My last day in Serbia. It was a bittersweet experience for me. I got up at 8:00 (but didn't want to, even after getting 8 hours of sleep :P) because Nikola had his exam and we were going to meet Masha right afterwards, and since his college was very close to the square where we would meet Masha, it was decided that I should go with him when he took his test and we would walk over to meet her afterwards. Nikola was kind of stressed about his test (I was glad that wasn't just a Princeton thing, or even an American thing :]) but when he told me how much the other people he knew had studied, I assured him that he had done far more than any of them and should be fine. Breakfast was cereal (much like cream of wheat) which I ate with cold milk and cranberry tea. I like the cranberry tea and sincerely hoped that I could find something like it when I got to St. Petersburg - knowing how fond Russians are of the drink, I knew that I would have to either get accustomed to the taste or find myself a suitable alternative (unfortunately, I don't like tea or coffee :P).
We took a tram to Nikola's college, which turned out to be an adventure in itself as the routes were all changed on account of there being construction on the street where his college was located. So, the tram that we got on turned out to be going the wrong way, and we ended up hopping off and walking most of the way there. Fortunately the weather had cleared up significantly and it was quite a pleasant morning. However, as I did not discover until we were almost at his college, I had forgotten to bring anything to do while he took his test, and so I was forced to sit and wait for him in the cafe downstairs. Apart from being exceedingly boring, this was the first public place where I had been for an extended amount of time without Nikola, and as I still only knew a few words of Serbian, it was a bit of a nerve-wracking experience. I sat quietly at a table in the corner, and it wasn't long before the proprietor of the cafe (who also doubled as the waiter) came over and asked me something, which I took to be whether I wanted something to eat or drink. I shook my head and said, "Nishta, hvala", (nothing, thank you) and he moved on and didn't speak to me again, so I think I guessed correctly. However, I hadn't been sitting there long before a woman in her early 30s approached me and asked a rapid-fire question in Serbian. Once I recovered from the small shock of being spoken to, I looked at her apologetically and explained, "Ne govorim srpski" (I don't speak Serbian) at which she replied, "Izvinite" (sorry) and moved on to ask someone else for directions (for that is what seemed to be the purpose of her question). After surviving these two encounters, my courage was somewhat bolstered and I began to look around with more interest. A television along one wall was tuned to the Discovery channel, so while I waited for Nikola to finish his exam I watched "How Stuff Works" followed by "How Things are Made" (Kako se pravi in Serbian), all muted with Serbian subtitles, which made my experience only slightly less enjoyable :P. Finally, after what seemed like much longer than 90 minutes, Nikola finished his exam and came down to the cafe to rescue me. He wasn't very happy with how he did, but I can testify that he studied for quite some time and I hope he'll be pleasantly surprised by his grade.
One interesting feature of the Serbian higher education system, which I think might be abused if we implemented it here in the States, was the ability for the students to push back their exams to another deadline if they don't feel ready for them. The students are given something like 6 deadlines for each class, and various individual projects and exams are assigned to each deadline. However, if a student feels that as the deadline approaches he or she is not ready to hand in the assignment or take the exam, they have the option of pushing it back to the next deadline, which may be a week or several months. For instance, some of Nikola's friends who are in the same semantics class as he took the exam for on this day chose to push it back to the next deadline, which was in September. Additionally, at the beginning of the exam period, Nikola told me that the teacher announced that there would also be an opportunity to take this particular exam the next week (at which about half of the students walked out of the exam room, much to the instructor's dismay). The only danger with this system, as Nikola explained it to me, is that if a student pushes back too many exams or assignments, they can become overloaded at the next deadline (or forget everything they had learned in the class, as I would imagine it would be easy to do when not taking the exam for a spring semester class until the following September).
After Nikola's exam, we walked to the nearby square to meet Masha. I had heard a lot about her, and seen many of her pictures (she is an excellent photographer of everyday and sometimes unconventional subjects), and I was very excited at this chance to finally meet her (and I hope I can say that she was looking forward to meeting me as well). She was smaller than I imagined (her head probably came up to my chin) but otherwise what I expected. She is quite nice but a little on the quiet side and she has the air of someone who thinks a lot before saying anything. I was very much impressed with her and I am very glad to have had the chance to finally meet her face-to-face. Her English is good, and although Nikola warned me about her British accent, I can't say that I noticed one. We bought coffee at a local cafe and were about to begin walking around (in Kalemegdan, the park that is next to the fortress we had gone to on Monday) when we met another significant person.
When Nikola had returned from choir practice the night before, he had told me enthusiastically about the guest conductor for his choir (they had a concert yesterday, Monday the 7th). His name is Gilad and it turns out that he is a graduate student studying music at - where else - PRINCETON!! I laughed when he told me - it seems that now that I'm a Princetonian I can't get away from it, even halfway around the world :]]. Anway, Gilad was also at the cafe wheter we stopped to get drinks and I promptly introduced myself to him. Nikola had told me that he didn't speak very much Serbian (as it turns out, I never heard him speak any - I think I know more than he does :P) but that he did speak English (which I would hope, since he studies at Princeton :]). As it turns out, he is from Israel (which makes sense, since Nikola's choir is part of the Jewish community in Belgrade) and he has quite a strong accent. When I told him that I am also a student at Princeton he exclaimed, "Why haven't we met!? There are only 7,000 students there!!" (I thought, "That would be precisely my explanation for why we haven't met...") He was surprised at my excellent English until I explained that I wasn't actually Serbian, just there visiting Nikola (why is everyone surprised that I am in Serbia? Do Americans not visit Serbia ever? Perhaps that's a question I don't really want the answer to... ;]) It turns out that Gilad has been the music director for several theater productions at Princeton, including a couple that I tried out for (but as I haven't been casted for anything yet, I hadn't actually crossed paths with him). He told me which shows he would be involved with in the fall, however, and encouraged me to try out for them (who knows, maybe knowing the music director will help me get a role? I don't dare to hope). I assured him that I would come to the choir practice that night, and we parted for the time being. Not having actually inquired of him myself, I asked Nikola, "Is he American? He doesn't sound it..." To which Nikola promptly replied, "No, he's Jewish." At the look Masha and I gave him simultaneously, he realized his mistake and informed us that Gilad was, in fact, Israeli, but his slip-up allowed both Masha and I a few laughs at his expense (sorry, Nikola, I had to include that. It was too funny to leave out :] <3).
After meeting Gilad, Masha, Nikola and I wandered around Kalemegdan park for a while. When we reached the other side, we were opposite the Belgrade zoo. When I expressed interest in the zoo, Masha candidly suggested that we go in, which met with delighted squeals from me and a roll of the eyes from Nikola. However, he finally consented and to my endless delight, we took a tour through the zoo. (I took about 240 pictures in Belgrade. 140 of them are of the zoo animals, if that gives you any idea ;]). The zoo was somewhat run-down and the cages were small, and Masha, who had been coming to the zoo nearly her entire life, could remember some of the animals being there when she was a small child. It was also interesting how in one exibit would be a lion, and across the path, a pen of donkeys. (The lioness was pacing her cage, eyeing the donkeys.) There were giraffes and an elephant in the zoo, but also black bears, racoons, a couple of crows, and several breeds of dog. The zoo didn't smell very nice, either :P After an hour or two of wandering around, we had seen everything worth seeing in the zoo (although Nikola would probably tell you that that happened much earlier ;]) and we left again. On the way back to Nikola's apartment, we all had to use the bathroom, so we stopped in to a MacDonalds. You had to pay (not very much, just a few dinars) to get into the bathroom!! There was an attendant outside waiting to collect the money before you could enter either bathroom (but the bathroom itself looked much like those in America). However, I suppose that it is an effective way to ensure the cleanliness of public restrooms, since not just anyone will be able to stop in and use it at will.
Back at Nikola's apartment, I began the sad task of reconstraining all of my belongings to my two suitcases in order to be ready to leave early the next morning. Nikola kindly volunteered his mother to wash my laundry (although I would have been happy to do it myself) and since I had been careful not to spread my belongings too much, it wasn't difficult to gather everything and repack it.
We skipped lunch this day because we were waiting to have a very special supper - chevapi. It is, again, a food of Turkish origin, and very delicious. It consists of a large fried pastry in which is placed meat (sausage) and onions, also fried. Not so healthy, perhaps, but quite satisfying. In addition, we were going to meet Nikola's best childhood friend Lazar and have dinner together with him. So at 6:00 we set out, stomachs grumbling, for the square in which we would meet Lazar and walk together to the cafe. However, Lazar was late and we were just about to head to the cafe without him when yet another adventure found us. A young woman about our age approached us, speaking in Serbian (she was evidently selling something). By this point, I had learned to be silent and let Nikola handle any interaction of this sort, but to my surprise he gave her a blank stare and said, in English, "Um, we don't... speak a language." At my quizzical and somewhat exasperated glance, he silently indicated for me to play along, which I did with a roll of my eyes. In broken English, the lady then explained to us her purpose - she was selling cards to benefit some sort of charity, and wondered whether we would want to buy one. Nikola said, "Well, I don't know, what do you think?" and looked at me, but I was not going to let him force this decision on me, since it was his idea to play dumb. I said, "I don't know, you're the one with the money" and he told the girl that we weren't interested, at which she moved off to bother another group of tourists. I could have smacked Nikola right then, but he turned to me with an impish grin on his face and said, "Her English is getting better. Next time, I might even buy a card if she keeps improving like this." Horrified, I exclaimed, "You've done this before!?!?" at which he just laughed and told me that it was fun to play the part of a dumb tourist. With a reprimanding look I informed him that it was fun as long as you were only acting and could actually speak the language, at which he looked a little more sheepish and we continued on our way.
Since it was nearing the end of my time in Belgrade, I was beginning to search for a souvenir, something cheap and preferably cheesy that would help me remember my time here with a smile. We searched at several street booths and tourist shops, but everything we found was either too cheesy (or useless), too fragile, or too expensive. I also didn't really know what I wanted - perhaps a magnet, perhaps a small figurine... but then we saw the buttons. Nikola, when he had been in the States, had been an avid button collector (when I say button I mean the small round pins that have some silly (or crude) message, or a picture of a band, or a smiley face on them), and I had a small collection of my own at home. So when I saw a posterboard covered in buttons at one of the street stands, I couldn't resist taking a closer look. Most of them were surprisingly lewd or in bad taste, or too American to remind me of Serbia (South Park? Somehow Belgrade doesn't come to mind :P). But then we found one - a simple white button with black cyrillic lettering which spelled "long live chirillitsi". I got the "long live" part, but had to ask "what's 'chi-ri-li-tsi?'" Nikola replied, "This." I was confused. "The button?" I guessed. Rolling his eyes, Nikola said, "No, this. The letters." I had a sudden epiphany. CYRILLIC!!! We both had a good laugh at my foolishness, and I knew that I had found the perfect souvenir.
After chevapi, we met Danilo also walking to choir and headed over in a group. However (as I should have known) the adventures were far from over for the night. The building where Nikola has choir also contains a police station, and walking past the officers at the entrance had always made me a little nervous (I think I was supposed to register with the local police station on arrival, and as far as I know I never did O.o). On this day, there were more men in uniform around than usual, and Danilo (in jest) said, "Ooh, Secret Service. Gentlemen, deport this woman!" Which I promptly informed him was not in the least entertaining. However, when we went to enter the building, we were stopped by the guard who asked our names. Nikola and Danilo explained that they were with the choir and going to rehearsal, but when he came to me, after hearing that I was Nikola's friend visiting from America, he informed me that I would not be allowed to enter the building (apparently some hot-shot ambassador was visiting and he was afraid that I would assassinate him or something??). This news terrified me - if I couldn't go in with Nikola and Danilo, what was I supposed to do? The guard informed me that I could sit in the lobby or outside and wait for them to finish, but sitting alone within sight of the police officers for two and a half hours appealed to me about as much as sitting in a pit of tarantulas for the same amount of time. I began frantically trying to recall the way back to Nikola's apartment - if only I had paid more attention during the week!!! If Nikola walked me home, he would be unforgiveably late to choir, but I still had no working cell phone in Belgrade, so if I got lost trying to find my way back, I would have no idea how to even get help. I had no Serbian currency in my wallet and no inclination to try and find the proper bus that would take me back to Kralja Aleksandar (Nikola's street, which also happens to be the largest street in Belgrade). However, in the midst of my panic, I was saved by a Secret Service agent who happened to come by at that moment. The guard had a hurried conversation with him in which he inquired as to what to do with me: the agent gave me a cursory glance and told the guard with a look that said "You're taking yourself too seriously" that I didn't look like I would pose a problem (at least, that's what I imagine he said. He could have said any number of things, since he was speaking Serbian). The guard told me that I would, in fact, be allowed to accompany Nikola and Danilo and then, turning to Danilo and with a serious look on his face, said "Take care of her." I was too relieved that I wouldn't have to find my way through Belgrade at 7:30 at night to wonder what exactly he meant by that. O.o
Choir practice was uneventful, except that Gilad (who was conducting) couldn't speak Serbian and only about half of the choir could understand his heavily-accented English and American colloquialisms, and even less could communicate back to him. He continued on with fortitude, however, seemingly somewhat oblivious to the trouble he was putting the singers through. He also faced a great deal of difficulty in getting them to be quiet, much more so than with an American choir (I think that's a cultural thing). It was amusing, to say the least.
After choir practice, although I was quite aware that I would have to get up extremely early the next morning and so was more than willing to go back to the apartment and get a good night's sleep, Nikola had other ideas. We went to a kafana (like a tavern) across the street, in the hotel that Gilad was staying in, and hung out over a few drinks (I had water). Gilad turned out to be quite an amusing character and quite teasable, which we all took advantage of. All of Nikola's friends spoke in English (for the most part) for Gilad's and my sake, and I loved the strong Eastern European or British accents, the bad English, and the rowdy atmosphere. All in all, it was the most fun I had had all week, just hanging out with a bunch of kids my age and being ourselves. That is something that is shared across all cultures, no matter what form it takes.
Finally, around 11:30, a group of us bid Gilad good night and started walking home. Nikola, Danilo, Jelena, Mila and I were all heading the same direction, so we started off together, continuing the conversations from in the kafana. Nikola grabbed my camera and started snapping pictures of us walking and talking together - they are some of my favorite from Belgrade. As each member of the group peeled off, they each expressed their disappointment that I was leaving the next day and made me promise to keep in touch through Facebook or Skype. They also begged me to return someday (perhaps at a time of year less stressful for the students, when they didn't have to study for finals). It was amazing how friendly Nikola's friends were, and how much we bonded in only one short week. I do sincerely hope that this won't be my only visit to The White City.
When we finally arrived back at Nikola's apartment, it was already midnight, but the time spent at the kafana and walking home was infinitely more valuable than another hour or two of sleep. On our way home, we had walked past a statue of the only Serbian to ever win a Nobel Prize, and Nikola told me that I would need to remember that. I didn't know what he meant until we arrived at his apartment and his mother informed me that she had a present for me: the book for which Ivo Andric won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1961, The Bridge on the Drina. (Thank you, Wikipedia ;]) I was touched by the gesture, especially since I had been the one imposing on the Stojanovics all week and if anything, I should be giving them gifts (I had brought a housewarming present of some European chocolate, but it could hardly be appropriate for everything they had done for me :\). I went to bed that night happy about everything that I had had the chance to experience, but sad and disbelieving that my time in Belgrade was nearly over.
No comments:
Post a Comment