Playing house.

I am pleased to announce that I am now the proud resident of a Belgrade apartment. I'm not positive I can find my way back there from this internet cafe, but the important thing is I have the keys and all my stuff is there. The past few weeks have been a bit rough... after spending a year in Baltimore (which was bad enough!) I spent three days in the hospital, 4 days at my parents' house, 6 days in Akron, PA, 3 days in Sarajevo, 2 days in Novi Sad, 3 days living above a Swedish pentecostal church in Belgrade, and 4 days living with a woman from work in her one bedroom apartment. There has been A LOT of moving, so when I actually got to unpack today, it was quite a celebration.

My first day at the kindergarten the kids gave me a bag of gifts, including a little book called "I Love Belgrade", which is full of famous (and semi-famous) quotes about this lovely city. Seeing as how I'm more or less an actual resident now, my favorite is this:

"Typical Belgrade girls are good-looking, bold, gracious, but they possess a touch of Belgrade-style naughtiness that does not spoil their femininity, and is a mark of courage and wit, qualities that one must be born with."

Now, I'm not saying that being the owner of keys to an apartment in Belgrade makes this apply to me, but it is good to have goals :o)

The apartment is technically furnished, but we went to a church bazaar at the church next to the kindergarten where I work to pick up some extra things. The bazzar was pretty much like any church bazaar in the US, with a few important differences. 1. Everyone was speaking Serbian, which I still find a bit alarming. 2. All of the prices were in Dinars, so I had no idea how much anything cost, and 3. Middle aged Serbian women kept handing me things they insisted I needed to start my household. At the end of the day the bare essentials we left with included, but were certainly not limited to:

every day plates
fancy plates
plates that are only for cake
coffee mugs
tiny cups that are only for Turkish coffee
three decorative candle holders
a decorative tea pot
two vases (for all the flowers from all the Serbian men I'm not allowed to date, I guess)
three water pitchers
an egg separator
every kind of spoon, utensil, and gadget known to man, including a few that I've never seen before
two decorative baskets
about 43 sets of sheets (none of which fit the bed)

So, I am clearly well stocked, and you should come visit! For the time being I have two bedrooms and a pull out couch all to myself, plus enough dishware to host a dinner party every night! I'll show you a good time.

Beograd

So, I made it to Belgrade, and was told that I would be living above a Swedish sponsored Pentecostal church and living with a girl from work who is my age and speaks English. Then they raised the rent on that apartment, and I moved in temporarily with a different woman from work while we try to find somewhere for me to live. I went around town with three Serbian women who had about 15 words of English between them to find a new apartment for my roommate and I (she is currently working in Greece and coming back in September) and we found an acceptable one, and it seemed things were coming together (again). Later that day we found out my roommate actually found another apartment on her own and won't be living with me. We are supposed to meet with the apartment owners, who are currently living in Australia, on Saturday to sign for it... although with the way things are going, I'm crossing my fingers but not holding my breath. We also tried to regiter me with the police today, but something happened or didn't work or wasn't there, and it didn't take. So, no visa for Maggie (yet?). Perhaps you will be seeing me sooner than originally anticipated...

Internet access has been few and far between, which ranges from mildly frustrating to catastrophic, depending on how many other things are going on. I am trying really, really hard to be sweet and gracious and flexible and thankful for the hospitality people are showing me, but the truth is, I am a little concerned. If this is my honeymoon period with Serbia, I might need an annulment.

At least one good thing has happened, though... a realization. For so long I thought I was attracted to gay men, but it turns out I'm just attracted to EUROPEAN men. I'm telling you, there are tight pants, nice shoes, cool glasses, and messenger bags EVERYWHERE. Thank you, men of Belgrade, for making this transition a little more tolerable.

Safe in Sarajevo

Well, I've made it to Sarajevo. I'm here for orientation for a few days, and then I'm off to Novi Sad, Serbia, and finally Belgrade, where I'll be living.

Sarajevo is a beautiful city. I've never been to Europe before, so I was excited to see rows of beautiful buildings along a river with pedestrian bridges over it... it fit into my stereotype well. Of course, many of the buildings (and sidewalks, and streets...) have very visible evidence of the war. I knew that, I had read about it and been told by people who had been here, but it is still shocking to see. Bullet holes and shrapnel damage are generally not a part of my mental image of European towns. I know if I had paid more attention in history class it would be, but I didn't. I don't count that as too great a loss, though, because at least I will learn about it now, and by seeing, not by reading.

This is my first time in a foreign country where I'm not constantly stared at. Being a foreigner in Nicaragua and in Kenya was painfully apparent, but I got quite used to it. Actually, come to think of it, I was stared at last year for being white in my neighborhood in Baltimore far more than I am here. It is exhilarating to think that maybe- if I keep my mouth shut- people will think I belong here. Several people have even tried to speak to me in Bosnian and received an apologetic smile in return. In the interest of full disclosure, though, people could be ignoring me because all of the women who really do belong here are tall and thin and alarmingly beautiful and well dressed, and maybe my little American self just doesn't make much of an impact. I prefer, of course, to believe the former.

I don't know what else to say about this place that won't sound cliche or naive. It really is beautiful, and the weather is great. The people are sweet and the coffee is strong and the peaches and tomatoes are some of the best I've had in my life.

I am trying not to think too far into the future because my head will explode. Today I am in Sarajevo. Thursday I will go to Novi Sad and Saturday I will go to Belgrade. I will live in Belgrade for at least a year. See, that's too far in advance. I can't think about a year of Serbian language and meat pastries and war trauma... so I will think about today. Today I am in Sarajevo and it's beautiful and warm. I had two peaches for breakfast and I'm happy. Tomorrow I'll think about tomorrow.

Not kidding anymore.

You know, I was always half joking when I would talk about how much I hated Baltimore. Apparently the Gods of Baltimore can't take a joke, though, and I have now moved from a general sort of tolerable dislike to full blown loathing.

Last Thursday, the 30th, I was packing to move out of Baltimore and RHHP forever, which I was pretty excited about. "Oh boy!" I thought as I put things into boxes, "I'm ready to move on. Sure, Belgrade is another economically depressed city with a lot of violence, but I'm sure it will be great!" Later I thought, "Gee, I wonder my stomach hurts! Oh well, haha! I'm sure it's fine!". About an hour after that I thought, "WOW! My intense stomach pain now has a friend, Sharp Stabbing Pain in my Side! OW!". At this point I had stopped packing and was, instead, lying on the floor crying. I called our local program coordinator and couldn't get a hold of her, and I called my housemate who had the credit card (which is also our only form of health insurance) and couldn't get a hold of HER. I lay on the floor and cried for a while more, and then started throwing up. The intense stomach pain plus the sensation of being stabbed in the side with a dull, rusty knife, plus the vomiting didn't seem like a great combination, so I did what any self-respecting 23 year old college graduate pretending to be an adult would do: I called my mom. Then I called another housemate and asked if she could leave work to take me to the er, which she did (THANKS, ANNA!).

Long story short, I was admitted to the hospital for three days for kidney stones- IN BOTH KIDNEYS- and a badly infected left kidney. It was a pretty miserable few days, as I'm sure you can imagine, although I'm fine now. The cause? Stress. Everyone knew I hated my job and had a tough time with some of my housemates and hated my neighborhood, but even I didn't know I was so unhappy and dealing so poorly with the stress that I would actually get sick from it. Quite frankly, next time I get sick from stress I would prefer a cold to calcium deposits in my organs, but no one asked.

I eventually was released and got to go back to my parents' house for a few days to prepare for Serbia. I didn't want my last memories of Baltimore to be of being in intense pain, though, so last night I went to finish cleaning my room and to say goodbye to some friends. We had a great evening, it was wonderful to be able to spend one last night with the people who made the year tolerable (and even good at several points) and I was quite satisfied with the experience. I was pleased to be able to leave the city- and the country- on a good note.

And then I got a parking ticket.

Kind of irritating, kind of hilarious, but mostly just a fitting way to end this year. I'm ready for new challenges. I promise you, though, if there is an ice cream truck in Belgrade that drives around at 11:00 PM playing Christmas songs and selling crack, I am moving back to Vienna so fast you won't even get a souvenir.