Flying in over Bosnia's beautiful green mountains was great and the city looked better than ever...was that really a giagantic new waterpark I flew over?? I had almost toally forgotten that it was the Fourth of July when I touched down in Sarajevo. US Emb SJJ had already held its fancy party over the weekend so there was no reason to remember. Within hours of landing, however, I ended up at Camp Butmir, the military base outside of Sarajevo for a Fourth party with some of the CD, well-connected ex-pats, a handful of marines, and a bunch of really enthusiastic EU soldiers.
As if, in my sleep-deprived haze, all the guns, trailer-park-esque barracks, and random American fast-food outlets weren't strange enough, the celebration itself was rife with unintended humor and irony. It kicked off with a large, muscle-bound Austrian soldier who belted out "Zee Staar Spangled Banna" with such force that it looked more like he was power-lifting the song than singing it...until his voice cracked and he DEMURRED from the mic, too shamed to sing any more. Then a NATO General told an nice patriotic story that didn't seem to fit the spirit of the Fourth too well. The in-sync-steppin' marine color guard stirred vaguely patriotic sentiments when troops from so many nations stepped forward from the crowd to solemnly salute it. After that things only got stranger.
Once everyone had gotten their American barbeque plate, a Bosnian coverband took stage in front of a giant American flag and played...well, if memory serves me correctly, the first three songs were Pink Floyd's "The Wall," "Play that Funky Music Whiteboy," and "It's Raining Men." The Euro soldiers were loving it, all going crazy on the ad hoc dancefloor, but somehow the American soldiers, no doubt primed for some Springsteen, didn't know how to interact with such a playlist. I met some cool investigative journalists and a OHR head who is into the life and death game that is bicycle touring in the Balkans, so we are planning some killer rides in the area. Eventually the Boss's number came up and all the dancefloor was a mix of Carabinieri, Marine, EUFOR, Hungarian, Turkish, Deutsch, and 'merican troops. Some of those dudes could break it down.
At 10:30 pm the fireworks went off, however even though it was a big display of cosmetic firepower, at 3 km away we could barely see them. When I asked why they were so far away I was told that last year's fireworks ingnited a field and burned out several Bosnian homes in Illidza on the night of the Fourth...I kept my metaphors to myself.
Happy Fourth from Bosnia and Hercegovina!
3.7.05
exit real world...in transit...
I said I was going to kill myself if I didn't get out on the road soon, so, in keeping with that I finally pulled the proverbial trigger last week and bought tickets back to Europe after a year in the great decay. Seven days of frenzied preperation later I was hauling my boxed-up bike around Mitchell International, the first of six airports I would enter on my way back to Sarajevo.
During a busy 24-hour stop in New York City I saw enough friends, consumed enough good food and drink, and saw enough amazing of that paramount American city that it felt as if I was there for days. Of course when it came time to say good-bye to Jennie, I felt like there wasn't enough time in the world. Thanks much for the terrific hospitality Travis and Gabe.
After hastily slogging my boxed-up bike all over JFK I finally made it on my flight to Budapest and onword to Sarajevo.
During a busy 24-hour stop in New York City I saw enough friends, consumed enough good food and drink, and saw enough amazing of that paramount American city that it felt as if I was there for days. Of course when it came time to say good-bye to Jennie, I felt like there wasn't enough time in the world. Thanks much for the terrific hospitality Travis and Gabe.
After hastily slogging my boxed-up bike all over JFK I finally made it on my flight to Budapest and onword to Sarajevo.
28.2.05
birkie bound
Since 1981, my Dad has been travelling to American Birkebeiner cross-country ski race. Starting in the small northern Wisconsin town of Cable, the race travels over 51 km of hilly, wooded terrain to Hayward, WI. The race commemorates the 51 km cross-country ski journey two hearty men took hundreds of years ago in Norway to save the life of a young heir to the Norweigen throne from the murderous intentions of other members of the King's court. The race is apart of several major international ski race series and this year there were 9,000 some skiers from around the world racing through the north woods.
And for the first time in my life, I was one of them.
Although I still really liked the idea of X-C skiing, I hadn't actually gone since early in my high school years. However, this year was special - it was my Dad's 20th Birkebeiner. When someone completes 20 Birkebeiners they become a member of the prestigious Birch Leggings society (named for the leggings worn hundreds of years ago). It's quite a feat and it carries some weight in X-C circles, so I went up to commemorate my Dad's 20th Birkie by skiing one of my own.
I skied twice before the race. I went about 10 km each time because the skiis I was borrowing were too big for me and didn't work very well. Unfortunately I was stuck with these skiis for the race so I signed up for the 26 km half-way race, the Korteloppet.
The night before the race we hunkered down in our cabin to wax our skiis, debating what wax to match to the snow granule shape, moisture content, and temperture range of the following day. OUr educated guesses must have been dead-on because at the start line the next morning I knew my skiis were ready to go, gripping and sliding on the snow perfectly. It was about 10 degrees but with bluebird skies and bright sun - a pefect day. I knew instantly that I was not going to stop at the halfway mark - I was going all the way.
So, after 9 km I skipped the turn for the Korte and kept on my way to completing my first Birkie. I caught up with my Dad, who was surprised to see me, at the 30 km mark and we skied the last 21 km together, right up the main drag of Hayward past the cheering throngs of small town residents and skiers from all over. My time was not counted in the results but I did receive the medal that every first year skier receives at the finish. We finished in 5 and a half hours - more than three hours behind the Italian winner.
It's safe to say I got Birkie fever. Now I just have 19 more to go.
www.birkie.com
And for the first time in my life, I was one of them.
Although I still really liked the idea of X-C skiing, I hadn't actually gone since early in my high school years. However, this year was special - it was my Dad's 20th Birkebeiner. When someone completes 20 Birkebeiners they become a member of the prestigious Birch Leggings society (named for the leggings worn hundreds of years ago). It's quite a feat and it carries some weight in X-C circles, so I went up to commemorate my Dad's 20th Birkie by skiing one of my own.
I skied twice before the race. I went about 10 km each time because the skiis I was borrowing were too big for me and didn't work very well. Unfortunately I was stuck with these skiis for the race so I signed up for the 26 km half-way race, the Korteloppet.
The night before the race we hunkered down in our cabin to wax our skiis, debating what wax to match to the snow granule shape, moisture content, and temperture range of the following day. OUr educated guesses must have been dead-on because at the start line the next morning I knew my skiis were ready to go, gripping and sliding on the snow perfectly. It was about 10 degrees but with bluebird skies and bright sun - a pefect day. I knew instantly that I was not going to stop at the halfway mark - I was going all the way.
So, after 9 km I skipped the turn for the Korte and kept on my way to completing my first Birkie. I caught up with my Dad, who was surprised to see me, at the 30 km mark and we skied the last 21 km together, right up the main drag of Hayward past the cheering throngs of small town residents and skiers from all over. My time was not counted in the results but I did receive the medal that every first year skier receives at the finish. We finished in 5 and a half hours - more than three hours behind the Italian winner.
It's safe to say I got Birkie fever. Now I just have 19 more to go.
www.birkie.com
iParty. do you?
Always causing rambunction...here's my latest mischief:
9 pm
iParty
every tuesday
café montmartre
iParty
every tuesday
café montmartre
ATTENTION MUSIC LOVERS: Café Montmartre has dethroned the DJ as we know it and installed a new digital music democracy on Tuesday nights – giving the powers of music selection back to the good people of Madison.
Every Tuesday, bring your iPod (or other music player) to Café Montmartre and take your turn with it in the DJ booth playing your freshest tracks for all to hear. Show-off your rare b-sides, latest mash-ups, vintage treasures or just turn the party up with something hype – you are the DJ and this is your party.
iParty will be the place to hear new, old, and underground music from across the spectrum. The mix will be eclectic and the air will be electric.
iParty: music played by the people for the people. Civic participation never sounded so good.
ipodparty@gmail.com
22.2.05
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