tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44722580960167262562024-02-18T22:45:51.566-05:00Flippin' SerbiaBy the time these two years are over I'm either going to be fluent in Serbian or really good at charades.V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-56711825840982475962013-05-16T16:10:00.001-04:002013-05-16T16:10:12.796-04:00The men of Belgrade<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am definitely behind in my blogging, but will leave my two latest trips (the Baltics and Transylvania) for another time, in order to write about three VIPs in my life since moving to Serbia.<br />
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1. Ice Man<br />
If I had an iPhone and could post pictures of text message conversations, this would be a priority. It's probably good that I don't, because it might raise wrongful suspicions that may lead to my arrest. Truth is, ice Man is exactly that, a man whose business it is to deliver ice. As you may know, from reading older posts or from travelling to Europe in general, ice is a very hot commodity here, and buying ice by the bag at a gas station is a non-existent practice. I was lucky enough to get a hand-me down phone that had this number already programmed. After a couple of conversations with the Marines (notorious for throwing American style parties) I finally got in touch with who would become my go to person at every party. A quick text with the requested amount in bags, address, and time for delivery gets the job done. Like a drug deal, we do not know each other's names, we only exchange cash, and he comes to the curb, drops of the stash and leaves. No questions. You can always rely on him.<br />
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2. Watch Man<br />
My colleague, Biljiana, recommended I go see the watch man (basically an old school watchmaker) when I was complaining that my watch's battery had died. She gave me the specific instructions on where to go (past the Maxi on Sarajevska, on the right hand side, walk straight till you see it). I actually had four watches in dire need of new batteries, so one day after work, I made the walk and found him. Walking into his shop was like walking in a time machine and travelling 50 years back in time. The shop was probably four feet wide and 20 feet deep. The walls covered with old cuckoo clocks and the display had watches older than my grandfather's great-grandfather's pass me down watch. Watch man didn't seem to speak English, but thanks to the specificity of his trade, what else could I possibly want? I handed him the watches, and he diligently proceeded to get to work. He used a tiny little eye socket to see better, popped out the battery, changed it, and pounded the back of my over priced watch making sure the warranty would be void forever. But hey, it was working again! He repeated the steps with the other three watches, and then charged me about $16 total. A wonderful experience. Except that by the next day, one of the watches was no longer working.<br />
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3. Blood Man<br />
Yes, that sounds disgusting, but blood man has a magic touch. Unlike watch man and ice man, blood man gives receipts and has a name tag. I believe his name is Bojan. Blood man works at a number of local labs AND makes house calls to the Embassy, hence his popularity. His magic is twofold, one he is everywhere, and two, he can draw blood painlessly, effortlessly and without leaving a bruise. Many friends and I have discussed his gift and he has never come up short. Chances are that if you are ever in Belgrade and need blood work, he will be the one to do it and you won't even notice it. <br />
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I have always been in favor of diversifying trades and rotating jobs, but judging by these three gentlemen, maybe variety is overrated.</div>
V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-34508074339545071312013-03-10T18:36:00.004-04:002013-03-10T18:50:16.737-04:00Bacon Fest!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">Last weekend we made a short road trip to Kacarevo to attend what is supposedly the biggest bacon festival in the world. I love bacon more than any other meat, so it seemed almost sacrilegious</span><span style="text-align: left;"> not to attend. Besides, the poster and website promised a really good time...as you can see in the pic below, volcanoes, tornadoes and drones are nothing to worry about, as long as you've got a big slab of bacon on hand.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">"Slaninijada"</td></tr>
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The official website also promised the crowning of Mr. and Ms. Bacon Fest, something that we were really looking forward to, but were unable to find if/when it actually happened. Instead we settled on navigating the crowds, checking out the booths, eating some meat and buying souvenirs.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not just bacon - sausages, ribs and all kinds of cured meat were available for sale.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nostalgia is a big part of Balkan living</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and the most valuable customer award goes to...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roasted Lamb on a stick</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm pretty sure the poster must have been modeled after this dude.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our friend R. stirring some steaming pork fat</td></tr>
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In the end, I am not sure who had more of a cultural experience - us -or the local villagers who put together the whole thing. We were definitely the talk of the festival with our big cameras, 'ne razumem' stares, giant strollers, and loud 'check this out' yelps at every single kiosk. Overall, I think we put on a good show. </div>
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-71632548754868315632013-02-21T16:43:00.000-05:002013-02-21T16:55:07.051-05:00Mission completed: road to Macedonia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have finally come out my hibernation. Winter hasn't really give me much to write about, as nothing special has been going on. My days and nights have been filled with too much eating, too much time on Facebook, and my newest obsession: Downton Abbey. I won't post any spoilers; I have already been a victim of learning of climax events prematurely, but will still give this series huge props; if you get a chance, watch it from the beginning, it is truly fantastic.<br />
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Last weekend, we had a Serbian holiday fall on Friday and an American one on Monday, which gave us the wonderful opportunity of getting on the road with our two BFFs and complete "Mission Ex-Yugoslav Republics" by going to Macedonia. When it comes to traveling, there seems to be three distinct schools of thought at our Embassy; those who want to get the heck out of the Balkans and only visit the "real Europe", those who go to more local, low-key, and outdoorsy places to ski, and/or relax, and those who just don't go anywhere, ever. Phil and I are a mixture of the first two, and the opposite of the third. We want to go EVERYWHERE, we want to have our Starbucks and chicken fingers, but go to places other people don't even know exist. That is how we ended up also visiting Albania. "Why would you go to Albania?", "Because I would never go there if I didn't live here". As good a reason as any.<br />
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A recurrent theme of my life here can be summarized in the Thai phrase made famous by crappy T-shirts sold in night markets to young backpackers- "same, same, but different". "Do you have this dress in a size 8?" "No, I have this other dress in a size 10, same, same, but different". The best way I can describe Macedonia is like that, SSBD. The old town - a mini version of the Sarajevo old town. The new town - a smaller, less-graffittied version of Belgrade/Novi Sad/any pedestrian street in Serbia. I am sure there are major differences to those who actually live here or there (heck- I get offended when people pass NOVA off as DC!), but these are not appreciated by a non-Balkan insider. At least now I can tell when a cevapi is made with pork or not just by the color and taste. Small steps.<br />
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Skopje, the capital of Macedonia could easily be nicknamed, Sculpture City. If we lived there, I would probably just have a blog of all their statues, all very cool, some more impressive than others. <br />
Here are some highlights.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Diver</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My buddy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amigo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Diva</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLvJzvDz3Hj-8oyp9zleUIbipZ6FxwyoDctDC1YNFBBPzjEW9j8cdB8egjqy_Nm6aEAB_i4vGoc0Pv8BqKU24xjIxUawl3D-L6QPUcHJ_ss2IIRJnGQhTDr24ThnyCDhZdrkkDrAiZk6o7/s1600/P1010710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLvJzvDz3Hj-8oyp9zleUIbipZ6FxwyoDctDC1YNFBBPzjEW9j8cdB8egjqy_Nm6aEAB_i4vGoc0Pv8BqKU24xjIxUawl3D-L6QPUcHJ_ss2IIRJnGQhTDr24ThnyCDhZdrkkDrAiZk6o7/s320/P1010710.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waitin'</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifx7pFXdd10buW-aMXbSKp5fFzEj2KTsgHOUzmGziuIkgkNF9W1aCR7KypYtlyXjYRnf0ltxw32Es9v_sbM1qu7RY7QQIQh9XEICdm_D_z9YQG7y3DAVwOa_cS9O4IDrStmPPOEYzF1kBf/s1600/P1010714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifx7pFXdd10buW-aMXbSKp5fFzEj2KTsgHOUzmGziuIkgkNF9W1aCR7KypYtlyXjYRnf0ltxw32Es9v_sbM1qu7RY7QQIQh9XEICdm_D_z9YQG7y3DAVwOa_cS9O4IDrStmPPOEYzF1kBf/s320/P1010714.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mother Teresa</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX4kDl0mDspgVx02ljWfRdkMVaS57KSCDEUK2wpXnavJhCehdUmYnYPCo3VksXunf1SU_JQ0ysla-d8Lv3AYu7NRky19u8grmZbAY8BBTsraCVqL6ewPQx5-R_BiMAn4Skwfx7NL0jOFD7/s1600/P1010722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX4kDl0mDspgVx02ljWfRdkMVaS57KSCDEUK2wpXnavJhCehdUmYnYPCo3VksXunf1SU_JQ0ysla-d8Lv3AYu7NRky19u8grmZbAY8BBTsraCVqL6ewPQx5-R_BiMAn4Skwfx7NL0jOFD7/s320/P1010722.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The non-Wall Street Bull</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkNusxGQ6zaY34YkpZ9OkWs5gG2_MT28vsNcv0AyMGtYdkx4FNAtZT4BICyQJsy1WQHNWQGXVIkghy1OOO1YAyUpx-IjB-2u6W30tQzpwsP6Tqh7O4fG7HhB7X1YvlY6C2y-UwGATFk9d/s1600/P1010711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkNusxGQ6zaY34YkpZ9OkWs5gG2_MT28vsNcv0AyMGtYdkx4FNAtZT4BICyQJsy1WQHNWQGXVIkghy1OOO1YAyUpx-IjB-2u6W30tQzpwsP6Tqh7O4fG7HhB7X1YvlY6C2y-UwGATFk9d/s320/P1010711.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shoe-shiner</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82ST9Lplw3I8BJOiqJvGu7gmeDJ65CSUg6fkW65NybnJTtQzf9ZAK9dAQRZ-LcbwkDyEcUOsmIzYhgBdtysTxLYBtfSRCJsHdHEbj5PFtKel-gF7oB6YtAgsLC-YXmBbCROAIvmP2FTWP/s1600/P1010706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82ST9Lplw3I8BJOiqJvGu7gmeDJ65CSUg6fkW65NybnJTtQzf9ZAK9dAQRZ-LcbwkDyEcUOsmIzYhgBdtysTxLYBtfSRCJsHdHEbj5PFtKel-gF7oB6YtAgsLC-YXmBbCROAIvmP2FTWP/s320/P1010706.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girlfriends</td></tr>
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The next morning headed out to Lake Ohrid, which is supposed to be the gem of Macedonia. It certainly did not disappoint.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzSeoHfmok7OULFqMNiJrA2b4ZvavKTODepXNsU3FAmlducIeF_qt-I_W0tatogz_EV-ubYoIn55p1VgOw6n1NyEmAYvK9NxNVMMbVCEEaKw_udwB7CArNWZCHm_vHSXIi1xlm1Am1I8gX/s1600/P1010794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzSeoHfmok7OULFqMNiJrA2b4ZvavKTODepXNsU3FAmlducIeF_qt-I_W0tatogz_EV-ubYoIn55p1VgOw6n1NyEmAYvK9NxNVMMbVCEEaKw_udwB7CArNWZCHm_vHSXIi1xlm1Am1I8gX/s320/P1010794.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our cabin, awesome; the hike back to our cabin, not so awesome<br />
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We got really lucky with the weather, and our day in Ohrid was gorgeous;; blue skies, warm winter sunshine and a crisp breeze to take it all in. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCHXVYvXnbAbMiqXGSVZfv0A4R2RS2ATIB9bxJ1sOV1zzEWjcGxzJ7wmAbw4lZxxlQFpdkvGqfBjlUJCTuN5FluR7PWAnujFcQgixQglISq7FTZG1XP1BIN_ZO1c38UK67iIGyWE7aZuX/s1600/P1010832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCHXVYvXnbAbMiqXGSVZfv0A4R2RS2ATIB9bxJ1sOV1zzEWjcGxzJ7wmAbw4lZxxlQFpdkvGqfBjlUJCTuN5FluR7PWAnujFcQgixQglISq7FTZG1XP1BIN_ZO1c38UK67iIGyWE7aZuX/s320/P1010832.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best part of the trip: the Ohrid Boardwalk</td></tr>
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The worst part of the trip was the meal that we had next. We were super, super hungry and found a place that looked completely legit. We all ordered something different; beef stew, cabbage rolls, moussaka, and a sausage plate. Since we were starving, we asked for some bread and ayvar as an appetizer, which we devoured in 2.2 seconds. Along with the ayvar, the waiter/owner brought out a garlic paste that was literally raw garlic and maybe a bit of butter or oil. It was so raw it was almost spicy. Phil started eating it right away, but it was so hard core, that we had to make a pact that we would all eat it or else, we were not going to be able to stand each other afterwards. Then the beef stew came and it was just a broth with chunks of beef. Not too shabby, but definitely NOT a stew; then he brought out my moussaka. My poor, sad moussaka was completely cold and was basically a hunk of ground beef with a layer of quiche or some kind of egg thing on top. Inedible. My friend K. was all eyeing that "stew" when her cabbage rolls came, so I decided to forgo the super sad moussaka and take her cabbage rolls as she ordered the stew/soup for herself. In the meantime, Phil is still eating the raw garlic now by the spoonful, and he and I are feeding the beef chunks of the moussaka to a hungry street kitty. That's when we realized that Phil never got his sausage plate. We ask and they were like, "yes, we give you sos plate, garlic". So I guess they thought he said sauce, and not sausage, so he wasn't getting a meal at all. By this time, we have been there over an hour, the cabbage rolls have disappeared and the man has shoo-ed the poor kitty away. Phil orders another beef/stew soup and when the man is not looking, I take the egg part of the moussaka and throw it at the cat like a boomerang. Our friends are mortified, and Phil can't stop laughing and the cat is looking at me like "bitch, please, you think I'm gonna eat that?" He refuses to eat it, and we are all cracking up and the egg is sitting there, super obvious, and untouched. I for one, don't feel bad, because wasting food is a terrible thing, but I get peer pressured into going back and rescuing it to put back on our plate. So when the man comes for the last time with the stew, he doesn't know that the dish he wants to pass off as moussaka, has been torn apart and refused by a starving street animal. If this was at home, I would have refused to pay for it, but there was really no point, anymore. Plus we all smelled like garlic and were ready to get out of there, pronto.</div>
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The next day we drove into Albania, which is NOT an old Yugoslav Republic, but nevertheless, we were so close, we felt like it wouldn't make sense not to go. Phil and I think they have the most bad ass flag in the world, so this was also a great photo op.</div>
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Right away after crossing the border, things changed. The roads were instantly full of pot holes, chaos and massive traffic took over the roads and our GPS decided that we were floating in space and not on an actual road. We decided to go as far as we could, until we were too tired, too scared, or too lost. One of the distinctive Albanian "attractions" are their bunkers. During the cold war era, they were built to ensure control of the country in case of enemy attack and apparently there is one for every four Albanians. According to someone we know who used to live nearby, they are now used as impromptu bathrooms on the road or for the random teenage couple in dire need of some privacy.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the bigger bunkers, out of the zillons we saw.</td></tr>
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According to Google Maps, their capital, Tirana, was only 2 hours away from Ohrid. We drove for over two hours and we were not even close to getting there, mostly due to the bad roads and the random goats on the road. We settled on having lunch in a nearby city, Elbasan, buying a magnet for our fridge collection and heading back to Skopje. We had a fast and tasty meal and used the squat toilets, took some pictures and headed out. I think we can count it as checked.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"For Sale" in Albanian. Classic.</td></tr>
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-6393139901231661682013-01-13T11:14:00.002-05:002013-01-13T14:25:29.105-05:00R & R<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For every post that we do abroad, Phil's job will fly us back "home" for a bit for some rest and recuperation from our "so stressful and over-hardship-ed" lives. Our turn was up and we signed up for three weeks in the US during Christmas break. As with everything, many lessons were learned during our first trying-to-fit-everything-and-everyone-in triumphant return to the homeland. First of all, our itinerary was overly ambitious. In three weeks we went to DC, NY, Puerto Rico, Orlando, FL and Cincinnati, OH. Second, some of the flights were at ungodly hours of the day/night and included getting up at 3 AM. Needless to say, we were exhausted for about 90% of the time. We also over packed and under estimated the amount of things we would buy, resulting in over sized, overweight, baggage and the two of us looking like two beasts of burden everywhere we went. But overall, it was an amazing trip. <br />
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Here's a countdown of the highlights:<br />
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<b>5. Food, food, food</b><br />
From Ben and Jerry's two scoop waffle cone sundaes to tostones and mofongo in PR; Phil and I indulged ourselves non-stop. I think Phil averaged 3 Starbucks a day and I was able to score Chipotle at least three times. Bottomless fries at Red Robin were a close contender.<br />
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<b>4. Weddings!</b><br />
We love weddings, and a good friend from college invited us to her right-on-the-beach ceremony and after party at probably the fanciest resort I have ever been in PR. We got to see a ton of great college friends and re-connect with people we hadn't seen in 10 years! There was great food and dancing and a great time.<br />
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<b>3. Harry Potter World</b><br />
Lucky for me, one of Phil's sisters lives in Orlando, which meant we could kill another bird with that stone and visit this magical land that I have been yearning to go to since its opening. What a fun place, complete with a Hogsmead villlage, Hogwarts Castle and many little gimmicks from the books. We were able to get some butterbeer and ride the signature ride (where you are basically flying through the air escaping dementors and playing Quiditch and going through the castle at top speeds) twice.<br />
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<b>2. Six hour Target and TJ Max run</b><br />
My shopaholic self came back alive and with a vengeance in Cincinnati, where stores are larger than life, aisles are wide, and the possibilities endless. I could have easily stayed there from 9 AM till 9 PM just going through the enormous variety of products; from cereal bars, to lotions; 90% clearance Christmas decorations to school supplies that make you want to go back into teaching. When it comes to mass consumption, the mid-west can't be beat.<br />
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<b>1. Friends & Family</b><br />
There is a reason people say "there's no place like home" and as much as I have an identity crisis on where home really is, nothing in the world holds a candle to spending quality time with people you love; especially those who love you just as much. The best times of our trip were probably spent talking on the couch with parents and childhood friends during Christmas dinner (s), playing LIFE with nieces and nephews, watching a brand new baby roll over on a princess mat, heated discussions at dinner over the validity of teacher's unions, laughing hysterically over brunch, dying someone's hair in a hotel room, and the delivery of earth-rattling news in the middle of NYC traffic. These are the moments that fill you with joy and happiness and these are the moments that make 14 hour flights over the Atlantic more than worth it. <br />
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Happy New Year to all, and may 2013 bring you many, many of these moments. <br />
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-32297205362377978102012-12-11T17:09:00.004-05:002012-12-12T04:33:15.083-05:00It's beginning to look a lot like...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This weekend we were surrounded by snow. The first snowfall of the season quickly evolved to the second, third, and fourth. It snowed all day Saturday and Sunday and then again today. I do enjoy snow, but here, they don't do a good job of shoveling or clearing up the streets. People just go about their business as if nothing had happened. Contrary to President Obama, who made fun of DC for "overeacting" to snow, I am appalled at how Serbs under-react. Snow, in my PR-weather-filled brain, should mean an automatic day off, under the covers or on the couch, with some soup. Here, women still rock their high heels, buses are still full, and cabs are still speeding. No issues, no closures. Nevertheless, we did as they do and ventured out a couple of times on Saturday for a Christmas concert, a Hanukkah party, and good-bye party for some friends who are going back to Australia for good. We also decorated our tree and put up all our ornaments. Phil and I are not religious people by any means, but for some reason, we are really into Nativity sets. We are lucky that our place offers a nice little ledge which proved perfect for displaying all four of them. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdq79hBSnYl6aqt1WxRrDGaif9ER5k_aWj_NlzNCkBM0BT0LF-P0IOSvwWXlq1pQd8UcKvOp6MWdDUWlORu4pF6XgARoNf4ds4J_59axQTViGNK5lReWLhuDd2P4cwB9onyg8JykO9J-_/s1600/naciemiento1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdq79hBSnYl6aqt1WxRrDGaif9ER5k_aWj_NlzNCkBM0BT0LF-P0IOSvwWXlq1pQd8UcKvOp6MWdDUWlORu4pF6XgARoNf4ds4J_59axQTViGNK5lReWLhuDd2P4cwB9onyg8JykO9J-_/s320/naciemiento1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Mexico circa 1985 stolen from my parents two years ago</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Portugal, gotten on our anniversary trip</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipICxdPI1tF4Ir68X7ro6K8JkD9EDRhG1aEu2A9-d_91n0WfkvZhDL-4G404UN2FtprxMAb4l1BC2GD6YhzhQxHiJjB8Wg485txTh0YOGy6xwce1DkNSfgQXrNAnSnovFObxtn1pLO8y1J/s1600/naciemiento4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipICxdPI1tF4Ir68X7ro6K8JkD9EDRhG1aEu2A9-d_91n0WfkvZhDL-4G404UN2FtprxMAb4l1BC2GD6YhzhQxHiJjB8Wg485txTh0YOGy6xwce1DkNSfgQXrNAnSnovFObxtn1pLO8y1J/s320/naciemiento4.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">German wood carved - Xmas Market find</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcA3ky-IBGjYI9C4qW59B_fJHXHq2DBCsoe2c9CoPgA-xv06-zGu0EE1Xfn7GzBbHbmIvSeq84ecSaDbeAh3OSV6RjBEAeBIg7je0xtvtNCH43mQaFwK45H2wqUzEfdWvGLJ7mEAc_D1O/s1600/nacimiento2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcA3ky-IBGjYI9C4qW59B_fJHXHq2DBCsoe2c9CoPgA-xv06-zGu0EE1Xfn7GzBbHbmIvSeq84ecSaDbeAh3OSV6RjBEAeBIg7je0xtvtNCH43mQaFwK45H2wqUzEfdWvGLJ7mEAc_D1O/s320/nacimiento2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inca/Alien Set - from Peru</td></tr>
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Produce is already dwindling, but three weeks ago I was able to get another awesome sample for my "Giant Produce of Serbia" column.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkf3U4MAjWkSZR9FBkTdekG9eFaGlgUdqrb4uNev7TfoiZfOAfxBBQTD9vNj91FHMU5ZYTh76YtDq2onLjUS8U-MAZlOLkAWqFADUm-rplKpgJpNHswUkHUGbS4rKLRy3wPZoU8yz2JBvl/s1600/carrot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img bea="true" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkf3U4MAjWkSZR9FBkTdekG9eFaGlgUdqrb4uNev7TfoiZfOAfxBBQTD9vNj91FHMU5ZYTh76YtDq2onLjUS8U-MAZlOLkAWqFADUm-rplKpgJpNHswUkHUGbS4rKLRy3wPZoU8yz2JBvl/s400/carrot.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carrots!</td></tr>
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Two weekends ago we went to a Cranberries concert. I used to be a really huge fan, back in high school, in my EMO days. I was looking forward to a good, show, since I had seen them once before in Baltimore and thoroughly enjoyed it. Well, the concert did not disappoint. Dolores, despite her "old" age, can still rock it, and is definitely cute in dorky sort of way. She played a lot of new songs, and those were not the greatest, but she still sung their best stuff, like Dreams (our wedding entrance song!), Zombie, Ridiculous thoughts, Linger, and Salvation. Some of the songs, literally took me back to my bedroom growing up. It's weird how music can do that. The true 'highlight' of the Cranberries concert is how the venue was changed without us learning about it; and how, after we finally knew, assigned seating became a free for all at the door. No joke. The whole 5 months that I had been holding the tickets, I thought they were at the venue PRINTED ON THE TICKET. But no, somehow, sometime, somewhere, it was changed to another arena and since we clearly don't watch local TV, we missed the memo of the change. Luckily, a friend happened to mention it to me and we were able to go to the right place. Once we got there, late of course, our friend K. had elbowed her way into some decent seats, so we weren't completely out of luck. Except there was a crazy cloud of smoke that was so thick I had to keep blinking to see the concert. When we got home, we had to strip by the door and run to the shower to scrub ourselves, the smell was so bad. Maybe I am getting as old as Dolores. </div>
V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-583275203368854902012-11-26T17:10:00.001-05:002012-11-26T17:10:25.844-05:00Fall<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Fall is my favorite season by far. I love when leaves change colors, wearing 2-3 layers and feeling the cool, crisp breeze. There is something about Fall that just smells of possibility; and along with my favorite season came our annual Marine Corps Ball - also known as DiploProm. This year, I had brought my dress WAY in advance, when I was in home in July. Unfortunately, the me in July was definitely smaller than the me 5-days-before prom. Luckily, a no-carb week did the trick and I was able to wear my "toga" or "Greek Goddess" attire. The only thing is that I never got around to getting shoes for it, and had to settle between silver sandals and my trusty TOMS. The TOMS won. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7Ba8xTbNc4ujxbgSxmiWQ8VmXKECgFyu9RVhklwr2TnSIIiHTgkEV3Y2G3q4pwYv7jmgeRATcHmzLycXBQAwIxuQToHuQpB-d61A_CHiyaWk_664tVbJwpdfI2wc2mUJoL2dKpHsSrnE/s1600/Marine_ball.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7Ba8xTbNc4ujxbgSxmiWQ8VmXKECgFyu9RVhklwr2TnSIIiHTgkEV3Y2G3q4pwYv7jmgeRATcHmzLycXBQAwIxuQToHuQpB-d61A_CHiyaWk_664tVbJwpdfI2wc2mUJoL2dKpHsSrnE/s400/Marine_ball.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready to party!</td></tr>
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Later in November, Phil and I celebrated our 5 year wedding anniversary with a trip to Southern Spain and Lisbon, Portugal. I have to say that I used to be a Spain hater, mostly because people in PR LOVE Spain and I have always been the type to rebel against what the masses acclaim. After Madrid, I became a groupie, and now,I am officially the president of the "Spain is the best country in Europe" fan club. We had a fabulous time. We went to Seville and Granada and I just loved them both; the food, the drinks, the people, the stores and the artisy-ness. Granted that I am a sucker for all things UNESCO, we went to the Alhambra, mostly because of the old saying by <i>"he who has not seen the Alhambra, has not lived."</i> The Alhambra was very nice and I recommend it, but the best part about Spain is just finding small holes in the wall to have some beers and tapas. The beers are pretty small and for one Euro and you can just have one and move to the next place or indulge and have a couple. Fun times guaranteed. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOreY59-EZEO4urEcZkrmI_2slSAxaYYIWtl1zI251ckjKo9884XJUQ2q7w0G0afSVo8kwGljhB5yYwfRr8dfXSZlkVJv_Xl14pLagod2MmChSM5Ytj9ymDnXHZUJzquRoV3RKU5js2ipQ/s1600/Alhambra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOreY59-EZEO4urEcZkrmI_2slSAxaYYIWtl1zI251ckjKo9884XJUQ2q7w0G0afSVo8kwGljhB5yYwfRr8dfXSZlkVJv_Xl14pLagod2MmChSM5Ytj9ymDnXHZUJzquRoV3RKU5js2ipQ/s400/Alhambra.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have lived!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtrWVu6YCjSooyw1nBJR6kKdncl_qzHicTypBe_wV2Q3n3EYkUkbS-4QeaS5wNLXdEcuDYS6oJRI9thCsKw84iEdawvHfwm2mVSA8WhEWIotZairsVKmVH6I0IWeeMoVevYfP5O4JtL9r/s1600/alhambra2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtrWVu6YCjSooyw1nBJR6kKdncl_qzHicTypBe_wV2Q3n3EYkUkbS-4QeaS5wNLXdEcuDYS6oJRI9thCsKw84iEdawvHfwm2mVSA8WhEWIotZairsVKmVH6I0IWeeMoVevYfP5O4JtL9r/s400/alhambra2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The walls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lisbon was cool, not as fun as Spain, but still very artsy and cute. We had crappy weather, but we still enjoyed their wine and walking around the city. Our friend V had recommended a short day trip to a little town called Sintra, and that was really quaint and fairy-tale like. We spent the rest of the time shopping and sipping Porto Wine in little curbside kiosks. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsR7tlMXc6Qg-7pHBHJGu6bZ_lguXSZ3xpW0NjJqJxJif5wTMgFlFRBuqxElojYqEXsGUeEHfHk9ZMOt4AlQvuZ1NATl1PEzVf57hjMnpRgJ-59ed3BMikonQlYPjwFajKE8XzOqqTABoi/s1600/Lisbon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsR7tlMXc6Qg-7pHBHJGu6bZ_lguXSZ3xpW0NjJqJxJif5wTMgFlFRBuqxElojYqEXsGUeEHfHk9ZMOt4AlQvuZ1NATl1PEzVf57hjMnpRgJ-59ed3BMikonQlYPjwFajKE8XzOqqTABoi/s400/Lisbon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salud!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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We came back to Belgrade right on time to celebrate Thanksgiving. Not once, not twice, but three times. I must have had at least a pound of turkey and stuffing all by myself. There were a couple of Serbs at one of the dinners, and they were really interested and curious to learn about the Holiday. It was pathetic and funny to piece together random parts of the story, beginning with the Mayflower, Columbus, and Plymouth rock and ending with 'you HAVE to have marshmallows on the sweet potatoes!" Luckily, the Embassy's commissary really came through and imported true American staples like the French Onion toppings for the green bean casserole and some sweet potatoes and marshmallows, so Thanksgiving was complete. When I asked one of the Serbian ladies, which dish was her favorite, she said 'the pumpkin'. ???? How is beyond me, since the pumpkin was literally olive oil and salt and some rosemary, but I guess you have to grow up with the rest of the stuff to appreciate it. Gooble, Gooble!<br />
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-19236061570746185982012-10-30T09:46:00.002-04:002012-10-30T09:53:11.213-04:00Serbian Style Halloween<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have always been a big Halloween fan. Between the candy and the costumes, how can you not love it? Every year that I lived in DC, I either went to a party or just paraded the streets of Adams Morgan looking for the funniest/most original costumes. In Belgrade, the North American expats have made sure to bring Halloween and its spirit to whoever chooses to join in the festivities. Last year, since we were newly arrived, we ventured to both the Marine House party and the Canadian Club parties costume-less and unaccompanied. Both parties were pretty fun, considering we didn't know anyone there and they actually proved to be the catalyst in making what would later be our best friends in BEG. This year, we were ready to rock the house with our well-planned out, 5 Euro a pop, home made with Chinese Market materials group costumes. Our great friend K. (also known as 'Martha') was the brain behind the 'Fun and Inappropriate Costumes' Operation. Since we had two events back to back, we decided to each have two costumes. For the Canadian Club, we opted for the more generic one: Angry Birds. Using trash and recyclig bags, some huge pieces of paper fabric and shower curtains, we each got to be a different color bird. Except me. I go to be the pig. King pig to be exact. I had the most bootleg, but funniest costume of the six. K. made me a crown to wear, along with my green pig ears. All pics courtesy of C. who should really consider joining some sort of Serbian paparazzi group.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMOkLADg5tS2IxL1UNiBm7WNgu9SrVULMggSSZdZeLtnUnHi7qxQajMlMkdGJ1sdmP1iSfQ_18bcupqCsrofXuV-gS-xegGmOZT5wHVSQGGiCmX5WP2Lebb3Ur_zaaMV4d8d4rgEjjHri/s1600/Pig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMOkLADg5tS2IxL1UNiBm7WNgu9SrVULMggSSZdZeLtnUnHi7qxQajMlMkdGJ1sdmP1iSfQ_18bcupqCsrofXuV-gS-xegGmOZT5wHVSQGGiCmX5WP2Lebb3Ur_zaaMV4d8d4rgEjjHri/s400/Pig.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The birds stomping on the pig</td></tr>
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For the second costume, we had first come up with the idea of being scrabble boards for the facebook game 'words with friends'. Later, we thought, <em>"what if we are just words...and then, all together, 'with friends'?"</em> So we picked some good word combinations for ourselves; appropriate and professional alone, not so much when together. We had a lot of fun posing for pics and arranging/re-arranging our positions to come up with some other good phrases. Again, Martha went all out and made us the most beautiful, perfectly lined up tiles for our words. Literally. Just four days earlier, we all went to her house to find that she had already pre-cut the poster board in perfect equal squares, rounded the corners, printed out the individual letters, cut them to perfection, and glued them to the board. In order to finish all the costumes in time, she re-arranged the living room as her own personal sweatshop and divided us into two groups. As Martha has never been a teacher, she didn't realize that grouping by ability is perhaps not the best idea; so she set 'us', the least capable ones, working on the menial tasks of marking places to make holes, hole punch, tape and assemble tiles and 'them', the smart ones, to work on the finishing touches for Angry Birds. Needless to say, Phil became the model, 4.0 student all over again and half hour later he was allowed to work alone on his own bird. Me? I was still struggling on figuring out if the ruler was upside down as I marked where the holes would go. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyHYTmDYc_guTcxyJ_dXmEtmiun2sxg-ff-mP-TW5SimfFNQLBI1JYtE6Pw88tapH2REu2MHz9XL8ABTVueZDEzjJYykPdFgnB5Kpq8ElR6MqtEWdV4VOVDPzSSjl88mXjVkpcpPuT0Wd/s1600/words.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyHYTmDYc_guTcxyJ_dXmEtmiun2sxg-ff-mP-TW5SimfFNQLBI1JYtE6Pw88tapH2REu2MHz9XL8ABTVueZDEzjJYykPdFgnB5Kpq8ElR6MqtEWdV4VOVDPzSSjl88mXjVkpcpPuT0Wd/s400/words.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpaY4fGXKJxeoWcKZ1A50tw2SRTAbQN_tthJB8DBrM714lLybB-sb97ja7dT6eHIcIjcw1wmeyS2I92Ogq3SFD6_rGQ26OgnBWdEjxIUGEIlwkYuPgGjhZGLesd0PVEWH-u4byMmrvmW3/s1600/words2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpaY4fGXKJxeoWcKZ1A50tw2SRTAbQN_tthJB8DBrM714lLybB-sb97ja7dT6eHIcIjcw1wmeyS2I92Ogq3SFD6_rGQ26OgnBWdEjxIUGEIlwkYuPgGjhZGLesd0PVEWH-u4byMmrvmW3/s400/words2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKYjORkK63B_oxlXQfImdUEr_4Lw9LOtPugHc-4sS8c4ea3NPJVS-dboTBoVZONIUKms5FKGJd8Mslkrv95LHVxHfOliPj1UZv1AMRoFqJkBilc05janbkgt2ajvyA1eMeuZzTnKZJnkg/s1600/combos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKYjORkK63B_oxlXQfImdUEr_4Lw9LOtPugHc-4sS8c4ea3NPJVS-dboTBoVZONIUKms5FKGJd8Mslkrv95LHVxHfOliPj1UZv1AMRoFqJkBilc05janbkgt2ajvyA1eMeuZzTnKZJnkg/s320/combos.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Combos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So overall, costumes were a huge success, and the parties were really fun. But the real highlight of the night was that I met a reader who is not already one of my friends! I was walking around as the 'king pig' and someone dressed as a Mexican came up to me and straight out asked if I had a blog and if it was Flippin' Serbia. It made my night! So, if you are reading still, let's get together and hang out! </div>
V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-20850753869811931722012-10-29T15:51:00.003-04:002012-10-29T18:03:57.568-04:00Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Incredibly slow, yet remarkably fast, we have now officially celebrated one year in Belgrade. The best way I can describe it is the way people describe having kids; the days are long but the years are short. We are now halfway done with our adventure and I can hardly believe it. There is so much still that I haven't done (starting with becoming fluent in Serbian), places I need to visit, restaurants to try, people to meet, and questions to get answered. I thought it'd be fun to make a quick list of the things I miss most about America and a list of my favorite things in Serbia. Obviously, family and friends aside.<br />
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<b>Top 5 things I miss most about America:</b><br />
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1. Mexican food/Chipotle/Asian food/good sushi - even though I have been to a couple of decent places, nothing compares to the diversity and authenticity of ethnic foods in the States. <br />
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2. Unlimited re-fills and ice- no explanation needed<br />
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3. Metro - the bus system in Belgrade is great, but when it's cold, raining or just plain miserable outside, it's nice to be underground instead of at a bus stop.<br />
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4. Happy Hour - go out straight after work, get home by 11, go to sleep. No need to stay up till midnight to go out.<br />
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5. The fast pace - all my life, growing up in PR, people said I was too wound up, that I should "chill-out", take it easy, etc. Then I moved to DC and I fit right in. Now, I am back in the land of no rushing, no sense of urgency. Except on the buses-I find that Serbs in general are very laid- back and take their time to do things ; but when it comes to getting off the bus, all the built up impatience comes out. Riders literally get a microsecond to jump out or you'll be stuck inside. Not to mention that the stops are WAY farther apart than they are in the US. If you miss your stop, you might end up walking a good 2-3 blocks.<br />
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<b>Top 5 things I will miss about Belgrade:</b><br />
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1. Amazing produce - Serbia has hands down the best eggs, tomatoes, peppers, and salads I have ever had in my life. It's crazy how well-dressed cabbage can fill the spot.<br />
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2. Taxis - they are everywhere, very reliable and you can text your location to have one come get you!<br />
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3. Convenience - how could it be?? Belgrade more convenient than DC?? In my particular case, in many ways yes. We live a block from an awesome bakery, Mini Maxi (711 type convenience store), and a taxi stand. No more weekends wasted at Costco or at Target. In Belgrade, we have a ton of storage space, so I go 'shopping' in the guest room, where I have all the toiletries I will need until we go.<br />
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4. Parks - there are so many nice parks and green spaces that are easily accessible, clean and full of ice cream vendors. Part of me wishes we would have come here later, when we had kids, because the playgrounds look great!<br />
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5. Location, location, location - in the US, I would visit a new country once a year at the max. Here, it's amazing, ALL flights are international flights. There are more than 15 countries that you can get to in about 2 hours and for less than $ 300 for a round trip. Unbeatable.<br />
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<b>No shopping update</b> - If you have been a follower for most of the year, you might remember that I promised not to buy any new clothes the whole time we were here. Well, I am sad to report that I caved in and did get a couple of things, most of them online and when I went back to the US in July. I have bought 6 dresses, a skirt, and 2 shirts. I will definitely try harder this year.<br />
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-63009277939677123082012-10-14T17:28:00.003-04:002012-10-14T17:32:33.538-04:00Oktoberfest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Last weekend we flew to Munich to fulfill one of the big-ticket items on our travel bucket list - Attend Oktoberfest-which did not disappoint whatsoever. The best way to describe it is, as I said at one point during the trip [and this is a direct quote], "Oktoberfest is the definition of 'my scene'" or like one of our friends said, "imagine that your favorite team just won the Superbow, and all of you are on the same team". That is the essence and vibe of Oktoberfest. There is no sulking, negativity, pushing or shoving. Zillions of people occupy the same space but camaraderie reigns. Besides drinking liters of beer and kilos of sausages, we managed to visit most of the big tents and gardens and go on the rides. Contrary to most people's suggestions, we didn't make reservations in any of the tents because there were only four of us and you had to prepay for at least 8 in order to have a guaranteed seat. Instead, we scouted around looking for tables with empty seats. Overall, we were pretty lucky; we got to seat at 3 different beer gardens and one day we had 'breakfast' inside a tent. The whole experience was phenomenal. Like all things German, Oktoberfest was incredibly well planned, efficient, and executed seamlessly. Take a seat, order, pay up, clink, sing, repeat. Everywhere you looked were heaps of good food and monstrous beers, people wearing the traditional dress of dirndl and lederhosen no matter their age. Little kids and grandparents sat at the table and cheered and clinked mugs with the rest of them. If there is a way to promote world peace, this seems like a great way to start.</div>
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The highlights include:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_KSy8o52Dt_A0SJZ8AWqjtTcD_wCExIUzhewoOeq5yaGdntQscMsoPq3GXYfiagJI3sFlX8YhZY03AlTRtEI-RmrKfjkMfWWd3791i7aEsD7T1JFxoXR-cDnV6RQoYlgBDR3VOinoxyu/s1600/DSCN7247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_KSy8o52Dt_A0SJZ8AWqjtTcD_wCExIUzhewoOeq5yaGdntQscMsoPq3GXYfiagJI3sFlX8YhZY03AlTRtEI-RmrKfjkMfWWd3791i7aEsD7T1JFxoXR-cDnV6RQoYlgBDR3VOinoxyu/s400/DSCN7247.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beer: Probst!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVb50Hgu0J2oafjaHbK7vTorgdJsSGCvbwmtdPvO2-tqjnBJYSsxE0N2xzPm4-1wK1-4MhX5AW1r1qAhp_pGp9T_QMofn2eLlXIOladwfXR_BRGehVqYISi4t2gTIC7QGY_WLaK9yYjc-/s1600/DSCN7343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVb50Hgu0J2oafjaHbK7vTorgdJsSGCvbwmtdPvO2-tqjnBJYSsxE0N2xzPm4-1wK1-4MhX5AW1r1qAhp_pGp9T_QMofn2eLlXIOladwfXR_BRGehVqYISi4t2gTIC7QGY_WLaK9yYjc-/s400/DSCN7343.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fashion: Going Native in our Drndls</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLLAtoHXjuCyF6ISysluJCV-0sWj-xFrRXUCG-_bEcE2LT9k5jlpWPtBTrmLDXymcMmNk_fY9ZfY3lZeKP0-zjwT0usyKgFqLuRPUvD4WLFJk8YVIE9cdTidjlnpx7JuN_36H2RZA5OcH/s1600/DSCN7305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLLAtoHXjuCyF6ISysluJCV-0sWj-xFrRXUCG-_bEcE2LT9k5jlpWPtBTrmLDXymcMmNk_fY9ZfY3lZeKP0-zjwT0usyKgFqLuRPUvD4WLFJk8YVIE9cdTidjlnpx7JuN_36H2RZA5OcH/s400/DSCN7305.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flying: I still cannot believe I agreed to this</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1oi6x4ai8KyzcdaFtd01ED4CaPWXC2eIPBsg037_0oDwkC3xJ14b1_Tc-1TtlMIPBOw5ALVgg05iNEih6s1ygvKyoW5Fo2R3ssYKgV24aopRxNsPBYFtttoT4aU_bq4abrn3AIdNybP5H/s1600/DSCN7348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1oi6x4ai8KyzcdaFtd01ED4CaPWXC2eIPBsg037_0oDwkC3xJ14b1_Tc-1TtlMIPBOw5ALVgg05iNEih6s1ygvKyoW5Fo2R3ssYKgV24aopRxNsPBYFtttoT4aU_bq4abrn3AIdNybP5H/s320/DSCN7348.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bratwurst, Viking, and Beer</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDVCN5V-9R_y2YF3leEBJ4lgbetNi9oam7zsZGNCyg19WGKHu3D2ZHFlY44vMfoCtPXbrz8VVm1xLfSWIc4y15rKn5mZmjvsXQoIF3UISpHU-LdOcY5-wcNUex43UZjduar6VdnZzH9Qc/s1600/DSCN7432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDVCN5V-9R_y2YF3leEBJ4lgbetNi9oam7zsZGNCyg19WGKHu3D2ZHFlY44vMfoCtPXbrz8VVm1xLfSWIc4y15rKn5mZmjvsXQoIF3UISpHU-LdOcY5-wcNUex43UZjduar6VdnZzH9Qc/s400/DSCN7432.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Spirit: Massive tents with tables of newly made friends</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRUcRbB5fsfiHUaOBZfAplf_gYh-FclGlWUK2X_X0r0Do2yZ62eaMBHRmXqDReawADH3ve29xw0QAxdCZaF4TE2N5-t_M9M4GOiSvXLVlFKrgeL0jDFtJRIYsHiSWtW5lW48PDFcoCyZp/s1600/DSCN7460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRUcRbB5fsfiHUaOBZfAplf_gYh-FclGlWUK2X_X0r0Do2yZ62eaMBHRmXqDReawADH3ve29xw0QAxdCZaF4TE2N5-t_M9M4GOiSvXLVlFKrgeL0jDFtJRIYsHiSWtW5lW48PDFcoCyZp/s400/DSCN7460.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Devil's Wheel: seeing people get ejected by centrifugal force is actually really funny.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-OhrURuyo1JVvRWJWiUKyMOR8KCy4mQKeF3akoIbIXHVhAHxx4f5bcCrGj1JExRfws_lSeSpFldEgWlsXfJUzQh8h51TdKyCG6Ha0farPpAj_f6VKuyTOigabbQN9GvtFc0OiwjwQwwq/s1600/DSCN7544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-OhrURuyo1JVvRWJWiUKyMOR8KCy4mQKeF3akoIbIXHVhAHxx4f5bcCrGj1JExRfws_lSeSpFldEgWlsXfJUzQh8h51TdKyCG6Ha0farPpAj_f6VKuyTOigabbQN9GvtFc0OiwjwQwwq/s400/DSCN7544.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gran Finale: "I've had the time of my life" sung my 5000 drunk people holding sparklers.</td></tr>
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We are soo going back next year. Friends welcome to join!</div>
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-57298666598138206612012-10-03T12:44:00.003-04:002012-10-03T16:40:44.619-04:00Adventures on the Overnight Train<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ever since we moved to Belgrade, I had really wanted to try one of the overnight trains. In my head, the 'real' European experience needs to include some sort of train travel. So finally, almost a year after moving here, I was able to convince 4 very brave friends to join Phil and I on the overnight train to Bar, Montenegro. Initially, the idea was to get the 6-bed compartment and have a fun, dorm-like experience, but when Phil and I went to the station to get our tickets, they didn't have any compartments completely empty for us to be all together; so we settled for 3 'rooms' of two beds each. We had a rental car waiting for us to then drive around the country to the National Parks, spend the night in Budva, drive up to Sveti Stefan and Kotor Bay and fly back from Tivat on Monday morning. The train was supposed to leave at 8:10 PM and get to Bar at 7 in the morning, so we met at the train station at about 7:45 and made our way to our seats. Our rooms were side by side and the best part is that some of them were connected by an inside door that could be folded in, to create a large suite. You could also put up the top bunks to allow people to sit on the bottom ones without hitting their head; curiously, the bottom of that bunk was made up to look like a nice picture, so that when the whole set-up was ready, it looked like a legitimate living room.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yTCDj3jZCTlrtTuQKWtuqxHKYrN_F0T6U6y8nyMNIJHsjyreo3xH84NTfk_lK7GN27AYJw8zWMvWZinjr2k_DjrOEVZBWb0bVn0ac2o5wpT7KvlU2_tHVemNvaqI4JW4FYWniyzZx5xI/s1600/OT-room1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yTCDj3jZCTlrtTuQKWtuqxHKYrN_F0T6U6y8nyMNIJHsjyreo3xH84NTfk_lK7GN27AYJw8zWMvWZinjr2k_DjrOEVZBWb0bVn0ac2o5wpT7KvlU2_tHVemNvaqI4JW4FYWniyzZx5xI/s400/OT-room1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">K and R's living room</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu0t5n1IS0LzRrXolsKWaAwYtADZo7YkQOEHeEyP8_ei4zzEyBbATnsKLrE0QJ4KfyJ5I52yldrYtnqlSsUv6VKy8EJrHeRbEcm67BsCwc9STm3mXNXOdI99CuENyGmZlkGZC-rYz7zu_/s1600/OT-Phil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu0t5n1IS0LzRrXolsKWaAwYtADZo7YkQOEHeEyP8_ei4zzEyBbATnsKLrE0QJ4KfyJ5I52yldrYtnqlSsUv6VKy8EJrHeRbEcm67BsCwc9STm3mXNXOdI99CuENyGmZlkGZC-rYz7zu_/s400/OT-Phil.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phil hanging out in the mid-section</td></tr>
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We brought some mojito pre-made mix for the ride and some really unhealthy snacks. Sadly, we ate 90% of the snacks while we sat at the station until 10 PM. We kept joking that we should just get off and let those two hours sitting and waiting for departure to be the actual OT adventure. Finally, at like 10:15, we left Belgrade. The ride was smooth and pretty fast, not bumpy, but screechy. We went to bed at like midnight, but I didn't really sleep very much at all because of the noise and the movement. But overall, it was a really comfortable way to travel. The beds were not bad and it felt clean enough. The sheets and pillows had definitely been washed before and there was nothing terribly disturbing. Except for the bathroom. <br />
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We got 'waken up' twice at the border to get our passports checked and stamped, and 12 hours hours later we arrived in Podgorica, still wearing the same clothes as the night before. We picked up our car, which fit all 5 of us in the front and back and had a mini-semi-seat in what I would call tier 3 of the car. It was the best and worst seat in the house. <br />
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We drove for about 3 hours, stopping at a really small town/village for a traditional lunch of grilled meat, french fries, salads and beers. All six of us ate a lot for 21 Euros. Amazing! A quick stopover to a hanging bridge and we arrived at the Black Lake, a UNESCO site within Durmitor National Park. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-8_ZUwRLqxPVaVwWDlZB3skpKuXo-DGYzXl28zoxniUsDAs6WhgIsCO2nIvyccEhiL5w9YpLNe2N4TEdbNR7vlOIwWlExXYjjN-4QK8DGarGcV34pBqSUop7BJszkVwjMraSry4KMpAA/s1600/OT+-black_lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-8_ZUwRLqxPVaVwWDlZB3skpKuXo-DGYzXl28zoxniUsDAs6WhgIsCO2nIvyccEhiL5w9YpLNe2N4TEdbNR7vlOIwWlExXYjjN-4QK8DGarGcV34pBqSUop7BJszkVwjMraSry4KMpAA/s400/OT+-black_lake.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazy Foreigners</td></tr>
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Driving back, we kept looking at the guidebook to find fun things to see and do, and we selected Ostrog Monastery, not a UNESCO site, but a "Montenegro Top 10", unfortunately, three thousand other people seemed to have the same idea, so we wound up in the top of a very steep mountain, on a one way road, behind about 11 coach buses. We got out of the car and tried to walk it, and then noticed, that in the distance, it was about 5 miles away-and all uphill. We quickly aborted the mission and decided to instead drive down to the coast to Sveti Stefan, this glorious hotel-resort-island to watch the sunset and have some drinks. Two hours later and we made it right on time. The sun had maybe another 20 minutes before setting. We ran to the coast and were able to take really good pictures. Then our friend, C. tried to get us into the resort for drinks, but unfortunately, we were turned away because of our too-casual clothes (and probably our too loud voices). Luckily there was a cute little place nearby, where we sat down and saw the sunset before checking into our apartments.<br />
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Needless to say, we were super tired when we finally drove to Budva, where we were planning to have dinner and spend the night. When we got to the town, we realized that no one had printed the exact address of the place and we didn't have a way of knowing where we were staying. At least C. had looked at the map beforehand and had some recolection of where the street was located, but we still had no clue exactly where it was, so we ended up knocking on random doors and asking. No one had heard of the place or knew where it was. Finally, a kindred spirit allowed us to connect our ipad to his Wi-Fi to look up the phone number. The miracle of modern technology! C. talked to the guy, told him where we were, and he was able to give us directions on how to get there. The whole thing took over an hour, but we finally made it and it was a really nice place with a great location.<br />
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The rest of the trip was more relaxing, we walked around the Budva old town, which was nice; same, same but different and the next day we went to Kotor Bay, back to the scene of the scooter accident (see earlier <a href="http://www.v-rah.blogspot.com/2012/05/pretty-one-badass-one-and-one-with.html">post</a>). Now, I still have to make it to Macedonia to complete my tour of the ex-republics and brave the overnight trains to Bucharest and/or Sofia! <br />
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-18074176891332322222012-09-14T13:03:00.003-04:002012-09-14T13:18:23.747-04:00Croatian Coast Weekend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For Labor Day weekend, we took the seasonal Jat flight into Dubrovnik to meet up with 2 other couple-friends for a fabulous little break on the coast. Our flight was at 7 in the morning and we were super tired and groggy when we got to the airport. In a real turn of rotten luck, our flight kept getting delayed in half hour increments and we didn't end up leaving till 12:30 PM. We were pissed. I had heard really great things about Dubrovnik (DV) and was anxious to start exploring. Not to mention, that in our typical go-go-don't-stop-fashion, we only had Friday and Saturday in DV to then take the bus up to Split and fly out of Split on Monday. Unfortunately, the flight was at 2 PM. Leaving us with very little time to actually see/do a lot. I figured it was still better to take at least a glimpse, and if we loved it, we could always try to go back.<br />
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Like the grilled octopus in Greece, DV was all about mussels. I don't really ever eat seafood in Serbia, one because we don't have a coast and two because the meat is really good. We had a big mussels lunch for about 12 Euro (double the Montenegrin prices!) and went on our way to the main attractions. It really is an awesomely pretty place. I have always liked the walled city idea and architecture. Cities like Venice, and Toledo (Spain, not Ohio), where it's just narrow alleyways going in all different directions, no cars, just people on foot and the odd bike. The city is all built in this white marble, even the floor, which makes it really slippery, because it has been worn down with the thousands of cruise and bus tours arriving daily. <br />
Actually, that was my only turn-off, the amount of tourists around. As much as we have traveled since moving here, we have been really great about missing the peak seasons, so having to wait in crazy lines or not being able to take pictures because there are other 50 people looking at the same panorama is not something I have been dealing with much. But the views WERE worth the wait, and we got some good pics going around the wall. Then we went to a bar that advertised the "best views in town" and they really did. This little place was right along the rocks and had a ladder down to the coast. DV doesn't have a beach per se. It's on the ocean, but on the really deep part, so it's more like a big pier/marina. Our friends C and J, who are much more adventurous than us wanted to dive off one of the cliffs. The prime spot was roped off with a sign that said "VIP Area" and there were some random dudes in there, so there was not a lot of space for us to hang out. But Phil, K, R and I got some beers while our Hawaiian diver extraordinaire buddies dived about 10 meters into the bluest waters I have seen. Everyone at the bar cheered them on, I actually had sweaty palms just thinking about it, but it was definitely safe, and both of them are pretty much pros. I would be super that girl who doesn't jump far enough and hits her head on a protruding rock 1 meter below and falls lying down flat and unconscious, while probably losing her bathing suit in the process. So no diving for me. Additionally, I have also been suffering from a bad shoulder for about ...a year now, so no thanks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJDAWno7P0eE22RhAQ3yumq4KFA40VW_2eZRTPjfrCRIv_nO7TbjtKoxmQKBBY8j5ZDAH3ssNxSVPT0Bx77YXXo8Sr2yJiLRMeXHeUeezVz6vtuFWba8pGQZ6oC6nacL2T8MYHQL_oU5Tj/s1600/DV_bar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJDAWno7P0eE22RhAQ3yumq4KFA40VW_2eZRTPjfrCRIv_nO7TbjtKoxmQKBBY8j5ZDAH3ssNxSVPT0Bx77YXXo8Sr2yJiLRMeXHeUeezVz6vtuFWba8pGQZ6oC6nacL2T8MYHQL_oU5Tj/s400/DV_bar.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post dive pic</td></tr>
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The best thing of this trip was C's crazy tripod contraption for her camera. She bought this little 3 flexible tube mount that can be attached to anything. Just bend the legs to the shape of the post, chair, tree, or<br />
railing and voila! an instant group picture can be taken. Actually, it was the same one that our friend B. had brought to Amsterdam. Same, same but different. Anyway, the theme of the trip was to take as many group pics as possible. It was really funny though, when people unsuspectingly passed in front of the camera and we all went "ahhhhh" or "no!, no!, no!, STOP! Most of them just kept going and stared at us while we stood there, completely still, with cheesy smiles on our faces, staring at the camera that should not be there.<br />
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After the diving, the VIP area was completely empty, but still roped off. C. and I were like, "were taking over this joint!" so we walked past the sign and pulled out the chairs that had been all stacked neatly on top of the table and became the new VIP-ers. It's so weird how you can just do that. No bar employee came down to complain or say anything, and at the same time no other patrons dared to cross it. We were like super fake celebrities.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXrmtFeP-Oxg8uXOTfCdbVd8-JZTYCeYiexX5IiSJhOyJJL_Br1-QFfbom-WBpU0j2kWtPW7Q-ZUhyphenhyphentggECQHL4Gr7HLmyWVTs5f44jH9eaOybW1xpCpSRyYSa2_v0xY2pMnxbJ0Mhk8fb/s1600/VIP_DV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXrmtFeP-Oxg8uXOTfCdbVd8-JZTYCeYiexX5IiSJhOyJJL_Br1-QFfbom-WBpU0j2kWtPW7Q-ZUhyphenhyphentggECQHL4Gr7HLmyWVTs5f44jH9eaOybW1xpCpSRyYSa2_v0xY2pMnxbJ0Mhk8fb/s400/VIP_DV.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">VIP!</td></tr>
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After the diving, we went to our house, that C had booked online, which was cool cause it was a REAL house for the 6 of us. We had a full kitchen,3 bedrooms, and 2 baths; but like everything that sounds like a too awesome deal, it had it's downfall. For this house it was that it was literally over 300 steep steps up a hill; going into the walled city from the house was a good 20 minute-sweating-profusely-while-panting hike. No joke; the kind of hike that if you forgot your camera and you were already down the hill, you would rather make Dubrovnik a mere memory rather than climb that evil thing again.<br />
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Nevertheless, we climbed, and that night, we had Chef J prepare us a super yummy home cooked meal. Earlier that day, while we had been waiting tirelessly at the airport for our flight, they had gone to the market and picked up some fish and vegetables. We prepped some rice, salad, and other good stuff and ate in the balcony, overlooking the ocean. Really nice stuff.<br />
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The next day, we had booked a sort of tour around three local islands. The tour promised an hour on the first two and three hours on the last one, along with lunch and unlimited soft drinks and wine. Well, there was a reason while that 'awesome deal' was only 30 Euros. The wine was terrible, the soft drinks were like Rock Creek Soda (you need to be a DC person to know what that is) and the fish at lunch was terribly overcooked. We only spent half an hour on the first two islands, and that was half an hour too long. There was nothing to see or do on them. Get off, look at 2-3 restaurants and some crazy hills for 'views' and wait in the shade to get back on the boat. At least the boat was pretty nice and not too crowded. <br />
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The last island was much better though and we had time to swim and get some drinks on the shore. Even though we were there for a very short time, I have to say it might be one of the best beaches I have ever been to. Caribbean beaches might be the most beautiful, but I like it better when the water is a little bit cold and the ocean is a bit rough. This had the perfect amount of waves for playing around and it was the perfect temperature. Plus, like in Belgrade, we paid some money to sit on some chairs, under an umbrella and got some drinks brought to us. So easy, so great.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CAFwPvp_0X0XklDv-7hmxZnuAo1baXNHmYwP7nQuFKKKg5Ij9nsr78lj5JjdgUzXIVQgb2c8HIUnkJFlp4Y3lNgNTZu9XGc80SyrJEXLO2av6fciEOsV5DDL1QcMRotXXEDJAfpSTbJt/s1600/DV_view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CAFwPvp_0X0XklDv-7hmxZnuAo1baXNHmYwP7nQuFKKKg5Ij9nsr78lj5JjdgUzXIVQgb2c8HIUnkJFlp4Y3lNgNTZu9XGc80SyrJEXLO2av6fciEOsV5DDL1QcMRotXXEDJAfpSTbJt/s400/DV_view.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">best.beach.ever</td></tr>
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That night, after getting all primped up, we went out to dinner and then to get drinks. I had a large plate of mussels all to my self! We were going around trying to find a nice mojito place, like the one we loved in Sarajevo (a post I might write 3 months too late) but instead ended up to the closest thing I have seen to a frat party in this part of the world: the bar with the bucket drinks. Now, who deep down inside doesn't wish they were 19 and still could party like that? But the truth is we're old now, one round of buckets later we were done. But we found the 'grown-up' alternative to the slushee buckets: the mojito karafes. I forgot to mention that in between dinner and drinks, Phil got a present from the group...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-zuf1TIrqa0-qOQM8QAE_cWTwsOmNEL7HqVPzC_ueC1YRESfvWAE7nggEEAMboVbtuJkEXLJ-0y8w1p1bxLcse1g1rAsgq-uJPUMFmKpj1KNArhe2ByrQbdpFEH7xYBDLkprj2vGMvyej/s1600/DV_bitch_please.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-zuf1TIrqa0-qOQM8QAE_cWTwsOmNEL7HqVPzC_ueC1YRESfvWAE7nggEEAMboVbtuJkEXLJ-0y8w1p1bxLcse1g1rAsgq-uJPUMFmKpj1KNArhe2ByrQbdpFEH7xYBDLkprj2vGMvyej/s400/DV_bitch_please.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That guy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_duq1PHe9QirMmzi2urVqGjEhSMCLXTzxy65UsENoC_smZw8GAuU5wB9-iITVPOlvjZR4Crc6Pwc9VzxCq4dcey2lGI0to8wDerKryLkoFz2CRCzdZ0TsYZIwTaC5U3_9R1yIQbw-cbli/s1600/DV_mojito.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_duq1PHe9QirMmzi2urVqGjEhSMCLXTzxy65UsENoC_smZw8GAuU5wB9-iITVPOlvjZR4Crc6Pwc9VzxCq4dcey2lGI0to8wDerKryLkoFz2CRCzdZ0TsYZIwTaC5U3_9R1yIQbw-cbli/s400/DV_mojito.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mojito karafes, too sweet, but fun</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgoMOcHVRKOg8cXmDNzEQxyjsuqOi_7G3VnnP5hEtkmi_xxYuHaVMhWaWkU-C8z07zmbgnERafjAxT9poWYabFeK41ZdGKL7REOU0-_u0sj2yF5eNTuXjAUdw89tj5j9pE8a2VP0tWkAI/s1600/DV_tina_camera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgoMOcHVRKOg8cXmDNzEQxyjsuqOi_7G3VnnP5hEtkmi_xxYuHaVMhWaWkU-C8z07zmbgnERafjAxT9poWYabFeK41ZdGKL7REOU0-_u0sj2yF5eNTuXjAUdw89tj5j9pE8a2VP0tWkAI/s400/DV_tina_camera.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just really wanted to post a pic of our official photographer, C.</td></tr>
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The next day, we all went our separate ways, C. and J. wanted to see more views through the funicular. K. and R. went to a monastery, and of course, Phil and I, being super Puerto Rican, went shopping. Not that there were a ton of good places, but enough. We got two really cool wood pictures from a local artist and I got a necklace. At like 2 PM, our friends dropped us off at the bus stop, where we took the never-ending torturous bus to Split. After 5 long hours, we made it right at sunset, so at least we got to see some nice views. Split wasn't all that great, but I had more mussels, and some grilled calamari, and just a nice, relaxing night. According to our friends, the place to go is Hvar island, which if we'd had more time, I would have totally tried to go to. But next year, when some friends visit, definitely.<br />
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-37418774310080696102012-09-05T15:39:00.001-04:002012-09-05T15:39:26.890-04:00Going bananas in Belgrade<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Literally. I have always loved bananas, and even more banana flavored things. In DC, it mostly meant strawberry-banana yogurt or the Tropicana juice or my beloved Chunky Monkey Ben and Jerry's ice cream. This summer has brought me three new banana flavored items that have become regulars in my weekly shopping. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTp4X6_aiGedKT8rh3OFh8TH_Werc93K-4pbffzT4KnAcndSxq1UXgI-lG6OsQyDZSS0J0INbk3dhhC3YpcZSo4uLv1lPS-87JkEwbpl24IOtC3pAraxFgx7n9YriqcDp9s6TTK_SPXzN/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTp4X6_aiGedKT8rh3OFh8TH_Werc93K-4pbffzT4KnAcndSxq1UXgI-lG6OsQyDZSS0J0INbk3dhhC3YpcZSo4uLv1lPS-87JkEwbpl24IOtC3pAraxFgx7n9YriqcDp9s6TTK_SPXzN/s400/008.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the name in English, "Milkshake"</td></tr>
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<br />Chocolate-Banana Milk? SIGN ME Up! This will be my breakfast staple for awhile. If there is one thing I love more than banana flavor, it is chocolate! Maybe I will add some peanut butter to it and make a REAL milkshake. Yum.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQabA2LO4o3w4Gs84ZOUA-B3BGBegHUD-JNh1Rlcz1AHSerg2WlGLN57uOqkRgpmd8LvsUbPyHkpygU0upKXdanaMwhMoES1PL_SCS77XoQpmMlz0AfU2NtubXjJBK4oJmxXfgxeIqGBJ/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQabA2LO4o3w4Gs84ZOUA-B3BGBegHUD-JNh1Rlcz1AHSerg2WlGLN57uOqkRgpmd8LvsUbPyHkpygU0upKXdanaMwhMoES1PL_SCS77XoQpmMlz0AfU2NtubXjJBK4oJmxXfgxeIqGBJ/s400/007.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too good to be true? Nope. 100% real</td></tr>
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I first noticed these pops at the typical ice-cream freezers all over town and then realized they sell it in "bulk" at the Maxi. It's basically a gummy banana flavored "peel" that you literally peel off and then you are left with a banana creamsicle. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVemAh-jROiNTawegd7f3ycSeOgzrX55vLQOC7V5UKypY4KbuN9CQhmZzLJ1MvnxPShp6S9jXMqvN_qKzgQpsB0lnPOPgkmex9Qz-n-IQTj6jnqHHfRBPhy7t1eIrJA5E1Ve6E2DW8xi9X/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVemAh-jROiNTawegd7f3ycSeOgzrX55vLQOC7V5UKypY4KbuN9CQhmZzLJ1MvnxPShp6S9jXMqvN_qKzgQpsB0lnPOPgkmex9Qz-n-IQTj6jnqHHfRBPhy7t1eIrJA5E1Ve6E2DW8xi9X/s400/003.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone PLEASE start exporting these</td></tr>
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-73326075173134304982012-08-28T17:04:00.004-04:002012-08-29T09:22:25.144-04:00Belgrade Beer Fest and more giant produce<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Two weekends ago it was Belgrade Beer Fest and even though a couple of friends told us not to get too excited, that it was nothing to write home about, we still made plans to check it out thinking of it as sort of a dress rehearsal for Oktoberfest. Well, we liked it so much on Friday night that we decided to go back again on Saturday AND then again on Sunday.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFgyJYbKNJHymgXfbztMix8grDwV_Izs4obRC6YKxxj_P2VuJoL-A_LdV8D6gnRXd5kJ7VVr9-cjehIAtiUEkw7fQI9os0NIylxetuWQ2A_I4pncwVMh6yVHTtzEvyL_L0YLZsPMxzyWMC/s1600/041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFgyJYbKNJHymgXfbztMix8grDwV_Izs4obRC6YKxxj_P2VuJoL-A_LdV8D6gnRXd5kJ7VVr9-cjehIAtiUEkw7fQI9os0NIylxetuWQ2A_I4pncwVMh6yVHTtzEvyL_L0YLZsPMxzyWMC/s400/041.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The food stations, just two choices: Pljeskavica or Sausages</td></tr>
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Beer Fest consisted of about 25 beer tents, including a Mexican themed one selling dos equis, corona and the like, 5 giant food stalls, a stage with local bands with the TV screen, all set-up in a ginormous field where people could walk around and visit the tents along the confluence of the two rivers (Usce). <br />
The great surprise element - and what became the main source of fun and entertainment- was the unadvertised carnival inside the fest. State Fair-like rides were all set up in one side of the field bringing together families, college kids and the occasional tourist. Given, I'm pretty sure most of them were decommissioned in the US back in the early nineties and then re-sold to various second/third world countries before making it into Serbia..but nevertheless, we still rode in them. Because really? What are the odds that you pick the exact ride, exact seat, date and time when it's going to fall apart? I figured that if it was my time to die, then there was nothing I could do about it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cu1nvYAWLvQwcsyUcNauX0XxZxwn3nHQ0g5gT9ah9zrfC94Vh0xOwvlmUJUreHQQn_-mvOUJG5pCAPtDkln-QDIt_CcagLx-WmfmAZLbwr_NEC78NWeAvQVldC8zyQJEVyOBiLqkoVnZ/s1600/048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cu1nvYAWLvQwcsyUcNauX0XxZxwn3nHQ0g5gT9ah9zrfC94Vh0xOwvlmUJUreHQQn_-mvOUJG5pCAPtDkln-QDIt_CcagLx-WmfmAZLbwr_NEC78NWeAvQVldC8zyQJEVyOBiLqkoVnZ/s400/048.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really fast but close to the ground, it seemed like the safest alternative</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBEoCcQGQWaSdvUCI_mzefUXKQEp_b9CtpGKWsyMajnKcD9bx-jR_NuSY-pmv2WW1IWNkH39mWNYLHXYYpT7SR-sS8vaRCH8f_7RaTF0Y8TOWI7Cn6EW4gGHGqcb25u4cYMk4BIlppf_3D/s1600/beer_fest_rides.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBEoCcQGQWaSdvUCI_mzefUXKQEp_b9CtpGKWsyMajnKcD9bx-jR_NuSY-pmv2WW1IWNkH39mWNYLHXYYpT7SR-sS8vaRCH8f_7RaTF0Y8TOWI7Cn6EW4gGHGqcb25u4cYMk4BIlppf_3D/s400/beer_fest_rides.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I nicknamed this one "the spaceship" it seemed harmless, until it lifted up to the sky and started rotating like crazy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Phil cheering to our survival</td></tr>
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The 4-in-1 picture is courtesy of my new friend M. who is new to Belgrade and is clearly a more talented photographer than I am. You might think I'm pretty fearless, but the truth is that I am a total scared-y cat when it comes to getting on those rides. It took a lot of pleading from Phil and many hesitant looks and "waiting moments" to get me on that Speedy. Phil and our Saturday group were way more enthusiastic; especially K. who happily rode with Phil on the spaceship and some other evil-looking ones. We all put our foot down when it came to the whole circle-upside-down pirate ship. It was really funny, though, that some of the rides had typical American propaganda like a cartoon of Uncle Sam and a bald eagle. </div>
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The second highlight after the rides, was the BLUEBERRY beer. Most of the people in our group thought it was too sweet, but we really liked it. For me it was the perfect combination between a beer and a cocktail, not too bitter, not too sweet; not too filling but not too strong. We spent most of our time in that tent, the Black Turtle, and then walking around a little bit through the other carnival -like games. On Friday, my friend V proved to be really good at darts; she was able to get a pin in the bulls eye and two others on the circle right outside of it, which I was sure it would get her a semi-decent prize (except, really, there weren't any, except one ALF doll that we lobbied for to no avail), but the man just gave her a super pathetic mini-doll, the kind that you would get from a 25cent vending machine. Then I guess he felt really bad for me, because I tried to play another game, throwing tennis balls to some tins and literally made a complete ass of myself, missing every tin. He still gave me a consolation prize of another awful looking thing that I gave away immediately. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">V squared and our fabulous prizes</td></tr>
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Last but not least, we are still enjoy some great produce with the last months of summer. Here I am with a giant stack of green onions.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greeeeen Giant!</td></tr>
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V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-85398441953749344962012-08-12T13:28:00.003-04:002012-08-12T13:38:43.621-04:00Beyond Belgrade: Mokra Gora<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When my friends K and R invited me to join them on a road trip to Mokra Gora, I had no idea what they were talking about. I asked around at work and got very conflicting messages from, "It is definitely a must-see, you need at least 3 days" to "so not worth it, if you are going to drive 3 and a half hours, go to Budapest again". Since they were going to go regardless, I decided to check it out for myself and come back with a full report.<br />
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The main attraction at Mokra Gora, besides the mountain scenery, is this train called the <i>Šargan Eight</i>, which used to be part of a "Romantic Road" route back in the pre-war days. Now, they have reconstructed the most scenic parts and changed the original train cars to more touristy ones for a sightseeing ride through the mountain side. The name Sargan Eight comes from the fact that if you went on a helicopter or on a plane over the tracks you would see a figure eight. Also, according to Wikipedia, Mokra Gora are the words in Serbian for Wet Mountain.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Landscape as seen from a lookout point</td></tr>
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Before getting on the train, we went to the other must-do nearby, a so called "Ethnic Village", which is a nostalgic replica of what a Serbian village would have looked like back in the old days. It was a cute little arrangement of wooden cottages that are now restaurants, shops, and tourist traps. We had heard rumors that Johnny Depp had once filmed a movie in the area and that they had made a statue of him. I asked one of the ladies that worked there, and it seems that the legend is true, but that they moved the statue to an unknown location because of "the construction." I am not sure what construction she was referring to since 1. There was whatsoever NO new construction anywhere around where we were and 2. If anything is going to bring crazy American tourists to the middle of the Serbian countryside, it will certainly be a life-sized replica of Johnny Depp. Oh, well. <br />
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As I was writing this, I did a quick online search and it is certainly true!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of USA TODAY. Full Article <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/life/people/2010-01-13-depp-statue_N.htm">here</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in front of one of the authentic houses</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ethnic Village, old cars and everything</td></tr>
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The train ride itself took about 2 hours, first you get on the train (we had to go standing room only, because they were all booked for seats) to the top of the mountain. We were lucky to have gorgeous weather, and since it was the 4:20 train, the sun was pretty much gone and the scenery was beautiful. I really enjoy train travel and I love having the wind in my face and hair while going really fast, so I was really hogging my window and had my head out for the entire ride. Once we reached the top (in about 45 minutes), they gave us 10 minutes to get off, take pictures, and look around before boarding to go back down. Then we kept stopping and re-boarding on the way down. On the second stop, I think EVERY single person got an ice cream from those classic European freezers with the cardboard index. Later, we stopped at a lookout point and finally at a cafe, where people get coffee, soft drinks or beer. On the way back, I met a Spanish guy that is married to a Bosnian, who were spending the weekend there with their kids and her family. He told me that they rented a house right by the tracks for 13 people for two days for only 60 Euro! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The long and winding road</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out. Literally.</td></tr>
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So, the 36,000 dollar question: Worth it? I definitely enjoyed it and I am very glad I went. If you already live in Serbia, and really like trains I'd say go for it, even if it's a long day trip. If you have young kids and a big group, it could be fun to make it into a weekend of relaxation and nature bonding. The drive is kind of a pain. We left here at 9:15 and didn't get there till 1:45. Good thing I had packed some snacks for the road. Also, like most other attractions here in Serbia, there were NO clear road signs advertising the way, and the GPS proved to be not very trustworthy. Getting to the main road was easy enough, but since it's nestled in the mountain ranges right by the Bosnian border, it was all curves and we kept getting stuck behind heavy trucks carrying everything from timber to live sheep. There were times when were were doing 35 km/hr; which is less than 20 miles! Kudos to R for his patience and excellent, one-lane-giant truck-passing skills. If I had been the one driving, we probably would still be there. <br />
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<br /></div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-64788172586326018822012-08-02T15:51:00.003-04:002012-08-02T15:51:59.643-04:00Find me at Ada!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In my humble opinion the best, most awesome thing about Belgrade is its little beach island, Ada Ciganlija. Neither a real lake or a real beach, Ada is this urban inlet in the middle of the city that was dug out and built as a small resort type strip in the banks of the Sava River. Each summer, thousands of Serbian and European (and now American) tourists, sun bathe along the shores of Ada until they turn six degrees darker. Having grown up in a "real" island, Puerto Rico, I was a bit skeptical at first, but whoever is behind the urban planning in Ada is sheer genius. First of all, unlike the beaches in PR, Ada's shores are chock-full of stuff to do. There are regular bars, clubs, and restaurants; FLOATING bars, clubs and restaurants; bike paths, running tracks, paddle boats, canoes, real rowing boats (like crew), a water ski area, AND a bungee jump. For the less adventurous/athletic types, you can just grab a beach chair or even a bed and just lounge around; you can rent a towel and an umbrella and order drinks or food. And of course, in true Serbia fashion, you can buy just ONE drink and stay ALL day. This is both good and bad. It's nice if you are the one doing it, but it sucks when the best places are full and you want to grab a seat. The "lake" is pretty clean, the water is clear and warm. The only thing is that it's super rocky (pebbles rather) and kind of muddy. But since it's fresh water, you don't get that gross salty feeling or the stinging in your eyes. I am a big fan.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ada beach </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For the sun phobes like me</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out in the water</td></tr>
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Also, in the true European spirit, 99% of the men wear speedos. Unfortunately, you can't see that in the picture. The one guy standing up, is in fact Canadian; hence his trunks. All women wear bikinis, given most Serbian women are pretty hot and thin, but I have definitely seen a couple who should probably cover up. I am the only person in the entire beach with a tankini. I don't think tankinis exist here, but I will not wear a real bikini cause I don't think the Serbs are ready for my jelly. Anyway, the plan is to hang out here as often as possible before the harsh winter weather comes back.</div>
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</div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-3690970213974447392012-07-04T06:59:00.003-04:002012-07-04T07:13:44.678-04:00Opa!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My friend E, who used to work at the DC Jail with me, came to visit last week and we were able do a quick getaway to Greece. In my typical fashion of maximizing time away from work, we flew out Thursday night and came back at the crack of dawn on Tuesday, giving us four full glorious days of vacation.<br />
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Athens exceeded my expectations in every way. I had heard from friends who've visitied before that it could be sort of intense. Like Naples in Italy; hot, loud, chaotic, smelly, and a bit scary. I didn't feel like it was that way at all, except for the heat. The sun was definitely beating down, but everything else was great. We went to some museums, which were really nice and modern (and also provided a nice break from the heat), climbed up the actual Acropolis, wondered around the Plaka neighborhood, did the double decker bus tour and ate awesome food. E has a good Greek-American friend who hooked us up with all the "insider" tips for us, like ordering the grilled octopus at every meal and staying at the hostel, Backpackers, which ended up probably being the main source of comic relief and crazy late night laughs. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E. and I at the Acropolis. </td></tr>
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Since our flight came in sort of late, we didn't get into the hostel till like 11 PM. We checked into our 3 person suite, with a private bathroom to find it sweltering hot, and with a guy in his underwear sleeping in one of the beds. I told E "I can live with this guy if we crank up the A/C, but if the A/C is broken, we need to get the hell out of here". So like typical Americans, we stormed to the front desk and complained. They told us they only had one universal remote for the A/C and that it was "somewhere in the rooms". So we went to dinner and hoped that it would be returned by the time we were back. After dinner, still no remote and by then, Mr. Tighty-whities had woken up and was all chatty about his Greek Islands adventures the week before. He kept rambling on about nights where he and his friends took a 100 shots, and how he was giving out "shots for all". E. is completely silent and in my head I'm like, <i>I am way too old for this crap</i>. So E and I got back downstairs and pulled the "this is unacceptable, we are not putting up with this false advertising that you have A/C, we need to talk to a manager"... and it worked! The one nice one guy at the front desk (not to be confused with the mean one that hated us) told us to get our things and moved us to another building. So we re-packed our bags and E. walked out to the street in the middle of the night in her pajamas. Right away, the place looked nicer, so we had high expectations, but then when we opened the door (by then it was like 1 AM) there were 5 bunk beds in the room and everyone was sleeping. The A/C was on, but it was still hot and stuffy. Of course, by then I was all worked up from the trip, the moving, and the anger, so I am wide awake and sweating profusely. We stumbled around, shushing and gigling and had to split up and take two top bunks. Then we realize we don't have towels. I just decide to shower and put on my pajamas on top of my soaking wet body, thinking that that would help me cool down. This whole time we are bumping into things and trying really hard to whisper and not wake everyone else up. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I laid down and tried to go to sleep. Then I woke up two hours later with this couple who came in at 3 AM, TURNED THE LIGHTS ON, and proceeded to take their sweet time getting their stuff ready. I was livid and ready to scream, but held out. Good thing I did, because by the next morning, word had spread abut our little adventure and complaints, so when we checked out of that room, they hooked us up with a private apartment, just for the two of us. So after the first night from hell, we were livin' it up in our condo. Of course, after they were super nice to us, we somehow proceeded to become "those girls" and had to bother the front desk one thousand times with issues that were legitimately not our fault like "we can't turn the light on, we didn't get towels, the key doesn't work". I think they were really relieved to see us go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUM5cR2vzQwu6pOtV0vmVkYv_dSUFfjmwwLlCYLgeiCbzcyVlApPRV-8HsAeVZIryJWmiFCv2e6zlt-PnJ0fG_HtG-VKZEk-1R5kUC4Y93RYt3yD7-71SRegnAT6GreDtsIt5YkbTVOET5/s1600/DSCN6003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUM5cR2vzQwu6pOtV0vmVkYv_dSUFfjmwwLlCYLgeiCbzcyVlApPRV-8HsAeVZIryJWmiFCv2e6zlt-PnJ0fG_HtG-VKZEk-1R5kUC4Y93RYt3yD7-71SRegnAT6GreDtsIt5YkbTVOET5/s320/DSCN6003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting up there in the heat was a major accomplishment</td></tr>
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It also definitely didn't help that we kept bumping into our "friends", the light turners everywhere we went. At one point one of them (they were from New Jersey) comes up to us and says "see you in the room later" and E was like <i>sure</i>...little did they know that we had been upgraded to first class living.<br />
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The next day in Athens was a combination of awe and sweltering heat. I had not been that hot since India. My feet were swollen and every step took a huge amount of effort. We tried to wait till the sun was down for the actual climbing up to the Acropolis, but they closed at 7, so at 5 PM, we took the leap and walked all the way up there. The views were really amazing and we were able to take some good pictures of the back, as the front was being blocked by a giant crane. <br />
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When we had planned the trip, E and I agreed that you can't say you've done Greece unless you've gone to an island. I let her pick the island and so at noon the next day, we were on our way to Agistri on board the flying dolphin, which I was super excited about. Turns out the dolphin was sold out for the way back and we had to settle on the ferry which took an extra hour. I had high expectations for the dolphin, and I was terribly disappointed. First of all, it didn't have an outdoor deck, so you were stuck inside, where it was really stuffy and gross, and then it took forever anyway. But at last we made it to Agistri, the unknown island that is not in any map and was clearly not our hostel's manager's favorite; his exact words were "If I was going to be in Greece for only a week and could only choose one island, I would never choose Agistri". Maybe he just wants to keep it a secret?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Totally over-hyped--the Flying Dolphin</td></tr>
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Agistri was perfect. It was small, not crowded, with awesome, crystal colored waters, the typical white and blue greek island architecture, plenty of places to eat and drink and just overall felt authentic and not super touristy. Obvioulsy, everyone there were tourists, but we were definitely the only Americans, which was cool. We had the best meal of the trip there, more grilled octopus and some saganaki, which I'd never had; but it's basically really good fried cheese. We spent time in the sun and the sand, but we were literally getting roasted, so then we just spent like 6 hours in the water, which was wonderfully refreshing and clean, but really salty. I think that salt dried up my knee wound and now its almost cured! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beach at Agistri</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know they built this church just so that tourists could take pics</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going native</td></tr>
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At night we went to this club that promised "sexy dancers and shots for all" mostly because we were curious to see how wild and crazy were the Greeks when partying. Total disappointment. WE were the sexy ladies and there were definitely no shots for all. The "VIP Party" was more like your typical DC Lounge on any given weeknight. No dancing, no craziness; this actually worked to our favor, as we got a seat at the bar and proceeded to recount every funny story from our jail. We were even undercharged for our drinks! The next morning we took the ferry back to Athens and it was soo much better than the dolphin. It makes me wonder why people take the dolphin at all! It's more expensive and way uglier and more uncomfortable. The cool thing about the ferry, besides the outdoor deck, was that you can take your car, scooter or dog on it. No questions asked. Then, when you dock, they open the giant, spaceship-like door and it becomes sheer madness. Cars, scooters and people run to the front in a mass exodus kind of frenzy. I couldnt' help but notice this really cute fat pug with no leash that was frantically trying to catch up with this lady, who I assume was his owner. She was paying exactly zero attention to him, and she was manuvering the crowd like a pro, cutting in line in front of others, making her way to the front. Poor fatty was jumping over suitcases and tripping over people trying to keep up.. It was really funny.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fatty--i wanted to take him home with me so bad.</td></tr>
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Finally, we made it back to our hostel from heaven/hell and we were so worn out and tired that we didn't feel like finding a real Greek resturant. Next to our hostel, this fish head grill promised the "best burgers in Europe" so I talked Ellen into getting one. After all, I hadn't had a real authentic American-style burger since we left DC and was really craving it. It definitely did not disappoint. I got the Texas style one, complete with cheddar cheese, bbq sauce and an onion ring! I was in heaven.<br />
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We spent our last day riding the double decker bus and exploring the archeological museum, where, weirdly enough, they don't allow people to "pose" with the artifacts. They actually have a rule that says that you may not immitate the statues or sculptures or make faces or gestures while taking a picture with their artifacts. E and I were able to sneak in a funny one when they weren't looking, but we did see several people get scolded for disobeying. Why would they do that? It just makes people want to fool around even more. Our last night, we ended up taking a long walk around the Acropolis and finding a good place to have our last grilled octopus and buying some souvenirs along the strip. I think we did our share to stimulate the Greek economy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The famous grilled octopus</td></tr>
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</div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-36083614727735248862012-06-17T16:24:00.000-04:002012-06-17T16:37:46.912-04:00June<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Summer is in full swing and with it, 90 degree weather and long days where it doesn't get dark untill 9. I was never a summer girl; in DC, I would much prefer fall or winter, to the awful humidity and intense sun. Here, though, summer has the advantage of awesome produce. I have mentioned the strawberries, which are now almost gone, but this past Saturday, I went to the market and got instead cherries, white and red, raspberries (they are finally here!) and some peaches; along with the tallest stems of asparagus I have ever seen and a round squash. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ennSlLdN8dDKp-NyhI_1b31uc2wDTloSraMFJjnCEftH-HHyHbhPZOeS6tZ8mmkqV3hnJcOl9jEI_h_zyIdwhr0pSFIiwb5bK9b8r_VTWNrFjIRW-1-WRq8Ta1_yl_6FLgAwohoS7I6p/s1600/DSCN5889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ennSlLdN8dDKp-NyhI_1b31uc2wDTloSraMFJjnCEftH-HHyHbhPZOeS6tZ8mmkqV3hnJcOl9jEI_h_zyIdwhr0pSFIiwb5bK9b8r_VTWNrFjIRW-1-WRq8Ta1_yl_6FLgAwohoS7I6p/s320/DSCN5889.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">My after work snack</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">First the celery and now the asparagus, not sure what they use as fertilizer, but it works!</span></div>
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This is totally random, but I wanted to share it out there and get some thoughts. At our last Embassy gathering, I noticed that someone had served the potato chips with salsa, and the tortilla chips, which were at another table, with french onion dip. I mentioned it to the guy in charge, a Serb, and he was like, So what? I just raised my eyebrow and gave him the "isn't it obvious?" look. As other Americans showed up, they noticed too, and they eventually switched out the dips, because in our heads, it just wasn't right. It's really interesting how most things in our lives are just a matter of conditioning.</div>
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Two weekends ago, we took my mom to Budapest. This time we did a small stop right outside the city to this Memento Park, a sort of museum place where they brought a lot of the statues that were taken down after the split with the Soviets. The place was really neat and the statues pretty impressive. Plus they had all this cool communist propaganda stuff in the gift shop. Phil got a Tshirt and a poster.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">So solemn</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">This was my fave, but the sun made it impossible to get a decent picture </span></td></tr>
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The second highlight of our trip was that my mom got to do the fish massage. Now, if you don't know what that is, it's this huge tank full of little fishes that eat all the dried out skin on your feet. When you go, you dunk your feet in the tank and they all come swimming like crazy and start nibbling. Afterwards, your feet are soft and smooth, like a baby's. I got it done in Thailand and for me, it was like torture. Once my feet were in, the lady had to literally hold me down and restrain me because what I really wanted to do was yank my leg out of the water as fast as humanly possible while swerving it around yelling, m@therf*&^s"! I am an extremely ticklish person.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">My mom, unlike her daughter, has a lot of class</span></div>
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The last news update is that Phil FINALLY made his teenage dream come true. We saw Marilyn Manson in concert last Saturday night at the Belgrade Arena. It was muuuch tamer than I imagined. Marilyn has definitely gotten old, along with his fans. He has put on weight, so either he's off the coke or he's settled into middle age and suburban living. I only saw two, of what I would call "freaks". A girl with a long black cape and the Hot Topic platform boots, along with the makeup and hair and lingerie type top, and another girl with a tattoo of a skeleton. Like an X-ray. You could "see" her ribs, spine, etc. Creepy.<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #4e2502; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
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If you don't know who Marilyn Manson is, I dare you to watch the video below and not feel sorry for:<br />
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1. Me-- who had to endure listening to his music during my looong and painful high school years<br />
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2. His mother. Who knew that sweet baby Brian was going to go to the dark side?<br />
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3. Everyone else at that concert who has ears.<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #4e2502; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
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</div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-31796902094630309072012-06-17T16:22:00.000-04:002012-06-17T16:40:57.721-04:00Restaurant Reviews<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I realized that I don't really give props or recommend places, so I will share three restaurants that have become my new staples in Belgrade. <br /><br />1. Botako Pizza - <a href="http://www.pizzabotako.rs/mapa.php/">http://www.pizzabotako.rs/mapa.php/</a> Nevesinje 6 <br /><br />The best pizza in Belgrade, hands down. They make the crust in front of you, rolling the outer edges inwards and add a bit of olive oil and spices. The menu has little drawings of all the toppings, so you don't need to know the words, and they can do half a pizza in one style, the rest in another. Their pastas are also really really good. A large pizza is about 12 dollars and can easily feed 3 regular people, or 2 Americans, or 4 Serbs. They have wine, beer and porn magazines next to the bathroom. What else could a customer want?<br /><br />2. Mala Fabrika Ukusa - <a href="http://www.malafabrikaukusa.com/">http://www.malafabrikaukusa.com/</a> Nebojsina 49a<br /><br />The best Ayvar I've had in Belgrade so far; it is so good, last time I was there, I asked for an extra one to take home. This is the kind of place you want to go with more than 3 people because they have big portions of meat, ready for sharing. One of them is called "Gypsy Dance" and it's got all the Serbian specialties, like cevapi and others. Plus some pork chops, fried potatoes (not french fries) and sausages. The place itself is really cool, because it's meant to look like an old farm house. They have outdoor seating, which is ideal because in Serbia, you can still smoke inside, which I hate. They also have really good salads and desserts. Last time I was there, we ordered a dessert called "Alchemy" and it was literally brought to us with liquid nitrogen to quickly set this magical caramel on top of a souffle. WOW. Soo good. A four course meal here runs for about 25 to 30 bucks per person, depending on the amount of wine you get.<br /><br />3. Comunale - Karađorđeva 2-4<br /><br /> I couldn't find their website, but this place is probably the most well known from the list because it's in the more touristy area of town. In front of the Sava river, in old Belgrade, there is a street full of restaurants, a club, and a spa, overlooking New Belgrade on the other side of the river. Most restaurants are pretty good. I haven't been to all of them, because whenever I go, Comunale calls. I am a HUGE fan of meat and cheese platters, and this place takes it to a whole new level. They have an appetizer called Antipasto Comunale and you can get the small or the large, which serves 2 or 4 people. It is PHENOMENAL. It brings, the freshest cold-cuts, marinated veggies and cheese I've had in my life. The cheese is just little blocks of Parmesan, but the meats are prosciutto, bologna, salami and sopressata. So good! The veggies are the best part. Dripping in delicious olive oil and some magical marinade, they are a different assortment every time. I have seen olives, asparagus, beets, carrots, onions, garlic, sun dried tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, different kinds of mushrooms, and more. They also serve pizzas and pastas. I like the pastas. The pizzas are good, but nothing to write home (or in a blog) about. Ideally, I would go here just for the platter and dessert. Phil swears they make the best Tiramisu in the entire world. I don't like coffee, so I can't say.<div>
<br />So there you have it. My first three restaurant reviews. If you come to Serbia by yourself, this is what I would recommend. If you come visit Phil and I, most likely we'll take you to at least one of them. This Wednesday, we are expecting visitor #3!!!</div>
</div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-56417406863696772422012-05-31T09:21:00.004-04:002012-05-31T16:37:41.249-04:00The pretty one, the badass one, and the one with the accident<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of my new(er) quests is to visit all former Yugoslav Republics while we are here. Except I guess for Kosovo, mostly because we are not allowed, and also because a lot of Serbs consider Kosovo to still be a part of Serbia. This political stance is something that I know very little about and stay away from discussing. For those in need of a quick refresher course, the countries that used to form the Republic of Yugoslavia were Serbia (check), Montenegro (check), Slovenia (check), Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia and Kosovo (depends on who you ask).<br />
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I went to Montenegro three weeks ago via a really short flight to Tivat and then an easy cab ride to Kotor Bay. The old town of Kotor is designated a UNESCO heritage site and I am a sucker for all things UNESCO. It definitely did not disappoint. Even though I was there for barely 48 hours, it was plenty. My friend L and I climbed up the citadel to see the church and the amazing views of the bay. We hung out by the shore and had really good and cheap mussles (6 Euro for a big bowl of them!--Amazing!). The next day we rented a scooter and went riding around the bay into another little town called Perast. It was soo fun, the breeze in our hair, the sun shining, the beautiful bay next to us, all peaceful and quiet with almost no other tourists. We parked the bikes and took a little boat to an island, then we had another awesome mussles lunch.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L and I in Kotor Bay</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mussles</td></tr>
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Then of course, when everything is too perfect, lightning strikes, and I took a bad curve and we fell off the bike. It's really weird how people react to things, my first instinct was to immediately get up and act like nothing happened. "I'm fine, it's fine, let's go" and my friend was more in the "over my dead body will I ever get back on that bike", plus she took one look at my poor knee, which basically had a hole in it the size of a melon baller/small ice cream scoop and said "you need a hospital". So we flagged down a nice man who took us to the most rural, trusting, hospital I've ever been in; no receptionist, no gloves, 23 Euro for an X-ray and the patching up was pure alcohol being poured inside the wound for cleaning and disinfecting. About 45 minutes later, we are out and when we walked out to the parking lot, of course! our good samaritan was still there, waiting for us!! So I was adamant that we had to go get the bike to return it and my friend was just as determined not to get on it ever again, so we decided I would drive the bike back to Kotor while she rode in the car with the nice man. We got back to the place, where they charged me 100 Euro for the damage (and they never realized that there was a small part missing that fell down and then my friend abandoned in the car). When I come out from the rental place to the parking lot, I find out that the guy was totally hitting on my friend, "have coffee with me, let's go to dinner". She was like, no thanks, HERE IS SOME MONEY. He didn't want to take the money, but he did ask us to tell everyone how nice people from Montenegro are. So here it is. The story of the accident and the testament that thinking of both the doctor and the good samaritan, my experience with Montenegrians has been excellent. Also, my knee is doing much better now, thank you.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bay</td></tr>
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Last weekend, my mom was visiting, so we went to Slovenia, also known as "the pretty one" of the former republics. It really was, at least naturally, one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. We spent one day in Ljubljana, the capital, one day in Bled, which is right out of a fairy tale with an unnaturaly blue lake and a small island on the lake, and the last day we did a day trip/tour to the Prodjama Castle and the Postonja Caves. Definitely recommend it and definitely can be done in 3 days. The caves were so cool that the pictures don't really do them justice. They are enormous and it's really really cold in there. Plus, you get to ride this little train in for more than 2 kilometers, and unlike the US where you would need a seat belt and there would be a waiver to sign, etc. Here, it was like ride at your own risk. So the train flew by these rocks and you could really lose a limb or worse, your head, if you stood up or put your arm out..but there were no signs or rules, just a wild ride into a wild cave. Also, even though there was a fake tour, you could basically just go at your own pace and if we had wanted to chill in the cave all day, we totally could have done so. No questions asked, no pushing, no rush. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The church and the lake--Bled</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Prodjama castle</td></tr>
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The Prodjama castle was a large castle built on a hill, upon a cave, and the cave was used to store food and water in case of an attack, so it had a secret entrance on the top for people to climb in and out and then it was also connected to the castle. Really neat stuff. I booked the tour through a company I found on the Lonely Planet website and it worked out great, except we were the only ones on the tour and our guide sort of smelled and had no concept of personal space. He spoke so close to me at one point that I was afraid he was going to try to kiss me. Or maybe I'm just too American, but I need at least a foot to be comfortable. He picked us up on a BMW and drove us through the back roads of Slovenia, which are unbelievably cute and just pristine. Not a speck of dirt, dust or trash. Just pine trees, blue skies, windy roads, houses with the old school roof tops and the ocassional car or tractor. <br />
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Then it was back to Serbia, which I nicknamed "the badass one" by the definition I found on Urban Dictionary.com <br />
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<strong>Badass:</strong> Infinitely cool, über awesome, hardcore to the extreme.<br />
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<em>Say what you will about Bruce Lee or Chuck Noris, Tsutomu Yamaguchi is, hands down, the most badass example of a badass ever to walk the earth: Tsutomu Yamaguchi was the only known survivor of BOTH atomic blasts. He died at age 93 on January 6, 2010.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>This to me is the epitomy of Belgrade<em>,</em> after all that the country has been through, they are still going strong and the peoples' spirit is very much alive. Seldom have I seen a place where its citizens are so patriotic and love their country with such passion. Well, maybe in Puerto Rico. Now that the weather is warm people have started to party and be outside at all times of the day into the night. You can feel the energy in the streets. Also, the strawberries are out by the crates. First they would sell you a tiny little basket for 300 dinars, then, a week later, the same basket for 250, then 200, and now they just give you a whole kilo for 200. My mom just loves strawberries so every day she's been going to the market to buy us a kilo. Last night, I made homemade strawberry ice cream, but I got greedy and I guess I put way too many strawberries so the whole thing started spilling out of the machine and created a big mess. But it was wonderful. I want to make ice cream sandwiches for dessert and I'll probably use the Plazmas for it. I think it'll be a great combination and could potentially become a new Serbian tradition.<br />
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<br /></div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-85442667305558778182012-05-21T13:10:00.000-04:002012-05-22T14:51:21.210-04:00Vote for us!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It would mean so much to Phil and I if all you readers/followers out there voted for us in this contest. As you know, we love travelling and have a ton of fun exploring new places and trying new things. The contest asks to submit a travel related picture and a caption of why are you intrepid. Here is our entry and a link to it.<br />
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<a href="http://iamintrepid.intrepidtravel.com/entries/show/id/594#.T7aqy7ECdjQ.facebook">Vote here!</a><br />
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This picture was taken in July 2010, when Phil and I went to Macchu Pichu with our friends Sarah and Chris from NM. Christ took this pic and it has been one of my faves ever since. I think it's a good one for the contest and if we won, we could go to Africa or Australia, two of the continents we are missing in our map!<br />
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I will have a good post about life in Serbia soon. Cherries and Strawberries are out, so I am a very happy camper...</div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-90322102434496917842012-05-13T15:04:00.001-04:002012-05-15T14:52:49.672-04:007 months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Tuesday will mark our seven months in Belgrade! It's weird, because on one hand, I feel like it's been a lot longer than that, and in other ways, I feel like we just got here. Some quick thoughts.<br />
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<b>1. I am sooo NOT fluent in Serbian</b><br />
When we first learned about the pending move, I had the chance of taking Serbian lessons and/or AT LEAST practice with Phil at home while he studied for this Serbian language exam. Then, when we moved, I definitely had plenty of time to either take lessons with the Serbian instructor at the Embassy, or to pay a private tutor. But arrogantly enough, I figured I would just pick it up on my own. After all, don't teenagers go abroad on these "immersion" programs all the time and come home fluent in German or whatever else? Well, let me just say, I am clearly NOT a teenager, and I could not be farther from fluent or even beginner in Serbian if I wanted to. A couple of weeks ago, I went to the market with my good friend, K, and she noticed that when people told me how much I owed them, I didn't really pay attention, I just gave them some money and accepted whatever change came back. She said, exasperatedly, <i>"you still don;t know your numbers?"</i> oops. I was embarrassed to admit, that NO, unfortunately, I STILL DON'T KNOW MY NUMBERS! Why? Because somehow, I have not made it a priority. Every time I go to the market I make a mental note of <i>next time I am at home with nothing to do, I should learn the numbers</i>. And what happens is that, the next time I am at home with nothing to do, I go online and find out who Ashley Simpson is dating or which is the slowest, crappiest airline in the world. My priorities are NOT in the right place. Plus, after seven months, my stupid arrogant self, still thinks I can become fluent without a single class or textbook. I still have 17 months to make this happen.<br />
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<b>2. Never underestimate the power and importance of body language</b><br />
I might not be fluent in Serbian, but I AM fluent in knowing what people want from the expression on their faces. I can't tell you how many "conversations" I have had with complete strangers in pure body language. I don't need words. Just a couple of nods, points, shrugs, and frowns will do the trick. Just yesterday, I was literally driving IN a man's backyard, lost like a stray dog, and was finally able to my destination using just the street name and my fingers. If this is not a story of triumph and success, I don't know what is. Now, this situation of me stranded in the middle of nowhere in the "burbs" of Belgrade would have never happened if it wasn't for #3.<br />
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<b>3. You can't trust the GPS in Belgrade</b><br />
When we moved, we paid over 100 dollars, which is almost the price of the actual GPS, to buy the maps for Eastern Europe and the Balkans. Well, to my great discontent, these maps are kind of old and are missing a ton of new construction including bridges, bypasses and exits. Not to mention that one way streets are sometimes marked as two ways and vice versa. Then, when we see if there were any updated versions, Garmin wants to charge us another 100...so now, the GPS is more for a general idea of the vicinity of the actual place, but you can't be alarmed if you end up in a cul-de-sac in the middle of nowhere while the robot voice of the lady with the British accent is still repeating "in 500 feet, turn left". <br />
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<b>4. The discovery of the butcher-to-go place</b><br />
This has been my favorite discovery in Belgrade in the past few months. I had noticed a bright pink place not far from my house that looked like a butcher shop. I am always looking for new places to buy meat, because my old favorites, near the green produce market, close way before I get out of work. Also, since we moved, I stopped eating frozen/defrosted meat, so I needed a place that was close to my house and was open late. Pink house palace seemed to be the answer. The first time I walked in there, they had the usual spread of meats at the counter, so I ordered my chicken breasts using the sign language method and the lady weighs them like usual, but instead of wrapping them, she takes them away to the back. I immediately realize that they have a grill in there, actually multiple grills. Apparently, you buy the meat at this place and then take it home already cooked! They don't have any seating or offer any side dishes, so it's not a restaurant, but they don't sell the meat raw either,so it's a hybrid of the butcher shop and your typical take away cevapi place. I don't think they have any other methods of cooking other than grilling, but the meat selection is pretty decent and the prices are the same as at the butcher. Never again will I be cooking meat, unless it is in the slow cooker. This place has changed my life and lengthened my evenings in ways I could have never imagined.<br />
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<b>5. Puerto Rico and Serbia are remarkably similar</b><br />
From clapping when the plane lands, to telling people to their face when they've gained weight. From older women dying their hair platinum blond and wearing high heels and nice clothes to go grocery shopping, to drinking coffee right before going to bed; let it be "promaja" or "el sereno", the same cold draft that grandmas warn young people about even on hot summer nights, I have had a pretty easy time adjusting, mostly because I have seen/lived it all before. This one might require a whole other post, though.<br />
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<br /></div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-56104317698470698522012-05-03T16:42:00.001-04:002012-05-03T16:57:09.696-04:00The Moose and the Jubilee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Before I start talking about the trip, I have to say that the Serbian Government is absolutely brilliant when it comes to official holidays. Serbs celebrate most of their holidays for 2 days instead of one. So for New Year's, State Day, May Day and Orthodox Easter we get two days off. Genius! This April was the best month ever with 2 long weekends almost back to back. The first one, Orthdox Easter, went from Friday to Monday, and the one that just passed, May Day, went Tuesday-Wednesday, so Phil and I took Monday off and had a really nice 5 days off to go to Amsterdam.<br />
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My friend L, from high school, was planning to visit us in Serbia when we first planned this trip. I thought that coming all the way from Puerto Rico, she had to see more than just Belgrade, so I suggested that we meet up during this awesome long holiday in a fun place in Western Europe,so we got our tickets without a second thought. Fast forward three weeks before departure, and I am trying to find a place to stay and there was NOTHING. Booked solid, outrageous prices, and I'm like WTF! So, I went online to figure out if there was a concert or a conference, or something, and there it was, plain as day, Queen Beatrix's Jubilee, also known as Queen's Day, also known as the biggest party of the year since the Love Parade stopped happening in Berlin circa 2004.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phil channeling his inner moose</td></tr>
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Now, I don't know anything about monarchies, but if you had seen us this weekend, you would think we were big fans. Also, this trip went from a fun, mellow, me-and-L-bicycling-around-town-catching-up-good -time to a full blown, 5-people-in-one-room-partying-on-the-street-wearing-crazy-costumes extravaganza. Phil, our mutual friend A, and L's friend from Paris (Van Gogh impersonator extraordinaire, B) decided to join us last minute, and the hotel was all sold out, there was no other way out than to pay for an extra cot to be wheeled into the room and to share twin beds.<br />
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I had been to Amsterdam once before, about 10 years ago, for about 1.5 days, so all I remembered was really wanting to go back, how pretty everything was, and how hard it was to get oriented. 10 years later, it all still holds true. After four days, I still didn't know my way around, not even to our hotel. To me it all looked exactly the same; picture-perfect houses in narrow, cobblestone streets along the canals. I absolutely loved it. Loved the bikes, loved the street food, loved the row houses and loved the people. After this weekend, the Dutch have trumped the Australians in my book for friendliest, funnest people. I don't know if it was the festivities or what, but everyone was incredibly cool and nice, their English was phenomenal and they just have everything you could want/need a short bike ride away. Not to mention how liberal their politics are and how well they take care of the environment. During the Queen's Day celebrations, they applied the reusable mug at the Christmas Market concept to beer glasses. So everywhere you went, if you got a beer, you paid a 1 Euro deposit on your cup and then you would return it after you used it and get your Euro back. Amazing!<br />
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We did a good job of doing all sorts of activities. Cultural: Van Gogh museum, Anne Frank House and the Rijksmuseum; Touristy: Canal tour, walking tour, churches; Fun: Queen's Day stages and beer stands; Nature: bike ride along the tulip farms; Immature; Phil scaring children with his moose hat at the park, walking around the Red Light District with french fries dipped in mayo in one hand and a beer in the other, probably only 30 minutes after having dinner. <br />
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The Queen's Day celebration surpassed my expectations. The streets were packed to the max, and so were the canals. Party boats full of people dressed in orange, blasting music and drinking beers passed by left and right, and on the streets, everyone was out of their front door, either chilling at the doorstep or on the street. Restaurants and shops were either closed or were serving special Queen's Day fare. Beer kiosks were set up at every park and every square. There were stages with live music and folky bands and people were dancing, all wearing orange lays, t-shirts, hats, glasses, etc. too cool. We also got some orange goods so that we could fit in with the locals. This is definitely a city I would move to in a heartbeat.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going native</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So beautiful even I can't believe I was actually there<br />
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<br /></div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-29213591953166371302012-04-07T12:56:00.001-04:002012-04-09T14:25:39.352-04:00Phil's Bday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I haven't written in awhile because I've been pretty busy lately with a couple of different things. The biggest one being Phil's surprise party last weekend. It turned out that one of my new friends here (K) was talking about celebrating her husband's birthday, and coincidentally his birthday is the day after Phil's. So we decided to have a joint SURPRISE party at her place the week before the birthdays so that there would be less suspicion. Then we found out that two other of our friends' other halves also had bdays around that time, so we evolved the party into a four way birthday bash. We created a secret invite on facebook and told everyone to come early, she recruited two good friends to set up and decorate the house, while she and I and the others went to a "birthday dinner" and then made our way back. It was crazy how well it all worked out. I was determined to not have Phil find out, so I had to be very careful with our stories to keep them straight. The hardest part was getting all the drinks for the party, because I was the only one in that little group with access to a car, but me, being Miss Daisy, still had not driven a single time since we moved. But my friend K offered to be my co-pilot and one night we told our husbands we were going for a baby shower planning meeting out in BB Land (a semi-suburb of Belgrade where most of the Embassy people live, the BB stands for Beogradskog Batalonja the street, or Banovo Bardo, the neighborhood). K came to my house after work and I loaded the car with stuff I already had that I wanted to take to the party while doing a silent prayer that Phil didn't notice the disappearance of 3 bottles of Coke Zero or his precious Bacardi, or the 3 packs of cream cheese frosting that I had been hoarding since February. Then we finally got in the car, and we were on our way. Immediately, I'm like, K, you need to set the GPS because I had no clue where we were going, but the store we needed was not showing up, so K says she knows the way, but in my head I want to slap her (sorry K :) ) and make her find that address because I am already sweating and super nervous and even though I repeatedly tell her that I don't want to get to the highway, she took me straight there. But the only Tempo (which is the closes thing to a Walmart/Sam's Club/Costco that we have here) she knew about was all the way out by the airport about 30 minutes from my house. But then K pointed out that if I started freaking out, I could just stop and put my hazards on like every other Yugo does, and take a rest. I laughed at the joke, but it was the most brilliant piece of advice she could have given me, and so true too.<br />
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After shopping for what probably appeared to others as a frat party, we had to sneak all the stuff at her house and semi organize it for the people who were gonna help us set up. Good thing that K has a storage unit, so we easily took all the beer and non-fridge items there and then went upstairs with what seemed completely regular grocery items. <br />
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The night of the party we all went to dinner and it was really hard to not smirk at each other, and then say our well planned out and rehearsed lines of "what do you guys want to do after this"..."we could have some drinks at my place", "yeah, that'd be great, right, boys??" But clearly our acting skills are pretty fabulous, cause when we got to K's place, this is the face that Phil made (photo courtesy of my friend C):<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WTF!?<br />
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On another note, I have never baked or cooked as much as I do here. It seems that 90% of our social events and gatherings are done at people's places so I am always making stuff to bring. Hence, I have now become obsessed with Pinterest. If you're not pinning or at least looking at others' pins, then you're missing out. I have found some really awesome recipes there that have now become legendary in my book. For the surprise party I made a s'mores dip and a buffalo chicken dip (which is actually my friend Andrea's recipe and it is the wrongest, least healthy option you can find, but it is delicious!). This weekend I am making the buffalo dip again and a 7 layer Greek dip that I also found on Pinterest. It was Phil's actual birthday during the week, so I made him red velvet cupcakes from scratch, but those were a whole lot of work, and not really that good. The Greek dip was easy except for the olives, because the olives I bought at the market still have the pit in them and prepping them was like doing open heart surgery in each olive. <br />
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One of my favorite things about living in Serbia is seeing the Serbs reaction to stuff that is 100% American. For example, I was told that while the surprise party was being set up, the Serbs were totally into it, hiding really well and eagerly waiting for the signal so that when the birthday boys came in they could all yell "SURPRISE" in unison.Then later this week, I brought the red velvet cupcakes to work so Phil could share them with colleagues in the cafeteria and I took them in my cupcake carrier that I got at Target. People in the office were like " what is that thing?, where did you get it!?, how ingenious!" Then two days later, the Embassy Employee Association bought a Margarita machine and they had Margarita Friday at the cafeteria, and the Serbian employees were all in line and giddy waiting to get their frozen margaritas. Mostly because it's pretty crazy that 1. there is a whole humongous machine devoted solely for the purpose of making margaritas and 2. the fact that its only 2 steps to make the margaritas : open gallon of margarita mix imported directly from the US and pour in the machine along with the ice. Done. Then there's the whole buffalo dip thing, I've taken it to so many parties now and it's a HUGE hit with the Americans but the Serbs are pretty skeptical, and why wouldn't they? It's this neon orange sauce with smelly blue cheese dressing (pre-made salad dressings are not a common thing here) mixed with cream cheese (yet another inexplicable American staple) and chicken. At least the chicken is free range and hormone free. All in all it's a fabulous dip.</div>
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Finally, I do have an update on my cilantro plants</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They lived!</td></tr>
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</div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-58318864072377344932012-03-26T16:42:00.000-04:002012-03-26T16:42:18.944-04:00Ice Cream, Plazmas and Coriander<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You know summer is coming when the 711 type stores take out their ice cream freezer to the curb! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I saw this about a block from my place and let out a little yelp of happiness</i></td></tr>
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If you know me well, you know that ice cream is my most favorite thing in the whole world. I could have it any time, any day, any place, after any meal. As long as it's hard ice cream NOT soft-serve and NOT coffee flavor, I am game for anything. I can't complain too much because the commissary at the Embassy carries Ben and Jerry's and because, before we moved, I made sure to purchase an ice cream maker at Costco to bring to Serbia. Just in case. So far, I have made peanut butter and Oreo ice cream, cookies and cream and Dulce de Leche. Now that the strawberries are coming out, I am planning on making strawberry-graham cracker ice cream or actually, the Serbian version, strawberry-plazma. <br />
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Plazmas are these sort of vanilla wafers that are everywhere. I guess people here grow up eating them daily, kind of like animal crackers in the US. For example, if you get a coffee, usually, it will come accompanied with one or two regular plazmas. They also have a specialty coffee at coffedream (a Starbucks-like chain) that is choco-cookie latte and has plazma crumbs in it; it's actually really good. I have seen baby food "Baby Keks" with plazma, plazma shakes, and other plazma concoctions advertised at different places around town. I personally think they're tasty and a good go-to snack. When I went to Jordan, I took my friend a sample of Serbian candy and got her the "fancy" plazma, which are mini plazmas dipped in chocolate, but her dog ended up devouring the whole package while we were at dinner. A testament of the true diversity of the plazma. Here is a commercial that I found on You Tube for a plazma cereal.<br />
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Obviously, I can't understand it either, but if you listen carefully, you will hear the word "banane" which I assume means banana. Therefore, as soon as I finish writing this, I will be at my local Maxi store asking for it by name and will have a full report on a later post.<br />
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Another thing I am excited about summer is getting my cilantro back. As much as ice cream rocks my world, cilantro is one of my reasons for living. I love, love, love it and once we moved, I had to pretty much give it up because it barely exists here. For one thing, they use the British word for it, coriander. Then, it's practically impossible to find. About 3 weeks after we moved, after having visited every green market in the city, including the infamous Chinese Market, I was able to get a sad little bunch from the lettuce lady at the Kalenic market. One of my friends from the Embassy also buys it from this"coriander lady", and she describes the process of buying it as basically a drug deal. First, you ask the other lettuce ladies to show you where the coriander lady is set up. They look at you up and down to make sure you are worthy of the coriander and then consult with the others, finally pointing towards coriander lady. Once you get to her booth, you ask for the coriander in the most polite, patient, smiling way possible and the lady will go UNDER her table for what feels like forever and produces one little bunch of cilantro leaves. Then you just keep cool and say thank you and pay a ridiculous amount, when what you really want to do is to jump up and down with excitement and kiss her and hug her. Then you walk away, like you aren't really holding anything special, but your heart is beating twice as fast and you just can't keep the smile away from your face, like you are hiding a really good secret.<br />
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Secret or not, coriander lady went MIA during the cold and the snow, and now that it's nice out I still haven't been able to find her. Luckily, my mom sent me some seeds, and coincidentally, my friend found a real, live plant, that I have now transplanted to a bigger pot and am treating like a newborn baby. This is my first time EVER planting or growing anything, so I am really nervous about over watering or putting my plants in places that are too sunny. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>yes it looks sad, but it's all mine!</i></td></tr>
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Very soon, I will have bunches and bunches of cilantro, so that I can make momos and burritos. After all, they do have the rest of the ingredients easily available at every supermarket. I have to laugh a little bit at the tortillas though. 1. Why does the burrito look more like a gyro/schwarma? and 2. Why are my tortillas endorsed by MTV?<br />
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I also have beef with the sour cream here, even though the taste is the same as at home and it's perfectly fine, there is always one question in my mind: WHY IS THERE NO LID?<br />
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<br /></div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4472258096016726256.post-41132784841153659552012-03-18T10:11:00.002-04:002012-03-18T10:11:56.355-04:00Working girl<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This past Monday was my first day at work in almost 5 months. It is really bizarre how humans eventually get used to everything. Right before we left DC, my life was ultra hectic with preparations for the move, social events to say good-bye, last minute stuff for the condo, and tying loose ends at work. If you’d peeked at my planner, there wasn’t space for absolutely anything else. I literally worked until the day before we moved. I walked out of my office at 5pm on a Thursday and 24 hours later, I was sitting at the gate at Dulles Airport with 2 carry-ons and two lap cats, munching on my last real American treat, some yogurt pretzels and texting all my friends for the last time before turning off my American cell forever.<br />
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Fast forward the days I spent sleeping off the jetlag, and there I was, sitting in our temporary apartment, with my planner so wide open that that I could have started writing celebrity birthdays to fill it up, and with all the time in the world to do whatever I pleased. The problem was that I didn’t have any friends, any knowledge of what I wanted to do or even the stuff to do anything with, since our stuff was not arriving in Belgrade till two months later. But eventually, I got used to it. I made my routine of nothingness and settled into a slooooow paced life, where I could take my sweet time getting dressed in the morning, if I was going to get dressed at all; where I could go grocery shopping every single day, carefully planning every meal. I also got to be next to the fridge all day, so I could fix myself real breakfasts, lunches and dinners daily. I eventually made friends which translated into lunches during the day, text messages at all hours and evening and afternoon plans. <br />
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So last Sunday, I felt THE DREAD, that sinking feeling that you have to be somewhere, soon, and looking somewhat presentable, awake and aware. I was overwhelmed by the mere thought of having to be somewhere before 10 AM and having to pick out clothes and pack a bag with all the stuff I would need for an ENTIRE day. But I survived. I made it through this week unscarred and already settling into my old habits (hopefully just the good ones). My commute is pretty short and because it's getting to be spring, it's definitely light out by the time I wake up, which makes it a whole lot easier to get out of bed. There is nothing like having stuff to do to make you want to do nothing instead. How ironic. <br />
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<br /></div>V-Rahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00213373356056687968noreply@blogger.com0