spring break pt. 2
Mostar
Followed a turquoise river and cliffs that became flattened by the rays of light which suddenly broke up all the clouds graying the mountains, revealed that there was color lurking in the depths of stone. Taxi driver pretended he knew where we were going and got 8 more euro out of me than he should have, Omer asked me to take off my shoes when I got in and gave me my own pair of plaid slippers which were exactly my size, perfectly. Went out to eat, began a letter, took a walk in the dark with the pedestrians all around, graveyards quiet looking like mushroom sprouts. Stayed near a bombed out Orthodox church, striped still and roofless. To the left a bombed out building Kody later tells me used to be a music academy. Straight ahead, a United Colores of Bennington. Then a mosque. Then a grave yard. The mountains. When I was walking down the stairs at the internet cafe I slipped and cut my finger. Kody was sitting behind the counter talking with his brother who runs the place and said something. I asked him to repeat himself in English and he sort of made fun of me in a kind way, and asked where I was from. Since he told me he had traveled for three months in America I asked him out to coffee the next night because I hadn't spoken to anyone in two days and that's what I came there to do.
first some bullshit and the beautiful view. he reveals he is very open-minded about religion. i reveal that i am very open minded about religion. spontaneity. he says he loves americans because we are bred breathing freedom, our faces are open and sweet (does he mean dumb?), baby smooth, winkle only from old age and plenty of sun. he asks me why i came to bosnia and i say to talk to people and he asks if i fancy myself a journalist and i say no a poet and he says good. he tells me a short history of the war without listing the atrocities and i feel good because i’ve already read about all he said. his forgiveness. he apologizes for not looking me in the eye all the time while he talks, he says he’s been in the military for so long he’s used to staring straight ahead when he addresses anyone. despite that fact, he looks me in the eye more than i can look some people in the eye when i talk cus i’m damn awkward. thank god for cultural difference, i'm way more awkward in my own culture then i am thrown into others. He was a prisoner of war.
We move on. He moves on. Bosnia and Hercegovina move on and the Repulik of Srpska sucks its thumb.
I'm so glad I don’t have to feel sorry and be scared of (for?) poor little Sarajevo any more. Graveyards in parks, beneath on ramps, front yards. Big city. Not a lot of space. The folks at the hostel were from places as diverse as Alaska, British Columbia, Melbourn, Indiana, and London. But now I've got the ultimate hook up, the chance of a lifetime, the dream of thousands: I can live with an Irish guy in a trailor in Alaska this summer gutting fish all day long, drinking all night, reading, writing, solitary, fending off bears. Maybe I do it? Also, I met a guy who squatted in abandoned buildings all around Italy with 8 Christian ex-punks for two weeks. ANYONE UP FOR A HITCHHIKING AND SQUATTING TRIP ALL THE WAY TO ATLANTA GEORGIA THIS SUMMER?
Followed a turquoise river and cliffs that became flattened by the rays of light which suddenly broke up all the clouds graying the mountains, revealed that there was color lurking in the depths of stone. Taxi driver pretended he knew where we were going and got 8 more euro out of me than he should have, Omer asked me to take off my shoes when I got in and gave me my own pair of plaid slippers which were exactly my size, perfectly. Went out to eat, began a letter, took a walk in the dark with the pedestrians all around, graveyards quiet looking like mushroom sprouts. Stayed near a bombed out Orthodox church, striped still and roofless. To the left a bombed out building Kody later tells me used to be a music academy. Straight ahead, a United Colores of Bennington. Then a mosque. Then a grave yard. The mountains. When I was walking down the stairs at the internet cafe I slipped and cut my finger. Kody was sitting behind the counter talking with his brother who runs the place and said something. I asked him to repeat himself in English and he sort of made fun of me in a kind way, and asked where I was from. Since he told me he had traveled for three months in America I asked him out to coffee the next night because I hadn't spoken to anyone in two days and that's what I came there to do.
first some bullshit and the beautiful view. he reveals he is very open-minded about religion. i reveal that i am very open minded about religion. spontaneity. he says he loves americans because we are bred breathing freedom, our faces are open and sweet (does he mean dumb?), baby smooth, winkle only from old age and plenty of sun. he asks me why i came to bosnia and i say to talk to people and he asks if i fancy myself a journalist and i say no a poet and he says good. he tells me a short history of the war without listing the atrocities and i feel good because i’ve already read about all he said. his forgiveness. he apologizes for not looking me in the eye all the time while he talks, he says he’s been in the military for so long he’s used to staring straight ahead when he addresses anyone. despite that fact, he looks me in the eye more than i can look some people in the eye when i talk cus i’m damn awkward. thank god for cultural difference, i'm way more awkward in my own culture then i am thrown into others. He was a prisoner of war.
We move on. He moves on. Bosnia and Hercegovina move on and the Repulik of Srpska sucks its thumb.
I'm so glad I don’t have to feel sorry and be scared of (for?) poor little Sarajevo any more. Graveyards in parks, beneath on ramps, front yards. Big city. Not a lot of space. The folks at the hostel were from places as diverse as Alaska, British Columbia, Melbourn, Indiana, and London. But now I've got the ultimate hook up, the chance of a lifetime, the dream of thousands: I can live with an Irish guy in a trailor in Alaska this summer gutting fish all day long, drinking all night, reading, writing, solitary, fending off bears. Maybe I do it? Also, I met a guy who squatted in abandoned buildings all around Italy with 8 Christian ex-punks for two weeks. ANYONE UP FOR A HITCHHIKING AND SQUATTING TRIP ALL THE WAY TO ATLANTA GEORGIA THIS SUMMER?