I recommend Mostar

Oops, we accidentally killed Senka

On Sunday after church a few of us girls popped down to Mostar for the afternoon and evening. Mostar is south of Sarajevo, in the Hercegovina part of Bosnia and Hercegovina, about halfway between Sarajevo and Dubrovnik, Croatia. Mostar has a very Mediterranean climate: we were delighted by palm trees and balmy weather. Ahhh!

Mostar was hit hard during the siege of the early nineties, and the political strife sharply divides the Catholics and Muslims in the city, making it one of the most (if not the most) spiritually oppressive cities in the Balkans.

I didn't get a lot of pictures because it was getting dark, but here are a few...

Dusk in the old city

Budo and Senka

Stari Most (literally "Old Bridge"), where Mostar got its name

City wall

Honestly

I confess that I went into this New Year having made absolutely no resolutions whatsoever. Very uncharacteristic of me, as I'm the queen of resolutions--the neat little lists written in my journal with different colored markers; they seem so exciting once they're down on paper. I usually break every one by March 1, but to me, the resolution-making is more the point. I am a creature of NO habit, unless procrastination counts as a habit.

I think I may have halfheartedly resolved to do the dishes on a more regular basis, but I'm not sure. I've been spending so much time with Bosnian friends trying to speak Bosnian and listen to as much Bosnian as possible, that I guess one big resolve is to speak Bosnian 100% more by the end of this year. That's 99% more than I speak now.

Hm, I need to run more. Whenever I run I wonder why I don't do it more? It feels great, and the positively spring-like weather with the pollen-less benefit of winter indicates that I am without excuse, and that I should be getting out there every day.

I definitely need to memorize more Scripture. I once made it a goal to memorize more Scripture than I knew movie quotes. I wonder what the ratio of fluff to substance is in my brain--ooh, I don't want to go there. And I'd like to read some books on Islam; it's awful hard to evangelize Muslims when one knows three total things about their religion. No, I'm exaggerating--I know enough, but not at the depth I wish.

One resolution that is a guarantee: this year I will reach my hair to the length of elbows goal that I began back in May of 2005. And I will get to London this year--fish, chips, cup o' tea, Big Ben, castles, westerners--ahhh!

But seriously my resolution making and breaking reminds me what an extraordinarily undisciplined person I am. Oh well!

Sepia is my new favorite

Samaritan's Purse in Sarajevo

Over the weekend, with the help of Samaritan's Purse, many Bosnian kids were blessed. Each year, over two weekends in early January, the church in Sarajevo receives and distributes Samaritan's Purse gifts to hundreds of poor children in this city. In addition, a play is put on by church members here, and performed before each scheduled gift distribution.

It was such a delight to see so many families blessed and ministered to. I have made Samaritan's Purse gift boxes for many years back at home, but have never had the privilege of actually seeing the beneficiaries on the receiving end! What a joy!

You're not really Bosnian if you haven't been robbed a couple of times

I have been officially initiated into Bosnian culture. Sunday night, by what means or method I know not and perhaps never will know, my wallet was stolen. Most likely it was picked off while I was at the store buying some water before heading to the church for a meeting. My Bosnian friends have warned me many times over about how sneaky and professional the pick-pocketers are here, but, careful as I've been with my money, I guess the American in me believed that I was immune to any attempts on my goods. Ha! Two days later I am all the wiser, and enjoying many servings of humble pie.

It's amazing how quickly these criminals are able to make use of their fresh kill. I raced home as soon as I realized I'd been robbed, started frantically trying to call my bank's 800 number (it was Sunday afternoon back home and I had a nightmare of a time finding the number for emergencies only), but by then $400 had already been taken from my account. Within 15 minutes after that, I checked my balance again and another $300 had vanished. Finally, with the help of my parents back home, I was able to have the bank block my account and report fraudulent activity.

The $700 loss from my bank account is in the process of being recovered, thank the Lord. Unfortunately, on that particular evening I had an equivalent of $200 in Bosnian Marks in my wallet. I usually don't carry a lot of cash on me--it had only been in there for a few hours and I'd been planning to transfer it to a safe place in my apartment that night. But that was never to be, and I have learned that in the future if I withdraw a lot of money, it needs to be secured right away.

I hope whoever robbed me is enjoying their new TV or refrigerator or free tanks of gas or home gym equipment; I'm feeling a little violated and vulnerable, but otherwise I am enjoying the good life lesson that their petty crime has taught me!

New Year Novelty

Elizabeth and Miki, taking their lives into their own hands :)

New Year's is the biggest celebration of the year for Bosnians. Communism forbade the celebration of Christmas and other religious holidays, so New Year's sort of became all holidays packed into one. And boy, do the Bosnians celebrate! I have to admit I've never really celebrated New Year's the way most people do--usually the most I do on New Year's Eve is rent a movie and play games with my family, and maybe stay up until midnight and watch the New York countdown on TV, then pop open a bottle of $10 champagne from Rite Aid. So wow, did I get an eyeful Sunday night-Monday morning!

People started showing up at my place at around 7, and in the end 20+ people were crowded in: the bedroom doubled as a coat and shoe closet, a nearly five foot mound of scarves and coats on the bed, people spilling into the hallway and kitchen.

I think all the boys each brought a mess of fireworks that they started throwing off my balcony at 10. As the evening progressed, the guys got more creative with the method of throwing them. A couple of the fireworks detonated without ever having left the balcony, making the girls shriek and the guys laugh hysterically. The more cautious among us rebuked them and told them to quit letting them explode so close to human appendages.

A couple of minutes before midnight the entire crowd, champagne, cups, and fireworks in hand, raced downstairs and outside to ring in the new year. The display over and around us was awesome; fireworks exploded from buildings, mountains, on streets...Everywhere you looked there was noisy popping and explosions and smoke and color. It went on with intensity for 15 minutes--we threw our share of them and laughed and hugged and drank champagne and wished each other a Happy New Year. We went back inside but the fireworks went on well into the early hours of the morning. So, it seemed like New Year's celebration was starting to wind down. But oh no, what I didn't realize was that the partying had just begun.

I really don't want to go too much into the next four hours, but let's just say that for me, it was a baptism of fire into the whole clubbing scene. I'd honestly had no prior idea that clubbing was the intention of the group going downtown. I probably wouldn't have gone had I known that. It was enjoyable for the first couple of hours, though insanely hot, loud, and filled with drunk Bosnians. I was thrown up on as I was leaving the bathroom in the first place we went to.

Shortly after that, we decided this club was a little too much to take, and we left and went to another club, equally as loud and crowded, but thankfully with couches not covered with half passed out horizontal partiers. I was so tired my eyes were crossing, and it was only when I realized that half of the group intended to stay out all night that I asked for a ride home from those who were leaving. At 5 AM I collapsed into bed, the techno beat still pulsating in my head.

So, two days later, having mostly physically recovered from the beating I gave my body all Sunday night, I've come to the conclusion that I don't think I've missed out on much on the "party scene" aspect of New Year's Eve celebrations. But it was a wonderful evening that will be remembered for many New Year's Eves to come. And I have high respect for those who've had the endurance to make an entire night of it each year.

So I posted some pictures of the countdown party below:

The "Coat Closet"--see the bed under there?

The Swedish girls: queens of the dance floor

Enisa and Hanna

Miki getting ready to launch one off the balcony

Boro and Devin

Kat and Elena

Enisa and me

Boro, Miki, Srdjan, and Alden serenading us. A couple of seconds after this picture Boro pretended to light a dud firework; horrified shrieks ensued

One of the inventive ways discovered to detonate fireworks; I'd wondered why there was a big black hole in the middle of my candle the next morning!

A third of us

Traditional New Year's food tray--the Bosnians really know their meats and cheeses!

Srdjan won the most creative firework thrower of the night award--just look at that smirk :)