And...I'm Done Rambling About Sarajevo

Contrary to what the below post may have indicated, I assuaged my guilt for knowing so little about the city by eating and drinking my face off.

But first I checked my gat at the mosque.


Sarajevo rightfully deserves its nickname "Little Istanbul." Although Affans and Omar were not there to show us around the city, Amitabh and I met two Bosnian-Canadians who showed us their favorite cafes/restaurants/sisha joints.

I'm moving here: doner kabobs, baklava, pite, sahlep
What the hell did I do to myself?: cevapi


The correct way to drink Turkish coffee is to slurp; the mixture of air and coffee should form an "aromatic cushion" within your mouth, adding more texture and smell to the drinking process.

Or you could use the coffee as a dipping vehicle for Turkish delite.


Although UN forces tried to supply the city with food during the war, there were severe shortages. Out of desperation, the inhabitants of Sarajevo dug a 1 km tunnel from a garage in the city to a house outside of JNA control, where they could receive supplies from other cities in Bosnia.

This 1 meter x 1 meter tunnel not only transported food and supplies to civilians but also all of the weapons used by the Bosnian "army" during the war.

Seriously?


Seriously.


A lot of stuff went underground during the war; Sarajevo even held the annual Miss Sarajevo contest in a hotel basement.


Not so much Miss Sarajevo as Miss I'm-Gonna-Imbibe-That-Homemade-Wine.

Mama Boch Is Famous!

Let's just say yesterday's conference call marathon resulted in some googling of family members/friends/people whom I stalk.

Sarajevo 101

Prior to this weekend, the only things I knew about Sarajevo were from reading Zlata’s Diary courtesy of the Kerr Elementary School book fair and watching archival footage of the 1984 Olympics on NBC.

I cannot imagine anyone knowing less about the history of Sarajevo than I did as of last Friday, but just in case, here is a quick primer.

Sarajevo is the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina (one country, two “states”). Before gaining independence, BiH was one of the six federations, along with Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Montenegro, and Macedonia, comprising the former Yugoslavia. The most ethnically diverse state, Sarajevo was home to Bosniaks (Muslim), Serbs (Orthodox), and Croats (Catholic).


Following the fall of communism, Slobodan Milošević consolidated power within Serbia and its capital, Belgrade. This contributed to Slovenia, the wealthiest state, declaring independence in 1991. Croatia did the same later that year.

Although Milošević and the Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA) waged war on Croatia, BiH thought it would be safe given its large Serbian population and proclaimed independence on March 3, 1992.

BiH fatally underestimated Milošević’s desire to keep Yugoslavia united and, by April, the JNA had completely surrounded and blockaded Sarajevo, located in a valley. Thus began the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare.


The Sarajevo makeshift “army” had no weapons and was no match for the JNA. However, as our tour guide Ellie explained, Sarajevoans believed they would be killed if they surrendered so continued to defend the city out of desperation. Throughout the three year siege, more than two million artillery shells hit the city, and 11,500 civilians died. UNICEF estimates that 40% of the 80,000 children in the city were directly shot at by snipers and 39% saw at least one family member killed.

The Holiday Inn, built for the Olympics and located along Sniper Alley, was the one relatively secure hotel during the war.


Not wanting to get involved in what they incorrectly believed was a civil war, the United Nations finally issued an ultimatum for Serb force to withdraw from Sarajevo in late 1995. Shortly thereafter, Bill Clinton helped negotiate the Dayton Agreement, effectively ending the warfare. It is estimated 200,000 people (out of an initial population of 4 million) died in BiH as a direct result of the war.


TBC (I promise I did more than wander around Sarajevo paraphrasing Wikipedia).

Overseen in Budapest

I mentioned prostitution was a problem here.

Vienna II

Lex and I met up for the weekend in Vienna (Wien). Although we stuck to our plan of eating and drinking our way through the city per usual, we managed to include a bit of culture in between mouthfuls of apple strudel.

During my first trip here with Papa Boch and Aunt Anne-Marie, I learned that if a souvenir wasn’t edible, it was based on a Klimt painting. This time I wanted to see some non-postcard sized Klimts.

With Lex and google as my personal art historians, I learned that Gustav Klimt was one of the leaders of the Vienna Secession, a group of artists that broke off from the Association of Austrian Artists in 1897. There is no unifying artistic style behind the movement; rather the artists were rebelling against the traditional, academic nature of Austrian art.

After wandering around Naschmarkt, we stepped into the Secession Hall, a gold-domed building constructed as an exhibition hall for the artists associated with the movement. Picking up a flyer at the front desk, we learned this month’s exhibit was a swinger’s club Element6, part of a project by Swiss artist Christoph Buechel. Doors open every night at 9 PM and erotic attire is encouraged.

Because we were petrified we didn’t have the right clothes, we declined the invitation. Instead we went to the Leopold Museum, bought some postcards, and ate gelato.

(Vienna has the highest concentration of gelaterias outside of Italy. Lex will fill you in on Art Nouveau; I will update you on the important stuff.)

My favorite artist from the Vienna Secession was Egon Schiele. His paintings are sinewy and disturbing and mesmerizing. He died at age 28 from the Spanish flu epidemic.

One movement; two styles (three allegations of immoral behavior involving minors).

The Embrace (Schiele)


The Kiss (Klimt)


The most delicious Viennese dish we tried was Krautfleckerl, buttery cabbage pasta (one of the few versions of the recipe which does not explicitly state lard as a key ingredient).

Happy birthday, Little Lex. Haven’t you always wanted to celebrate your 27th with me, Gustav, and Egon?

Ewww

Horrified by my google image search for "sketchy Turkish bathroom," I was going to spare you a visual of the restaurant bathroom in Istanbul. However, Kelly found a sanitized pic.

Imagine this with no TP, no cleaning supplies, and the floors and walls dripping in...liquid. It was my squat workout of the week.


(The whole experience reminded me of the Curb episode where Larry accidentally pees on the picture of Jesus, an act misinterpreted as a miracle.)

OK, enough bathroom talk for the day.

Domesticity in Hungary

I just called my family in Boston, and my mom told me they had been talking about how “restless” I am. Well, I pretty much agree with that. However, I have had a decidedly un-restless weekend here in Budapest. With which I will now bore you.

After stalking Gauranga on his blog, I learned my beloved yoga basement studio had moved from across the street to across the city. Because I can no longer make the classes during the week, I took my first class in almost a month on Saturday morning. It was amazing. Bikram and I have rekindled our special relationship, if only for casual weekend flings.

It FINALLY feels like spring in Budapest, so I did my favorite thing – wander around the city. I bought stuff I didn't need at the Great Market Hall, found a birthday present for El Nino, and confirmed gyros in Budapest are better than ones in Istanbul. Life is good.

With a newfound confidence in Hungarian cooking , Susan, Kelly, and I cooked a Hungarian dinner. Despite the inevitable ingredient-purchasing mishaps, the Pancakes Hortobágy and meggyes pite were delish. That being said, cold eggs would have tasted good if accompanied by three bottles of wine.


When Susan tells you she is a bad cook, do not believe her.


Why wouldn't we take the exact same picture three times.


This reminded me of my favorite dinner growing up - mom's pancakes for dinner. Any other recipe from the back of a Bisquick box was a close second.


We made the second, less authentic pastry with Susan's Del Monte 100-calorie mixed fruit cups.


I celebrated the continued awesome weather on Sunday with a looooooong run around Margaret Island. I sported my new spandex running pants and felt like a legitimate runner. Especially compared to the pack of middle-aged women jogging in blue jean vests.

Speaking of running, I have been ravenous since the half-marathon. I usually cook meals for the week on Sunday, so decided to recreate the most “filling” meal I could think of – Collis’s African Peanut Soup. You NEED to try this.

And now I am about to meet Andrea, who is visiting for a few days. Excluding my slight wine hangover, if this was not a wholesome, domestic weekend – I don’t know what is. Really the only thing left to do is buy myself a sweet blue jean vest.