A word (or two) on Dubrovnik

I feel like I’m in heaven. Granted, I may just be sleep deprived and drunk off of the rose petal grappa and home made wine our generous hosts just gave us, but really, I cannot at his moment imagine life being any better. The apartment we’ve rented is simply divine. The lush garden helps to ease the pangs I feel for my home garden. It is full of peppers, tomatoes, grapes, artichokes and eggplant. And so many beautiful flowers…bouganvilla and trumpet vine, geraniums and so many I do not know. There are olive trees and honeysuckle, buzzing with thousands of bees. George, Bruna, and Pero were so kind to invite us to join them for lunch. In a word: wow. Lettuce from the garden, a heaping giant bowl of fresh fried sardines that the kids ate by the handful, fresh cheese from the village they visited earlier this morning, and of course the booze. Turns out we have so many things in common, namely the love of preserving fresh, seasonal foods. They told us about the circa 1660′s house in which we’re staying, the war, their love of and eternal ties to the sea.

Really, I am in love. The kind of early, crazy love where you lose yourself in your lover, acting illogically, doing insane things like pledging to never ever ever leave your new beloved’s side. Perhaps this is simply what I am willing to happen, as so much toil went into planning this trip. Perhaps it is what I need to believe so that I can leave my babies for the longest stretch I’ve ever been away from them. Whatever the reasons, though, it doesn’t really matter. For, just as in any passionate love affair, I can feel the space in my heart being permanently carved out for these lovely people and this spectacular city. Tonight, I am thankful for Pero and George and Bruna and Vedran for welcoming us so warmly. The final leg of this journey into the great unknown is nearly upon is, and I will take better care of my Bosnian families knowing my own family is in this truly lovely place.

-kcb

On the mind-altering power of travel

First, to best understand what I’m about to tell you, you should know that NPR (member supported OPB!)  is on, well, pretty much all day every day at our house, so I think I do quite a bit of auto-filtering of all of the stuff I don’t connect with. Like, right now, there’s some British lady rambling on about doctors using wikipedia. Theoretically interesting? Of course. Worthy of my limited bandwidth? Not so much. So last Thursday, I was getting ready for work as the typical morning chaos gathered momentum. Morning Edition droned on in the background.

“Blah blah blah Oprah,”I heard as I put mascara on while a toddler climbed my leg.

“Blah blah blah financial markets dip ,” I heard as I offered yogurt or almond milk, blueberries or bananas, cereal or granola.

“Blah blah blah Bosnia,” I heard as I searched for my missing shoe in the depths of my closet.

Wait. What was that? I swear they just said Bosnia. Honey, what are they talking about? Did they say Bosnia? Shhh, mama wants to listen to this. Seriously, be quiet please? Honey, WHAT ARE THEY SAYING!?!

Of course, this was the breaking news of the capture of Ratko Mladic, a Serbian general from the war in Bosnia, accused of an array of war crimes, including genocide. A story that probably (sadly) would have gone into my “blah blah blah” folder 18 months ago was now a story that I checked on for updates all day, downloaded a podcast about when I got home, and have actively followed over the course of the last week. Every bit of information I get, I have at least 5 questions that remain unanswered. But I just keep coming back to the thought that, in 4 weeks, I will be sitting in someone’s living room for whom this would never be a “blah blah blah” story. No. The families I will meet are survivors of a war, a war that was just a few years ago, and a war over ideology that is still a powerful force in the region. That is something I simply cannot comprehend and I feel guilty, embarrassed, and ashamed at the American-ness that keeps me so separated from so much that goes on in the world.

I am changing. I am learning about another place, somewhere it never occurred to me to visit, somewhere that I grew up calling by a different name. It is somewhere that all of my dad’s childhood friend’s were from, somewhere I probably knew best by the stuffed cabbage my mom used to make just as she was taught by the mothers of those childhood friends. It is a real place, with real people. I’d like to say that I won’t ever tune out of a news story when it doesn’t have personal relevance to me, but I’d be lying. Drowning in a churning whirlpool of information just isn’t my scene. But I now know that I can hear the word “Bosnia” above the hustle and bustle of a morning routine and that it can stop me in my tracks. How cool is that?

-kcb

 

Happy Birthday, Grandma Liz

I called my grandma today while driving home from work. It was her birthday call, 9 days late. I can come up with several reasons why I didn’t call her on her actual birthday, excuses really, and they all suck. She turned 85 and I didn’t call because I didn’t want to overwhelm her with one.more.call. and my life is hectic. Bad form, Bawden.

But I called her today because I knew it was bad form and honestly I have been thinking about making the call while falling asleep every night since her birthday, another day come and gone with no call and me sinking deeper into the fiery pits of hell where bad bad grandchildren dwell. While I drive to and from work is my only kid-free time and the only time that I can guarantee that my call won’t be interrupted by a child hucking grilled cheese at my head.  Talking in the car while driving really isn’t much better, but it’s all I got.

Meeting Number 7 and Not Number 8

Alright, alright, alright. Look, I know this is getting to be a really bad habit, this not updating the blog more regularly and letting way too much time pass between when something happens and when I write about it. I know this. But dang, life is busy. This too is blog-worthy, I suppose, isn’t it? This idea that we are all so busy being mamas and partners and workers and grocery shoppers and distance commuters and community organizers and entrepreneuers and toilet scrubbers and a million other things, that we are doing this project in our “free” time, squeezing a few more drops from a pretty well squoze-out ol’ grapefruit. So, there you have it. I’m a dried up hunk of citrus and that’s my excuse for not being a more dedicated blogger.

Ah! But let us not dwell on my many shortcomings and instead focus on all of the big news that we learned of at our February meeting!

Tonight our “True Colors” were revealed during a team building game

With the master of theme parties, social games and fun on hand, Soliday did not disappoint with tonight’s team building game. The game was called True Colors, a social game that reveals what others “think” they know about you and what you “think” you know about them given a series of personal and very telling questions. For the purpose of getting to know our fellow comrades before embarking on a 168 hour journey together, Megan generated a series of questions that revealed some eye-opening and hilarious traits about each other.

First off, you’d think with a room full of special educators that we could zip through the rules and be on with the game, but no! As I glanced around the table I overheard comments like, “Wait! I’m confused! I don’t get it”, whereas Lee quipped confidently, “I GET THIS!!!!” I couldn’t help but chuckle when it turned out the only person who didn’t get the rules as she played the cards backwards, was Lee! I’m laughing with you Lee, not at you

After multiple rounds of True Colors I learned that my comrades “think” the following:

• I will be the overpacker. Unfortunately, they are probably right.
• Gina will be the Polly Anna, the “everything is rosy” one. I agree!
• I will be the picky eater of the group. As someone who doesn’t eat “meat” in a country that considers chicken a vegetarian dish, true that.
• Lee will be the one to get lost. Ok Lee, you gave that one away.
• Brooke will be the one to flirt with the most Bosnian men. Yep!
• Soliday will purchase the most legal drugs. I was runner-up!
• Sara will be the one to call her loved ones the most. New baby = yes!
• I will be the one to buy the most souvenirs. Hence the overpacking.
• Wendy will be the most organized and have every necessity on hand (i.e. batteries, band-aids, paperclip)

I know I’m forgetting several more winning answers so help my mama brain, ladies!

Tonight’s game not only enlightened me as to how well I know my fellow travelers and how well they appear to know me, but it afforded us an outlet to socialize, cajole and laugh while learning what a fabulous bunch of women we are. I feel so lucky to be a part of this adventure and can’t wait until June. Yay!

Meeting Number 4 – Dij me pet!

As Sharon noted in her great post, below, we had our 4th meeting last Tuesday. With the exception of poor Wendy, who was suffering from a bad headache, all team members were present and accounted for. So much easier than having half of the team out on Distance Service trips and needing Steve Jobs on hand to help us have a conversation.

And so it begins

Last Thursday, 4/22/10, was our first official team meeting. I say official only because some of us were able to meet up several weeks ago at 2 Brothers Cafe and Grill for a little celebration of being selected and an introduction to Bosnian food. Good news to report on that front, as we all enjoyed our meals. I had some big spinach pastry thingie (burek) that was delish, and we were all introduced to cevapi and my family’s new favorite condiment, ajvar. This was very important because, really, in the end, isn’t it all about the food?

But, back to Thursday.