Balkan Blitzkreig

Day 1

The morning after the Christmas celebration Justin and I woke up fairly early because I hoped to get to Mostar, Bosnia by that night. We made our final preparations before heading out and stopping to buy some goodies for the road. I filled up a gallon zip-lock bag with a mixture of pretzels, pumpkin and sunflower seeds, spicy peanuts, raisins, m & m’s, walnuts, and dried banana slices. We then hopped on a van to take us north to Shkoder. From there we walked to the city center and got a taxi to Ulcinj, Montenegro to get a bus to the capital of Podgorica. With how busy I was in the weeks leading up to Christmas, I had little time to plan so I only planned out a destination itinerary and made sure that there were suitable connection available. Therefore, most of the time that I was awake during transport was used to read up on the places we were going and come up with a plan of attack.

When we arrived in Podgorica, I found out that there was not a bus to Bosnia until evening so we would have to spend the day in the city despite the guidebook saying there was nothing to see. When I asked the information desk what they recommended to see, one lady said there was a shopping mall nearby. We decided to walk toward the city center and stumbled upon the landmark mall and took a peek inside. The mall was modern and the same as a nice mall in the US. Although it was nice to see such development, I immediately noticed how almost every advertisement used sex appeal. Looking from a balcony down into the coffee lounge, I saw that the walls were covered with scantily clad women and I was saddened by the reality that this is our modern westernized culture. From that point, I thought critically about development in the Balkans because these countries are rapidly modernizing, but it was obvious how material desires were what the people believed represented a better life. With all of our development, our country has some of the most serious problems because of materialism and this was now being passed to the rest of the world.

We then walked down the street to find something to eat and we saw a pizza sign above an apartment building entrance and went to check it out. There were no more signs and only dark hallways upstairs and downstairs, but the closest door did smell like food. Justin and I paused to think if this plain white door could be the place. I creaked the door to peer inside and only saw plain white walls and a kitchen. I decided to venture inside to say hello and a voice called from the kitchen saying, “telephone.” The lady emerged and, after some hand signals, I understood that it was only a take-out establishment. However, we explained that we were Americans and the lady gave us A Warm Welcome insisting that we sit in the small living room. She knew no English, but tried to communicate some things on the menu and we ordered two pizzas. Soon her two sons and daughter came in, but none of them knew much English either. The mother had asked me if I was a Serb before because she did not believe we were Americans and then she said that I looked like Novak Djokovic, who is there favorite athlete (Pan-Serbism). Then two friends of the oldest boy came in and talked about us for a while before the one asked if we were Americans. He also did not understand how Americans ended up in the living room.

Everyone sat down in the living room and we began having a conversation through the translation by Milos. The three friends were all studying economics at the university together, but Milos had lived in Miami for a few months so he knew English. He described how they had just woken up (3pm) because they were up late partying like they do every night. The local university was very cheap and they did not seem to take it very seriously. We talked about how clubbing seemed to be a part of the Slavic culture in Eastern Europe because that is the main entertainment. He told us that we were going to love Belgrade because that was the party city of the Balkans. I asked them about Montenegrins and they said that most people were lazy. I asked how everyone provided for themselves if they did not take work or school seriously. Milos told us a local saying about a Montenegrin man spending $500 a month even though he only makes $300, but you should not ask where the money comes from. The government only collects a flat rate 17% property tax so expenses are low. I asked about history and culture, but they mostly insisted that the younger generation did not care about the old tensions and wanted to get out of the country. We stayed there for a couple hours and I noticed that they acted very casually in their home despite rarely encountering foreigners. It was cool to get an inside look at a normal family to see how they interacted and what they talked about.

We were encouraged to visit the city center before leaving so we arranged to leave our bags and return for dinner before catching our bus. We walked along the streets of what seemed to be an average city finding some bridges across the river and an interesting statue of a shirtless guitarist. The old part of the city consisted of many bombed out houses and winding narrow streets that were quite dark at night so we headed back for some sandwiches, but had only broken conversation because Milos and friends had gone to get some breakfast. We thanked them for welcoming us into our house and then boarded our night bus for Mostar. I got some sleep but there was a young boy who wanted to play with a ball, we had to wake up for border crossings, and I did not want to miss our stop.

I had been told that the bus would stop in Mostar, but we were driving around the city and then the bus driver stopped along the road. I mentioned the bus station but he shook his head and pointed into the city saying, “City center, 6km.” We trudged off the bus at 1:30 am and decided that we would walk into the city to find a hostel. We walked with our thumbs out to grab a ride in, but no one stopped. Our spirits remained fairly high as we made it into the old city center in an hour. We took A Short Rest on the bridge to take in the old town dimly lit in the middle of the night. This was the most famous bridge in the Balkans because it was originally built by Suleiman the Magnificent in the 17th century, but it was destroyed in 1993 by Croatians during the siege of the city.

After a short walk through the town, we looked for the hostels that I had listed in my book but most of them were closed. We found a nice place, but the man said that there was no room. I was very surprised that they were full in the winter but he suggested a few other places. Everything was closed. We walked for hours through the streets but everything seemed boarded up for winter. I remarked to Justin that it felt like we were Mary and Joseph before Christmas and he was excited because he had been thinking the same thing but was unsure about who represented Mary and who was Joseph. My adventurous traveling confidence was unraveling as I tried to solve these Riddles in the Dark. It was 4:30 am and we were about to give up and hope the bus station would be open to rest, but then I walked past an open doorway and saw some lettering out of the corner of my eye. I turned around and approached a door that said 0-24 hour pension thinking it would be locked, but it was open. We walked upstairs and found no one around. There was one door with the key in it so I decided that we should stay there for the night and pay the owner in the morning. Justin was uncomfortable at first, but we were very tired and I thought this may be protocol for people arriving in the middle of the night. There was evening and there was morning on the first day.

Day 2

We slept late into the morning and then found the lady in charge who pointed to the room and we signaled that we had slept there. She was surprised to know that we had arrived so late, but it was no issue. We walked back to the bridge to take in the old city during the day. The white cobblestone streets were lined with some souvenir shops and Ottoman style architecture and it was interesting to see people in the city since we only saw one man from Sweden and a guard at night. There was a great view of the bridge and surrounding city from the garden of an old mosque. The Clouds Burst forth in the morning light above the bridge and the surrounding town. This was the only day we could see clouds in the sky because the other days were covered with thick fog or totally clear. Along the river, there was a lot of water flowing down from the mountain through the tiered streets of the city in canals. It was quite quaint but small, so we soon made our way to the bus station and caught a perfectly timed 12:55 pm bus to Sarajevo. During the journey, the road hugged the river valley before going Over Hill and Under Hill through the twisting roads and tunnels of the snowy Bosnian countryside. The scenery was very similar with Albania until we began to climb in elevation and suddenly broke into a wintry landscape. Being the eve of Christmas Eve, it was nice to have snow.

When we arrived in Sarajevo, I stopped at the information booth to ask at what time there were buses to Belgrade, but the lady said that there were no buses. I knew there had to be buses between these neighboring capital cities, but she insisted that there was not. As we left the bus station, I realized that we were Not At Home anymore because the snow-covered bustling city was different than anything in Albania and I knew nothing about what to do next. I asked about train times at the nearby train station only to be told that there was none. Now I was perplexed because my information told me there would be several buses a day and at least one train. I analyzed my travel book before noticing in the fine print that there was a second bus station, so I returned to inquire about this but the lady acted like she didn’t know. I then pushed the book through the little talking window and had here read the name of the station. She paused to think for a while and then slowly pointed into the distance saying, “other bus station, very far, taxi.” I asked there was a number we could call to ask about times, but she said no. That is traveling in the Balkans for you. Many information people knew unbelievably little about transportation options at their location. I decided to ask a taxi driver for more information, then arranged for him to take us out to the station that was 8 km outside the city to buy a ticket and then back to the city center to my desired hostel. We climbed the spiraling stairs of a Soviet-era concrete apartment block to the fourth floor and entered Hostel City Center.

We were greeted by a wonderfully cheerful receptionist and checked into a room. It was a great atmosphere with a large common area, free computer use, and clean rooms. It felt good to know where we would lay our heads that night. I asked Azra many questions and she gave me a lot of Inside Information that gave me confidence that we could see everything in the time available and accomplish our only jointly pre-determined goal for the trip; to watch The Hobbit. Of course, when I asked about the distant station, she knew the phone number by heart and called to confirm some details. During our conversation, some other guys came in and we decided to go out to dinner with them to a recommended joint to try the local favorite, Cevapcici, which is kebab sausage meat with pita, onion, and sour cream. Nick was from Iowa and was studying in Istanbul, John was from Alabama and was teaching English in Istanbul, and Adrian was from Canada and was studying in Vienna. We later wondered through the streets until we found the stands of the Christmas market and entered the recommended beer tent for more socialization. We drank some local beer on Barrels Out of Bond from the crowded tables. The conversation was natural and we had many opportunities to joke with Adrian about being Canadian among other things.

It was time. We made plans to meet up tomorrow morning for a guided tour of the city led by me and my book and headed toward the theater. This part of the city was busy with people, not necessarily normal in Balkan cities, and I located a contingent of Al-Jazeera. The theater looked like home and we entered our theater 15 minutes before showing time. We found it strange that we were On the Doorstep of this epic event, but we were alone in the theater. Sure enough the people poured in within 10 minutes and the movie started. For some reason, I was just incredibly excited to be able to see this movie on our trip. The movie was not showing in Albania, so we would have had to wait until we returned to the states to see the movie so this was a unique opportunity. The Hobbit was certainly different than the Lord of the Rings and there were certain scenes that were there because they were drawing it out into three movies, but I knew these things going in so I was pleased with the outcome and very entertained the whole way through.

Day 3

The next morning we ate breakfast at the hostel and left for the morning tour minus Nick, but with the addition of two surprisingly pleasant French-speaking individuals, Hafssa and Etienne. We first headed up the hill to get a commanding view of the city. On the way we saw the huge Muslim graveyard where they buried many of the 18,000 people who were killed between 1992 and 1996 during the Serbian siege of the city. We continued to a museum that was built into the walls of the old Austrian fortress that honored the popular first president of BiH Alija Izetbegovic before climbing the ramparts for our view over the city. Unfortunately, the view greatly limited by the fog, but it gave a mysterious aura to the recently war-torn city. From there you could see how the city sat below the mountains that surrounded the city, which were occupied by enemy artillery and snipers. From this position, they slowly lobbed shells into the city to break damage and break the spirit of those trying to continue their lives in the city. The city held out through those four years connected to the outside world only through a long narrow tunnel that delivered UN protected humanitarian aid.

The group then went to a wonderfully preserved 18th century Ottoman household. It was fascinating to explore this living space that was decorated and outfitted in the same way it would have been centuries ago when Turks controlled the region. The rooms were full of beautiful carpets, furniture, and woodwork. The kitchen had many huge iron pots and sectioned off places for Fire and Water needed for the cooking and cleaning necessary to host parties. The complex had three buildings with walled of courtyards in between. The first building was used only for business purposes, the second was the main living space, and the third was for hosting family and guests during celebrations.

Next, we headed back down into the cobbled streets of the old city to look at some of the more impressive buildings and to take in the atmosphere. We stopped for a burek snack before locating one of the last remaining Sarajevo Roses, holes made by exploding shells that were filled in with red paint to memorialize the many who died during the siege. Then, after some impatience, we visited the place where Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria was shot. There was just a plaque on the wall along a normal street marking the spark of WWI. The anarchist assassin was supposedly eating a sandwich and was not planning anything special that day, but when the Archduke’s car was drawn off-course and stopped directly in front of him, he took advantage of the opportunity. Wanting to expand their power, Austria-Hungary blamed the attack on Serbia and declared war. In turn, Russia came to the aid of its Slavic brothers and so all the members of the Allied and Central powers were drawn into the war.

The guided tour was over so we decided to return to the beer tent for more conversation. Later that night, Justin and I talked with a local shopkeeper about his views of the war and political situation. He argued that the recent war was between factions of Tito's communist government who were doing whatever necessary to secure power, but that Serbia committed the most atrocities only because it had the most guns. He also talked about the rampant corruption that remained in government throughout the Balkans and how the people's drive to succeed was handicapped by a system where it was more important who you knew than what you could do. The political system was stagnant because everyone was still fearful of war sentiments used by politicians to get the populace to vote only along ethnic lines (Muslim, Serb, Croatian) maintaining the status quo. Before leaving we found an atmospheric Turkish joint for some more local cuisine before going to a hookah bar with our friends to experience this unique part of traditional Turkish culture. After saying goodbye, we took a taxi out to the bus station and boarded our night train to Belgrade.

Day 4

Once again, sleep was interrupted by the border crossing and we arrived around 4 am. For all its fame, Belgrade turned out to be a confusing tourist city with Queer Lodgings. In the freezing wind we found the train station to find an unsatisfactory and confusing schedule before heading toward the city center. We walked several kilometers an viewed some huge Romanesque buildings illuminated in the light. As the sun rose we stumbled into the city center and began looking for a hostel but we were unable to locate any hostel from my book. I felt it was very strange to have so many bleak residential buildings and no accommodation near the touristic center. 

Finally, around 7am we found a sign for "Time Hostel" in an alley and pushed the button to signal our arrival. There was no response, so I pushed it again for a few seconds and the door unlocked. We went upstairs and knocked on the door that claimed there was 24 hour service. The door opened and a very large bearded man (looked like an Orthodox priest with a long braid of hair) stepped into the opening and asked in a very impatient tone what we wanted. I thought this was an interesting question and was surprised at his hospitality but I simply responded that we were looking for a room. He immediately responded in a low voice, "there is no room" as if to proclaim God's coming wrath on sinners before turning around a slamming the door. I turned to Justin in confusion and he was very surprised...at least we would have a good story to tell.

I was annoyed by the fact that we were looking for hours for a hostel only to find one and be rudely turned away by a 24-hour hostel with laughable service. The only possible justification I could imagine is that he did not anticipate being interrupted on Christmas morning, but then I remembered that Orthodox Christmas was not until January. It turned out for the best because within 15 minutes we saw a small sign for "Hostel 360" off a main street so we took a very small elevator up to the 8th floor. Instructions were to wait until office hours at 9am if we did not have a reservation, so we took this opportunity to head to the McDonald's for an ironic Christmas breakfast that was quite the contrast to my family tradition of eating home-made eggs Benedict before opening gifts. 

We returned to the hostel and met the owner Dejan on the steps who set us up with a nice room. I asked him several questions and he told me the easiest way to Romania was with a private van service that would pick us up and go direct. With that figured out, we continued to converse and he was surprised by some of my perspectives that he found very mature and thought-provoking. Intrigued by the depth of his thinking and focus on enlightenment I inquired about his spiritual life and he told me that he was a practicing Orthodox Christian, but had found great fulfillment in the Chinese discipline of Falun Dafa. He described how every morning he did this mental exercise (similar to Yoga) that cleared his mind of anxiousness and anger and allowed him to live above the drone of material existence. This was fascinating to me because I would have never expected a Serbian Orthodox to practice some Chinese exercise that I had never heard of, which was apparently heavily persecuted under the Mao regime because of its popularity.

He described how modern exercise and education had lost much of its intended value. Students should meditate between classes to clear their mind and to reflect on what they learned with the goal of self-improvement rather than thinking of education only as the necessary means to a material end. Yoga and martial arts are performed only for their physical benefits removing the mental exercise that helped the individual find inner calm and freedom from attachments. We discussed how Western society only focuses on material advancement and no longer teaches morality or life principles of enlightenment and fulfillment. I commented that structures of power keep their position by maintaining this mirage that happiness is found through material wealth, so the Chinese government likely attacked Falun Dafa because it was something that brought true happiness and fulfillment that was not connected to money making it a threat to the powers that control our world. We discussed how eastern philosophy and religion focuses on gaining freedom from worldly attachment, that these ideas connected with the teaching of Jesus, and that this message was something that our world needed greatly in this busy modern age.

Eventually, Justin and I headed toward the ancient fortress that had stood guard over the Danube River and had been the site of hundreds of battles. The walls surrounding the citadel were most recently reconstructed by the Ottomans. The view from the edge offered a commanding panorama view over the river and the new city beyond but it was greatly limited by the thick fog that would continue to follow us through the end of the trip. We visited the a few Orthodox chapels that were tucked into the slopes and I clipped my nails with my legs dangling over the edge of the wall (why not?) before we visited the extensive military museum.

The museum covered the history of the region chronologically, but the most fascinating were those from WW1 and 2. Serbia had fought with the Allies in both wars and had been completely devastated along with Bosnia and other regions by the back and forth slaughter. While Serbs were ethnically cleansing Muslims from near their borders, the Croatian fascist Ustase were doing the same thing to Serbs with greater brutality than Hitler's SS. The last few centuries in the Balkans have been full of deprivation and destruction that have created such a multi-layered complexity and scarred condition that has proven difficult to heal.

We walked around the city some more, but it was very bleak with very little historic or visual appeal. Turns out this Balkan hot-spot was well known more for its diversity of options for eating, shopping, and clubbing adhering to Slavic style. We ate some creamy tomato soup and Tiramisu at a bourgeois joint before resting at the hostel. In our room we met Jared who proved to be the exception to the hostel-surfing world traveler who was usually bent on getting drunk and sewing as many wild oats as possible in cities throughout the world. He was a rural Canadian evangelical Christian who was hoping to be travel for a year. He had only drank wine once to be polite, had never been to a club, and enjoyed journaling and reading his Bible. I found him to be a fascinatingly unusual specimen; he had never traveled outside of Alberta except to student-teach at a reservation school in the Northwest Territory, but after graduating college he decided he wanted some adventure so he walked out of his house with his pack and began hitchhiking a bit around Canada before falling in love with life on the road and deciding to get a flight oversees because he wanted to travel the world. It seemed that he was simply interested in new experiences while learning about new cultures and places and I don’t even think he had a camera. We were thinking of checking it out because it seemed like the must-see aspect of Belgrade, but it turned out that the famous spots were not open on a Tuesday night and the others were further away and not a party until after 1 am, so we decided against it.

After conversation, the three of us walked across town to a street that is famous for its bohemian restaurants and troupes of Roma musicians. We had many a lass come approach attempt to woo us into their eatery, but I insisted that I needed to walk the whole street before making a decision. After I told this to one lady she said, “I don’t think you will be back.” However, after perusing the options, the choice to return to her restaurant was clear to Justin because they served “big beers”…another example of how easily swooned he is by a simple sales pitch that wets his appetite. This place had a huge menu with various meat items including Roast Mutton and cow gonads. It got a little awkward when a group of musicians came into play for us. We were the only people in the restaurant and we knew they were looking for a tip but we had almost no cash apart from what we needed for dinner, so I offered the equivalent of a dollar but was snubbed off by the man saying it was too little. I was beginning to think the logic of the people in this city was a little lacking because they had decided to come into the emptiest restaurant to play for a group of young, ragged boys expecting a nice tip.

The two main things that travellers had raved about for Belgrade was the nightlife and the women. Since we had counted out clubbing, I had not noticed anything particularly impressive about the women in the city until I was greeted by the night receptionist of the hostel. She was a lot to handle and was dressed like she would be going clubbing that night, so I laughed in my head as I asked her about being picked up by the van in the morning before going to sleep.

Day 5

We were supposed to get a call at 7 in the morning telling us where to go, but I waited downstairs for over an hour. Just as I got up to figure out what other transportation options were available, the phone rang and we were soon coasting across the countryside and into Romania. I noticed the remains of many apartment blocks, factories, and what looked like nuclear power plants, the concrete remains of a Soviet obsession with industrialization.

When we arrived in Timisoara, we were dropped off right in front of a beautiful Orthodox Cathedral that was full of people. We stepped inside the warmest Cathedral atmosphere I have ever experienced as it was pulsing with Romanian believers filled with Christmas cheer and decorated with hundreds of candles and several Christmas trees. After taking in the rituals and icons, we headed across the street into the large open square that contained another Christmas market with hundreds of goody-filled booths and we stopped to eat some pork along with pita stuffed with cheese and sauerkraut. We paused at the curious sight of a man dressed as a Native American who was dancing and playing a traditional wind-pipe instrument drawing a captive audience.

We continued into the historic center of the city with another large open square that shouted Austrian architecture. There were two large cathedrals surrounded by multi-colored houses covered by windows that reflected the rococo style common in the Austro-Hungarian Empire during the 18th and 19th centuries when it reached into Romania. We walked around a little more of the city until Justin’s knee began to bother him because he had slept awkwardly during our bus-ride the other night, so we sought solace from the cold indoors. This proved difficult because most places were closed and it seemed like most people had the same idea, but we finally found a coffee shop where we remained for several hours. I used this time to finish reading the brief histories for each of the countries that we would be visiting.

We decide to enjoy the Christmas atmosphere before heading way out to the train station where I had earlier bought tickets for a 9pm night train. When we got there, I asked for more specific directions from a group of men who were waiting out by the tracks but they kept pointing down the tracks and I could not understand what they were trying to say. Eventually one man pointed to his wrist and I realized what had happened…we had missed the train because the time had changed to one hour ahead in Romania and we had gone about our day unaware of this. One of the men helped to explain what happened to the ticket lady who showed little sympathy. I could tell she was saying to him that it doesn’t matter where they are from, everyone has the same hours on the clock and should not miss a train…I was not going to argue with that. Luckily, we got an 80% refund for the tickets and found a taxi driver who knew where an open hostel was. The people working in the hostel were nice but surprisingly not very stimulating and I was more interested in going to bed in preparation for an early morning bus.

Day 6

Justin and I slept for most of our long ride across the snowy Romanian countryside into Transylvania. We walked from the Sibiu bus station up toward the historic city center to find a large square covered by another Christmas market. I was starting to grow tired of these markets because they were all the same and this one covered what was supposed to be one of the nicest open squares in the region. This was the only city where we actually found a tourist information center that was open. We dropped our things off at a hostel before exploring the cobble-stoned streets and churches that felt like they had been transplanted from Bavaria. In fact, all of Transylvania has a German feel because thousands of Saxons were encouraged to settle in the region during the 15th and 16th centuries creating a stronger line of defense against the advancing Ottomans. They are the ones responsible for building many of the quaint towns and prominent fortresses that make the region a tourist attraction today.

We decided to visit the local history museum, which my book accurately described as having “swanky” new displays making the entrance fee quite steep. Sibiu seemed like a typical European town emerging from the Middle Ages with dozens of guilds all devoted to producing a certain craft aimed at gaining autonomy from the feudal lords that suppressed economic development. There were displays of intricate glasswork, complicated locking mechanisms, coat of arms, and many weapons. Transylvania was a prosperous region connected with Western Europe because of the trade that flowed through. Also, the people are not Slavic in origin but mostly trace their roots to the Roman settlement of the region (hence Romania). These two things come together to make Transylvania feel much different than the other Balkan regions we had visited.

Next, we climbed the tower of the old town hall to look over the city and the people in the square below. Before it was too late, we scurried over to the Museum of European art to look at an impressive collection that included some famous German and Dutch artist revealing the different cultural heritage as well. As we were leaving, we were told by a guard to visit the basement, which was a dark and dank Gothic exhibit that was home to Flies and Spiders along with mummies and vampires. Then another card came down with his flashlight and was frustrated that we were down there past closing time suggesting that we felt we did not have to follow the rules, which was amusing since we had been told to go down after closing time just a few minutes before.

We strolled through the main square which was aglow with lights and children laughing along with a massive Christmas tree before continuing down the pedestrian street to find something to eat. We walked past a Shawarma venue and we could not pass up this great quantity of food that reminded me of my time in Jerusalem. Since we were planning on getting a drink with dinner to socialize, we searched out a bar with beer on tap, but it was not to be and we were deceived by a bar that had a tap, but it was not functioning. It was entertaining nonetheless because the bartender requested that we sit near him to give him a chance to practice his English and we tried some local brews while discussing our impressions of the day.

Day 7

Early in the morning we arrived at the bus station just as a crowd was swarming the mini-bus we planned on taking so we got seats while others had to stand or did not make it. We made it to the bus station in Brasov which was far outside the city center. I wanted to get to the other local bus station and asked some people, but we wondered around for a while because of different information until one old man offered to help by splitting a taxi with us. He went off running and I followed him and he told me not to speak or the taxi driver would charge extra. It worked out and we got a ride to the distant bus station where we had to determine what bus to take because there were no signs.

Eventually, the correct bus came and I went back to meet some people who I heard speaking English. I sat next to a guy my age who was Canadian and he told me how he was traveling around and decided that he would stay at a monastery in Bucharest for a few months performing some simple volunteer work. I thought this was awesome but he was not so sure because he was very dismissive of religion, but I encouraged him saying he would probably learn something. He was traveling for the day with a very talkative old man from Spain who was a little too eager to share his life observations. Half the words out of the Spaniards mouth were either “Vamos a ver” or “Voila”, but great filler words to comment on his every action.

We got off the bus and began our climb up to Bran Castle known by tourists as the Dracula Castle. In fact, Vlad Tepes (the historical figure serving as the basis for Dracula) never lived in this castle, nor did he drink peoples blood but he was a harsh ruler who enjoyed eating dinner in front of his enemies who he had impaled on long poles to watch them suffer. The Romanians feel that Vlad was an important ruler who helped Romania resist the Ottoman advance, but the author fantasized the life of the king to make a scary story that seemed to fit with the rolling countryside and conspicuous castles of the region. The castle was imposing and dreary on the outside but was catered to serve the needs of the nobles who lived inside. Life was bleak for many at the time because of cold winters and attacks by Magyars, Ottomans, and feuding lords but the castles served as strongholds to control the trade routes that passed through. The entrance area was covered with row after rows of shops peddling Dracula souvenirs no doubt boosted by the recent interest in vampirism.

Justin and I returned to Brasov, and after some more confusion, found our way onto a city bus that dropped us near the center where we were able to locate the hostel that our travel partners had told us about. We unloaded our things and explored the city center that included the Black Church, the largest Cathedral between Vienna and Istanbul. Other than its size, the church was not very impressive on the inside or outside because it seemed to be built as a fortification. In fact, the Saxons fortified the region by building their Cathedrals to serve a dual purpose as worship center and defensive citadel. This old town was much more extensive than the other cities so we wandered around finding interesting locations before locating the old defensive wall. My map failed me so I decided to make my own path as we pioneered through the woods towards one of the old defensive towers on the hill. It turns out there was an indirect route, but we emerged from the trees and climbed down to the steps confusing one of the passing security guards.

The tower offered a great panoramic view across the old city allowing us to take in the scope of this dynamic city. The endless network of sloping rooftops and chimneys from the buildings below helped to preserve an image of what life was like here many centuries ago. Fueled by our sense of adventure, we decided to take a slippery slopped path through the woods to the next tower where we were rewarded with another great view from a different perspective along with a setting sun. Before the daylight was extinguished, we climbed up to the more recent Austrian citadel above the city hoping to relax at a beer patio with a great view, but the place was abandoned for the winter leaving us to throw pieces of ice at random objects for entertainment.

I want to commend Justin for pushing through the pain that likely continued to aggravate his knee allowing us both to see everything of note in the city before resting. He was determined to not slow down my quick-paced and adventuresome spirit and we were both rewarded with one of our favorite experiences of the trip. We returned all the way down and around the city until we found ourselves back in the Christmas market of the main square buzzing once again with joyful spirit and a large glowing tree. We both agreed we wanted pizza and we decided to check out this place with an unappealing sign. Once again we were rewarded with an unexpected gem with a lively atmosphere, beer on tap, large pizzas, and a view of the street below. We enjoyed our time to converse and decided to walk down the main pedestrian street a bit more before retiring to the hostel.

That night we found our traveling friends from earlier in the day along with some other interesting folks. I first talked to this ragged fellow from Australia named Jamie who I likened to a white, more adventurous version of Bob Marley. He had come from Turkey so we were sharing our traveling stories from Cappadocia and he told a couple stories about how he had climbed dangerous precipices with some of his crazy friends. One time a friend was climbing above him and a rock slide off and whizzed a few inches from his face, while another time his handhold gave way and his hand luckily slide by a firm ledge to grab onto; both times he said he would have certainly died if he fell. I thought about how I loved to climb around places when I travel, although I try to avoid scaling anything where a minor mistake would leave me falling to death. It seemed like he should be more careful but I admired the adventurous spirit to challenge yourself and explore and I found myself wising I had something to climb.

There is something about taking risks (hopefully calculated) out in the wild that resonates with a man’s spirit. I thought about taking risk more generally in life and, while I believe we should be responsible and careful, I think we often get trapped by our own sense of security and remain apathetic or stuck in routine using the justification that it would not be safe to risk living outside the conventional boundaries. I never want to be held down by any material goods or my own sense of safety in self-sufficiency to be trapped from living life extraordinarily. Christ calls us to break conventional understandings of safety in order to trust in the Lord for our provision and our fulfillment every day. So, I think there is both a raw sense of freedom inherent to humanity and a Christian call to abandonment that encourage us to live life as an adventure above the desires of the world that tie us down. I want to be able to set aside what I have in order to follow God’s leading or to experience something new. These sentiments are portrayed in a movie I watched recently that fueled my desire to travel called “Into the Wild.” Those who feel stuck in routine should check it out.

Day 8

In the morning, I was introduced in passing to a quartet of traveling Spaniards who we would see more of later. This was only the second place where we were leaving late enough to take advantage of a free breakfast at the hostel before boarding a local train to Sinaia to visit the royal residence of Carol I, the first king of Romania. We met a fellow named Kit who looked lost on the way so he tagged along. Kit was from Hong Kong so I talked with him about my knowledge of Chinese history and their view of the world.

I confirmed that Chinese traditionally understand creation as a sequence of great leaders who bequeathed different aspects of society, that their first dynasty was the Xia (little evidence to their existence without written sources), and that Chinese schools focus on European historical development after learning their own history because of the power balance in the modern world. I inquired about the Chinese sense of competition with America and he responded that China wanted to advance to the forefront to show the world that they have this capability again as they have throughout much of world history. However, he also expressed a sense of gratitude toward America that helped to protect it against the brutal expansion of Japan and offered economic aid that put the country back on a path to restoration. Maybe his words were slanted to please me, but I did not sense any of the distrust or malevolence among the Chinese people that Americans sometimes place on them because of their recent rise to power that threatens our position of global dominance.

We walked up a snow-lined path through the woods to an Orthodox monastery with a beautiful church. We then hiked up to the top and accidently first toured the smaller Pelesor Palace, which was built near the castle for the king’s nephew.  It was confusing because the signs had the same name for both structures and the palace was impressive in its own right, but Peles Castle turned out to be magnificent. We took an English tour and put elastic slippers over our shoes before making our way into the stunning main hall. Everything was covered in ornately carved dark woods. I have often found that palaces from the 17th to 19th century tend to be overly adorned with too much going on to make one feel comfortable. This palace was not lacking in wealthy adornment, but the use of wood and space along with oriental treasures made it perhaps my favorite palace that I have visited. Each room was unique and exciting and yet somehow equally lavish as the last. It also felt like a place that I could live in, so it was a shame to leave.

The three of us walked down a more isolated snow-covered path that made me think how it was better to visit Transylvania in the winter because I think it helps capture more of the simple essence of the place. After saying goodbye to Kit, we found that the ATM in the train station did not worked so I sprinted up into town to make a withdrawal and back in time to buy our tickets and even grab a sandwich before the train left.

When we arrived in Bucharest, we took the metro to the center and emerged from the underground with little sunlight left in the day. I asked two kids which way to the Palace of Parliament and they walked us down the street to point it out. Suddenly, a man stopped us from behind, flashed us his police badge, and asked us some questions about who we were and what we were doing before telling us to wait as he made a call. He was very insistent that we remain patient and proceeded to interrogate the two boys about their intentions. Becoming cautious, I told Justin not to give his passport to anyone, but then the police man simply urged us to be careful because their city had a lot of problems and suggested that one of these boys could have been A Thief in the Night. We found the police overly dramatic and acknowledged that it was very unlikely the boys could have done anything because I was just asking them to point us in the right direction so I could use my map and would not have went out of the public eye. Alas, all I could do was explain that I approached them for first and they were just walking with us along the same way they were already going to the next street, but the police man cut me off and said dramatically that they were handling it.

Bucharest is huge. It used to be known as the “Paris of Eastern Europe” before the communist government took over and hastily “modernized” the city into a concrete jungle. There were dozens of massive squares and it would have taken nearly a day to walk across the center. The last dictator, Nicolae Ceausescu, felt that he needed to build a massive government building that would show the strength of Romania to the world. His Palace of Parliament is the third largest government building (3.8 million square feet) in the world. Unfortunately, Romania was still a poor rural country so the billions he spent on this drove the people into even greater poverty. In 1989, the people rebelled against communist abuse starting in Western-minded Timisoara and took control of the country in a few days and executed the dictator. So don’t build yourself a personal palace if you have to take all the money from the people because they will not like it.

We continued to walk through the massive, yet curiously empty streets until we grew weary and stopped to rest in a nice church. There happened to be some sort of a consecration ceremony going on and the press was there recording the event among a crowd of well-dressed folks. I sensed Justin felt very out of place as we trudged into the rear, so we did not stay long but I wanted to get warm and stretch. We then slowly found our way to the historic center, which was all locked when we got there. I was not upset because there was little to see there other than some remains of an old palace and a statue, but it just seemed stupid to lock such a place.

Feeling that we had taken in enough of the city for the time, I was drawn into nearby bar by the Paulaner sign on the door because that beer is brewed in Munich to which I have still experienced no equal. It came in a familiar glass and when it reached my taste buds I distinctly recalled not only the frothy, smooth unfiltered goodness, but also the location where I had been before when I drank it in Germany last year. So in addition to the sense of smell, if you want to make a memory, try something with a distinct taste and it will remain ingrained.

Considering we enjoyed the experience, Justin and I decided we had nothing better to do, so we ordered a couple more beers and enjoyed the warmth inside as we shared our thoughts with one another. With renewed vitality and cheer, we took to the streets to experience a few more sites. We located the Romanian Antheum, which is a famous concert hall built to evoke Roman greatness that, in contrast to the communist parliament, was funded voluntarily by the public out of a sense of cultural pride. Then we made our way into Revolution square that was full of history. There was the communist party building where Ceausescu made his last speech as revolutionaries called for his downfall, the former house of Parliament that was converted into the national art gallery, statues signifying the revolutionary struggle and triumph, and a huge equestrian statue of Carol I representing a true leader of the people. After clowning around, we made our way back to the train station through intriguingly desolate streets and grabbed some fast food before boarding our midnight mystery train from Russia that would take us to Sofia, Bulgaria during the night.

Day 9

Once aboard, we sought a sleeper car, but apparently that was no longer an option. We settled into our seats and tried to get as much sleep as possible. We were woken several times in the first couple hours by different conductors checking our tickets or making noise and twice at the border crossing by perpetually irritated customs police. Later we were woken again and asked to move into another car because there was no heating on our current car. The seating was in separate compartments with two rows of seats facing each other which reminded me of Harry Potter and I was hoping we would not get attacked by dementors. I settled into sleep again, but when another conductor woke me up during the night to check my ticket another time, I felt like I was re-emerging from the womb. The car may have been hot when I fell asleep, but now it felt like we had graduated Out of the Frying Pan Into the Fire. It was now more likely that we would suffocate to death than have our souls eaten by mythical beings.

My hopes of consistent sleep were dashed so I got up to look around and was surprised to see the same quartet of Spaniards who had been at our hostel in Brasov. Turns out they were following a similar course but had arrived too late at the station to buy tickets so they simply got on hoping to buy tickets on board. The conductors told them several times it was not possible to buy tickets on board and that they would be kicked off, but the four of them insisted that they were instructed to do so by the ticket booth and eventually they paid the conductors some money to let them stay. This part of the world is still certainly accustomed to corruption at almost all levels, so this was not a great surprise, but it was crazy that all this had happened to the same people that I had met far away in another city that morning.

I sat down to talk to one of them named Daniel, who shared that he had been working in Sofia as an engineer and was trying to travel the region before returning to Spain to graduate from technical school in the spring. He asked me a lot about my travels and asked me to scout out some possible travel routes for him that hit the highlights and we talked about our lives along the way. I told him that I was hoping to travel in Spain this summer and he was quick to offer his house near Seville as a place to stay and expressed that he may even like to travel around the region with me in his car because he would never be able to get enough of its beauty.

The train was late as expected, but I decided to take advantage of the ability to see the countryside, which turned out to be surprisingly gloomed. Communism had certainly left its ugly mark with abandoned buildings and ugly concrete housing blocks with no traditional dwellings that one would expect to see in rural areas. It may be that this is mostly the case along the rail lines that served communisms industrial machine and more scenic life may exist beyond, but the Soviet waste left a sour taste in my mouth. When we finally arrived, Daniel helped us to find the city center before we parted. Justin and I ate some lunch at another McDonald’s before checking out the famous Alexander Nevsky Cathedral and the museum of icons housed in the basement. It always is a little surprising to me to see how prominently Mary is viewed in the Orthodox and Catholic Church traditions as she was being crowned by the Trinity while the earth lifted up their praise to her in several icons. I also found that St. Demetrius, an epic name, was paired along with St. George like a twin. The inside of the cathedral was not as impressive as I was thinking, but the faded icons on the stone walls gave it a more ancient feel, as if upon entering you went back in time.

After visiting a few more churches we wandered to the cultural center that turned out to be the hotspot for the cities skateboard and trick-bike enthusiasts. We watched the tricks and observed the different dynamics among the youth as they tried to impress each other with their skill and swag. Since all the museums were closed, we killed some time before venturing to dinner for more pizza and local brew. Afterward, we wandered around the center and sat in the square among the Christmas light displays before taking the metro to the bus station and waiting for our mini-bus to arrive and take us to our final destination of Skopje, Macedonia. Sleep was not much better because we stopped at many other stations to pick up more people along with another border check, so we arrived in Skopje exhausted at about 3:30am and got a taxi to a hostel to crash.

Day 10

When I woke up late in the morning and wondered upstairs for breakfast, I met a few young men who explained that they were traveling in a group from the Netherlands. As we continued talking, one-by-one more Dutchman arrived and joined in the conversation. Soon there were a dozen of them sitting all around the room talking, joking, and chuckling together in their native tongue that reminded me of a more hearty, earthen-bound people. Then, all at once, I realized that I had stumbled into The Unexpected Party. I looked at Justin and said, “They are the dwarves…I really want to eat dinner with them.” With a renewed interest I inquired about their journey and what plans they had. It was soon revealed by the leader of their party, Thorin (Sjoerd), that they had planned to climb the nearby mountain the next day. This was all too good to be true. I expressed our interest in joining their fellowship on this adventure.

Around noon, Justin and I made our way into the city center to explore and we were confronted by an awful lot of statues. We crossed the river into the Turkish historic part to walk through the twisting streets with shops, mosques, hamams, and housing. We ventured into an intimate two floored restaurant with point-to-order local cuisine that graciously filled our stomachs. The street layout was confusing and I was not impressed with the sights, but we did find a modern art gallery housed in an ancient hamam (bathhouse) to entertain us for a while. We visited the Turkish bazaar which turned out to be an extensive version of an Albanian bazaar because all the people yelling and crowding the shops were Albanian.

All the other museums were closed, so we made our way upwards to the citadel to at least have some time to climb around the walls and enjoy a commanding view, but apparently closing this to visitors was a thing too. In frustration, Justin took a picture of me holding a metal pole with a cement slab on one end (resembling Thor’s hammer) before slamming it into the ground. Feeling like we had enough, we walked to the bus station to assure we got an exit ticket for the next day and made our way back to the hostel.

I was hoping the dwarves would be home creating a raucous, but the place was mostly empty. Since it was New Year’s Eve, I wanted to wait around to feel out what would be the best way to spend our evening. We relaxed in the hostel and I began to do some reflection on the past year before a bunch of girls arrived for the little party planned at the hostel by the owner. It was quite amusing because the girls came in excited and ready for a party but the only other people around were three guys who did not fit the normal outgoing hostel traveler stereotype. I was trying to finish my reflection before releasing myself for the evening, but it was way too entertaining to watch the uncomfortable interactions leading to the boys and girls remaining separate. I went to my room to wrap-up my thoughts. When I returned, the dwarves were fumbling through the door so we had a much more natural party atmosphere, so I spent the evening snacking and in conversation.

I talked with the Dutchman about the ever increasing pace of history and the rise and fall of ideas or societies, which the Dutch knew all too well because they went from forming an independent republic to dominating world imperialism before bowing out to English hegemony within two centuries. We discussed the stark differences between the Netherlands and Belgium as a state caught between strong French and Dutch identities, the changing economic climate of Europe, and good beer. Finally, they told me how they were required to learn French, German, and English throughout their education before reflecting on the cognitive and psychological impact that has on them and their worldview.

I also spent a good amount of time talking to Elena, a local Macedonian who had lived in the United States and worked as a journalist as well as a tour guide in Greece. This conversation was fascinating because she gave me a young female perspective on life in the Balkans (neighboring Albania) and could compare it with my own native culture, which was something I did not have in Albania with the students. We discussed traditional gender roles that still controlled society, the closed outlook of men because of their unwillingness to display emotion or vulnerability, and the contrast between obedience to tradition vs. freedom, particularly related to love. Her writing was her form of expression so we talked about how artistic freedom is often limited by the demand to fit into certain categories in order to be accepted or make money and it was obvious that she had turned on the communal customs of Macedonia to make an unbridled grasp at freedom. Before I knew it, several hours had passed and people were all of a sudden counting down to midnight and I did not have time to grasp what was happening before we were all hugging and wishing each other fortune in the coming year.

I decided that I did not want to miss out on hitting the town with the dwarves, so I made it a company of 13 and we walked down to the square where we were greeted by intensely loud hip-hop in the main square. We found a club to celebrate in (took part in this Balkan-assumed activity) but it was much more relaxed that I expected as there was almost no dancing and the live band played mostly popular rock music. As expected, it was not something I thoroughly enjoyed but it was good to be included and contribute to the cheer among the Dutchman. After 4am, we made our way back to the hostel to crash again.

I slept in but I got up after 10 to be ready for our ascent of the mountain with the dwarves. Turned out that none of them had yet awaken from their slumber so I watched some soccer matches and read. It was quite long before the dwarves emerged from the mines and I began to worry if we would run out of daylight, but we eventually set off. Apparently they had no idea where they were going, but the combination of a phone GPS along with trial and error eventually got us on the right path.  As we climbed, the environment changed several times and we walked along a ledge before entering a forest that allowed me feel like we were approaching Rivendell.

We reached the lower end of a cable car that traveled to the peak that was crowned by the largest metal cross in the world. We were not expecting to see much because the fog had closed us in for some time, but on the way up we all of a sudden emerged from the cloudy veil for an amazing view. The Gathering of the Clouds was perfectly smooth as it swept across the valley with only other mountain peaks protruding from the depths, so it looked a lot like an ocean spreading out around us and other islands. To make it even better, the sun was setting and the light cast different colors across the cloudy expanse. We enjoyed the view and took some pictures before we had to descend in order to catch the last available retuning cable cars.

The Last Stage of our plan was to head into the old city again to enjoy a feast and some beer together with the dwarves. We found a great local joint with cozy upstairs seating and ate some massive burgers along with other fixings. Unfortunately, Justin and I did not have time to relax and socialize because our bus departure time was quickly approaching, so we had the waiter call a taxi for us and we bid farewell to and wished them success in recovering their majestic homeland.

Day 11

We began The Return Journey by boarding a late night bus to Tirana. We got better sleep on this ride despite another border crossing before being dropped off in the middle of the night. Justin had not yet seen the center of the capital, so we walked the main sites among the gleaming lights while some people still drove through the streets honking their horn in extended celebration of the New Year. There was a street full of Christmas market-like stands, but this one looked like it would have been a much more lively and enjoyable experience. We sat in front of the Pyramid of communist Parliament and thought about the interesting combination of time, culture, and atmosphere we were experiencing as we waited for morning when a van finally took us home to Lezha. We had the rest of that day to unpack, process, and prepare for school the next morning.

The main goal of the trip was to experience the rest of the countries in the Balkan region that I had not yet visited during my time of service in Albania and that was certainly accomplished. I felt that we were blessed with some cultural encounters that allowed us to learn first-hand about life in their home country. I had opportunities to ask a lot of questions and, although we certainly did not stay long anywhere, I feel like traveling through these places and learning specifics about their history, landscape, and culture has given me a more holistic understanding of the region. Since there was a lot of traveling, late night excursions, and some down time it was great to have a traveling partner and I know that Justin enjoyed his exposure to this raw traveling experience.

I felt like we got to see everything that I was hoping to and, while there were some unexpected curveballs and difficult connections, everything seemed to work out well in the end. I have been praying that this experience would help me to learn and grow and I thank God for blessing us with learning opportunities and safety. It was great to spend some time over the holidays in warm company with the people that we met, and now we are thrown right back into the whirlwind of school. A thank you and congratulations to those who care enough about my experience to have gotten through another travel epic. Did anyone decrypt the hidden theme hidden among my words?

Until Next Time, Rrofsh!