Another food related post

I finally found something that I will definitely miss once we don't live in Serbia anymore.

About a week ago, Phil and I went to this French restaurant with two friends (wow! I guess we have friends here now) and one of them, who has been in Serbia way longer than the rest of us recommended that we try the Shopska (Šopska) salad.  I am really not much of a salad person, and I am DEFINITELY not a cucumber person, but we all took her advice and we got 4 shopskas. My life proceeded to change forever when I encountered one of the most delicious tastes in my life.  The salad is extremely simple: tomatoes, cucumbers and grated cheese.  The thing is that cheese is not a kind of cheese I'd ever had before.  I asked the waiter what kind of cheese it was, and he just said "Feta", but it is SO not Feta. This cheese miraculously melts upon touching the veggies.  You don't even need salt, oil or any other kind of dressing. Just cut up your veggies, grate cheese on them and serve. Listo.  I was determined to start indulging on this magical salad at home, considering that the tomatoes here are the most wonderful I have ever had and that I only have a little over 700 days to enjoy them.

For the next couple of days, I proceeded to stalk a few Serbs that I know around the embassy, and I was able to draw a couple of conclusions:

1.  Here, Feta just means white, semi soft cheese.  Many cheeses go by the generic term Feta
2.  No one really knows which cheese goes in the salad.

But finally, after basically interviewing more than 6 different people, I was able to get someone to write a name on a piece of paper, take it to cheese counter (as complicated as the meat counter that I first blogged about in my first post) and ask for 500 mg of this soft, salty, miraculous cheese.  I made my salad that night, and I was in heaven.  Of course I couldn't resist and add my own little spin on it, adding yellow peppers in there. Peppers in Serbia are awesome and cheap.

Yeah, my picture is crappy cause I was in a hurry to get to my salad, but here is the wikipedia link for more info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shopska_salad

Walk up window?

One of the things I really like so far about Belgrade is that there are multiple choices for eating on the go.  If you are hungry and in a hurry, you can just go up to a stand or food stall on the street and grab a bite to eat. No chairs, nothing.   Most of the time it's pizza, or some sort of burger or other types of Serbian specialties (which I will have to do a whole other entry on, once I figure what all of them are exactly), but today I found the biggest, nicest, yummiest walk up window yet.  A huge pastry shop right on the corner of a major Boulevard.

And this is what I ended up getting for about 75 cents.  It was still warm and delicious.

So what is Belgrade like? A reflection based on 15 days

I think Belgrade is very European, but with many of what Phil and I call "second world traits", such as incessant smoking in open spaces and the constant presence of stray dogs.  The streets and avenues are not grand or wide like in Paris, DC or other European capitals.  There is a ton of commerce everywhere; people walk around at all hours of the day and night.  Pastry shops, restaurants and cafes are plentiful and stay open till 2 AM daily.  There are many stores (shops?), but even if they are American brands, they are not American in their size or selection.  Some stores are so small that you have to first step inside in order to close the door behind you.  That's another thing, doors open to the inside, which is very fire unsafe and kind of awkward if you are carrying things.

On any given street, you will see the following stores in order: shoe shop, underwear shop, "trafika", cafe, bakery.   Repeat on the next block.  There are zillions of underwear shops; my favorite is called Triumph, since that is the feeling I would have if I were able to get into any of their garbs.  They also have one called "Women's Secret", which I think it's pretty funny.

The Trafikas sell cigarettes, soda, lottery tickets, bus passes and magazines.  They are not proper stores, but more of a kiosk.  Serbia is chock full or random kiosks.  Here are two of my favorites:

In case you can't tell by the picture, these are shoelaces.  Yes, shoelaces in every color of the rainbow. Just in case you happen to tear one up while you are walking.  I really wish I could ask how many they sell daily, given that 1.  Most people I've seen dress in head to toe black and 2. Most of them do not wear lace-up shoes.

Along with the underwear stores, there are many of these- stocking kiosks.  The women of Belgrade are very fashionable and in general very attractive, so this one I am sure is a hit.  I do get a kick out of the leg mannequins.

Besides the shops and cafes, the other very particular thing about Belgrade is how people park on the sidewalk. This is SOOOO Puerto Rican!  Half the time I have to walk on the street because the sidewalk is full of cars.  Many times, the sidewalk is MARKED with parking spaces.

This is the street right by the Embassy, one of the main roads in Belgrade. The best is when they decide to come in or out of the parking spot and they are literally driving next to you as you walk along the sidewalk. 

It's right behind Sava

I haven't been here that long, but so far it seems to me that everything is "right behind St. Sava".  When asking for directions to our new apartment (estimated move-in date is Nov.20), "you'll find it right behind St. Sava".  The market? "oh, go to St. Sava and you'll see it- it's right behind it". Restaurants? "you have to try the pizzeria right behind St. Sava; it's the best". The problem is that St. Sava or as pronounced in Serbian S (svetog Save) is HUMONGOUS. Here is a video Phil and I made trying to find it:

and of course, it's right there. You can't see it from far away, because Belgrade is very hilly. I was definitely not expecting that. The Embassy (and my bubble) are right by the river, but two blocks up from there, it's like San Francisco. Once you hit the flat part, you can see and appreciate the cathedral, but to get there, I was literally out of breath and sweating.

According to what I have heard and read on Wikipedia, St. Sava might just be the largest Orthodox cathedral in the Balkans and one of the largest in the world. Here's a cool fact in case you didn't know: Orthodox churches don't have pews or any other sitting place. You have to stand the for the entire service.

St. Sava is the main attraction of this really nice park with benches and tree lined pathways, along with one of the main roads; where I will be taking the bus around the city once we move. It is also one of "Belgrade's Top Ten Places to go", according to my guidebook.


Here are is another pic of St. Sava during the day time.

  

So back to the whole, behind St. Sava thing, after you walk the path in the picture, you are literally thrown into a maze of tiny little streets with no names. The streets are so small, that only one car can go at a time even though they are meant to be two-way; and cars have to park in the sidewalk. There is no grid or logic and things are really hidden. To find the market, I eventually just looked for people with those plaid flea market bags that exist everywhere but in America. I really should get some of those too.

Grocery Shopping

I chose this as my first topic 1. because it's what I have done the most of so far and 2. because it's something so normal and commonplace that we take it's simplicity for granted.  There's a regular MAXI supermarket about 3 blocks from the Embassy, not to be confused with the Mini MAXI two blocks from the Embassy.  The Mini MAXI is basically a 711 with a bit of produce less the slurpee machines, but the MAXI is about the size of a small grocery store in a mid sized city, not the shopping palaces of suburbia or Chevy Chase.  At first it's all pretty easy, I get a cart and go through the aisles.  I don't recognize about 80% of the brands, but on the most part you can figure out what everything is by the picture on the containers and the few words that may be in English.

My first "bump" was finding nail polish remover, easy enough it was in the aisle I was expecting (beauty products) and in a very normal looking container, but then I see the label says "Sa Acetona" which I guess means either with, or without acetone.  So I turn to the lady that works there (there are way over staffed at every single place you go to in Serbia, I guess labor is very cheap, or they actually do care about customer service) and I try to ask what Sa means, but then it all just gets more confusing.  The more I ask and explain myself, the more this poor confused lady is talking in Serbian and I just don't even know how to tell her to stop and to nevermind. Mental note: don't ask questions.  

Then came the produce aisles.  Now, the produce here is just AWESOME.  There is not a lot of variety.  Acutally, there is NO variety, there're carrots, onions, tomatoes, eggplant, cabbage, garlic, potatoes and lettuce and that's it.  And for fruit there are grapes, apples and bananas.  But they are the BEST apples, grapes and bananas EVER and sooo cheap.  I got 4 apples for about 30 cents. Total.   Anyway, apparently, they haven't set the system up to have your produce weighed at the checkout line, so you have to weigh it and bag it first at this little station next to it, and the entire thing is in Serbian, so I am there memorizing the characters in my head to then keying them in unto the machine to print my little scan label for my apples.

It's a good thing I have all day, because I keep forgetting the symbols.

Then there's the meat.  They don't sell meat in frozen stacks or pre-packaged, you have to go to the butcher section and talk to a real human and ask for what you want.  This is where I become Charlie Chaplin and point and nod.  I point to what I am hoping is ham and she picks it up and takes it to the gigantic slicer.  I am so proud and happy that I am getting what I want, I don't even realize she's asking me a question..so I assume she's asking how much I want ..and I don't really know. So she says "one kilo"..and I shake my head and say "no, half", for some reason, my whole life I have been thinking that the international symbol for half was the time out symbol where one hand is completely vertical and the other one is palm down on top of it, but horizontal.  This did not mean anything to this lady, so I keep repeating, half kilo.  I guess half is not a common word.  Finally, someone else notices our awkward scene, and tells her "500" and I nod quickly, "yes, 500".  Well, she gets to work and it looks like 500 grams is A LOT of ham.  But, oh, well.  It was good.  Same thing happens when I tried to get some beef for a stew.  I pointed to this piece of meat that looked good but was gi-normous and asked for half and this time, he totally got it.  I assume people just name the cuts of meat they want and how much, but I don't even know the cuts of meat in English, let alone in Serbian.

So after browsing some aisles full of Serbian specialties, such as the Nutella-esque chocolate spreads featured in the pic above and which I will do my best to stay away from, and dairy sections, I went to check out.  I went from using my credit card for a .85 cent purchase at CVS to only paying cash because we don't have a bank here yet and probably never will.  Anyway, turns out that all my hard work at the produce weigh station was fine, except that I totally spaced out and forgot about the bananas and the lady at the counter is asking and I'm just like "I'm sorry, I totally forgot" and she just leaves me standing there with a line of like 3-4 people behind me to go and weigh them herself.  I felt really bad and kept telling people "so sorry" but unlike DC, where people huff and puff over wasted time, here, it's nothing. No one sighed or gave me the evil eye.  The cashier wasn't pissy or mad. I was the only one flustered. It's so weird how they really don't have a sense of urgency and they are not always hurried.  I felt like in DC my life could have been titled like a book they read at the middle schools, "Always Running" and now it's like "Always Chillin"  

One last thing before I finish this.  Everything IS smaller in Serbia, portions, supermarket carts, appliances, people, etc.  Even the receipts.  The one on the left is a Serbian receipt, the one on the right is American standard. 

Intro

So we officially moved about a week and a day ago, but to me it feels like months. Not sure if it was not sleeping for a good 20 hours or just the emotional toll of tying lose ends in DC, packing, saying good bye and travelling, but when we finally made it into the Embassy I was in a sort of strange daze. Now I finally feel more like myself and can start writing. It's really hard to write without a specific audience in mind. I'm really the "inside joke" type of person, so there might be many "Huh?" moments when reading this blog. That's ok, just keep reading, and know that at some point, I might use one that you and I share together. Also, this is kind of a follow up to an old blog I started when I went to China and Vietnam in 2008, so feel free to read the old posts too. This blog is mostly for me, to entertain myself while Phil's at work, to document our Serbian adventure, so that when I'm old or I have kids, I can share this experience with them and others; and for you, so you can keep in touch, see what we're up to, and live vicariously through us! Finally, I named the site Flippin' Serbia because I got a Flip cam, which I'll be using to share videos and document our escapades (hence the apostrophe). Welcome and thanks for reading!

24

I wanted to post a quick story about my favorite student. Not so much for you peeps out there reading this, but mostly for me, so I can remember it .

My favorite kid is a murderer. DC pled guilty to a murder in the second degree charge and got sentenced to 24 years. 24 years. It seems like an eternity. 24 years ago I was 7 years old and lived in Mexico City. I had cassette tapes and a rotary phone. 24 years ago, there were two Germanys.

It's weird what working with these kids will do to you. I am now appalled and offended by those who think all our kids got what they deserve. The other day, I bumped into who I thought was an extremely liberal and progressive lady and when I mentioned the DC case, she was like, Oh, but he killed someone, that's necessary.

Before he got sentenced, I wrote a letter on his behalf:

"It is with great concern and anticipation that I write this letter on behalf of Devonte Carlton. I have known Devonte since he came to the Incarcerated Youth Program in September 2009. From the beginning, I noticed that Devonte was different from the other students. He was innately respectful, responsible and eager to learn. As time passed, he quickly moved to the head of the class, achieving a 4.00 for every advisory. In class, I have never once had to remind him to complete an assignment or interrupt class to redirect his behavior. Devonte is a model student in every way. He will repeatedly ask for extra assignments and complete them on a timely manner. He will seek out higher level work and educational materials constantly. Most students that we serve are mostly interested in outcomes and grades, but Devonte is truly interested in learning new concepts and improving himself through education.

During my time at the jail, I also have gotten to know Devonte on a more personal level and have grown very fond of this mature, funny and charismatic young man with a caring disposition. During our life skills sessions, we discuss many topics that are controversial in nature and Devonte is the voice of reason in many of them, he and I share a love for geography and current events. He is also and avid reader and is well liked and respected by his peers. I have never, in the past 8 months heard him use inappropriate language or speak to an adult or another inmate in a derogatory manner. His behavior is consistent and professional. He does not glorify the street life culture or join his peers in aggressive and vulgar behavior. There is not a single day, where I am not in awe by how well Devonte deals with his situation and I am humbled and impressed by his demeanor.

I have served as the mathematics teacher for the Incarcerated Youth Progam at the DC Jail for about a year and a half and have worked with over 94 juveniles. Devonte is only the second student I have spoken about on his behalf. I do so because I am certain that Devonte has the willpower, discipline and cognitive ability to turn his life around. I don’t believe he is a threat to our society, but on the contrary, I believe that given a second chance, he could achieve great things some day. I hope that he can have such opportunity to use his potential for a greater good."


The reason I didn't take out his name is because all of this is public information. Since DC was convicted as an adult, you can google his name and get all the details of the crime and sentence. What really gets to me are the horrible comments people post as a response to the articles. They don't even know him! People feel so entitled to just make assumptions about others who make mistakes. Who are they to judge? Why does DC have to give up 24 years of his lifetime when so many go unpunished, when our own army and police commit murder every day? Why did they have to make an example out of him? The judge could have given him 10 years. He also could have given him 40 or more. 24 seems like such an arbitrary number. Like 23 wasn't enough, he was sure to kill again, but with 24 he will be rehabilitated.

To sum it up, what got to me the most was seeing him yesterday and today. The sentencing was Friday and I missed it by 2 minutes. He had all memorial day weekend to let it sink it, to realize his son would be 25 years old by the time he would be out. To think that when he is finally free, he will be 41. In a way. I almost expected for everyone to be right, for Devonte to turn wild and evil like everyone really thinks he is, that his whole awesome student/great person was just a charade, that he was playing us so that he could get a short sentence. But no. Monday, Devonte was just the same; cheerful, happy, funny, courteous, ready to do some math, asking for help in a Sudoku puzzle. He was EXACTLY the same. As if nothing had happened. I am so proud of him, so amazed by his strength. I tried to act as if I didn't know. I don't think the other teachers do, and he has definitely not told the other guys. I tried not to show the incredible pity in my eyes.

I hope in the next 24 years people don't forget about him.. I want to think that I won't forget about him, that when he is transferred to a federal facility next month, I will write to him, year after year, I will send him a birthday card. That I will send him Sudoku books and remind him how I taught him how to solve them. This is why I write this, so I can always remember how much potential he had and what a tragic event all this was.