diaspora spirit, we’ve been watching some RTS over the internet. Every Monday we join our compatriots in suspense over who will host the Eurovision song contest next May in Belgrade.

So far the candidates are just embarrassing themselves, next May they will be embarrassing the country. The actors and actresses are the worst. Is it possible to be natural and spontaneous if you’re a Serbian actor? Among the women at least we have the fabulous Bebi Dol and the surprisingly likable Miss Canada. The men should better not be mentioned, at this point. I just hope that in one of the episodes they will take the lot to a stylist to cut those hairs and pluck those eyebrows.

Speaking of embarrassments at next year’s contest, there’s already a petition online to change the design of that awful set. The logo, at least in some of its many variations, can be digestible. All this said, I hope I’ll be able to attend and watch all of this embarrassment live in Belgrade Arena.

Getting back to homophobia now, I hope the rumors are true of a pride parade during Eurovision. It would be a pity to waste the opportunity. Hopefully, all the media attention could actually help avoid bloodshed. If, under pressure, the government is willing to pay good money for the arrest of someone they like, maybe they’re finally ready to protect someone they very much dislike. A shabby stage and a pair of morons doing bad impersonations will not be as damaging to the country’s reputation as someone beating up some rainbow-flag-waving Swedes or Germans on Republic Square.

Belgrade Nightlife

Even from six time zones away, Serbia never ceases to piss me off.

After reading for weeks about crazy stuff like neo-nazis, the latest news was more personal.

On Friday, two of our closest friends got beaten up, one pretty badly from what I understand, in the very center of Belgrade. They were at a gay club where they met a couple of “nice guys” who offered that they go somewhere else or for a walk. Once outside, some more “nice guys” showed up from behind and together they beat up our unsuspecting friends.

Just, HOW and WHY anyone gets so enraged by someone else’s choice of sexual partners, to pay admission to a club, pretend to be gay, just to pick someone up and cowardly beat him with a group of his like-frustrated buddies, is something I don’t think I will ever be able to comprehend. I guess nothing proves you’re a tough Serbian male better than attacking an outnumbered opponent from the back.

Manhattan Meadows

What to do if you are a pair of Serbs in New York on potentially the greatest day in your country's tennis history? Tickets for the US open are either too expensive, unavailable, or both, especially on the day of the finals, but you can go to Madison Square Park and watch the match in a relaxed picnic atmosphere.
Hey, it's a meadow, not one of those in Flushing, but Manhattan is not that bad either.
So we packed up a big towel, some sandwiches and fruit, and got there an hour early to find a nice spot on the grass, with some shade from the hot September sun. After quite a bit annoying brainwashing from corporate sponsors, the match started and the crowd cheered as if we were in the stadium on the other side of the screen and the players could actually hear us. It was a lot of fun. Although Federer did eventually, and deservedly, win, Novak recovered well from all the blunders and was obviously the favourite of the crowd in the park. It seems quite likely we may be seeing a rematch next year, but with a different outcome.
We should try and get tickets on time.

The Incredible See-Saw

No more stealing the neighbors' cable when they are away. Finally in our own apartment and with our own connection to the internet for my official 100th post.
As the furniture, and plates and flowers are slowly coming in and our new home is beginning to take shape, we are at the absolute peak of a constantly fluctuating curve that has been our stay here so far.
Only two weeks earlier, homeless and jobless and with our budget melting away more rapidly than anticipated we just cracked. It's terrible to feel like an outsider it's humiliating that all your life savings from years of working hard somewere now very far away amount to so little.It's hard to be cut of from everyone you know.
Fortunately not everyone - we have each other.
I am scared even to think of how I could cope with this alone. When I fell down Ivan was there to help me up and comfort me. And then the next day it would be his turn to get depressed and I'd be there with the voice of reason urging for patience and not loosing focus and hard work. And this incredible see-saw of emotions seems to have worked. Falling and getting up, we pulled and pushed each other through what I hope was the worst of the crisis. In a month we have accomplished a lot. May not sound so much but it was hard getting here. A new country, a new home, a new job, a new school. By no means is it going to get easy any time soon, but I know we're going to be alright.

New Beginning

I picked up our clothes at the laundromat, a concept that baffles and amuses my Serbian mind, bought some touch too greasy chineese food and came home. I sat down to eat at our new laptop, cheked my e-mail for news from back home or potential employers and looked out the wet window onto the misty Manhattan skyline in the distance. I realized that despite of our temporarry accomodation and current lack of income I now feel sufficiently at home to have a quiet moment and start writing again. In the next few days I'll post a couple of short texts about the last two weeks in New York, our impressions of the city from a new perspective, about the food, about the people, a short trip to Boston and the seemingly impossible quest to find a decent cheap apartment.
After that we will resume regular blogging.
If anyone is still reading, thanks for your patience.

Absence

The day I went to pick up my visa was the hottest in recorded meteorological history of Serbia. As I stepped off the sidewalk onto one of the busiest streets in Belgrade a gust of thick hot wind hit my body and I realized looking up the empty street that the city was deserted.
Absence seems to be my key word of this summer. The empty streets, a summer full of events which I missed because I was busy, the absent friends that I didn’t get to properly say goodbye to. I’ve been absent from this blog for a while, because I couldn’t find the time to write and I’ve been generally absent-minded for months, finding it difficult to do any work because I knew I was leaving, and as difficult to prepare for leaving, because I wasn’t sure it was really going to happen until the last minute.
Well, I am leaving. We’re leaving. Tomorrow morning Ivan and I will be on our way to New York. We have done so much and there are still so many unknowns. I don’t know how I feel. Everybody around me keeps crying. We’ll be back next summer for a few weeks. I know this is what we wanted and I am happy, but I’ve never been away from everything I know. So far away. For so long.
I ‘m going to stop now before I start to cry.

Bureaudyssey Continues

Do not rejoice prematurely when dealing with paperwork and office clerks. It’s never over. No singing fat ladies in sight.
It turns out I still have far more to do then I thought and far less time to do it. My nerves at a breaking point, I spend hours every week on the phone with oblivious student advisors and admissions officers in New York trying to track down documents which should have been mailed to me weeks ago. I’m trying to be understanding about the fact that, living in the normal world, some people do not understand the concept of visas or even the fact that there are places on the planet for which you have to dial the international access code, but I am becoming extremely frustrated with the fact that my potential failure to go to the US can only be a result of postal delays and confused administrative staff.
But I won’t let this break me. When the going gets tough, the tough make an extremely detailed list of questions and designate a whole afternoon for international phone calls to set things straight. Today is that day.