this photo was taken of me about a month ago when i was in belgrade, serbia. this demonstrates how unglamorous backpacking can be...and also how exhilarating it is.
notice the star-shaped stud in my ear?
---
i've been working on my novel moreso now than ever before. everyday i can't wait to run to my notebook and let the pen scratch across the page before my fingers can control it.
a few years ago, i thought that if i had a laptop, i'd be able to finish my novel quicker. i blamed my lack of hardware on the stagnancy of my work. but shakespeare didn't have an Intel Centrino Core Duo with 120GB on board. all i need is a pen and paper to create a masterpiece. so it got to the point where i had to stop thinking i was disadvantaged in some way. and i've had my laptop now for almost 2 years, the novel didn't grow much last year, did it?
i began writing the novel 5 years ago when i was awarded a Toronto Arts Council grant to put toward its creation. but falling in love with boys/backpacking through europe/climbing trees/wearing skirts/eating watermelons/giggling on stage, and other of life's details (and disasters) seems to take hold and steer you elsewhere.
now, i'm back to my baby. i hope to finish it soon. enjoy a short exerpt. please let me know if you guys think it's crap:
When I run, my hair whips against my face. You cannot brush it away. The rain pelts. The scars do not heal, but you kiss them like heart-shaped sweets. We dance over sidwalks and eat, eat, eat. Your hair curls like pancetta. My lashes tickle your cheek. We’ll forget what they said and cross the lines. We’ll jump up and down in temples. We’ll throw spices over our shoulders. We’ll ignite the timber from the farm. Because we both know our time is finite, you’ll lick me whether in shadows or not. The ebb will come in and we’ll forget to undress in the her lap. I cannot beat you down or make you forget. I can see you soon in a tomb. So I will focus on making this moment stretch. Like the sun across the sea. The boats break up the beams. Our summer will go on. And everyone will feel like me. Skin me and put me in a jar. Let me bleed into your chest.
my babe shernette brought the house down last night with her band cherry brakewells, they are going to be fucking superstars, and fucking soon
---
the premiere party for my tv show has been announced. i thought it was just gonna be a party for cast and crew to reconnect and to watch the first episode together. turns out the PRESS is gonna be there. taking photos and everything! and it's not gonna be held at the production office like i figured. it's at one of the ritziest venues in Soho. so now i gotta buy a dress, shoes, a purse, get my hair cut and styled, get my makeup done, and act as if i'm not losing my marbles.
---
yesterday Toni started chatting with me on msn while he was hosting his radio show. he asked me to listen to his show online, but my Real Player needed to be updated. by the time i got it working, there was only about 3 minutes left in his show. but i finally got to hear his voice again, which hit me straight in the gut. memories are like that with me.
then, after he insisted i stop typing and listen, he floored me.
in between my squeals, i heard him say "Estima" and "London" twice, and then he played our song.
whilst in kosovo together, i told him that i really loved the song "my immortal" by evanescence, which he said was one of his favourites as well. then when i sat in during his band practice, they played it for me as i sang along.
we hadn't talked about it since.
but he remembered.
he played our song.
and i got all choked up.
he told me he misses me.
and when he calls me baby, i have to restrain myself from running to the airport with just my passport in hand.
no one's ever done anything like that for me before.
---
here's a video i took whilst in pristina that i never got the chance to post, just so you get an ideo of how vibrant and exciting the city was:
photos from this past weekend, hours after my return from my trip...
i'm bronzed again. some random photos from my trip and from previous adventures that, for some reason, never made the blog:
these following 2 photos are from istanbul:
and these were from kosovo. in case you're wondering, i'm actually on the set of Toni's television talk show here, in the studios:
---
upon my return to london, the first few days were really disorienting. i woke up that first morning of sleeping in my own bed again, and didn't know where i was.
this all feels wrong. it's like, i was this one-chris before i left for the trip...and, like always, after one of my backpacking extravaganzas, i am this other-chris upon my return. and i don't like being in the same physical space as one-chris because it feels like wrong. like a slick film sticking to my skin after a shower. bad taste on the tongue that lingers after several glasses of water.
slapped in the face with the past which looks exactly the way i left it, gathering dust in a locked room.
reminders everywhere of the gal i was. not the gal i'm becoming.
my decisions are more and more drying in their concrete slabs. set and carved in stone. once my tv show wraps (sometime mid-november, methinks), i'm out of london.
sydney won't know what hit it.
---
since my return, my days have been a hectic mess of meetings and arrangements (had a job interview for a fantastic position at another post production studio ... oh, and i auditioned for another massive reality tv show. i made it to the 2nd round of auditions, beating out about 15,000 others, or so they say. will find out if they want me for a 3rd audition in a few weeks).
had a few dates with some classic british blokes thrown in the mix for good measure. first date was with a guy i've gone on a few dates with before, and i was just revisiting him to give him all the chances he warranted. but i knew i didn't really fancy him at all. and often, he'd desperately call/email/text message me more than once per day, pathetically. he did talk me into spending the night at his place, but i slept in a T-shirt and kept slapping his hands away. men like him aren't invited past first base.
second date was with a model/actor whom i've known for a few months now, but our schedules just never clicked. he'd always be off in miami or new york or barcelona on a shoot somewhere. he's 40 years old (which worries me why he's still single, presumably he has some profound and fundamental character flaws) but still brutally hot and smokin' in brad-pitt-george-clooney-jason-statham kind of way.
unfortunately, he showed up to the date 30 minutes late and wearing....
...wait for it....
...a TOP HAT.
that's right. he showed up on our date wearing a motherfucking top hat.
give the guy a monocle and he would've been the Monopoly-guy.
he was arrogant and self-absorbed, like most models are. he spent several long minutes ignoring me as he answered text messages, and then had the cheek to ask me what my bra-size was. it didn't take him long to admit that he only fancies ditzy girls, even though they cause him headaches. smart women, he gleefully admitted, just don't turn his crank.
luckily for me, fucktard 40-year-old douches don't turn my crank.
but like i've said repeatedly these past few weeks: i'm over men.
---
speaking of being over men, i ran into the best friend of one of my ex's last weekend at a club in clapham. he, giddy as a school boy, skipped over to me, hugged me tightly, and without any provocation, proceeded to dish the latest dirt on my ex. it's hilarious hearing what people from your past have been up to. especially when the ex-in-question is actually harbouring some fantasy that i'm madly in love with him still and am in the process of tracking him down.
well why shouldn't i? he's such a catch! a short, pimply, insecure, out-of-work-labourer who doesn't know how to "lick-carpet", and who lives at home with mummy and daddy.
somebody change my panties, i think i just came. guys with no jobs or ambition really bring the orgasm home, eh ladies?
---
Toni texted me last night. someone ratted us out to the tabloids in kosovo. being that he's a notable personality there, it was kind of big deal. i haven't seen the article, but apparently the headline read, "is toni going to marry an american woman?"
Toni says he was fielding phone calls and endless questions about it all day. everyone was wondering if it was true.
okay, i know this photo is super-small, and you're gonna hafta squint to make me out, but this is the first released publicity shot of the cast of my reality tv show - i'm in the back row, 2nd from the right in the blue. there are 10 men and 6 women in this photo. there were actually 8 women, but for some reason, they have been photoshopped out of this photo (i remember when we took this photo, the 2 other ladies were definitely there). anyway, more details as they develop about the show...the premiere is still september 4th at 10:30pm on channel 4.... just thought i'd drill that into ya!
---
dubrovnik....last stop on the trip. as the bus from sarajevo swung into the blazing heat of the adriatic coast, i looked down at my beaten and battered passport . . . 67 stamps and none the wiser.
during the war for independence in the 1990s, the town was cut off from the rest of the world by serbian forces. a sea blockage and heavy artillery attack lasted for seven months and the town was systematically ruined even though it did not have any strategic significance.
today, rebuilt and restored, it is included in UNESCO's world heritage sites.
the four sided outline of the old town, surrounded by its fortified towers and the stone bastions, lines the city walls. among the red roof tops it is possible to make out the aristocratic palaces, church spires, huge tureets and gates, the old port and new beaches. the vision melts into the blue of the sky and depths of the adriatic sea. in the distance is the lush green island of lokrum and the grand yachts and sailing boats.
the orange of the stone buildings changes tone in the setting sun, while the city walls look majestic against the navy blue of sea and sky.
dubrovnik is everything i pictured in my dreams. a marbe-stone-slab-old-city, encases in walls. damanged throughout time by marauding turks, earthquakes, 2 world wars, the yugoslav wars, but the people still thrive and the town still stands. saints and crosses bless the area. less people live within the city walls than 500 years ago. now it's all business and cafes. then it was a community. the swallows own the old town. they fill the air with their swarms and squeaking hisses. i assumed they were bats at first. drink from d'onofrio's fountain....the old aquaduct used to fill it centuries ago still seen on the walls. pharmacies from the 1300s, tourists from germany, finalnd, turkey. ancient churches funded by richard the lionheart. women who, angered by the need to become a nun when unmarried, set fire to the convent and ran away.
here in the city, everyone knows everyone. they'll see you each day. they'll know your secrets. they'll confess to the priest. the priest will spread your misfortunes. dubrovnik is like an old village you can never farm. the rector is chosen at the end of each month.
i could write here forever amongst the swallows and bougainvilla and purple blossoms whose name i don't know.
entering the city at dusk, the swallows swarm above your head, the sound is deafening.
but the people lick ice cream and pay no heed.
old streets, narrow and stoned, run up and down, some quiet, hiding their secrets in the slabs.
as i was taking this photo, this little girl suddenly turned.
she just looked at me, like she was feeding my pathos to the wolves.
i love this photo. i think i'll hafta add this one to my list of excellent-estima-photos. how good a photographer am i!!!
i'm sweaty, that's for sure. it's fucking 40 degrees outside, even at 9pm!!!
singing their tunes for kunas and quarters.
d'onofrio's fountain. the water is so fresh and clean, there is no need to buy bottled water. just fill up your bottles at the spout. and i did.
the main street, like a dragging strip with no cars, stretching across, a gymnast thoroughfare.
through the holes and turrets of the city stone walls, you can look out upon beauty.
george bernard shaw visited the city in 1929 and said, "if you want to see heaven on earth, come to dubrovnik." i concur sir.
this was at the beginning of my stroll along the city walls. notice how i'm not sweaty and gross yet....just wait.
i look like a douche...but whatever.
how cool is that roof?! i know it's just a roof, but it's so awesome in it's antiquity! i want that roof!!
notice the sweat-stains beginning to appear under ye old' boobies? this is only the beginning...
WAIT! you know what i just noticed?! i'm wearing the EXACT SAME OUTFIT as i did in the publicity shot for the show at the top of this post....the show gave me that bikini, that blue top, and wrap skirt, actually....how funny is that!!!
sail away, sail away, sail away.
the gate to 1838. when you walk through, you know nothing has changed in 200 years.
small residencial streets rise and dip throughout the ancient city.
walls used to be needed for patrolling the perimetre. now, we take in the views and over-work our digi-cams.
i don't know who F.R. is, but after hundreds of years, F.R.'s imprint still resonates immortally.
the sun bronzed my skin and whitened my eyes. i looked out forever but could only see you.
bells ring out my ears
another cool photo. i would sit on those steps forever, journalling and thinking about the men i've loved.
this old woman sat on my steps and knitted, thinking about all the men she's loved.
below, in this video, i capture the sounds and panoramic views of the city for you. oh, and i tease you a little bit - enjoy!
jump?
okay, here we are at a state of saturation...notice the massive under-booby sweat marks now? a few minutes after this photo was taken, i sat in the shade and dripped as if i had just poured water over my head....i was so sweaty, it was almost oozing out of my skin, crying down my skin.
this ancient latin inscription above this door reads, "my heart was hot within me, while I was musing the fire burned ." it's from the 39th psalm of David. ironically, this door (now boarded up) used to be the site of an orphanage. unmarried mothers would be cast outside the city walls and bring shame to their families, so they'd leave their babies in baskets on a lazy-susan and hope no one saw their faces.
one morning in 1597, a priest awoke to the sounds of boys playing ball in the street. so angered was he, that he went round to the corner of the cathedral where their ball games were held, and carved this into the stone. in latin, it reads: Pax Vobis Memento Mori Qui Ludentis Pilla 1597.
translated it means: Peace be with you. Remember that you will die, you who play ball here 1597.
historians say it's the first instance of ball games being mentioned in this region. a few years ago, the croatian football team entered into a tournament, carrying a banner with this saying emblazoned across it.
on my last day in dubrovnik, i decided i'd had enough of the whole museum-church thing, and took advantage of all the adventure opportunities the area offers. so i did a kayak tour! we kayaked to 3 different islands where we did cliff jumping, snorkelling, swimming, and cave diving! dude! i actually did cliff jumping! from like 25 feet up too! it was my first time doing that, and i was absolutely petrified, but i didn't daudle, i just lept into the air and threw my body into the abyss of open space before the water swallowed me deep into its silence.
each time i plummetted into the water, #1 my bikini top would come up and #2 my left eardrum would smash with pain. i think the pressure of water rushing into it cleaned out some kinda blockage. i can hear a lot better now! anyway, i snorkelled through schools of fishies (that's right, i said 'fishies!'), crabs and centipede-like things abounded in the flowing petals of rock-moss. starfishes hiding inbetween stones. my hair and body swaying in the blue. i got my hand full of sea-urchins (can't get that out of my skin, gotta wait for my body to push them out), and banged up against the rocks, and sweated so much that the salt from my skin mingled with the salt from the water, stinging my eyes.
azur waters, moutains watching high from their perches, fishes danced and jumped up as we paddled past.
where magenta turns to midnight blue. turquoise to sapphire to purple to black. i just floated face down, breathing through my salty snorket, and marvelled at the loveliness of the world. while londoners made long distance phone calls and stared at their computer screens all day, i flated in the richest waters, purifying my skin and singing whale songs in my head.
i will never be here again, i will never lap and swim and dive and paddle these waters again. in fact, this is probably my last backpacking trip through europe ever.
so savour these moments.
the sun had made its pass across the sky, and was changing from white hot to a warm orange.
then before i knew it, i was flying high above the plains of london.
first things first - i just got a phone call from the executive producer of the reality tv show i was in back in january/february. it is official - it will now premiere on September 4th at 10:30pm on Channel 4 and will air every thursday thereafter for 2 months!!!
somebody change my undies.
---
arriving in sarajevo, i decided the first thing i had to do after checking into my hostel was walk around. it's important to see as much as possible, i think.
under the setting bosnian sun, i wandered through the old Turkish quarter, past haute-couture shops and cafés serving strong thimbles of Bosnian coffee, stumbled past men playing life-size games of chess, past old mosques and churches restored since the war, the opera house, the riverbank and the bridge corner where Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, sparking the first World War in 1914 (hence the quite-appropos Franz Ferdinand song lyric above...). Past children on merry-go-rounds and old libraries gutted and collapsing.
then, after a delightful dinner of Burek, salad, and potatoes, i headed out for more in the dark...
the first thing i notice about Sarajevo is -- there is not one building in the entire city that is free from bullet holes. every single structure, home, façade, or business is damaged in this way.
the second thing i notice is -- that Sarajevans are not victims. they stroll the saturday-night-streets in Chanel couture and Jimmy Choo pumps and precious jewels, clubbing it, fucking it, dancing it, snorting it, drinking it, and loving it. they love life. to them, that war that ended 12 years ago is but a memory. distant...even though there are reminders of it everywhere. they are not carrying bundles in massive huddles, with kerchiefs on their heads, begging and crying and feeling sorry for themselves. they look forward. as we all do.
on the train from Zagreb to Sarajevo, i shared a compartment with these 5 Bosnian girls. they were fascinated by me and goaded me on endlessly when this total loser guy (bald, a tattoo on his neck, shirtless, in lime-green Adidas pants) came into the compartment to try and chat me up. i was mortified because, not only was he blocking the exit so i couldn't walk away, he was so sleazy and gross (is this the type of guy i attract! mor.ti.fied!), plus the girls started giggling and encouraging him! when he pulled out his ID to show me his name (tarik), OF COURSE a condom just HAPPENED to pop out of his wallet. after he finally fucked off, the girls and i started giggling about it and in their broken english, they told me they thought i was so beautiful and that i should be in a beauty pageant. when the train stopped at Zenica, their stop, they all hugged me tightly and gave me that colourful fan the girl in the middle is holding. aww! when i found out most of them were aged 11/12, i realized that they were conceived as the war in sarajevo ended....war babies.
life size chess in the streets.
opera house bullet-riddled.
plaque marking the spot .....the shots heard round the world....
this is the corner where ferdinand and his wife sofia were assassinated. she was pregnant and princip shot her in the stomach. for decades, princip was regarded by bosnians as a hero against tyranny, and his footprints were embossed in the cement and he was regarded as a hero. but when the war with the serbs broke out in 1992, princip lost his hero status overnight (princip was a serb) and all monuments to him were ripped down and destroyed.
hard to believe this tiny corner of the planet launched the first world war. how many canadians died in that war because princip had itchy trigger fingers?
sarajevo is nestled in between these mountains...enveloped in such beauty.
children on the merry-go-rounds
cafés brimming with youthful life.
i love the way the sunlight hits the buildings in the afternoon.
looking up to the collapsing library.
mosques rise up the mountains.
'nuff said.
even this church was a sniper target. here, my fingers dive into an old bullet wound...the cross seethes.
damn straight.
here, the eternal flame ain't so eternal. somebody light that thing!
i met some scots at my hostel (l-r, susan, alan, and emily) and we all went out for bosnian coffee, which is served in tiny cups...that waiter in the back was such a shit disturber, i loved him.
the strong black stuff...will keep you up till rapture.
drinking delish Havlat coffee. i love this photo.
during the war, bosnians suffered through snipers, mortar attacks, no electricity, no water, no food, and a completely useless NATO/UN force for nearly 4 years. in order to save themselves and their country, they secretly built an 800 metre tunnel that ran from a suburb to the airport, where they smuggled not only food and supplies, but soldiers during the night in order to fight the serbs. even the president used the tunnel at one point. it was only 1 meter in width and constantly flooded with water, but it became a symbol of bosnian resistance and courage. most of it has collapsed now, but you can still wander through 25 metres of it...here is it's opening.
the guide that took us through the tunnel told us that even she used it when she was 11 years old in order to get food for her starving family. people sometimes carried bundles heavier than their own weight, loaded with food and supplies. because they knew not when they'd get the chance to make it to the tunnel again.
the tunnel ran under this field, and to the airport which you can see in the background. the airport was under UN control during the war, but serb barbed wire and territory blocked bosnians from crossing the field to get to the airport. they were shot down if they tried to cross the lines. if, by chance, a bosnian actually had the good fortune to make it across to the airport, the UN would turn them away and force them to go back. hence the need for a tunnel.
photos of the destruction the war caused to the city
how is that car still functioning?
before the 92-95 war, sarajevo was famous for 2 things - the site where franz ferdinand was assassinated, and the 1984 winter olympics...what you see here is the remains of the olympic bobsled track that was built for those games. heavy serb bombing and shelling destroyed most of it, and there is very little of the track left. rubble litters the mountainside. this photo really haunts me.
i walked down the track...kids now use it for skateboarding.
this photo was an outtake, but i thought it was funny.
near the sight of the bobsled track, high in the mountains, is the site where serbs set up camp and lay siege to the city for nearly 4 years. from where they stood, they could see the entire city, and snipers could pick off people at will.
i was always told that there are rules, even in war. you don't kill innocent civilians indescriminantly. but this wasn't any war. this was genocide. this was a new holocaust, but it was muslims rotting away in concentration camps this time. this war introduced the term "ethnic cleansing" to the world's vocab.
in the center of the picture, that yellow building is the infamous holiday inn...
near the sniper's lair in the hills lay a dead snake...how appropos.
the holiday inn....this building gained infamy during the war as it was the only functioning hotel during the siege. journalist from around the world holed up in this yellow monstrosity, which was a target for snipers, as it stands at the beginning of sniper alley. journalists would literally have to make a mad dash through the front door. food and supplies were provided to the hotel via the tunnel during the war. it has since been given a facelift, and some of the staff from that time are still there.
it may look fine at first glance...
but you look up and still see some bullet wounds left untouched.
this was sniper alley. people on their way to work down this street would usually have to wait hours just to cross the street, or be shielded by the UN tanks...looking down it now, it's a ghost street. no major businesses or homes are built here. just cranes tearing down the crumbling skeletons of the past...
this is where the government for the new federation is based...
and it too is littered with bullet holes.
look closely at this photo. see all those grey dots?...that's a lot of plaster covering up those wounds...
i concur.
this popular café is called To Be Or Not To Be with the "or not" scratched out. the owner wanted to present a more positive message during the war.
what's eerie about the asphalt and concrete of Sarajevo is...when you see a marking like this in the ground, you know what happened here. after 3 days, i immediately could recognize the distinctive crater...and immediately know it was left by a mortar. this particular mortar killed 9 sarajevans.
and these mortar craters are everywhere you walk.
after the war, Sarajevans filled in some of these mortar craters with red resin to mark the spot where a Sarajevan died...
they call them Sarajevo Roses.
i stood there and felt weak.
because the Sarajevo Roses grow in too many flower beds.
why is there a pizzeria called Bill Gates? there wasn't anything microsoft-related on their menu. i seriously doubt mr gates is aware of this.
look at this massive fucking pizza they gave me. i shared it with Nir (he's on my right). he was from israel and was totally cool.
after Microsoft-Pizza, we all went out to the bustling city centre to watch the final game of Euro 2008. on the screen there, you can see the ridiculous opening ceremony show.
l-r, me, emilay, susan, bip and rhianne from the netherlands, and alan...my side of the table was rooting for spain, their side rooted for germany
look at the people....VIVA ESPANA! VIVA LA REVOLUCION!! VIVA!!! YAY SPAIN!
the next day, i took a day trip to the city of mostar. at a staggering 10 degrees hotter on average than sarajevo (it was 38 degrees when i arrived!! bah!), the city was so beautiful and is the biggest tourist attraction in all of bosnia. this bridge you see here is a testament to the bosnian resolve and spirit. built circa 1556, it stood for 500 years strong and beautiful, until a croat mortar shell destroyed the entire thing in 1993. in november 2004, they rebuilt it as a big fuck you.
i won't.
the view from the bridge.
sunbathers below.
the city of mostar, ancient ottoman architecture barely survived the war.
in 2004, a decision was made to rebuild the bridge according to original 16th century building methods, and the old quarry outside mostar was duly unearthed. bridge building has changed significantly since the ottomans and since modern technology was not to interfere with the building process, serious msucle power had to be used. in 38 degree heat, you can imagine how much the construction team must have hated their job.
the original blocks that had fallend into the river in 1993 were unusable by the time they were recovered in 1996 but five rows of stone and the whoel abutment were still intact.
beautiful in it's irregularity
38 degrees ouside...but the water was near freezing temperatures! my toe-toes froze!
holy handsome diver boy on the ledge!!! take off the speedo!!
yawn.
the ottoman markets of mostar
perfect photo, if you ask me. i'm such a good photographer, give me a medal please.
this is a video i took from the mountains surrounding sarajevo, so you can see just how perfect a staging point it was for the serbian siege.
---
i had a dream about "mr. bigg" the other night. he was in his pink pullover sweater that he wears quite often...he looked at me and i knew i was in trouble. i don't know why i dreamed about him, except for maybe perhaps because....tomorrow, it will be 2 years since we met. and about 2 months since i cut him out of my life.
so i´d been to croatia before, but i don´t think i knew how much like vienna or prague that zagreb really is. architecture and scents and breezes and faces. steeples rose up like a gift to the sky-gods. cafes and churches nestled in little nooks and small thoroughfares. outdoor fruit and veg markets with people competing to sell the sweetest peaches and the juicest cherries. although i feel like i am suffering from a deplorable lack of curiositzy. when i used to backpack three years ago, i would take bus tours, walking tours, audio tours...any tour i could find to help me learn about the place i was in...i haven´t been doing that on this trip. only once in istanbul, that´s it. granted, i haven´t seen any other city that offers something like that, tourism is so new to so many of these places. but i really have been kind of floating in and out of cities.
me, all sweaty and gross under the blazing heat of mid-june.
stages and hip hop concerts that everyone ignores.
love, scratched into stone.
seriously, this is a vienna-clone!
this funicular cost 4 kuna (about 80 cents) and took me up to the old part of the city which rests on a hill.
going up
look out there.
so many quiet streets to run down....to run away in.
i then climbed up the lotrscak tower which has a 360 degree view of the city.
that church over there has a roof decorated like the croat flag.
looks like italy. tastes like chicken.
in this video, i decided i wanted everyone to hear what i´ve been listening to on my mp3 player. so i put my earplugs up to the camera´s microphone and started filming...watch this the whole way through. i spontaneously decided at the end to lift the camera up to the heavens, and it fits with the descrescendo of the song.
awww.....pussy.
fountains and street lamps.
this is the entrance to the stone gate, one old entrance to the city.
they´ve turned the underpass of the gate into an altar to remember those lost in the recent serb-croat war.
names are chipped into the bricks...and the bricks go on forever.
whirling and winding streets.
this is the dolac..the fruit n´veg market. i was in vegetarian-heaven.
i bought peaches, nectarines, cherries, cucumbers and tomatoes.
in the sticky-calm of the evening, i took a bus north of the city to the mirogoj cemetery, which is reputed to be the most beautiful cemetery in all of europe. the reputation is right. all of the tombs and altars and graves were the most ornate i´ve ever seen and i could not get over the thought, care, and artistry people put into honouring the dead.
yes, that is indeed a tomb.
why is jesus doing the Saturday-Night-Fever-disco dance?
i sat with antonija for a while. i ate cherries and told her my secrets. her photo, embossed in the granite, said little. she is a good listener.
---
driton, who has been to zagreb before, recomended i go to a place called Jarun, a man-made lake complex, where i was able to swim with swa
this photo was taken of me about a month ago when i was in belgrade, serbia. this demonstrates how unglamorous backpacking can be...and also how exhilarating it is.
