I just finished watching the National Geographic channel special on the reconstruction of the bridge in Mostar, Bosnia. The show started with the horrible footage of the bridge collapsing after being bombed, its centuries-old huge stone blocks falling into the river below. The initial goal was to use the original blocks to reconstruct the bridge, but the ravages of war and the strong river current rendered the blocks unusable. The blocks did provide useful information in the construction of the bridge, type of limestone used, assembly (including iron rods), and type of mortar used.
The reconstruction process was not without controversy, as stone masons (and the construction company) from Turkey were used. You may recall that the Ottoman Empire had control of the Balkans for hundereds of years. In Mostar, the Turks conquered the Catholics living there. Prior to the war, it was not uncommon for intermarriages between religions to occur (such as Catholic Croats and Muslims, or Orthodox Serbs), but that all changed with the war. Such tensions were brought to the construction process as well.
It was fascinating to see how the combination of high-tech (such as making a computer 3-d model of the bridge) and centuries old traditional techniques were combined to recreate a bridge that looks much like the original one. Once again, the bridge of Mostar connects the town, both physically and emotionally.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Another visit to St. Sava Cathedral
St. Sava Cathedral (Belgrade)
Back in Belgrade, I decided to visit St. Sava Cathedral and check its progress. Although the outside of the massive structure was completed several years ago, the inside decoration was in its beginning stages the last time I had visited. (The structure was begun in 1926, but interrupted many times, particularly during Nazi bombing in 1941, post WWII, and during the breakup of Yugoslavia). I took the entrance on the Vracar Plateau side, walking through the path lined with fountains. Here the Turkish burning of St. Sava’s relics in 1594 (as a way to break the spirit and punish the Serbs) is commemorated. Inside were the sounds of construction. The large cupola domes were still unornamented, as was most of interior. Parts of walls were covered with large sheets of colored marble, cut in geometric designs. The Serbian Coat of Arms, with its double-headed eagle, was carved in white marble, contrasting with the colored background marble. Through the scaffolding I saw a large mosaic mural in progress. Sections of white carved marble were piled on the floor, with some already in place. Piles of marble slabs and other building materials filled a large portion of the front entrance. On each side were places where candles were lit, one for the dead and the other for the living.After walking past the smaller St. Sava Church (1935), I turned around to take another picture of the magnificent larger structure, brightly gleaming against the blue sky. The bells began to toll, briefly but with strength. Already the pride of Serbia, St. Sava Cathedral will be a thing of beauty once it is completed.
To get back to my neighborhood of Senjak, I took the bus instead of my preferred tram route. I was glad to see that the rails of the tram line finally were being redone, but lament their present inoperability and accompanying inconvenience. In the early evening, I heard traditional brass music coming from the direction of the hippodrome, overlooked by my apartment. Comprised of subtle but beautiful colors, the sunset provided a wonderful end to the gorgeous day.
Mt. Avala
Mt. Avala
After an entire week of rain, Saturday finally brought good weather. Olja (a Serbian teacher at school) and I decided to go to Mt. Avala, located about 18 km south of Belgrade. Our meeting point was the Mc Donald’s in Slavija Circle. The juxtaposition of the Austro-Hungarian-style building with the ubiquitous chain restaurant logo always amuses me. Olja explained that we would have to take the local buses, as the special service bus to Avala only runs during the summer – which ended the day before. As the destination was outside the main Belgrade bus zone, we had to pay slightly more for the ticket – 61 cents. Once outside of the Belgrade city, high-rise apartment buildings were replaced with extended family homes, many of which were in various stages of completion. A few tractors hauling small wagonloads of grasses and weeds slowed the pace a bit.
Just a short distance away from Belgrade, it was easy to see why Mt. Avala (only 6 meters above the minimum requirements for a mountain) was a popular summer day trip for citizens of the capital city. Our bus stop was at the base of the mountain. Although a paved road for vehicles existed, everyone was hiking up the paved walk, shaded by the forest trees. Benches were regularly situated along the zigzag path, enabling people to relax and enjoy the deciduous and coniferous forest landscape.
At the top of the mountain was the Unknown Soldier Monument, sculpted of black marble by Ivan Mestrovic from 1934-38. Stairs, also of black marble, led majestically up to the enclosed monument. Inside on the floor were the dates relating to the First World War. From here, we had a great panoramic view of the lush agricultural region of Sumadija. At one time, Olja explained, the entire region was heavily forested. Guarding both entrances to the monument were eight massive caryatides (female-shaped supporting pillars like those found in classical Greek temples). Each represented a region of then-Yugoslavia, including Kosovo and Vojvodina.
Pesky wasps forced us to eat our picnic lunch rather quickly, at which time we began the easier descent. Partly because of our too-short stay at the summit, we stopped for a drink in the large outdoor café at the 1938 Avala hotel. I found the sphinxes lining the parking lot entrance rather amusing, contrasting with the other architectural styles of the building. On our way down, we took a slight detour to see where the state-owned RTS television station tower and once was, turned into rubble in the 1999 NATO air campaign. Just inside the forest was an old lady selling small bundles of thyme and other herbs. Feeling a bit sorry for the lady, Olja bought a bundle for 10 cents. Perfect timing, the bus arrived just as we got there.
Slightly in from the road, Olja pointed out a Memorial Garden that paid tribute to the 80,000 Yugoslavs executed by the Nazis during World War II. Romas and people supporting the Partizans were frequently targeted by the Germans and sent to concentration camps.
After an entire week of rain, Saturday finally brought good weather. Olja (a Serbian teacher at school) and I decided to go to Mt. Avala, located about 18 km south of Belgrade. Our meeting point was the Mc Donald’s in Slavija Circle. The juxtaposition of the Austro-Hungarian-style building with the ubiquitous chain restaurant logo always amuses me. Olja explained that we would have to take the local buses, as the special service bus to Avala only runs during the summer – which ended the day before. As the destination was outside the main Belgrade bus zone, we had to pay slightly more for the ticket – 61 cents. Once outside of the Belgrade city, high-rise apartment buildings were replaced with extended family homes, many of which were in various stages of completion. A few tractors hauling small wagonloads of grasses and weeds slowed the pace a bit.
Just a short distance away from Belgrade, it was easy to see why Mt. Avala (only 6 meters above the minimum requirements for a mountain) was a popular summer day trip for citizens of the capital city. Our bus stop was at the base of the mountain. Although a paved road for vehicles existed, everyone was hiking up the paved walk, shaded by the forest trees. Benches were regularly situated along the zigzag path, enabling people to relax and enjoy the deciduous and coniferous forest landscape.
At the top of the mountain was the Unknown Soldier Monument, sculpted of black marble by Ivan Mestrovic from 1934-38. Stairs, also of black marble, led majestically up to the enclosed monument. Inside on the floor were the dates relating to the First World War. From here, we had a great panoramic view of the lush agricultural region of Sumadija. At one time, Olja explained, the entire region was heavily forested. Guarding both entrances to the monument were eight massive caryatides (female-shaped supporting pillars like those found in classical Greek temples). Each represented a region of then-Yugoslavia, including Kosovo and Vojvodina.
Pesky wasps forced us to eat our picnic lunch rather quickly, at which time we began the easier descent. Partly because of our too-short stay at the summit, we stopped for a drink in the large outdoor café at the 1938 Avala hotel. I found the sphinxes lining the parking lot entrance rather amusing, contrasting with the other architectural styles of the building. On our way down, we took a slight detour to see where the state-owned RTS television station tower and once was, turned into rubble in the 1999 NATO air campaign. Just inside the forest was an old lady selling small bundles of thyme and other herbs. Feeling a bit sorry for the lady, Olja bought a bundle for 10 cents. Perfect timing, the bus arrived just as we got there.
Slightly in from the road, Olja pointed out a Memorial Garden that paid tribute to the 80,000 Yugoslavs executed by the Nazis during World War II. Romas and people supporting the Partizans were frequently targeted by the Germans and sent to concentration camps.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Mostar and Nevesinje
This past weekend I was invited to go to Bosnia-Herzegovina with Tanja, a native of the region now living in Belgrade. At around 11pm on Friday, we boarded the bus. Thankfully not all the seats were occupied, so most were able to stretch out a bit. I tried to sleep but it wasn’t easy, since the lights went on frequently (dropping off or picking up
people, rest stops) and we had to show our passports at the border. At dawn, the beauty of the region was unveiled. Low white clouds shrouded parts of the mountains, giving a sense of tranquility. The emerging pinks and blues of the sunrise contrasted beautifully with the still-silhouetted mountains and valleys. Trees in various stages of foliage became quite dense at times. The bus moved slowly up the narrow winding mountain road which at some parts was simply a gravel road.
Nevesinje
At around 8am, we arrived in the mountain valley town of Nevesinje. Tanja and her family had lived here for about a year during the war, fleeing from Mostar, site of intense fighting between Muslims and Croats. Tanja’s friend Anica and her sister Gordana were now living here and had invited us to stay with them for the weekend. They lived in the upper part of an old farmhouse out in the country. All the buildings in her small farm community were created out of rough stone. As soon as we
arrived, the petite old woman who lived downstairs greeted us, introducing herself to me very loudly and excitedly. In no time the entire community knew that the visitors had arrived, including an American. After a breakfast of yogurt, local bacon, boiled eggs, bread, and the mandatory cup of strong Turkish coffee, it was suggested that a quick nap might be in order. Knowing that I didn’t have much time here, I declined.
While Anica went off to plant potatoes in the fields, Tanja and I went walking through the fields and area once quite familiar to her. She showed me the small house where her family had lived – now just a shell and rubble. An abandoned unfinished house belonged to a Muslim family who had yet to return. Wildflowers in yellow, purple and white colors dotted the grassy areas and meadows. In one direction was a mountain whose name means “worm mountain”, which keeps some snow all year round. In the fields one could see people hunched over, also planting potatoes by hand.
In the afternoon, we stopped at the nearby Nevesenje Lake, framed by trees and mountains. The frogs’ loud croaking broke the otherwise silent surroundings. In the shores of the cold lake, one could see scores of tadpoles just waiting for the chance to join the chorus. In the town of Nevesinje, we drove around the main parts and stopped for a few minutes in the old Serbian Orthodox Church. When we arrived back at the farm, I decided to take advantage of the lighting of the late afternoon sun and took some more photos of the local architecture. Most of the homes had a small connected structure called a summer kitchen. The barns all had a small wooden-shuttered window in the upper portion, providing beautiful textural contrast to the stone. Inside Anica’s barn was a solitary cow, mooing to be pastured outside. Some of the fencing was made from vine branches, interwoven like the sides of a basket. Sheep were now being herded back into their fenced-in areas for the night after grazing in more open areas during the day. Next to the sheep pen, Anica’s downstairs neighbor drew some water from the well for use in the home. After Anica finished the evening milking, we headed out in the star-filled sky to enjoy a drink (coffee) at a café in town.
Region of Mostar
The next morning we began our journey towards Mostar, stopping in Nevesinje to pick up Danka, a friend of Anica’s and in a tiny mountain village to visit Anica’s ailing grandmother. Her home had been destroyed in the conflict but had been rebuilt by the UN. We then stopped at Blagaj. Here we saw 200 meter cliff wall from which an underground karst river flows and single-handedly creates the Buna River. Right next it a tekija (Turkish monastery) was built for the Dervish cults in the 16th century. I was amazed at how quickly the river picked up in speed. Knowing we had a lot to see and do that day, we skipped entering the building (and all the tourists) and walked back to the car. Along the riverbank we could see a trout farm (didn’t look that active though) and a restaurant specializing in fish.
Moving onward, our next destination was Pocitelj, a UNESCO World Heritage site. High on a hill stood the fortress Sahat-kula, visible from a distance. Pocitelj is a picturesque Turkish village, built up the steep hill and overlooking the Neretva River. It was partially destroyed in August 1993 by Croat forces, followed by ethnic cleansing. Recent reconstruction has restored the village. As soon as we parked the car, children and adults descended upon us, offering their cherries, oranges, and dried fruits for sale. Entering through an arched gate, we began walking up the stone-covered walkways. Reaching the large mosque built in 1563, we turned right and continued up the path towards the fortress. The original fortress was built by the Hungarians in 1444 and was taken over by the Ottoman Empire in 1471. At that time the castle was fortified and the town was built in the valley below. I climbed up the tower, slowly ascending the short, steep steps in darkness. Once at the top, I was welcomed to a panoramic view of the city, river, and rugged mountains. It was easy to see why Pocitelj was of strategic importance to the Turks, who used the position to extract tolls on travelers using the Nereteva River as one of the few easy routes through the mountains.
On the way to Mostar, we stopped at a small church and monastery. Like other religious institutions, this one was destroyed to the ground during the bloody conflict in the area. A wedding had just occurred, with everyone socializing outside the church. A local band played its bright music, with brass instruments, an accordion, and bass string instrument dominating. Not wanting to disturb the celebration, we quickly slipped inside the church. Inside, you could still smell the incense. The walls were very bare and white. Did the original structure have frescoes? The altar had paintings that looked fairly old. Perhaps they were able to rescue it before the fire consumed the building. As we left the church, I stopped to admire the new doors, elaborately carved with crosses and floral designs.
We now arrived in Mostar, parking in a newer section of the city. It was starting to sprinkle, so I was glad that I brought along my umbrella. A short distance away was the Turkish quarter. Small shops in traditional buildings lined the cobblestone walkway, displaying Turkish-looking crafts and souvenirs for sale. The street was filled with tourists, a positive sign for this formerly besieged city. While we paused for Tanja to get
some film for her camera, I looked more closely at the buildings. Even here, many bore the pockmarked signs of bullets and fighting. Up one street, I could see that one was just a shell, with weeds and vines overtaking most of it.
A bit further, we stopped to take some photos of the famous bridge up ahead. Built over 400 years ago, the Stari Most bridge, the longest single stone span in the world, connected the Old Town (mostly Muslim) and largely newer town on the west bank (mostly Catholic). The bridge had symbolized the bond that the multi-ethnic and religious connections (Muslim, Catholic, Jewish, Serbian Orthodox) that the citizens of Mostar had espoused for over 500 years. In 1995, Croats bombed the footbridge, with the citizens staring in disbelief and shock. A few years later, a multinational force began reconstructing the bridge, pulling up the stones out of the river and using building techniques as close as possible to that of the original Ottoman structure. (see http://www.saudiaramcoworld.com/issue/199805/hearts.and.stones.htm for a good article).
We now stopped for lunch at a restaurant just past the bridge. We all ordered cevapci, a mildly seasoned skinless beef sausage and specialty of the region. Served in a pocket of flat bread, the portion was enough for two people. Next to us was a fountain, with the water trickling out of old Turkish pots. A few cats wandered around the courtyard, hoping for handouts. Other tourists opened their guidebooks and discussed their next moves.
After lunch, we walked down some stairs near the restaurant to get a view of the bridge from the other side. A lot of people were now at the top of the bridge. At the peak of the bridge, a young man climbed over the rail and prepared to dive. Although gesturing as if to dive, he did not follow through with the dive. Tanja explained that he was waiting for more “dare money” before going through with the dive – something she had witnessed many times when living here. Realizing that it might take a few minutes before enough money was collected, we decided to head back and move onward. Before leaving Mostar, we drove through the western part of town. Here entire areas were destroyed, blocks of rubble, shells of buildings, or heavily pockmarked. Many of the business and homes in use also bore signs of attack. It would take a long time before all of this would be restored. Up a steep road outside of the city center, we drove to the home of Tanja’s father, which also was being rebuilt. Expecting us for lunch, she had prepared a large bowl of cevapcis for us as well, but we all were too full to eat any. After Tanja had some time with her family, we drove back to Nevesinje, about a 50-minute drive through the Velež Mountains.
Before we boarded the bus that night, we thanked our hosts for their generosity and hospitality. My new friends from Bosnia-Herzegovina wanted me to come back to visit them, and already had planned out some places we could visit. It is such experiences in being with the local people that makes living overseas so much richer than simply being a tourist.
people, rest stops) and we had to show our passports at the border. At dawn, the beauty of the region was unveiled. Low white clouds shrouded parts of the mountains, giving a sense of tranquility. The emerging pinks and blues of the sunrise contrasted beautifully with the still-silhouetted mountains and valleys. Trees in various stages of foliage became quite dense at times. The bus moved slowly up the narrow winding mountain road which at some parts was simply a gravel road.Nevesinje
At around 8am, we arrived in the mountain valley town of Nevesinje. Tanja and her family had lived here for about a year during the war, fleeing from Mostar, site of intense fighting between Muslims and Croats. Tanja’s friend Anica and her sister Gordana were now living here and had invited us to stay with them for the weekend. They lived in the upper part of an old farmhouse out in the country. All the buildings in her small farm community were created out of rough stone. As soon as we
arrived, the petite old woman who lived downstairs greeted us, introducing herself to me very loudly and excitedly. In no time the entire community knew that the visitors had arrived, including an American. After a breakfast of yogurt, local bacon, boiled eggs, bread, and the mandatory cup of strong Turkish coffee, it was suggested that a quick nap might be in order. Knowing that I didn’t have much time here, I declined.While Anica went off to plant potatoes in the fields, Tanja and I went walking through the fields and area once quite familiar to her. She showed me the small house where her family had lived – now just a shell and rubble. An abandoned unfinished house belonged to a Muslim family who had yet to return. Wildflowers in yellow, purple and white colors dotted the grassy areas and meadows. In one direction was a mountain whose name means “worm mountain”, which keeps some snow all year round. In the fields one could see people hunched over, also planting potatoes by hand.
In the afternoon, we stopped at the nearby Nevesenje Lake, framed by trees and mountains. The frogs’ loud croaking broke the otherwise silent surroundings. In the shores of the cold lake, one could see scores of tadpoles just waiting for the chance to join the chorus. In the town of Nevesinje, we drove around the main parts and stopped for a few minutes in the old Serbian Orthodox Church. When we arrived back at the farm, I decided to take advantage of the lighting of the late afternoon sun and took some more photos of the local architecture. Most of the homes had a small connected structure called a summer kitchen. The barns all had a small wooden-shuttered window in the upper portion, providing beautiful textural contrast to the stone. Inside Anica’s barn was a solitary cow, mooing to be pastured outside. Some of the fencing was made from vine branches, interwoven like the sides of a basket. Sheep were now being herded back into their fenced-in areas for the night after grazing in more open areas during the day. Next to the sheep pen, Anica’s downstairs neighbor drew some water from the well for use in the home. After Anica finished the evening milking, we headed out in the star-filled sky to enjoy a drink (coffee) at a café in town.
Region of Mostar
The next morning we began our journey towards Mostar, stopping in Nevesinje to pick up Danka, a friend of Anica’s and in a tiny mountain village to visit Anica’s ailing grandmother. Her home had been destroyed in the conflict but had been rebuilt by the UN. We then stopped at Blagaj. Here we saw 200 meter cliff wall from which an underground karst river flows and single-handedly creates the Buna River. Right next it a tekija (Turkish monastery) was built for the Dervish cults in the 16th century. I was amazed at how quickly the river picked up in speed. Knowing we had a lot to see and do that day, we skipped entering the building (and all the tourists) and walked back to the car. Along the riverbank we could see a trout farm (didn’t look that active though) and a restaurant specializing in fish.
Moving onward, our next destination was Pocitelj, a UNESCO World Heritage site. High on a hill stood the fortress Sahat-kula, visible from a distance. Pocitelj is a picturesque Turkish village, built up the steep hill and overlooking the Neretva River. It was partially destroyed in August 1993 by Croat forces, followed by ethnic cleansing. Recent reconstruction has restored the village. As soon as we parked the car, children and adults descended upon us, offering their cherries, oranges, and dried fruits for sale. Entering through an arched gate, we began walking up the stone-covered walkways. Reaching the large mosque built in 1563, we turned right and continued up the path towards the fortress. The original fortress was built by the Hungarians in 1444 and was taken over by the Ottoman Empire in 1471. At that time the castle was fortified and the town was built in the valley below. I climbed up the tower, slowly ascending the short, steep steps in darkness. Once at the top, I was welcomed to a panoramic view of the city, river, and rugged mountains. It was easy to see why Pocitelj was of strategic importance to the Turks, who used the position to extract tolls on travelers using the Nereteva River as one of the few easy routes through the mountains.On the way to Mostar, we stopped at a small church and monastery. Like other religious institutions, this one was destroyed to the ground during the bloody conflict in the area. A wedding had just occurred, with everyone socializing outside the church. A local band played its bright music, with brass instruments, an accordion, and bass string instrument dominating. Not wanting to disturb the celebration, we quickly slipped inside the church. Inside, you could still smell the incense. The walls were very bare and white. Did the original structure have frescoes? The altar had paintings that looked fairly old. Perhaps they were able to rescue it before the fire consumed the building. As we left the church, I stopped to admire the new doors, elaborately carved with crosses and floral designs.
We now arrived in Mostar, parking in a newer section of the city. It was starting to sprinkle, so I was glad that I brought along my umbrella. A short distance away was the Turkish quarter. Small shops in traditional buildings lined the cobblestone walkway, displaying Turkish-looking crafts and souvenirs for sale. The street was filled with tourists, a positive sign for this formerly besieged city. While we paused for Tanja to get
some film for her camera, I looked more closely at the buildings. Even here, many bore the pockmarked signs of bullets and fighting. Up one street, I could see that one was just a shell, with weeds and vines overtaking most of it.A bit further, we stopped to take some photos of the famous bridge up ahead. Built over 400 years ago, the Stari Most bridge, the longest single stone span in the world, connected the Old Town (mostly Muslim) and largely newer town on the west bank (mostly Catholic). The bridge had symbolized the bond that the multi-ethnic and religious connections (Muslim, Catholic, Jewish, Serbian Orthodox) that the citizens of Mostar had espoused for over 500 years. In 1995, Croats bombed the footbridge, with the citizens staring in disbelief and shock. A few years later, a multinational force began reconstructing the bridge, pulling up the stones out of the river and using building techniques as close as possible to that of the original Ottoman structure. (see http://www.saudiaramcoworld.com/issue/199805/hearts.and.stones.htm for a good article).
We now stopped for lunch at a restaurant just past the bridge. We all ordered cevapci, a mildly seasoned skinless beef sausage and specialty of the region. Served in a pocket of flat bread, the portion was enough for two people. Next to us was a fountain, with the water trickling out of old Turkish pots. A few cats wandered around the courtyard, hoping for handouts. Other tourists opened their guidebooks and discussed their next moves.
After lunch, we walked down some stairs near the restaurant to get a view of the bridge from the other side. A lot of people were now at the top of the bridge. At the peak of the bridge, a young man climbed over the rail and prepared to dive. Although gesturing as if to dive, he did not follow through with the dive. Tanja explained that he was waiting for more “dare money” before going through with the dive – something she had witnessed many times when living here. Realizing that it might take a few minutes before enough money was collected, we decided to head back and move onward. Before leaving Mostar, we drove through the western part of town. Here entire areas were destroyed, blocks of rubble, shells of buildings, or heavily pockmarked. Many of the business and homes in use also bore signs of attack. It would take a long time before all of this would be restored. Up a steep road outside of the city center, we drove to the home of Tanja’s father, which also was being rebuilt. Expecting us for lunch, she had prepared a large bowl of cevapcis for us as well, but we all were too full to eat any. After Tanja had some time with her family, we drove back to Nevesinje, about a 50-minute drive through the Velež Mountains.
Before we boarded the bus that night, we thanked our hosts for their generosity and hospitality. My new friends from Bosnia-Herzegovina wanted me to come back to visit them, and already had planned out some places we could visit. It is such experiences in being with the local people that makes living overseas so much richer than simply being a tourist.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
Studenica and Žiča Monastery
Thursday, April 20 - Studenica
With the rain still persisting, we began the drive towards our next destination – Studenica. The road followed the Western Morava and Ibar Rivers. Both were very high. Plastic bags clung to trees in the swollen river. Along a 20 km long scenic gorge created by the Western Morava River are over 10 tiny monasteries. Constructed mainly in the 15th and 16th centuries, these monasteries were located in more secluded places away from main roads and far away from Turkish towns. We briefly visited Vavedenje Monastery, located closer to the town of Čačak. Like most
of these small monasteries, Vavedenje was very simple. The existing church structure was built in 1874 after the original one had been destroyed. No frescoes remained from the original structure, but the carved wooden altar is older.
Traveling once again through the remote, mountainous region, we reached Studenica. Established at the end of the 12th century, this monastery is one of Serbia’s greatest monasteries and is highly regarded by Orthodox Serbs. We entered through the imposing Western Gate, constructed of stone with a wooden pyramid roof.
In the small church known as King’s Church (built in 1314), a special Maundy Thursday service was taking place. The priest was chanting and waving incense. Many of the frescoes in the church were quite well-preserved. As in the Mileševa church, the fresco portraits portray realism rather than simply stylizing figures. I did not feel comfortable looking around very long during the service and quietly went outside.
I took a tour around the exterior of the main church completed in 1191, known as the Church of Our Lady (or Church of the Holy Virgin). A prototype of the Raška School style, the architecture seamlessly blends Romanesque and Byzantine styles. The exterior is covered with polished white marble, unique in Serbian medieval architecture. The cupola is a red color, just like the King’s Church. My favorite architectural element is the 3-windowed apse. Framing the three narrow windows are carvings or elaborately sculptured leaves, figures, and mythological beasts. Carvings of a similar style could be found around one of the doors.
Most of the original frescoes inside the Holy Virgin church were completed in 1209 and repainted in 1569. The Crucifixion fresco is especially splendid. Recent earthquakes (compounding previous ones) have raised questions of stability. Many of Studenica’s remaining treasures (what was left after repeated lootings) are now in a small museum on-site, but it was closed for the day. The dining hall was open for view. In one end was a large fireplace; in the other, a long table for the king and important leaders. The yellow residential quarters looked much newer than the church buildings, dating back to the 18th century. Bedding was hung over the window ledges, airing out even in the rainy weather.
I hope to go back to Studenica and take more photos and enjoy the ambience – hopefully with blue skies that make this UNESCO World Heritage site so captivating.
Žiča Monastery
Heading towards Kraljevo, we stopped at the Žiča Monastery. Constructed in 1209 and finished in 1217, this church is painted in a distinctive rusty red color. Here, a church service was also in progress. In the arched entryway, I could see a few frescoes. Sadly, most of the original frescoes were destroyed by Bulgarians in 1290 or later by Turks seeking to obliterate any depiction of the human image. On both sides of this entryway were round windows intricately carved out of stone. On the grounds was a beautiful domed baptistery, reconstructed from some of the original fragments.
Back to Belgrade
It was time to head back to Belgrade. The bus trip from Kraljevo took about 3 hours, but the time went by quickly due to the fascinating company of a college student from Poland. She also was visiting Serbia and Montenegro on her spring break. From the windows of the bus, I could see flooded fields. Back in Belgrade, the road next to the bus and train station was still flooded; I opted to take a taxi home. Despite the inclement weather, I enjoyed my trip to western Serbia. I hope to revisit some of the places with family and/or friends.
With the rain still persisting, we began the drive towards our next destination – Studenica. The road followed the Western Morava and Ibar Rivers. Both were very high. Plastic bags clung to trees in the swollen river. Along a 20 km long scenic gorge created by the Western Morava River are over 10 tiny monasteries. Constructed mainly in the 15th and 16th centuries, these monasteries were located in more secluded places away from main roads and far away from Turkish towns. We briefly visited Vavedenje Monastery, located closer to the town of Čačak. Like most
of these small monasteries, Vavedenje was very simple. The existing church structure was built in 1874 after the original one had been destroyed. No frescoes remained from the original structure, but the carved wooden altar is older.Traveling once again through the remote, mountainous region, we reached Studenica. Established at the end of the 12th century, this monastery is one of Serbia’s greatest monasteries and is highly regarded by Orthodox Serbs. We entered through the imposing Western Gate, constructed of stone with a wooden pyramid roof.
In the small church known as King’s Church (built in 1314), a special Maundy Thursday service was taking place. The priest was chanting and waving incense. Many of the frescoes in the church were quite well-preserved. As in the Mileševa church, the fresco portraits portray realism rather than simply stylizing figures. I did not feel comfortable looking around very long during the service and quietly went outside.
I took a tour around the exterior of the main church completed in 1191, known as the Church of Our Lady (or Church of the Holy Virgin). A prototype of the Raška School style, the architecture seamlessly blends Romanesque and Byzantine styles. The exterior is covered with polished white marble, unique in Serbian medieval architecture. The cupola is a red color, just like the King’s Church. My favorite architectural element is the 3-windowed apse. Framing the three narrow windows are carvings or elaborately sculptured leaves, figures, and mythological beasts. Carvings of a similar style could be found around one of the doors.Most of the original frescoes inside the Holy Virgin church were completed in 1209 and repainted in 1569. The Crucifixion fresco is especially splendid. Recent earthquakes (compounding previous ones) have raised questions of stability. Many of Studenica’s remaining treasures (what was left after repeated lootings) are now in a small museum on-site, but it was closed for the day. The dining hall was open for view. In one end was a large fireplace; in the other, a long table for the king and important leaders. The yellow residential quarters looked much newer than the church buildings, dating back to the 18th century. Bedding was hung over the window ledges, airing out even in the rainy weather.
I hope to go back to Studenica and take more photos and enjoy the ambience – hopefully with blue skies that make this UNESCO World Heritage site so captivating.
Žiča Monastery
Heading towards Kraljevo, we stopped at the Žiča Monastery. Constructed in 1209 and finished in 1217, this church is painted in a distinctive rusty red color. Here, a church service was also in progress. In the arched entryway, I could see a few frescoes. Sadly, most of the original frescoes were destroyed by Bulgarians in 1290 or later by Turks seeking to obliterate any depiction of the human image. On both sides of this entryway were round windows intricately carved out of stone. On the grounds was a beautiful domed baptistery, reconstructed from some of the original fragments.
Back to Belgrade
It was time to head back to Belgrade. The bus trip from Kraljevo took about 3 hours, but the time went by quickly due to the fascinating company of a college student from Poland. She also was visiting Serbia and Montenegro on her spring break. From the windows of the bus, I could see flooded fields. Back in Belgrade, the road next to the bus and train station was still flooded; I opted to take a taxi home. Despite the inclement weather, I enjoyed my trip to western Serbia. I hope to revisit some of the places with family and/or friends.
Mileševa Monastery
Wednesday, April 19 - Mileševa Monastery
When I awoke, it was still raining. Today’s destination was the Mileševa Monastery, located
near the town of Prijepolje in southwest Serbia. obscuring the likely beautiful views of the tree-covered mountains and snaking river. In some areas, the pine trees were particularly tall. The Lim River was moving quite fast andThick clouds hung below the tips of Mt. Zlatar, seemed rather high. The road to Prijepolje was winding and narrow. I saw several bridges being constructed, eliminating at least some of the curves. Construction workers busied themselves with their cell phones rather than attending to directing traffic. Others sat along the roadside and talked. We drove through the uninspiring town of Nova Varoš and proceeded 27 km farther to Prijepolje. I was surprised to see three mosque minarets in the town, but was 
told that this indeed was a more Muslim area.
About 6 km outside of Prijepolje was the famous Mileševa Monastery. In front of one of the buildings was a large Serbian Orthodox flag, seemingly making a political/religious statement. Around a portion of the perimeter were stone ruins of a wall and perhaps some Turkish small buildings. King Vladislav founded the monastery around 1234. Two years later, it received the body of St. Sava, elevating its position of importance to second amongst Serbian monasteries. In the 1500’s, the monastery operated a printing shop, spreading liturgical books throughout Serbia and neighboring areas. In retaliation for a Serbian uprising against the Turks in 1688, the monastery was burned and left in ruins. The present-day building dates back to 1863. We were not able to enter the monastery building. The church of the Holy Ascension was erected in 1234/5 in the style of the Raška School.
I was eager to enter the inside of the church and see its famous frescoes which represent one of the peaks of 13th century European painting. Inside, I met the Serbian/Swiss families with which I
had shared a train car on the Šargan Eight train a day before. A nun lit candles on top of coffin over the gravesite of St. Sava. On the opposite wall was the coffin of a recently canonized individual. In the domes and around other places, frescoes had larg
e pieces missing. The frescoes of King Vladislav and St. Sava were painted during their lifetimes and are seen as some of the best (and accurate) portraits of the 13th century. In addition to the emphasis on realism, the frescoes portray the psychological characterizations of the individuals. As in most frescoes, the founder (in this case Vladislav) is depicted holding a small model of the church. Many of the figures’ eyes had been gouged or obliterated by the Turks. I heard that these may be soon restored. Frescoes depicting the Last Judgment were heavily damaged during WWII when the church was used as a stable. Scenes of the Passion Week covered large portions of the walls. The church’s most famous fresco is the White Angel, now regarded as a symbol of Serbia and recently adopted as an emblem for the United Nations. Around the angel are other portions of the Easter story and Resurrection. Remnants of a fresco once covering the scene leads one to speculate that angel with its enigmatic smile might not be with us today if it were not for such preservation.
Outside once again, we headed through an archway and walked on top of a bridge reconstructed in the original Turkish style. I am glad to see such preservation and restoration beginning to occur. Surrounding the area were fields of fruit trees. Goats happily nibbled away on the tall grasses. After a drink at the local café, we headed back to Zlatibor. Rain followed us.
When I awoke, it was still raining. Today’s destination was the Mileševa Monastery, located
near the town of Prijepolje in southwest Serbia. obscuring the likely beautiful views of the tree-covered mountains and snaking river. In some areas, the pine trees were particularly tall. The Lim River was moving quite fast andThick clouds hung below the tips of Mt. Zlatar, seemed rather high. The road to Prijepolje was winding and narrow. I saw several bridges being constructed, eliminating at least some of the curves. Construction workers busied themselves with their cell phones rather than attending to directing traffic. Others sat along the roadside and talked. We drove through the uninspiring town of Nova Varoš and proceeded 27 km farther to Prijepolje. I was surprised to see three mosque minarets in the town, but was 
told that this indeed was a more Muslim area.About 6 km outside of Prijepolje was the famous Mileševa Monastery. In front of one of the buildings was a large Serbian Orthodox flag, seemingly making a political/religious statement. Around a portion of the perimeter were stone ruins of a wall and perhaps some Turkish small buildings. King Vladislav founded the monastery around 1234. Two years later, it received the body of St. Sava, elevating its position of importance to second amongst Serbian monasteries. In the 1500’s, the monastery operated a printing shop, spreading liturgical books throughout Serbia and neighboring areas. In retaliation for a Serbian uprising against the Turks in 1688, the monastery was burned and left in ruins. The present-day building dates back to 1863. We were not able to enter the monastery building. The church of the Holy Ascension was erected in 1234/5 in the style of the Raška School.
I was eager to enter the inside of the church and see its famous frescoes which represent one of the peaks of 13th century European painting. Inside, I met the Serbian/Swiss families with which I
had shared a train car on the Šargan Eight train a day before. A nun lit candles on top of coffin over the gravesite of St. Sava. On the opposite wall was the coffin of a recently canonized individual. In the domes and around other places, frescoes had larg
e pieces missing. The frescoes of King Vladislav and St. Sava were painted during their lifetimes and are seen as some of the best (and accurate) portraits of the 13th century. In addition to the emphasis on realism, the frescoes portray the psychological characterizations of the individuals. As in most frescoes, the founder (in this case Vladislav) is depicted holding a small model of the church. Many of the figures’ eyes had been gouged or obliterated by the Turks. I heard that these may be soon restored. Frescoes depicting the Last Judgment were heavily damaged during WWII when the church was used as a stable. Scenes of the Passion Week covered large portions of the walls. The church’s most famous fresco is the White Angel, now regarded as a symbol of Serbia and recently adopted as an emblem for the United Nations. Around the angel are other portions of the Easter story and Resurrection. Remnants of a fresco once covering the scene leads one to speculate that angel with its enigmatic smile might not be with us today if it were not for such preservation.Outside once again, we headed through an archway and walked on top of a bridge reconstructed in the original Turkish style. I am glad to see such preservation and restoration beginning to occur. Surrounding the area were fields of fruit trees. Goats happily nibbled away on the tall grasses. After a drink at the local café, we headed back to Zlatibor. Rain followed us.
Sargan Train and Tara National Park
Tuesday, April 18 – Šargan Train and Tara National Park
Šargan Eight Train
When I woke up, it still was raining. I packed up my belongings, ate breakfast, and thanked Zoriča and her museum crew for their hospitality. Our first destination was the Šargan 8 train. This year I had the departure times of
the train and was eager to this newly popular tourist attraction of the historic train route through the mountains. In fact, I heard that there are plans to extend the route into neighboring countries. At the ticket booth, I was told that I might have to stand, as there were so many people wanting to ride. Indeed, there were lots of children (young and teenagers) eager to board the train. I agreed and ended up in the front car. In this car (built in 1903) were a few families traveling together – some from Serbia, and others from Switzerland and the UK.
After an initial pause, the train began making its way along the figure 8 loop. The horizontal distance between the train stations Mokra Gora and Šargan-Vitasi is only 3.5 km, but the height difference is over 300 meters. We stopped at the Šargan and Jatare stations (reconstructed exactly as they had been in 1925 when the line was initially opened) for about 15 minutes each. At the top station, the engine was moved to the opposite end, so now our car was at the back of the train. The train moved along at a slow, but regular pace. In between the 22 tunnels (some longer and others quite brief), one could see beautiful views (although today it was rather hazy) of the countryside, steep cliffs, small waterfalls, and the film-set village constructed on a hill above Mokra Gora. It was rather strange to emerge from a tunnel and find the village on the opposite side, bearing witness to the turns made even in the tunnels! I wished the Serbian/Swiss families an enjoyable journey and joked that we might see each other again. (They also were going to visit some of the monasteries I had planned on visiting.) Within minutes of arriving back at the Mokra Gora train station, it began raining once again.
Tara National Park
Despite the rain, I proceeded towards the Tara National Park. Located in the panhandle of Serbia surrounded by Bosnia on two sides (with the Drina river on the border), the park covers an area of about 22,000 hectares ad a height of up to 1,500 m above sea level. I was looking forward to hiking through its lush forests and enjoying the spectacular views of the deep gorges – including photographing the rare endemic
tree species known as the Pančić spruce. Perhaps I would even see some of the rare birds such as the golden eagle or a bear – at a distance. I unpacked my things in my room at the Hotel Omorika and went into the large dining room to eat, hoping that the rain would let up a bit after I had eaten. Unfortunately, it continued to rain. I headed back to my room, holed up in a depressed-looking building that had received few upgrades/remodeling since the 1970’s. This was the hotel Tito had stayed in during the 70’s and where many sports teams had practiced. It was explained to me that for a number of years in the 90’s (during Milosevic’s rule), the hotel had been abandoned.
After a few hours, the rain finally let up a bit. Although it was still lightly raining, I knew that this might be my only chance. I bought a park map from the hotel, but unfortunately it was in Cyrillic. In addition, there were no helpful signs in the area. Following (or trying to) the directions given by a street-side souvenir dealer, I
then found some markings on the trees and began to follow those. The cobblestone road quickly gave way to a narrow dirt (actually muddy) path. Every once in a while the dense pine trees gave way to a clearing, revealing a bit of the park’s natural beauty. I also enjoyed the pink Erica flowers covering patches of the forest floor in its color. In the distance, I could see some farms and heard the faint clang of sheep/cow bells. As the rain began to increase once again, I relented and decided to head back to the hotel. I would have to come back another time.
Šargan Eight Train
When I woke up, it still was raining. I packed up my belongings, ate breakfast, and thanked Zoriča and her museum crew for their hospitality. Our first destination was the Šargan 8 train. This year I had the departure times of
the train and was eager to this newly popular tourist attraction of the historic train route through the mountains. In fact, I heard that there are plans to extend the route into neighboring countries. At the ticket booth, I was told that I might have to stand, as there were so many people wanting to ride. Indeed, there were lots of children (young and teenagers) eager to board the train. I agreed and ended up in the front car. In this car (built in 1903) were a few families traveling together – some from Serbia, and others from Switzerland and the UK.After an initial pause, the train began making its way along the figure 8 loop. The horizontal distance between the train stations Mokra Gora and Šargan-Vitasi is only 3.5 km, but the height difference is over 300 meters. We stopped at the Šargan and Jatare stations (reconstructed exactly as they had been in 1925 when the line was initially opened) for about 15 minutes each. At the top station, the engine was moved to the opposite end, so now our car was at the back of the train. The train moved along at a slow, but regular pace. In between the 22 tunnels (some longer and others quite brief), one could see beautiful views (although today it was rather hazy) of the countryside, steep cliffs, small waterfalls, and the film-set village constructed on a hill above Mokra Gora. It was rather strange to emerge from a tunnel and find the village on the opposite side, bearing witness to the turns made even in the tunnels! I wished the Serbian/Swiss families an enjoyable journey and joked that we might see each other again. (They also were going to visit some of the monasteries I had planned on visiting.) Within minutes of arriving back at the Mokra Gora train station, it began raining once again.
Tara National Park
Despite the rain, I proceeded towards the Tara National Park. Located in the panhandle of Serbia surrounded by Bosnia on two sides (with the Drina river on the border), the park covers an area of about 22,000 hectares ad a height of up to 1,500 m above sea level. I was looking forward to hiking through its lush forests and enjoying the spectacular views of the deep gorges – including photographing the rare endemic
tree species known as the Pančić spruce. Perhaps I would even see some of the rare birds such as the golden eagle or a bear – at a distance. I unpacked my things in my room at the Hotel Omorika and went into the large dining room to eat, hoping that the rain would let up a bit after I had eaten. Unfortunately, it continued to rain. I headed back to my room, holed up in a depressed-looking building that had received few upgrades/remodeling since the 1970’s. This was the hotel Tito had stayed in during the 70’s and where many sports teams had practiced. It was explained to me that for a number of years in the 90’s (during Milosevic’s rule), the hotel had been abandoned.After a few hours, the rain finally let up a bit. Although it was still lightly raining, I knew that this might be my only chance. I bought a park map from the hotel, but unfortunately it was in Cyrillic. In addition, there were no helpful signs in the area. Following (or trying to) the directions given by a street-side souvenir dealer, I
then found some markings on the trees and began to follow those. The cobblestone road quickly gave way to a narrow dirt (actually muddy) path. Every once in a while the dense pine trees gave way to a clearing, revealing a bit of the park’s natural beauty. I also enjoyed the pink Erica flowers covering patches of the forest floor in its color. In the distance, I could see some farms and heard the faint clang of sheep/cow bells. As the rain began to increase once again, I relented and decided to head back to the hotel. I would have to come back another time.
Sirogojno and surrounding villages
Sunday, April 16 - Sirogojno
Although I now have visited several places in Serbia, the western section near Sirogojno and Zlatibor hold a special place in my heart. Its countryside is beautiful – the sloped wooden farm buildings and sheep dotting the steep green hills, meandering creeks and rivers, spring wildflowers providing an accented color, and of course the rural people.
Catching one of the earlier busses in the morning, I arrived in Zlatibor a bit after noon. Along the way, I could see
people fishing in the swollen rivers. The rain and drizzle didn’t seem to bother them. What looked like algae actually turned out to be grass sticking out in flooded areas. The forested hills around the region were still quite brown, with the occasional white puff of blossoming trees dotting the scene. White smoke still meandered out of chimneys, utilizing the plentiful wood heating source of the region. A young man walked his horned cow down a narrow driveway. In the villages, one could see people carrying olive branches. Following the Julian calendar, Palm Sunday took place one week later than their western counterparts.
Mikica, a friendly taxi driver I had met last year, took me to a restaurant in Zlatibor that was tastefully decorated with Serbian handicrafts and antiques. The restaurant owner was a refugee from Bosnia and was working hard to make a new life for himself. I was served a large piece of round fresh flat bread layered with kajmak (sweet cream spread) and prosciutto (smoked meat). With a full stomach, we headed towards the Ethnographic Village in Sirogojno. The friendly staff at the village was awaiting my arrival and promptly escorted me to the converted traditional home that was my apartment. Space heaters on the main floor and upstairs sleeping area were already turned on, providing warmth against the damp drizzly weather. The apartment even had a fireplace in its tiny living room. Outside, the structure looked like the other small traditional Western-Serbia homes preserved in the ethno village.
With camera in hand, I toured the homes and farm buildings that comprised the open-air ethno village. Although nothing had really changed since last year, it was just as enjoyable a second time around, admiring the unique architectural details and interior artifacts that provided a glimpse into everyday living. The rooms were lit by an open door and perhaps one or two small windows. To avoid camera shake, I put my camera on a higher ISO and used my remote shutter release – flash would have destroyed the peaceful ambience.
Now that the rain had let up, I decided to go for a walk. I passed through the tiny village of modern Sirogojno and followed the curved narrow road up the hill; to where it went, I wasn’t sure. An occasional house or farm building dotted the landscape. Open fields contained the typical conical haystacks. Fruit trees (for making brandy) were still bare. I also saw a few vineyards. In the wooded areas, small white wildflowers peeked up from the brown leaf-covered forest floor. Plastic litter provided additional (but unwelcomed) splashes of color. Birds happily chirped away, singing their spring mating calls. It was very peaceful here.
Monday, April 17 – Sirogojno and Surrounding Villages
I woke up early and decided to take a short walk around the ethno village. At a nearby farm, the roosters crowed and calves bellowed for milk. Birds also announced the start of the day. Peeking between the clouds I could see some blue patches of sky – a welcome start to the day. A woman from the ethno village restaurant brought me my breakfast – corn grits, local cheese, kajmak, and more prosciutto. It was much more than I could eat.
That morning we would take a drive through some of the local villages. Along the way we saw an older man carrying a traditional hoe. Like many older men of the region, he wore the v-shaped shajkača cap. The photo I took of him revealed his heavily-wrinkled face. I later learned that this man was an important builder of the region. I took photos of a few other people as well, including a young man hauling a pile of twigs on a horse-pulled cart.
Near the village of Gostilje, we stopped by the local waterfall. It was stronger and larger than last year. We looked at the small water mill, used in the past for grinding corn. We passed by several trout farms and stopped at one. The owner greeted us and allowed us to take a look at his operation. One could see the spotted fish at various stages and sizes, swarming in the cold water. These fish were a good source of income, purchased for consumption in Serbia and several neighboring Balkan countries. The owner’s large hands reminded me of my grandfather’s, widened by years of hard manual work.
Along the narrow winding mountain roads one could see signs of life. Men were busy making wood, taking advantage of the good (for a change) weather. Another man shoveled manure onto the cart pulled by two cows. Others puttered along in their small tractors. Dogs lazily slept in the middle of the road, absorbing the warm sunshine. We weren’t able to progress all the way to Dobroselica, due to the impassibility of the road caused by winter. I would have to find the man whom I had drawn and give him the print another time.
Upon returning to the Sirogojno ethno village, I met a retired Serbian architect and his wife. They stayed here every fall and spring for a few weeks, enjoying the solitude and atmosphere for the last 10 years. Hearing that he was an architect, I asked him about a unique feature I had seen on the local buildings. He explained that the overhanging part of the roof peak had a more
superstitious than purposeful function. The zigzag edge looked like teeth and was supposed to scare away evil spirits. The retired architect also explained that the carved antennae-like pole on top of the kapic vent (sort of like a chimney) visually indicated that the household would provide shelter to people while traveling or from against the Turks. The elderly man who looked a lot like Abraham Lincoln then showed me one of his experiments. Just yesterday he had placed some plastic water bottles on the ends of branches of a birch tree. Now they were between a 1/3 and half full of clear water-like liquid. I told him about the tapping of maple trees in Wisconsin to get maple syrup.
Now joined by his wife (a retired German teacher), the couple asked if I would join them to go into town and eat a late lunch at their favorite restaurant (actually it’s probably the only one in town). While walking there, I met a family from my school in Belgrade – they too were vacationing in Sirogojno. I told the family I was glad to see them experiencing a bit of their host country instead of racing off to other destinations for vacations. For dinner we had pear brandy, tender veal, mashed potatoes and gravy, and carrots cooked with lots of garlic. It was a satisfying, hearty meal. We then made our way back to the ethno village grounds, stopping for a moment at the St. Peter & Paul church. A funeral was being conducted in the tiny cemetery. A woman busily worked at piling up loaves of bread, food, and drinks – enough food for more than twice the number in attendance. Even if the family didn’t have much money, one would always make sure that guests were well-fed. The retired architect pointed out the small building next to the church. It was once used by priests who stayed there overnight before traveling onward to another one of their remote village churches. He also explained that the limestone marker I had photographed was actually a krajputaš, a monument typically placed near roads commemorating soldiers who had died. This area has seen a lot of suffering from wars, including both World Wars, the Balkan wars, the breakup of Yugoslavia, Turkish invasion, etc.
Back again at the ethno village, I finally caught up with Zoriča, the founder of the museum. I shared with her some prints of the paintings I had created while living overseas, including a few of the ethno village. She then proposed that I have an exhibition next year at the museum. Perhaps I will be able to coordinate the opening with the time my parents intend to come next April. Zoriča then gave me a copy of her new book, a detailed research about the history and art of the St. Peter & Paul church right next to the ethno village.
A short while later, Zoriča’s husband arrived. We walked over to the home of an elderly couple I had visited last year. When I presented the print of an oil pastel painting I had done of the wife, they were both tickled and honored. It immediately was placed on the fireplace mantle to be admired and for all to see. Hanging on the wall were framed embroidery pieces that the woman had done of famous artworks such as those by Renoir. Typical of Serbian hospitality, we were invited to stay and have something to drink. While the Turkish coffee was being prepared, the woman brought out a large container of honey and scooped some into a glass bowl. She brought out the honey, spoons, and water glasses on a silver tray. Each person took a heaping spoonful of honey, drank some of the water, and then placed the spoon in the glass. The husband then eagerly offered us some of his rakija. Just like last year, the home-brewed brandy was very strong – part of a glass was enough for me! After finishing the strong Turkish coffee, we thanked them for their hospitality and departed.
Although I now have visited several places in Serbia, the western section near Sirogojno and Zlatibor hold a special place in my heart. Its countryside is beautiful – the sloped wooden farm buildings and sheep dotting the steep green hills, meandering creeks and rivers, spring wildflowers providing an accented color, and of course the rural people.
Catching one of the earlier busses in the morning, I arrived in Zlatibor a bit after noon. Along the way, I could see
people fishing in the swollen rivers. The rain and drizzle didn’t seem to bother them. What looked like algae actually turned out to be grass sticking out in flooded areas. The forested hills around the region were still quite brown, with the occasional white puff of blossoming trees dotting the scene. White smoke still meandered out of chimneys, utilizing the plentiful wood heating source of the region. A young man walked his horned cow down a narrow driveway. In the villages, one could see people carrying olive branches. Following the Julian calendar, Palm Sunday took place one week later than their western counterparts.Mikica, a friendly taxi driver I had met last year, took me to a restaurant in Zlatibor that was tastefully decorated with Serbian handicrafts and antiques. The restaurant owner was a refugee from Bosnia and was working hard to make a new life for himself. I was served a large piece of round fresh flat bread layered with kajmak (sweet cream spread) and prosciutto (smoked meat). With a full stomach, we headed towards the Ethnographic Village in Sirogojno. The friendly staff at the village was awaiting my arrival and promptly escorted me to the converted traditional home that was my apartment. Space heaters on the main floor and upstairs sleeping area were already turned on, providing warmth against the damp drizzly weather. The apartment even had a fireplace in its tiny living room. Outside, the structure looked like the other small traditional Western-Serbia homes preserved in the ethno village.
With camera in hand, I toured the homes and farm buildings that comprised the open-air ethno village. Although nothing had really changed since last year, it was just as enjoyable a second time around, admiring the unique architectural details and interior artifacts that provided a glimpse into everyday living. The rooms were lit by an open door and perhaps one or two small windows. To avoid camera shake, I put my camera on a higher ISO and used my remote shutter release – flash would have destroyed the peaceful ambience.
Now that the rain had let up, I decided to go for a walk. I passed through the tiny village of modern Sirogojno and followed the curved narrow road up the hill; to where it went, I wasn’t sure. An occasional house or farm building dotted the landscape. Open fields contained the typical conical haystacks. Fruit trees (for making brandy) were still bare. I also saw a few vineyards. In the wooded areas, small white wildflowers peeked up from the brown leaf-covered forest floor. Plastic litter provided additional (but unwelcomed) splashes of color. Birds happily chirped away, singing their spring mating calls. It was very peaceful here.
Monday, April 17 – Sirogojno and Surrounding Villages
I woke up early and decided to take a short walk around the ethno village. At a nearby farm, the roosters crowed and calves bellowed for milk. Birds also announced the start of the day. Peeking between the clouds I could see some blue patches of sky – a welcome start to the day. A woman from the ethno village restaurant brought me my breakfast – corn grits, local cheese, kajmak, and more prosciutto. It was much more than I could eat.
That morning we would take a drive through some of the local villages. Along the way we saw an older man carrying a traditional hoe. Like many older men of the region, he wore the v-shaped shajkača cap. The photo I took of him revealed his heavily-wrinkled face. I later learned that this man was an important builder of the region. I took photos of a few other people as well, including a young man hauling a pile of twigs on a horse-pulled cart.
Near the village of Gostilje, we stopped by the local waterfall. It was stronger and larger than last year. We looked at the small water mill, used in the past for grinding corn. We passed by several trout farms and stopped at one. The owner greeted us and allowed us to take a look at his operation. One could see the spotted fish at various stages and sizes, swarming in the cold water. These fish were a good source of income, purchased for consumption in Serbia and several neighboring Balkan countries. The owner’s large hands reminded me of my grandfather’s, widened by years of hard manual work.
Along the narrow winding mountain roads one could see signs of life. Men were busy making wood, taking advantage of the good (for a change) weather. Another man shoveled manure onto the cart pulled by two cows. Others puttered along in their small tractors. Dogs lazily slept in the middle of the road, absorbing the warm sunshine. We weren’t able to progress all the way to Dobroselica, due to the impassibility of the road caused by winter. I would have to find the man whom I had drawn and give him the print another time.Upon returning to the Sirogojno ethno village, I met a retired Serbian architect and his wife. They stayed here every fall and spring for a few weeks, enjoying the solitude and atmosphere for the last 10 years. Hearing that he was an architect, I asked him about a unique feature I had seen on the local buildings. He explained that the overhanging part of the roof peak had a more
superstitious than purposeful function. The zigzag edge looked like teeth and was supposed to scare away evil spirits. The retired architect also explained that the carved antennae-like pole on top of the kapic vent (sort of like a chimney) visually indicated that the household would provide shelter to people while traveling or from against the Turks. The elderly man who looked a lot like Abraham Lincoln then showed me one of his experiments. Just yesterday he had placed some plastic water bottles on the ends of branches of a birch tree. Now they were between a 1/3 and half full of clear water-like liquid. I told him about the tapping of maple trees in Wisconsin to get maple syrup.Now joined by his wife (a retired German teacher), the couple asked if I would join them to go into town and eat a late lunch at their favorite restaurant (actually it’s probably the only one in town). While walking there, I met a family from my school in Belgrade – they too were vacationing in Sirogojno. I told the family I was glad to see them experiencing a bit of their host country instead of racing off to other destinations for vacations. For dinner we had pear brandy, tender veal, mashed potatoes and gravy, and carrots cooked with lots of garlic. It was a satisfying, hearty meal. We then made our way back to the ethno village grounds, stopping for a moment at the St. Peter & Paul church. A funeral was being conducted in the tiny cemetery. A woman busily worked at piling up loaves of bread, food, and drinks – enough food for more than twice the number in attendance. Even if the family didn’t have much money, one would always make sure that guests were well-fed. The retired architect pointed out the small building next to the church. It was once used by priests who stayed there overnight before traveling onward to another one of their remote village churches. He also explained that the limestone marker I had photographed was actually a krajputaš, a monument typically placed near roads commemorating soldiers who had died. This area has seen a lot of suffering from wars, including both World Wars, the Balkan wars, the breakup of Yugoslavia, Turkish invasion, etc.
Back again at the ethno village, I finally caught up with Zoriča, the founder of the museum. I shared with her some prints of the paintings I had created while living overseas, including a few of the ethno village. She then proposed that I have an exhibition next year at the museum. Perhaps I will be able to coordinate the opening with the time my parents intend to come next April. Zoriča then gave me a copy of her new book, a detailed research about the history and art of the St. Peter & Paul church right next to the ethno village.
A short while later, Zoriča’s husband arrived. We walked over to the home of an elderly couple I had visited last year. When I presented the print of an oil pastel painting I had done of the wife, they were both tickled and honored. It immediately was placed on the fireplace mantle to be admired and for all to see. Hanging on the wall were framed embroidery pieces that the woman had done of famous artworks such as those by Renoir. Typical of Serbian hospitality, we were invited to stay and have something to drink. While the Turkish coffee was being prepared, the woman brought out a large container of honey and scooped some into a glass bowl. She brought out the honey, spoons, and water glasses on a silver tray. Each person took a heaping spoonful of honey, drank some of the water, and then placed the spoon in the glass. The husband then eagerly offered us some of his rakija. Just like last year, the home-brewed brandy was very strong – part of a glass was enough for me! After finishing the strong Turkish coffee, we thanked them for their hospitality and departed.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Spring Flooding in Belgrade
If you haven’t heard on the news, the Danube and other rivers in Eastern Europe have flooded their banks due to heavy rainfall and melted snow. Romania, northern and eastern Serbia, and Bulgaria are the current victims. The lower-lying areas of Belgrade have also been hit. Senjak, the area where I live and location of the school, is quite high and not directly affected.
This afternoon I decided to head down to Ada and see for myself the flooding situation that was occurring around that area. As I walked down the hill towards the Sajam road, I saw that traffic was backed up, just as it had been all week. At least this major road wasn’t closed like it was earlier in the week, causing major difficulties for people getting to school. Recalling the water bubbling up from the manholes last Sunday and spilling onto the roads, this section actually looked drier.
As I walked towards Ada, things were different. It was quite something to see areas I had walked on less than a week earlier now underwater. Poles for street signs and lights were partially submerged. A pile of sandbags bordered a side of a house. Restaurant and houseboats were marooned quite a distance away from the shore. Through the brackish waters, the yellow of dandelion heads could be seen. Bike paths, instead of circumnavigating around the
man-made lakes of Ada, now led directly into the floodwaters.Except for the truck with sandbags entering Ada park, activities were going on as normal. Teens were playing soccer on the grass. Young parents pushed babies in strollers along the higher paved paths. Like usual, young children were often dressed warmer than necessary. People of all ages ran, walked, or jogged along the paths, enjoying the spring sun. Popcorn and ice cream vendors tempted those who didn’t stop into the small cafés along the way. Fishing and boating also continued as normal. With the debris and perhaps chemicals brought by the floods, I’m not sure if I’d want to eat those fish, but it was a great day to fish.
I decided to head back to Senjak by another route. I walked around the circumference of the hippodrome, giving me a different view of the horse track than I normally see from my apartment. As I turned the bend, I once again saw cars lined up for quite some distance. It appeared that they had been waiting for a bit, as some had turned off the engines and were out of the cars talking to others. Not quite sure what the issue was, I continued heading towards Senjak. I saw a police car drive to the left of the long queue of cars. Was this holdup caused by floodwaters? Would I be able to get up to Senjak from this road? I then saw gates over the railroad tracks. After the train went through, a man cranked up the gate and vehicles once again made their way through, causing the normal congestion of a narrow road.
Before I headed home, I walked through the neighborhood, taking some photos of the blooming trees. The extra color, along with the leaves bursting forth on the trees, spring flowers and brilliant blue skies reminded me of why I enjoy spring so much.
Monday, March 20, 2006
The Day of Milsevic's Funeral
On Saturday, I decided to run some errands in downtown Belgrade. As I was leaving my apartment, my landlord warned that the traffic was bad – and it was. The bus, crowded as usual, inched along the road, despite taking an alternate route. There seemed to be a lot more busses coming from villages and towns as well. Along the route I saw a group of men, some carrying a photo of Milosevic and a few wearing the traditional shajkaca hats, heading towards downtown. I knew that Milosevic’s body had been on display at a small museum for the past several days (I had seen the queue of people standing in the rain the previous night), but that wasn’t in the downtown area. A large number of people left the bus at the next stop, which left those remaining with a seat – a pleasant surprise on most bus trips.
Two people sitting by me were having a discussion. Although I could not understand what they were saying, the inclusion of words such as Milosevic, Kosovo, UN, and Hague provided a good indication of what they were talking about. When the woman brought up words such as America and Milosevic + terrorist, I could tell that the two were exchanging opinions and observations. I wished I could have listened to their conversation and heard their ideas. The man across from me was reading a local newspaper. I could see pictures of Milosevic, his coffin, and well-wishers kissing the framed photo of the former president in front of the coffin. On the back page was another photo of Milosevic and a short article. Decoding each Cyrillic letter just as a young child, I figured out that it was his obituary. Sensing that the bus would not reach its normal destination by Trg Republic, I also got off the bus and walked.
On the main walking street Knez Mihailova, there were a fair number of people on the streets for a Saturday morning. Ice cream vendors were now selling from their wheeled carts. Popcorn vendors and newsstands were also busy. In most respects, it seemed like a normal Saturday. I noticed that many people coming towards me were wearing buttons with Milosevic’s picture, heading in the direction of the Parliament.
After running my errands, I decided to walk towards the Parliament. Here, a large crowd (estimates between 50,000 and 90,000) had gathered. Some were standing on concrete flowerpots or climbing up the wall to the elevated grassy area to get a better view. In front of the Parliament on an erected platform, speeches were being made. Large screens projected images of the former president. News vans were parked near some trees. In front of me, old woman wearing a kerchief and dark dress held up a large photo of Milosevic. To one side, a man was selling copies of the book written by Milosevic in the late 1990’s. Although the crowd was quite civilized, I decided to leave after a few minutes.
Meanwhile, across town at Republic Square, protesters of Milosevic gathered. Holding colorful
balloons and blowing whistles, this crowd sought to remind others of the harm that Milosevic did – and that he is no hero. News reports such as B 92 and BBC reported that the participants of this rally were more positive and future oriented, hoping that the death would help move the country forward and close up a grim chapter on its past. As taken from the B92 (local) website: "Thank you for the deceit and theft, for every drop of blood shed by thousands, for the fear and uncertainty, for the failed lives and generations, the unfulfilled dreams, for the horrors and wars you waged in our name, without asking us, for all the burdens you've placed on our shoulders," they said. "We remember tanks on Belgrade streets and blood on the pavements. We remember Vukovar. We remember Dubrovnik. We remember Knin and Krajina. We remember Sarajevo. We remember Srebrenica. We remember the air strikes. We remember Kosovo. We'll be remembering that one for a while. And dreaming of it."
That evening, I attended a music recital. I asked one of the musicians if he had been downtown. Although this young man indicated that he was not a Milosevic supporter, he thought that both gatherings were “crazy”. Like so many people of Belgrade, he simply wanted to move on.
Two people sitting by me were having a discussion. Although I could not understand what they were saying, the inclusion of words such as Milosevic, Kosovo, UN, and Hague provided a good indication of what they were talking about. When the woman brought up words such as America and Milosevic + terrorist, I could tell that the two were exchanging opinions and observations. I wished I could have listened to their conversation and heard their ideas. The man across from me was reading a local newspaper. I could see pictures of Milosevic, his coffin, and well-wishers kissing the framed photo of the former president in front of the coffin. On the back page was another photo of Milosevic and a short article. Decoding each Cyrillic letter just as a young child, I figured out that it was his obituary. Sensing that the bus would not reach its normal destination by Trg Republic, I also got off the bus and walked.
On the main walking street Knez Mihailova, there were a fair number of people on the streets for a Saturday morning. Ice cream vendors were now selling from their wheeled carts. Popcorn vendors and newsstands were also busy. In most respects, it seemed like a normal Saturday. I noticed that many people coming towards me were wearing buttons with Milosevic’s picture, heading in the direction of the Parliament.After running my errands, I decided to walk towards the Parliament. Here, a large crowd (estimates between 50,000 and 90,000) had gathered. Some were standing on concrete flowerpots or climbing up the wall to the elevated grassy area to get a better view. In front of the Parliament on an erected platform, speeches were being made. Large screens projected images of the former president. News vans were parked near some trees. In front of me, old woman wearing a kerchief and dark dress held up a large photo of Milosevic. To one side, a man was selling copies of the book written by Milosevic in the late 1990’s. Although the crowd was quite civilized, I decided to leave after a few minutes.
Meanwhile, across town at Republic Square, protesters of Milosevic gathered. Holding colorful
balloons and blowing whistles, this crowd sought to remind others of the harm that Milosevic did – and that he is no hero. News reports such as B 92 and BBC reported that the participants of this rally were more positive and future oriented, hoping that the death would help move the country forward and close up a grim chapter on its past. As taken from the B92 (local) website: "Thank you for the deceit and theft, for every drop of blood shed by thousands, for the fear and uncertainty, for the failed lives and generations, the unfulfilled dreams, for the horrors and wars you waged in our name, without asking us, for all the burdens you've placed on our shoulders," they said. "We remember tanks on Belgrade streets and blood on the pavements. We remember Vukovar. We remember Dubrovnik. We remember Knin and Krajina. We remember Sarajevo. We remember Srebrenica. We remember the air strikes. We remember Kosovo. We'll be remembering that one for a while. And dreaming of it."That evening, I attended a music recital. I asked one of the musicians if he had been downtown. Although this young man indicated that he was not a Milosevic supporter, he thought that both gatherings were “crazy”. Like so many people of Belgrade, he simply wanted to move on.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Death of Milosevic
Upon hearing of the death of former Serbian president, Slobodan Milosevic, I have followed the developments with interest. How would local people respond to his death and why? Would it vary by age, location, education, or financial status? What did the local newspapers say was the cause of his death? Would the government allow Milosevic to be buried in Serbia? If so, would the funeral be a quiet, private one, or would there be some fanfare involved?
Citizen Responses
Responses of people are definitely varied. Some couldn't care less about the whole situation - why he died, the trial and verdict, where he should be buried, etc. Some Serbians are just fed up with the whole thing and just want to move on with their lives. Younger adults I spoke to often had strong opinions. Many expressed regret that Milosevic's death and subsequent termination of the trial meant that he could never be held accountable for all the harm he had done. This includes the economic and emotional scarring of Serbia's citizens, even right here in Belgrade. Those such as the families of those who lost males through genocide had looked to the trial as a possibility of retribution and closure – now that will not happen. A few were saddened by Milosevic’s death, remembering him for the nationalistic efforts of a greater Serbia, especially his desire to hold on to Kosovo – seen as the historical and spiritual heartland of Serbia. Surprisingly, not all of these people were of the older generation.
Although I haven’t gone downtown, others have told me that there are not signs of mourners, protesters, etc. True, there were a few loyalists who gathered outside of the headquarters of the Socialist party, lighting candles and kissing his picture in memory. Even the Serbian flag above the Federal Parliament building remained at its normal position – and not at half-mast.
Press Reaction
Many of the newspaper (I depend on others to tell me this, since I can’t read Serbian) headlines proclaimed that Milosevic was murdered. Even amongst those who didn’t care for their former leader, there tended to be a distrust of anything involved with NATO and the UN War Crimes Tribunal. It is generally felt among the population that these organizations (and even Western media) are biased against Serbia. Where are the Croat and Bosnian leaders and military generals who committed atrocities against Serb citizens – are they being tried? Will families, including several teachers from my school, ever be able to return to Croatia and reclaim their land forcefully stolen from them just because they were Serbs?
Burial Location
Although people generally didn’t respond as passionately to this issue, they still often had opinions. Some would prefer that me would be buried in Russia or elsewhere. Such an arrangement would avoid the potential sticky issues of Mrs. Milosevic returning to Serbia (there is an arrest warrant out for her) and any governmental recognition of the funeral. If there was to be a funeral in Serbia, many felt that a state-sponsored one would be inappropriate. When I asked one teacher why he, as former president should not receive an honorary funeral and compared it to that of former US president Ronald Regan, she once again expressed anger at all the harm Milosevic did. The last thing she wanted to see happen was have him made into a hero.
One individual (originally from a small town in Bosnia) found it unfair that while Milosevic's wife may be allowed to return to Serbia without being arrested, there are so many young men who have been unable to return to the country, fleeing after they said or did something against Milosevic's regime while he was in power. I'm sure those families would love to have their sons return to their homeland - will their safety be guaranteed?
It now sounds like Milosevic will indeed be buried in his hometown of Pozarevac, about 50 km from Belgrade. The government has denied requests by Milosevic supporters to have his body on public view in the Federal Parliament building. Instead, the public display will happen in Pozarevac.
Possible Outcome
I hope that the citizens and country of Serbia will be able to move forward. Will the government and/or those who know of the whereabouts of prominent wanted fugitives be emboldened to hand over those war criminals? Will Serbia be able to begin its entry talks into the EU? Will Serbia emerge from political and economic isolationism? Time will tell.
Citizen Responses
Responses of people are definitely varied. Some couldn't care less about the whole situation - why he died, the trial and verdict, where he should be buried, etc. Some Serbians are just fed up with the whole thing and just want to move on with their lives. Younger adults I spoke to often had strong opinions. Many expressed regret that Milosevic's death and subsequent termination of the trial meant that he could never be held accountable for all the harm he had done. This includes the economic and emotional scarring of Serbia's citizens, even right here in Belgrade. Those such as the families of those who lost males through genocide had looked to the trial as a possibility of retribution and closure – now that will not happen. A few were saddened by Milosevic’s death, remembering him for the nationalistic efforts of a greater Serbia, especially his desire to hold on to Kosovo – seen as the historical and spiritual heartland of Serbia. Surprisingly, not all of these people were of the older generation.
Although I haven’t gone downtown, others have told me that there are not signs of mourners, protesters, etc. True, there were a few loyalists who gathered outside of the headquarters of the Socialist party, lighting candles and kissing his picture in memory. Even the Serbian flag above the Federal Parliament building remained at its normal position – and not at half-mast.
Press Reaction
Many of the newspaper (I depend on others to tell me this, since I can’t read Serbian) headlines proclaimed that Milosevic was murdered. Even amongst those who didn’t care for their former leader, there tended to be a distrust of anything involved with NATO and the UN War Crimes Tribunal. It is generally felt among the population that these organizations (and even Western media) are biased against Serbia. Where are the Croat and Bosnian leaders and military generals who committed atrocities against Serb citizens – are they being tried? Will families, including several teachers from my school, ever be able to return to Croatia and reclaim their land forcefully stolen from them just because they were Serbs?
Burial Location
Although people generally didn’t respond as passionately to this issue, they still often had opinions. Some would prefer that me would be buried in Russia or elsewhere. Such an arrangement would avoid the potential sticky issues of Mrs. Milosevic returning to Serbia (there is an arrest warrant out for her) and any governmental recognition of the funeral. If there was to be a funeral in Serbia, many felt that a state-sponsored one would be inappropriate. When I asked one teacher why he, as former president should not receive an honorary funeral and compared it to that of former US president Ronald Regan, she once again expressed anger at all the harm Milosevic did. The last thing she wanted to see happen was have him made into a hero.
One individual (originally from a small town in Bosnia) found it unfair that while Milosevic's wife may be allowed to return to Serbia without being arrested, there are so many young men who have been unable to return to the country, fleeing after they said or did something against Milosevic's regime while he was in power. I'm sure those families would love to have their sons return to their homeland - will their safety be guaranteed?
It now sounds like Milosevic will indeed be buried in his hometown of Pozarevac, about 50 km from Belgrade. The government has denied requests by Milosevic supporters to have his body on public view in the Federal Parliament building. Instead, the public display will happen in Pozarevac.
Possible Outcome
I hope that the citizens and country of Serbia will be able to move forward. Will the government and/or those who know of the whereabouts of prominent wanted fugitives be emboldened to hand over those war criminals? Will Serbia be able to begin its entry talks into the EU? Will Serbia emerge from political and economic isolationism? Time will tell.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Serbian A Capella concert
Invited by the music teacher of our school, I attended an a capella concert by twin Serbian brothers in downtown Belgrade. Many of the songs were performed by the two brothers, dressed in loose-fitting white traditional outfits. Some songs were accompanied by a man playing a penny flute and a longer wooden flute. A stout man, also wearing traditional clothing including a wide, colorful belt, played a traditional drum.
Nearly all the songs originated from the Kosovo and surrounding regions of Serbia - the cultural heartland of the country.
Nearly all the songs originated from the Kosovo and surrounding regions of Serbia - the cultural heartland of the country.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
In Memory of Anastasia Grace
Life is Never Worthless
By Michelle Klemp
This was written by my sister Michelle, who lost their baby Anastasia Grace Klemp to the devastating neural tube birth defect known as anencephaly.
Hearing our daughter’s prognosis was devastating. Many expected us to abort. Yet we knew that her life was as precious and meaningful as everyone else’s. God had created her, and had a deliberate purpose in mind. Jesus died for her also, to give her eternal live. And so she was named Anastasia Grace. Anastasia, for the resurrection that comes through Christ. Grace, that we acknowledge we deserve no favor from God because of our sin.
Annie’s kicks were initially a sorrowful reminder of what was to come. However, they quickly became very endearing. A little “Hello”, “Good morning”, or “Good night” for both of her parents, and occasionally a kick for her brothers as well. Our hearts were breaking knowing that she was facing death, but we had the confidence that she was completely in the care of the boundless love of Christ.
While holding Annie in my womb, our wonderful family and friends were holding us, both through their support and prayers. We were very humbled to be the subject of so many prayers and marveled at how awesome it was to see Christian love in action. God also allowed us to see that he was using Annie’s precious life as many people dear to us reported that they had shared her story, witnessing the truths of God’s Word to those around them.
Anastasia continued to be a powerful witness on her last day. Although specialists told us that she was incapable of having any senses, our little girl let every nurse know that she was aware of their efforts to track her. Every time they attempted to gauge her heartbeat, she kicked their instruments and gave them an earful. Every one of them also knew the meaning of her name, and our first priority upon birth. As soon as her Daddy cut her cord, she was whisked to the prepared basin to be baptized.
Though she continued to live outside the womb only an hour, God blessed us through Anastasia by giving us clearer vision to the importance of her life, the power of prayer, and the victory of baptism. We are grateful God gave her to us, and we await the day when we will see her again, at our Savior’s side.
What you sow does not come to life until it dies. When you sow, you do not plant the body that will be, but just a seed, perhaps of wheat or something else. But God gives it a body as he has determined, and to each kind of seed he gives its own body.
So it will be with the resurrection of the dead.
The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable;
it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory;
it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power;
it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.
I Corinthians 15:36-38, 42-44
The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable;
it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory;
it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power;
it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.
I Corinthians 15:36-38, 42-44
In Memory of
Anastasia Grace Klemp
Date of Birth + Date of Baptism + Date of Death
February 3, 2006
Anastasia Grace Klemp
Date of Birth + Date of Baptism + Date of Death
February 3, 2006
Dear Anastasia,
Although you were alive outside the womb but only an hour, you have touched the lives of many. Despite the recommendation by doctors to have a “selective termination of pregnancy”, your parents chose to give you a chance at life – no matter how short it would be. Through baptism, you became a child of God. An hour later, you joined your Savior in heaven.
At your funeral, there still were tears shed. For me and likely for many others, it was the first funeral of a child I had attended. Seeing your tiny coffin was a reminder of how precious life really is, and how every birth really is a miracle. Some of the tears were shed out of sadness, as your presence would be missed. But they were also tears of joy, knowing that you were now safely in Jesus’ loving arms.
Although you were born with devastating birth defects such as anencephaly and died just an hour later, your life has a purpose. In our human understanding and insight, we don’t know fully what that will be. From the time of that fateful ultrasound up until the present, your story and your family’s faith has been strengthened and shared with others, both in person and through the Internet. Blood samples were taken after your birth and will hopefully contribute to medical understanding and prevention of anencephaly. Perhaps a stronger support system will be formed for expectant parents facing similar situations. As God said to the apostle Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Paul then said, “That is why for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, ... in hardships, … in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9) Trust in God’s grace and wisdom will carry us through even these most difficult of times.
Your eyes, grey and unseeing on Earth, now eagerly are on the lookout, anticipating the time when you and your family will be reunited in Heaven.
Your hands, unable to clench around the index finger of your parents, are now loudly clapping, praising God.
Your small frame, just over a foot long and curved by a birth defect, now stands erect, boldly proclaiming the wisdom and power of the almighty, omniscient God.
And your lips, once malformed with a cleft palette, now join the choruses above.
Your hands, unable to clench around the index finger of your parents, are now loudly clapping, praising God.
Your small frame, just over a foot long and curved by a birth defect, now stands erect, boldly proclaiming the wisdom and power of the almighty, omniscient God.
And your lips, once malformed with a cleft palette, now join the choruses above.
Looking forward to seeing you again.
Your loving aunt,
Melissa Enderle
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
The Big Chill
Freezing Temps - and No Heat
The last few days have been the coldest that I've experienced in my two years in Serbia. For much of the winter, temperature lows fluctuated right around the freezing point. Today, the temperature when I woke up was -16° C. This cold weather has moved in from Russia. Yesterday morning at school, one of the three power lines at the school went down. Unfortunately, it was the line that also held the server, routers, and much of the school's heating. For much of the day, kids wore their jackets in classroom, but the greatest whining was that the network was down. It's amazing how dependent we become on technology!
In typical Serbian fashion, getting a straight answer on the cause of the outage and when the power would be restored was elusive. Finally about 15 minutes before the end of the school day, the power went back on.
The Roma
On days like this, I think about the people in the city who do not have proper housing - namely the Roma. Most of their shacks are built from cardboard, tin, and other scrap material. Certainly not weatherproof or winterized. There are many who say that the Roma choose to live that way. However, I find it hard to believe that they actually like or prefer enduring the winter temperatures in such conditions.
The last few days have been the coldest that I've experienced in my two years in Serbia. For much of the winter, temperature lows fluctuated right around the freezing point. Today, the temperature when I woke up was -16° C. This cold weather has moved in from Russia. Yesterday morning at school, one of the three power lines at the school went down. Unfortunately, it was the line that also held the server, routers, and much of the school's heating. For much of the day, kids wore their jackets in classroom, but the greatest whining was that the network was down. It's amazing how dependent we become on technology!
In typical Serbian fashion, getting a straight answer on the cause of the outage and when the power would be restored was elusive. Finally about 15 minutes before the end of the school day, the power went back on.
The Roma
On days like this, I think about the people in the city who do not have proper housing - namely the Roma. Most of their shacks are built from cardboard, tin, and other scrap material. Certainly not weatherproof or winterized. There are many who say that the Roma choose to live that way. However, I find it hard to believe that they actually like or prefer enduring the winter temperatures in such conditions.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Serbian Orthodox Christmas
When I was walking down to the green market in my neighborhood this week, I noticed people standing by piles of branches with dried-up oak leaves. It appeared like they were selling them! Upon closer inspection, I saw that the oak branches were bundled with some straw and sometimes a small packet of grain or field corn. As the Serbian Orthodox Christmas was coming up, I assumed that this was part of its Christmas tradition. Note: As the Serbian Orthodox Church follows the Julian calendar, Christmas falls on January 7.
I described the bundle to a Serbian friend and asked her what it was. She said it was badnjak. In villages, she explained, the husband would go out to the woods on Christmas Eve (January 6) and find the most beautiful young oak tree/branch he could find and cut it down. This is placed inside the door. In homes where there are fireplaces, the badnjak is placed in the fire for good luck. In the city, the small bundles I saw would more likely be placed in a prominent location such as the middle of the table.
On Christmas Eve, a meal doesn't include any animal (or dairy) products. Fish is allowed though. Some Orthodox Serbs have been doing this kind of fasting for a period prior to Christmas - some as long as 4o days. Left-over food from this Christmas Eve meal is traditionally left on the table, covered with a tablecloth. Spirits of the dead are said to come and also enjoy this feast. On Christmas Day, the meal is large and more Serb-like - with meat being a feature, such as roasted pork. A special round bread cesnica with decorative braiding is also typical. A coin is sometimes placed in the bread, a sign of good fortune for the recipient.
Another Serbian friend taught me the Christmas greeting, which is much more in-tuned to the true meaning of Christmas: Hristos se rodi" (Christ is born!) and as greeting in reply: "Vaistinu se rodi" (Really born!).
Indeed, Christ is born!
I described the bundle to a Serbian friend and asked her what it was. She said it was badnjak. In villages, she explained, the husband would go out to the woods on Christmas Eve (January 6) and find the most beautiful young oak tree/branch he could find and cut it down. This is placed inside the door. In homes where there are fireplaces, the badnjak is placed in the fire for good luck. In the city, the small bundles I saw would more likely be placed in a prominent location such as the middle of the table.
On Christmas Eve, a meal doesn't include any animal (or dairy) products. Fish is allowed though. Some Orthodox Serbs have been doing this kind of fasting for a period prior to Christmas - some as long as 4o days. Left-over food from this Christmas Eve meal is traditionally left on the table, covered with a tablecloth. Spirits of the dead are said to come and also enjoy this feast. On Christmas Day, the meal is large and more Serb-like - with meat being a feature, such as roasted pork. A special round bread cesnica with decorative braiding is also typical. A coin is sometimes placed in the bread, a sign of good fortune for the recipient.
Another Serbian friend taught me the Christmas greeting, which is much more in-tuned to the true meaning of Christmas: Hristos se rodi" (Christ is born!) and as greeting in reply: "Vaistinu se rodi" (Really born!).
Indeed, Christ is born!
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Zagreb Travelogue - March 2005
Zagreb 2005
CEESA Conference, Croatia
March 17
Off to the Conference
Due to its relatively close distance (229 miles), our school was able to send a large number of its teachers to the CEESA (Central and Eastern European Schools Association) conference in Zagreb, Croatia. After school, we all boarded the bus at the nearest road wide enough to handle a coach bus. With tote bags full of snacks (we wouldn’t stop for food), we were prepared to undertake the approximately 7-hour journey.
Countryside
Once outside of Belgrade, the hills gave way to flat land. The open rural land was a stark contrast to the city of over 1,500,000 people. Although the temperature was spring-like, the brownness and bare trees still reflected the recent winter snowfalls. Water was standing in some fields that likely were covered by snow just a week earlier. When I remarked that some of the fields were already plowed, the local teachers remarked that this was unusually late, due to the “long” winter. If only the winters in Wisconsin were that short! A few small tractors worked up the rich land. Small villages dotted the land, with their terra-cotta tiled roofs and orthodox spires emerging from the skyline. Although I spotted a few sheep, their small numbers and absence of olive trees was evidence that I was not in Tunisia.
Upon reaching the border, we all showed our passports to pass from Serbia and into Croatia. Local teachers commented on how different it had been a little over a decade ago, when the region was known as Yugoslavia. As it became dark, the movie “The Last Samurai” was played, subtitled in Serbian. As we approached the outskirts of Zagreb, a police car escorted us the rest of the way to the hotel. Although we didn’t see this as a necessary measure, it assured that no hostilities would occur to the Belgrade-licensed bus. Even today, there is still resentment between some Croats and Serbs.
Friday, March 18
City tour
After the conference sessions were over for the day, many conference-goers boarded busses to begin the tour of the city and the host school, the American International School of Zagreb. The school, formerly a Catholic seminary, certainly was larger than our rather homey campuses in Belgrade. After a quick tour of the school and its crafts exhibits, interested parties boarded the buses to begin the city tour. Even though we didn’t travel very far, maneuvering the narrow, rather congested one-way streets made traveling by bus take longer than it probably would have if we had walked. Trams seemed to be the other sensible transportation method used by many residents.
Interspersed throughout the old part of the city were buildings dating back to the late 1800’s. This reconstruction occurred after a disastrous earthquake that demolished many of its Baroque structures. Some of these older buildings appeared to be recently restored, while others were in a state of neglect. Several of the prominent buildings were painted in various hues of yellow, beautifully contrasting the blue sky of the spring day. Graffiti was scrawled over the bottom level of many buildings.
Ban Josip Jelačić Square
Driving past the famous Mirogoj Cemetery, our first stop was the Ban Josip Jelačić Square. In the central part of the square was a prominent columnar monument, with a golden statue of Mary facing the cathedral and several golden angels surrounding the base. The sculptures were especially beautiful as they glowed in the setting sun. We had a few minutes to peek into the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, a part of Zagreb’s visual identity with its Neo-Gothic twin spires. Next to the cathedral was a fortified-looking conical tower, with a gate that used to be the Kaptol’s southern entrance.
I was surprised at how quiet the streets seemed; there wasn’t the lively atmosphere of the downtown walking street of Belgrade. There were, however, some fancier sports cars showing off at high speed - something I hadn’t seen in a while. Of course, I don’t think any Yugo cars will do much speed racing anyway! Signs were all in the modified Latin script, making Croatian much easier to read than the Cyrillic dominating the otherwise similar Serbian language.
At the restaurant, a large table had been reserved for us. Surprisingly, the restaurant wasn’t all that smoky. The group dined on mixed meat platters, which were quite similar to what I’ve eaten in Belgrade. Drinks consisted of Croatian pivo (beer) or wine from the country. After the late meal some went to a jazz club, while others walked back to the hotel, tired after a long day of conference sessions.
Saturday, March 19
Upper Town
After conference sessions on Saturday, I departed the hotel with a few other teachers and headed towards the street where we heard people were selling Easter-related
and other crafts. Many of the vendors had already packed up for the weekend, but we did get to see some of the ceramics (hand-made and moulded), handmade jewelry, and painted eggs. I had enough money to buy a painted wooden egg and charming tiny porcelain bishop figurine.
Determined to see St. Mark’s Church, whose multi-colored coat-of-arms tiled roof was featured on the cover of the conference program, I headed onward in spite of the continually graying sky. Walking up the steps next to the funicular railway (built in 1891), I went past the famous Lotrščak Tower and its rooftop canon which has faithfully fired for over 100 years exactly at noon. I now had a beautiful view of the Lower Town. Church steeples interspersed throughout the city peeked through the skyline. Nearby, a young wedding couple posed by the stairs and a street performer played the guitar. Drawn by the steeple of St. Marks, I walked on. Older women carrying bouquets of flowers walked away from the church, now at the end of the narrow street. A Croatian flag proudly waved from the side of one of the older buildings. Although the sky wasn’t blue, St. Mark’s was still impressive. Unlike the decorative roof, the inside was rather simple. After enjoying my walk through the Upper Town, I headed back to the hotel in time for supper.
Sunday, March 20
Palm Sunday
Determined to see a bit more of the city before our bus left, I went for a morning walk. Nearly all shops were closed and the streets were quiet. Men and women stopped at flower stands in city squares to purchase fresh bouquets of spring flowers. I also noticed more and more people carrying a green, non-flowered plant, which I then realized was an olive branch bundled with what looked like pussy willows. Outside some churches, I observed some selling piles of olive branches. The sound of church bells tolling enriched the festive morning.
Although I wasn’t following a map, the relatively grid-like layout, combined with the landmarks of prominent buildings, statues, and grassy boulevards, made it fairly easy to maintain one’s sense of direction. Once the spring flowers were planted and things greened up, I’m sure these areas would be quite lovely. I am looking forward to the same in Belgrade.
Back to Belgrade
The police car once again escorted us out of the city, where once again the flat plowed lands dominated. As we neared the border, the lengthy queue of semis (many from Turkey) was quite astonishing. Thankfully we didn’t have to wait in that line. Back in Belgrade, things were unpacked and preparations began for school for the following day.
CEESA Conference, Croatia
March 17
Off to the Conference
Due to its relatively close distance (229 miles), our school was able to send a large number of its teachers to the CEESA (Central and Eastern European Schools Association) conference in Zagreb, Croatia. After school, we all boarded the bus at the nearest road wide enough to handle a coach bus. With tote bags full of snacks (we wouldn’t stop for food), we were prepared to undertake the approximately 7-hour journey.
Countryside
Once outside of Belgrade, the hills gave way to flat land. The open rural land was a stark contrast to the city of over 1,500,000 people. Although the temperature was spring-like, the brownness and bare trees still reflected the recent winter snowfalls. Water was standing in some fields that likely were covered by snow just a week earlier. When I remarked that some of the fields were already plowed, the local teachers remarked that this was unusually late, due to the “long” winter. If only the winters in Wisconsin were that short! A few small tractors worked up the rich land. Small villages dotted the land, with their terra-cotta tiled roofs and orthodox spires emerging from the skyline. Although I spotted a few sheep, their small numbers and absence of olive trees was evidence that I was not in Tunisia.
Upon reaching the border, we all showed our passports to pass from Serbia and into Croatia. Local teachers commented on how different it had been a little over a decade ago, when the region was known as Yugoslavia. As it became dark, the movie “The Last Samurai” was played, subtitled in Serbian. As we approached the outskirts of Zagreb, a police car escorted us the rest of the way to the hotel. Although we didn’t see this as a necessary measure, it assured that no hostilities would occur to the Belgrade-licensed bus. Even today, there is still resentment between some Croats and Serbs.
Friday, March 18
City tour
After the conference sessions were over for the day, many conference-goers boarded busses to begin the tour of the city and the host school, the American International School of Zagreb. The school, formerly a Catholic seminary, certainly was larger than our rather homey campuses in Belgrade. After a quick tour of the school and its crafts exhibits, interested parties boarded the buses to begin the city tour. Even though we didn’t travel very far, maneuvering the narrow, rather congested one-way streets made traveling by bus take longer than it probably would have if we had walked. Trams seemed to be the other sensible transportation method used by many residents.
Interspersed throughout the old part of the city were buildings dating back to the late 1800’s. This reconstruction occurred after a disastrous earthquake that demolished many of its Baroque structures. Some of these older buildings appeared to be recently restored, while others were in a state of neglect. Several of the prominent buildings were painted in various hues of yellow, beautifully contrasting the blue sky of the spring day. Graffiti was scrawled over the bottom level of many buildings.
Ban Josip Jelačić Square
Driving past the famous Mirogoj Cemetery, our first stop was the Ban Josip Jelačić Square. In the central part of the square was a prominent columnar monument, with a golden statue of Mary facing the cathedral and several golden angels surrounding the base. The sculptures were especially beautiful as they glowed in the setting sun. We had a few minutes to peek into the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, a part of Zagreb’s visual identity with its Neo-Gothic twin spires. Next to the cathedral was a fortified-looking conical tower, with a gate that used to be the Kaptol’s southern entrance.
I was surprised at how quiet the streets seemed; there wasn’t the lively atmosphere of the downtown walking street of Belgrade. There were, however, some fancier sports cars showing off at high speed - something I hadn’t seen in a while. Of course, I don’t think any Yugo cars will do much speed racing anyway! Signs were all in the modified Latin script, making Croatian much easier to read than the Cyrillic dominating the otherwise similar Serbian language.
At the restaurant, a large table had been reserved for us. Surprisingly, the restaurant wasn’t all that smoky. The group dined on mixed meat platters, which were quite similar to what I’ve eaten in Belgrade. Drinks consisted of Croatian pivo (beer) or wine from the country. After the late meal some went to a jazz club, while others walked back to the hotel, tired after a long day of conference sessions.
Saturday, March 19
Upper Town
After conference sessions on Saturday, I departed the hotel with a few other teachers and headed towards the street where we heard people were selling Easter-related
and other crafts. Many of the vendors had already packed up for the weekend, but we did get to see some of the ceramics (hand-made and moulded), handmade jewelry, and painted eggs. I had enough money to buy a painted wooden egg and charming tiny porcelain bishop figurine.
Determined to see St. Mark’s Church, whose multi-colored coat-of-arms tiled roof was featured on the cover of the conference program, I headed onward in spite of the continually graying sky. Walking up the steps next to the funicular railway (built in 1891), I went past the famous Lotrščak Tower and its rooftop canon which has faithfully fired for over 100 years exactly at noon. I now had a beautiful view of the Lower Town. Church steeples interspersed throughout the city peeked through the skyline. Nearby, a young wedding couple posed by the stairs and a street performer played the guitar. Drawn by the steeple of St. Marks, I walked on. Older women carrying bouquets of flowers walked away from the church, now at the end of the narrow street. A Croatian flag proudly waved from the side of one of the older buildings. Although the sky wasn’t blue, St. Mark’s was still impressive. Unlike the decorative roof, the inside was rather simple. After enjoying my walk through the Upper Town, I headed back to the hotel in time for supper.
Sunday, March 20
Palm Sunday
Determined to see a bit more of the city before our bus left, I went for a morning walk. Nearly all shops were closed and the streets were quiet. Men and women stopped at flower stands in city squares to purchase fresh bouquets of spring flowers. I also noticed more and more people carrying a green, non-flowered plant, which I then realized was an olive branch bundled with what looked like pussy willows. Outside some churches, I observed some selling piles of olive branches. The sound of church bells tolling enriched the festive morning.
Although I wasn’t following a map, the relatively grid-like layout, combined with the landmarks of prominent buildings, statues, and grassy boulevards, made it fairly easy to maintain one’s sense of direction. Once the spring flowers were planted and things greened up, I’m sure these areas would be quite lovely. I am looking forward to the same in Belgrade.
Back to Belgrade
The police car once again escorted us out of the city, where once again the flat plowed lands dominated. As we neared the border, the lengthy queue of semis (many from Turkey) was quite astonishing. Thankfully we didn’t have to wait in that line. Back in Belgrade, things were unpacked and preparations began for school for the following day.
Spring Thaw in Belgrade - March 2005
Dear all,
Today I took the tram downtown, bought some watercolor paper (didn't have
the type I wanted, but I bought a sheet to see how it works anyway) and
gesso, and walked up the main walking street. It was the first nice weekend
in some time. By that, I mean that the sun was out, sky was blue, and spring
was in the air. The snow from a week ago was melting quite nicely, along
with the resulting ice which covered any sidewalks or walking areas. Lots of
other people had the same idea and were out for a stroll as well.
Young families pushing strollers, others stopping to buy ice cream from a
street vendor, teens with their shopping bags, everyone with their
cigarette, and old men leisurely walking as they chatted. I decided to join
them, grabbed a sandwich, and read from my book as I ate in the park. As I
entered the park, the initial series of park benches had crocheted doilies
of various sizes, a few handknit sweaters, and some antique toys and pins.
Some of these vendors had good faces, so I'll have to bring my camera next
time. The smell of popcorn was in the air, and you could faintly hear the
sound of the accordion coming from the street performer on the walking
street. As I read and ate my sandwich, the sun provided spring warmth and
the snow below the bench was a nice rest for my feet. The park was also
active people, talking, pushing strollers, reading, and walking. Little kids
bent over to pick up some of the wet snow, which quickly melted into a
smaller ball. After finishing my lunch and progressing in the book, I got
up and went for a little walk in the park as well. I then boarded the tram
and made my way back to Senjak, where I stopped to pick up some produce at
the green market and then back down the hill again to pick up a wool suit
jacket I had tailor-made. Also got a little drawing done, more reading,
cleaning, made granola cereal and baked some molasses cookies. Tomorrow I
hope to get some more drawing done. As it is supposed to rain, that will be
a good thing to do.
Thought I'd share one of the crafts that Serbia is famous for. The
mountainous region of Zlatibor is known for its hand-made 100% wool
sweaters. Typical ones like you see on this webpage
http://www.handmade.co.yu/ and http://www.sirogojno-co.co.yu/collection.htm
are brightly colored and contain village scenes or plant motifs. On Friday
one of the women from the village came to school with some sweaters and had
them on a table in the lobby right in front of the computer lab. I was
"obliged" to take a look and one in particular called my name. It is natural
wool-colored background with a simple village scene and a cute hood. A very
warm and unique item that will be a great momento of Serbia.
>From Melissa in Belgrade, where the sun finally came out yesterday to begin
melting the ice and snow
Today I took the tram downtown, bought some watercolor paper (didn't have
the type I wanted, but I bought a sheet to see how it works anyway) and
gesso, and walked up the main walking street. It was the first nice weekend
in some time. By that, I mean that the sun was out, sky was blue, and spring
was in the air. The snow from a week ago was melting quite nicely, along
with the resulting ice which covered any sidewalks or walking areas. Lots of
other people had the same idea and were out for a stroll as well.
Young families pushing strollers, others stopping to buy ice cream from a
street vendor, teens with their shopping bags, everyone with their
cigarette, and old men leisurely walking as they chatted. I decided to join
them, grabbed a sandwich, and read from my book as I ate in the park. As I
entered the park, the initial series of park benches had crocheted doilies
of various sizes, a few handknit sweaters, and some antique toys and pins.
Some of these vendors had good faces, so I'll have to bring my camera next
time. The smell of popcorn was in the air, and you could faintly hear the
sound of the accordion coming from the street performer on the walking
street. As I read and ate my sandwich, the sun provided spring warmth and
the snow below the bench was a nice rest for my feet. The park was also
active people, talking, pushing strollers, reading, and walking. Little kids
bent over to pick up some of the wet snow, which quickly melted into a
smaller ball. After finishing my lunch and progressing in the book, I got
up and went for a little walk in the park as well. I then boarded the tram
and made my way back to Senjak, where I stopped to pick up some produce at
the green market and then back down the hill again to pick up a wool suit
jacket I had tailor-made. Also got a little drawing done, more reading,
cleaning, made granola cereal and baked some molasses cookies. Tomorrow I
hope to get some more drawing done. As it is supposed to rain, that will be
a good thing to do.
Thought I'd share one of the crafts that Serbia is famous for. The
mountainous region of Zlatibor is known for its hand-made 100% wool
sweaters. Typical ones like you see on this webpage
http://www.handmade.co.yu/ and http://www.sirogojno-co.co.yu/collection.htm
are brightly colored and contain village scenes or plant motifs. On Friday
one of the women from the village came to school with some sweaters and had
them on a table in the lobby right in front of the computer lab. I was
"obliged" to take a look and one in particular called my name. It is natural
wool-colored background with a simple village scene and a cute hood. A very
warm and unique item that will be a great momento of Serbia.
>From Melissa in Belgrade, where the sun finally came out yesterday to begin
melting the ice and snow
Education and the Roma - 2004
Dear all,
Hope everyone is having a wonderful Thanksgiving. Here in Serbia we didn't
have off of school today, but still celebrated a staff dinner after school.
This morning, the head of the Serbian Red Cross (who has two children at our
school) came and spoke to the upper school students for the kick-off to
their charity drive. The student council decided to cooperate with the Red
Cross here in its work with the Roma children. The Romas are often known by
others as gypsies. They have been living in Serbia (former Yugoslavia) for
hundreds of years. Having said that, they are a proud "race" and have
retained their own culture, language, and identity. Unfortunately, that also
has meant that they have not assimilated into their "host" culture, leading
to some ostracism and definite misunderstandings/misconceptions.
According to the Red Cross speaker, the number of Roma people in Serbia is
unknown, but some estimates are as many as half a million. The Roma are
populous here, as they are in other eastern European countries.
Unemployment, lack of education, and poverty are big problems for the Romas
here as in other countries. Most Roma children do not go to school - partly
because their parents don't see the need (it is more important to them to
beg, steal, or spend the time collecting cardboard or other items for small
amounts of money), and/or because they don't fit in - no proper clothing,
can't speak Serbian, etc. This lack of education then perpetuates the
poverty cycle and accompanying problems.
The Serbian Red Cross has begun in the last three years piloting a program
that is the first of its kind with the Roma population. It has begun setting
up kindergartens for Roma children, catering to ages 4-7. Here they are
helped in their acquisition of Serbian, given warm clothing, have toys to
play with, a good meal, and a good start on education. The belief is that if
the Romas begin to get their children in school at an early age, they will
then feel successful and stay in school longer, get that necessary education
which leads to jobs, and begin a more positive cycle.
The student council is kicking off a drive to collect warm clothing, canned
goods, toys (used and new), school supplies, and hygiene products. These
items will be donated to the kindergartens. Currently there are 30 Roma
kindergarten centers, but by January that number is expected to be around
50. This "charity" choice is an interesting one for the students at our
school in that the local students (which number around 25%) come from
wealthy families and often harbor the attitudes of their parents - that
Romas are undesirables, etc. By collecting items for the Roma children,
(some) going into the homes and schools of the Roma children and seeing
their situation, I hope that this disadvantaged population is seen by our
students in a different light. I also hope that our advantaged children will
begin to appreciate the special opportunity they have been granted due to
their privileged financial and social status to have an excellent education
and all its advantages. And, of course, I hope they will experience the joy
of giving to others. Many overseas students will enter higher-level
international positions (such as diplomatic) as adults. Greater empathy for
the disadvantaged and actively working to address their needs will benefit
the entire world.
Until later,
Melissa
Hope everyone is having a wonderful Thanksgiving. Here in Serbia we didn't
have off of school today, but still celebrated a staff dinner after school.
This morning, the head of the Serbian Red Cross (who has two children at our
school) came and spoke to the upper school students for the kick-off to
their charity drive. The student council decided to cooperate with the Red
Cross here in its work with the Roma children. The Romas are often known by
others as gypsies. They have been living in Serbia (former Yugoslavia) for
hundreds of years. Having said that, they are a proud "race" and have
retained their own culture, language, and identity. Unfortunately, that also
has meant that they have not assimilated into their "host" culture, leading
to some ostracism and definite misunderstandings/misconceptions.
According to the Red Cross speaker, the number of Roma people in Serbia is
unknown, but some estimates are as many as half a million. The Roma are
populous here, as they are in other eastern European countries.
Unemployment, lack of education, and poverty are big problems for the Romas
here as in other countries. Most Roma children do not go to school - partly
because their parents don't see the need (it is more important to them to
beg, steal, or spend the time collecting cardboard or other items for small
amounts of money), and/or because they don't fit in - no proper clothing,
can't speak Serbian, etc. This lack of education then perpetuates the
poverty cycle and accompanying problems.
The Serbian Red Cross has begun in the last three years piloting a program
that is the first of its kind with the Roma population. It has begun setting
up kindergartens for Roma children, catering to ages 4-7. Here they are
helped in their acquisition of Serbian, given warm clothing, have toys to
play with, a good meal, and a good start on education. The belief is that if
the Romas begin to get their children in school at an early age, they will
then feel successful and stay in school longer, get that necessary education
which leads to jobs, and begin a more positive cycle.
The student council is kicking off a drive to collect warm clothing, canned
goods, toys (used and new), school supplies, and hygiene products. These
items will be donated to the kindergartens. Currently there are 30 Roma
kindergarten centers, but by January that number is expected to be around
50. This "charity" choice is an interesting one for the students at our
school in that the local students (which number around 25%) come from
wealthy families and often harbor the attitudes of their parents - that
Romas are undesirables, etc. By collecting items for the Roma children,
(some) going into the homes and schools of the Roma children and seeing
their situation, I hope that this disadvantaged population is seen by our
students in a different light. I also hope that our advantaged children will
begin to appreciate the special opportunity they have been granted due to
their privileged financial and social status to have an excellent education
and all its advantages. And, of course, I hope they will experience the joy
of giving to others. Many overseas students will enter higher-level
international positions (such as diplomatic) as adults. Greater empathy for
the disadvantaged and actively working to address their needs will benefit
the entire world.
Until later,
Melissa
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