Two Names, Two Faces

It's been hard to muster up the energy to write these last few posts when half (most?) of the readers have been in my actual company these last few weeks.  Plus, I'll type up a post and then they just want me to read it to them!  I just spent hours, hours I tell you, typing this up and now I have to be the kindergarden librarian too?  These guys were all there, they know the stories already, but being the generous person that I am, I'll go ahead and put this in writing for the few others of you.

Our massive group of vagabonds had the opportunity move to yet another gorgeous city in Croatia since the country is teeming with blue seas, relaxing cafes and sun.  But all that fun, sun and water comes with a beach front price.  We'd been hearing about many other wonderful little Eastern Europe countries.  The group consensus landed us in a country that I had never initially considered, but along the road I've heard that it was amazing, warm and fun.  I also heard it was cheap.  So when the decision was made, we changed course for Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Bosnia and Herzegovina is indeed cheap, but also amazingly cute...the parts amid the abandoned bombed buildings.  We hit Mostar and Sarajevo this last week and you can still see the fresh wreckage of bullet ridden buildings in-between all of the newly constructed hotels and cafes.  It is completely bazar to meet people my age and younger, who grew up in Bosnia and Herzegovina  during the fairly recent war.  A time I vaguely remember watching on TV, my peers remember spending their childhood scrambling across the streets avoiding gunfire.  A lot of them lost their parents or siblings or both.  It's easy to be on this no-rules, no-responsibility trip and forget about just how ravaged many of these countries are from very recent and very real times of violence.  

I'm glad to say, however, it seems that Bosnia and Herzegovina is bouncing back.  I realize the conflicting gramalitical "is" when combined with the deul names, Bosnia and Herzegovina, but afterall it is just the one country with aparent naming conflicts.  Plus, I'm no english major and don't pretend to know the proper way to handle this situation; I can barely spell my own name as it is.  The good news is that the shopping districts are bustling, there is an abundance of new construction and there are thriving ice-cream stands on every single corner.  Ice-cream to my outsider's perspective is a staple in Bosnia and Herzegovina for breakfast, lunch, dinner and where I commonly associate it- dessert.  No judgement.  Hell, after all those years of war you deserve to have ice-cream as one of your major food groups.

We were also lucky enough to be in Sarajevo during a major cultural event.  You guessed it, the annual Streetdancing Competition.  It was a real life breakdancing battle with professional judges in the city center.  Talk about age innapropriate events, we were surrounded by hordes of teenagers who were almost as excited as we were to be there.  I wasn't expecting much, but the break dancers were phenominal.  I should mention that it is no longer cool to be called a "break dancer" and you should refer to them as "b-boys" and "b-girls"; yet another distinction that shows our age in this event.  It is somewhat inspirational in that it made me want to take classes so I could throw my body around in a way that makes it look amazingly agile and awesome.  And mostly because I'd just like to have a solid party trick.  Then I realized that I'm almost 30, have had two knee surgeries and am simply not that cool.  My short lived dreams of being a b-girl have been crushed.  At least the music was good and none of the local teenagers could tell how much we were dorking out since they didn't speak english.  My cool facade is intact for now.  

As we reached the end of our time in Bosnia and Herzegovina our gang of loud Americans continued to decline.  We went from nine down to six this week; a flock to a mere six-pack.  I know I previously referenced traveling with that many people as a complete shit show, but now that the group is dwindling, it's pretty sad.  This must be what it feels like to be on a season of Survivor.  With the exception that I actually like these people, nobody has to eat bugs in order to stay on the island and my only alliances are based on who wants to go get ice-cream now or later.    

Adorable!

And ravaged.