Rolling Towards the Past- Moldova via Romania

For those with little time, you are invited to skip to the bottom where you will find all the Videos and more Pictures. And Please remember to click on pictures to enlarge them for more details. There is a section just dedicated to Moldova, once again for your selection.

ROMANIA

Slamming the doors of the car, knowing this seals my destiny for the next two weeks, I begin to think of what it is I'm actually expecting, feeling, thinking, etc. As usual, my consideration happens only after the action is set forth. Although I have never considered myself to NOT be American, I have also discovered, just at this moment, that no one around me considered that I WAS. This train of thought, through the refreshing breeze brought in from the opened highway window, was brought on as I imagined people asking me where I was from. I imagined a stranger in Moldova asking me this, and instantly I compared it with my experience of the last 20 years. Finally, when a stranger asks me where I am from, I can say " Oh, just around the corner", but in short, I am from HERE. I am one of YOU. You are one of me. Of course, I will never be more Moldavian than American. Life has made too many changes for that to be true. But maybe I will feel some unity the way I have never felt before. And I got excited thinking who will be the first to ask me.

In Moldova, I will not be exotic, however I will have roots. I think that is important to feel at least for a week in your life. Me and this stranger will not have friends in common, or like the same current song, but as I answer their question of where I am from, I will feel my feet planted 26 years deep below me as I stand there talking to a family stranger.

With all fantasies and philosophy put to rest for the ride, we finally make a stop at the end of the day at Arad, Romania after a short drive through the city. Hotel Fortress, though not so much a fortress it is still guarded like one, by three street dogs. This did not make a fun walk with Winnie, but I had a huge stick in hand since they managed to scare the shit out of me. The non English speaking "clerk" managed to sign language some information about our room, but failed to tell us there was no air conditioning. Early morning we were awoken only to be told that the hotel staff is ready to leave and are only waiting for us. No it was not that we woke up late. It was actually 8 am, it is simply Romania. Funny, but true, we left as they requested without the inclusive breakfast we were promised. The reputation of the hotel was only saved by the owner of the hotel who had come out to talk with us. He was pretty cool, told us some stories, and we were on our way.
Arad, the city of door-less tramways and home to the happiest wild weeds who seem to have found a way to go unnoticed as they rule the streets.
As we pass Romania, I can say it is the most Americanised poor country I have ever seen, proved only by the juiced up guy with plucked eyebrows, wearing a bright pink tight T shirt and some surfer short, who was pumping our gas. Huge fitness gyms (4 floors) and even bigger shopping centers with Home Depot-ish knock off stores are seen scattered between large stretches of farmland, and little villages. The contrast made me laugh every time we passed such a center. With such centers to take up your time, it seems the people have no time to pick up the dog corpses rotting on the streets every few yards. (dont worry no pictures of such glamour).
Also seen driving are many churches, despite the early Communist influence, which are all brightly painted and knew. Which brings me to all the fence painting going on in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. It seems like people take their fences and house colors very seriously, because instead of working (god knows where) all the people in small villages are out painting their fences and houses. Despite the majority of the properties and land falling apart, people seem to appreciate the magic of bright colors and it shows by the facades if these little shacks. Men and women seem to gather in pairs or groups and enjoy festively painting with pride and admiration in their 100 year old clothes- in almost every little village we passed. All fences were bright white, and houses varied from such bright colors as baby blue, hot pink, sunshine yellow, or canary coral :D. Although the people look like they haven't changed since our time in this region, with old babushkas walking around in floral dressed and kasinachkis on their heads, the cars on the road were surprisingly modern. Only once in a while would an old style Ruski car be seen.

Also scattered on the road, between villages, are masses of hitch-hikers, who left me wondering how long will they stand there before they actually get a ride, and random monuments with nothing or no one around, which left me wondering how long will it stand there until it is actually visited be someone. Perhaps the hitch-hikers should gather at the monuments and waste their time at least looking at something. However, these older babushkas and dedushkas, who were the hitch hikers, got around pretty rapidly as I started to notice.

<--------->
Random
monuments









(below) Hitch-hikers... gypsies in this
case they are gypsies

exciting stroll and dinner in Brasov, a beautiful city, we finally crossed all of Romania to take one last rest before entering Moldova: Galati (pronounced Galtz). The city where I THOUGHT my grandfather was born, was not only a destination for touristic reasons but a place I thought I might find some birth records. We stayed the night, and wasted a whole day in search of papers that never existed. My grandfather, as it turns out, only lived there for a few years, but had NOT been born there. Although it was a technical waste, I did get to visit the synagogue where my gramps used to work and spoke with the friendly remains of a Jewish community. When I asked the man attending to the place "How is the Jewish community here?" he answered "We have one Jewish cemetery not too far from here, a bit run down, THATS where the Jewish community is, they're all in the graves!". Although a bit explicit, I can understand his frustration and vulgarity. Not nice to be chased out of your own city.
And we did manage to have one adventure as we were told upon leaving that there is a parking controller standing on the street where we parked. "Yea but you told us that we are allowed to park here...".... " No mam, we said you could park there, but its not actually legal. If she catches you getting into your car, she will charge you 6 Lei" .."SIX LEI?!?!"... "Yes mam, that comes out to 1 Euro". Well one euro or not, the battle has begun, and the hunting instincts kicked. Crouching under windows to peek at her location, me and Emir devised a plan of action. As I distract her with my luggage and Pooh bear, Emir covertly runs with all his strength to the vehicle, with just enough time to jump in and lean the seat back before she shoots a cautious eye his way. With her attention diverted once again, he starts the engine, hits the gas peddle, jumps out into heavy traffic turning his wheel like his life depended on it, turns the corner out of sight, where he picks up his scam ladies, and within seconds,2 suitcases, 3 bags, a dog and the accomplice are all packed and underway. Whewwww what an event. As we laugh, filling the car with giggles of energy, we realise this was so much more eventful than paying the damn euro!

As it goes, with it being VERY late, we proceeded onwards to Moldova. Brasov

The synagogue where my grandfather used to work-
although empty and currently serving no purpose, its pretty majestic in its simplicity and its presence in such a small city.

All those things aside, the drive was actually quiet beautiful, and the view was breathtaking. Green lush vallies and hills lined with sunflower seas. Literally, it was sees of sunflowers. We were lucky enough to have crossed the border into Moldova and be well on our way inside it during dusk and right before the sunset. We decided to make the most of it, and stop wishing we were running through the fields, and actually do it! It is one of my most favorite memories from the whole trip.. I hope you can tell through the pictures....

MOLDOVA

So this is where it begins. First, I must tell when that moment came which I have been waiting for since that fateful day as I entered the car and slammed the door. It was of course at the border between Romania and Moldova, our first border. Without even expecting it, as our car received the OK to proceed to the officer, we opened the window and handed in our passports.
"Where are you from?" .... " Im from Bendery"... without even realising my moment has come I answered nonchalantly... "Ahh... nasha... nu prayeshai" (ahh, youre one of us, go ahead)... just then it hit me, and yes, the moment was, proven by my tear filled eyes, very fulfilling. I have no idea why I got emotional. But it shows it was something I have been missing. And that was my introduction to Moldova.
(of course I wont go into how we waited an hour in 100 degree weather, with no air conditioning, in our car for the border gate keeper to decide to let a line of 10 cars through).



All of a sudden, the radio was not in German, nor Hungarian, nor Romanian. It was in Russian and playing familiar songs that I have only come across in Russian restaurants. As we pulled to to pedestrains to ask for directions, they too were speaking Russian, and to my growing enthusiasm every damn last one of them asked me where I was from. HA! Im from Bendery niggaaaa!! WHATCHYA GOT NOW?! hahah... they were all happy to help me and all curious as to where I was coming from or going and how the hell I ended up 20 minutes in the wrong direction hahah. Maybe its because Moldova is a land with NO FREAKING ROAD SIGNS. But who needs road signs? doesnt everyone know where these roads lead? No worries, stopping in these dirt roaded, goat chasing, heavy drinking villiages was all the more fun when youre lost. Its actually very surreal, because not only do they look exactly like my grandmas and grandpas they seem to think that we are related in some way... I mean we both know Russian...
"Izvenaus, mi nemnoshka zabludilis, mi ishim darogu v Bendri...(Excuse me, we're a bit lost, we are looking for the way to Bender)
And in reply
"Ah nu vernis nazat tuda tam gde, nu ti znayesh, vasa tamgde shivjot, e paverni na prava v storanu parehmaterskayu...." (Oh, well go back to where, you know, adam lives and turn right towards the hair salon...)
It was great to already have so many people to rely on.

Its a good thing the road through Moldova was so pleasant, because I was going to need ALL that good feeling to help me get through the "border" to Banana Rpublic. Thats what me and Emir cleverishly dibbed Transdniestria. As it turns out, Bendery is behind the so called border of this self proclaimed country which no one else in the world recognizes to be one. In their own words, they have been wrongly treated by the Moldavians and want nothing more to do with them or their new adaptation of the old traditions (Romanian traditions that is, since Moldova never existed as its own country but was just a part of Romania). So they have put up some sort of self made border with self made officers given orders be some sort of self made government (oh wearing self made uniforms!). Of course we suspect the "self" in self made is actualls "Russia" since nothing would be possible without a financial backing. So this is how you get into Banana Republic a.k.a Transdniestria: You come to a random stop sign barely visable. When nothing happens, naturally you procede, when all of a sudden a man jumps our from some sort of booth which looks like a port-a-potty. He asks you for your documents, and after registering you, he tells you that you have broken a law. You have failed to stop at the clearly marked stop sign. Naturally, you would like to defend yourself and you explain to the officer that in fact you did stop for several moments but saw no one or no thing so there was only one thing to do, which was to procede slowly. No, you did not stop, and therefore you disrespected me. Follow me to the toilet.. I mean.. my office where you will pay the bank. As you enter this "office slash bathroom", you notice a whore lying in bed, and to your surprise she gracefully dresses and walks off into the darkness. The man requests a 30 euro payment. I suppose the story here ends for most with them paying the damn 30 euro or whatever the sum he just concucted is. But I am not only broke, proud, sneaky, and Jewish (joke), but I am also a fan of a challenge. So After shmoozing for a few seconds about how this is where I am from and this is my "rodina" (mother country), he begins to have some "sovist" (I dunno how to translate this.. reasonability, sense?!?) he desides to ask us to give him whatever we can afford for it to be fair since he makes only 10 dollars a week. So we give him 5 and call it a day.
WAIT WAIT... thats just border number one! theres more

Border number two was easy but VERY intimidating. It consists of Russian "Peace Keeping troops" Who have the biggest or longest army riffles pointing at you as they ask if you have any questions. No? you can proceded. Who the hell can think of a question when a big angry Russian commi soldier is pointing a riffle at you in the middle of the night, surrounded my bushes big enough to cover all three of us in the car. We proceded.. thinking its over... oh boy!

So border control number three was a bit more comical (well looking back... as it was happening I didnt know what to expect. With all the stories I heard I was almost ready to disappear from this earth).
Pulling up we came across men.. well boys... we were asked once again for our business here, how long we plan to stay and so on, we then had to "register" our vehicle, because as they explained, we might sell it illegally here in Bendery. I wanted to argue my point of having a dog and about 3 tons of luggage, and besides how the hell were we supposed to leave without a car anyways?!? There are no trains running to Transdniestria since Moldova cut it off. But never-the-less, you don't try to marry logic and communism together, so we proceded.
"Ok, we need photo copies of your license, registration, car insurance, and passport"
"we don't have copies but you can gladly take a look on these, or make copies"
"We don't have a copy machine, but it is required for your entry"

Hmmm... this became a perdicament. Here we are, 11 PM in the middle of nowhere on some crazy loony bin border, about 5 hours away from a hotel (none in Bendery) with no where to go.. oh and after 12 hours of driving. It turns out that I cant call into Transdniestria from Moldova, and my uncle cant call me from TN (lets make it short) to Moldova because of the conflict. So Im forced to call my mom to call my uncle who then calls her who then calls me. WOW. You think YOU'RE CONFUSED... add hunger, fear, ass stiffness, fatique, desperation, a barking dog, guns, Russian technical words that go on longer than the Nile river, and a lot of other emotions. To make it short, we paid them to leave the car there on the border so that we can enter for the night and stay at Petya's house and return in the morning with copies. Which is what happened. So 7 am sharp, we're up like true Peiyaneri to find a damn xerox machine store, to make it to the border by 9 before the shift change. Some more yelling occurred here, good thing it was directed at my "uncle" who dared to ask how long I am to wait by the door since no one else was in line. But more funny was the following: Registering the car, beside the copies, consisted of me writing a report of the car. They need a detailed essay about the size of the car, the dimensions of the engine, the engine number, the car weight, and I mean what the hell should they do with all this information?!?! Anyways, the last thing I needed to fill out was the liscence plate number and color of the car. The car is white. In Russian its Belij. Not so easy when you haven't used cirilic letter since you were 5. I gave it a try anyways and spelled out the following: ЦВЄТ:БЛЯ
I expect those who can read Russian to laugh just about as loud as those burly scary soldier men did. In fact even the general was called over to take a look. Instead of "White" I wrote most of the word "Fuck". Yes. As they laughed heartily at my scribble, I didn't know how they would punish me. Would it be a stick to the head, or maybe a trip to Siberia. But no. They crossed over the mistake, rewrote it and as it happened the laugh I had bestowed on them warmed their little hearts, I was set free, and the world was good again. I know its crossed over, and then I tried to change the last letter to an A but still.. you can make it out if you try, for those who dont believe. Of course I have no pictures of the border as it is strictly forbidden, and I think I've had enough adventure for one day.

My first impression of Bendery is that its much larger than I imagined, and despite earlier belief the streets are wide, and there is not many stores of eateries or anything in general. However there were many trees and flowers, and a few squares. As the day progressed I saw more and more people on the streets and that made me happy. I had a few conversations with random women at the registration house (YES, more paperwork) who were quiet unhappy with the situtaion and hated how they were being treated. I dont blaim them, when we asked a secretary what the procedures are she finally answered after completely ignoring our first two attempts, by saying "You've got eyes, read the damn sign on the door and come back when your mind is in order". Ouch. I have a video of this cow... I think its funny. She also kicked my uncle out of the room after he made a joke. I asked him who the statue was of that was somewhere behind the desk. He said Visotskij (who was an old Russian singer and of course NOT the man whom the statue was meant to honor). Lacking her humor bone, the cow kicked him out of the room. HAHAHAHAH oh man! You have to laugh to keep from shitting in your pants! Well the video isnt so great, but hey, why not.



Here are some pictures of the town. For some, nostalgic, for others, boring :D









Next following several pics are Bekker/Milman Dvor




Dnester nabereshnaya Moms School

Babushka Eta's House



Zaks (... I dunno, wedding house)
Moi Radom, the place I was born:



( STILL ADDING PICS AND VIDEOS)

The Little Moldavian Girl Teaches the Turkish Consulate English

Going upon the recommendation of a friend, I now have a possible student who is actually the Turkish Consulate. Sounds fancy, but more importantly sounds like money dropping into my empty piggy bank, and this particular investor must possess some heavy coins! Seems like a simple task, speak English. I think I can do that- in fact I do do that... A LOT.
Arriving at an unimpressive, immigrant-home-like "office" of the consular, I felt put at ease. Oriental rugs, Turkish coffee pots, tea kettles from the middle ages, lace curtains. Its like the Turkish grandparents home I've never had. Joining him by his 40 year old beat up desk, in front of some flags and posters or mosks, I introduce myself to Tahsin. As suspected, he was a Turk. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes, even a dark little mustache. His nervousness makes me feel pretty important, in my little button down shirt and slacks. So. We make a plan. We head off. Where do we go? He's Turkish.. we go for coffee that's where.
Walking along looking for a place, I still, for some reason, felt like a teacher. This was my student. A man in his late 50's, in a cheap suit, with a shitty office. I am his ticket to enlightenment. But once we were situated in a dark little corner of some busy Viennese coffee Cafe, I suddenly felt the weight of my task. As smoke filled our little corner, and after a little bit of a brooding silence, we began to talk. Politics. Oh boy. Should I play the Moldavian who sees the flaws of American society, or should I play the Moldavian who became the American who sees that everyone has flaws and AmericaNS are no different from any other people who are judges by their governments.
It actually didn't matter what I play. I am up against literally thousands of years of history of brooding men sitting in dim and foggy bath houses, smoke and steam mixing and clashing as much as the opinions of the men sitting among it. It was strange to feel the transformation. I felt quickly humbled, because his cheap suit and silly mustache was no indication of his mind. Some prejudice? Yes he had, some anger? That as well. But that aside (and I am quite satisfied in my ability to put him at ease), we had a great intellectual dual. Like two old fat men in white towels wrapped just beneath our sweaty bellies, whipping each other with branches, as we discussed our vision of the world. Slow and calculating, he is a master to my fast and easily rising blood pressure. And we sit, throwing around a dictionary here and there instead of whatever it is they threw around in the bathhouses- maybe women, but me, I'm the little grasshopper, with those little beanies, fetching more coffee as I watch the masters decide the future of economy and community. Maybe I did not feel that young, because after all, I have been known to be philosophical, and I did impress him with my wit. But damn, his rhetoric, metaphors and general outlook of the ideological universe was a bit impressive. Besides his "Do and Americans actually read?" or "All of your best doctors and engineers and thinkers are actually imports from other countries...you buy off your geniuses", other than those irking questions, I am now both scared and awaiting to receive my own enlightenment from this darkish man.

Black

So I've read the after-life, which ever way you want to put it, described as a black comforting void. A void so big that it holds within itself everything. Never the less, it is a darkness (and, as it was written, a light both at once. But for me, I'm concentrating on the black part. Why? It will all unvail itself). I am trying to take comfort in this description, but how can someone who for the last twenty six-and a half- years has been deathly afraid of the dark, find comfort in darkness being the answer to the ultimate question? If darkness will bring me the purest of love, as it has before I arrived here, then why am I so uncomfortable with the dark, even for the brief moment as you shut off the lights in your bedroom, before your eyes adjust to the moonlight breaking through the curtain, when all you feel is darkness. I can't handle even that brief moment. How can I accept that for eternity? If this darkness gave me peace before, what makes me so afraid of it now. What has happened in this darkness? Was it really peace? If that was true, wouldn't I secretly enjoy the dark, without even understanding why, instead of being so damn uneasy? Wouldn't I retreat, for some strange reason, into a dark cave any time I needed to feel warm? How can I accept it? A person who is afraid of the dark.

Croatia, Bosnia.. the Warm Welcome To The Eastern parts

(Small note, to see a picture bigger just click on it, it will open in its original size in the web, so you dont even need to save..enjoy the blog and please leave comments)

So Easter holidays is a time for families to gather, to reflect on god, on tradition, and of course on god again. Well for Christians that is. For myself and Emir, its a time to think about where we should go as our first vacation as a European couple. Having both a financial issue ( I STILL, more or less, HAVE NO JOB), and a Winnie issue (no planes), the only solution was to take the car to the Benca palace in Bosnia passing through the Benca Summer Residence in Croatia. So off we go on our road trip. First stop... Croatia!

Croatia, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a part of the former Yugoslavia, and is now a center for European richie riches to gather in the summer on the beautiful beaches that Croatia has to offer. Unfortunately, I never got to see these marvelous blue waters, as my sweetie of a boy friend had forgotten the key to the house. FAIL! haha so the romance was limited to the inside of the car, front seat only, as Winnies harmonious snoring was taking up the entire back seat. Where most people leave with sun tans and sunkissed hair, I left with a bruise on my back left by the emergency break, which was keeping us from skidding off the cliff. But I now have Croatia marked off as a place I have been, proven by a stamp on my passport, and all said and done, it was still a fun adventure, and one I will always remember. Here is us having dinner before we realised the elusive key situation: we look happy dont we...







Fortunatley, I got a beautiful view of the shore line at least. I wont say whether this is the sunset as we were arriving to the city, or if this is the early morning sunrise as we decided to drive to Bosnia at 3 am. Either way it was beautiful and worth the suffering. :D








Sooo Off we go again to Bosnia

Arriving in Bosnia was pretty spectacular, even if it was still 6 in the morning after 5 hours of driving. I was not warned of how beautiful the landscape was. Although Vienna is surrounded by mountains as well, they somehow don't seem as green and "soft" as these mountains. Each green mound of fairtale-like mountain is lined with a whispy little river, winding, kissing, and rushing through and around the landscape. At the moment, as tired as I was, I couldnt stop noticing all the cute little scenes a camera could capture, and somehow managed to miss taking an actual picture, as I was too busy LOOKING. haha. Im sorry this sucks, you know how I pride myself on pictures. So you can image my embarrassment to show you this: I know the picture is pretty horrific, but try to look past the badly placed light post on the right and the barbed wire lining the bottom, and notice the green carpet of grass dotted with villager's homes, and even that river at the bottom making its way to the other side to warn the mountain that the sun is coming around. Well in any case, go there for yourself and see :D


The people were even more surprising. Stricken by betrayal, persecution, barbaric torture, and otherwise all words that describe war, these people were not at all dressed in black as I expected. Walking through the streets, the only thing brighter than the clothing adorning these people were their smiles, well and their fake Gucci glasses. Bright lipstick accompanying bright dresses and sparkling eyes, the Bosnians were a people full of conversation and happiness. I had a great time walking around, welcoming all questions about Winnie that were helplessly spewing from stranger's mouths. They couldnt help themselves to ask, and I couldnt help myself in enjoying the attention. I mean, after Vienna, could you blame me? Its hard enough talking to someone who is actually in a circle of friends in Vienna, never mind trying to start a conversation with a stranger. So I really enjoyed the socialization that Sarajevo was offering. I got to stretch my tongue a bit in conversation. Cant say the enjoyment was equally as filling for Winnie dog to have all those strangers approach us for friendly conversation, but she was actually pretty good for once.
However, once you turn you attention away from the happy curtain that the people become, whose happy faces cover the sad truth about the past decades, once you pull back from their joy, you can see what's behind. What cannot be erased as easy as a frown, and cannot be rebuilt as fast as one can learn to smile again. You see that behind the smile, and right there on the streets, is a daunting reminder of what has plagued the town for five years. Metal locusts flying overhead, covering the sun, and landing down below- destroying all that it met. Houses, schools, hotels, parks, cemeteries.. none where safe from the plague. From the vicious devourment of human heart and soul. And I cannot suppose, because I have not gone through any of this, but I can imagine, how hard it must be to remain such an optimistic and positive population after what they went through and while the reminders still haunt their streets. These aren't your Roman or Greek ruins, seized by time. This is an average home that was destroyed with bombs, machine guns, and explosives while people were still inside. And if this is not the story of the particular building you see here, it is the story of hundreds others like this in the town, a story which you can read while talking with any local, or on the marble painted cemeteries.

Enough of the sorrow, because if Sarajevo has taught me anything, is that you can never forget fast enough the sorrow and begin with the Gucci :D.

There is still enough to see in Sarajevo and the surrounding areas, and I have already written a novel.

We went for an amazing hike, through the rain, which honestly made it so much more fun for me.. because whats an adventure without umm and adventure haha. So here we are, soaking wet, hiking through villages in a far away land. How far away? Well lets just say an old man with more wrinkles than my grandmother (for those of you who know her are fairly impressed right now, right??) comes over to Emir ready to hug him, swearing that he knows him. In fact he knows his village (Šabići) and his father and his name is not really Emir, as he tried to remember his REAL name. Awe, I didnt know whether to hug him at his cuteness or to give him some Xanex or some other medication to calm his crazy down hahahah.
Winnie was particularly impressive, not only does she look like a goat, but she actually jumped, hopped, puffed, and climbed her way up the entire mountain, which was mainly rock, and very steep. Good job! Oh, and she also mushed her face into a pile of cow shit. That part was not so impressive, but the guys found in hilarious. ok so did I hehe.

Our sheep


Group pic at the peek

Winnie's Facebook Profile ;D
Oh dont worry, it gets more dangerous
but you know what your parents always said would happen...
you would have way too much fun if you stand close to the edge haha..


Was a beautiful end to what could have been a very cold day, and the view was very rewarding.

Needless to say, Winnie was pretty pooped!


The outskirts of Sarajevo were quiet breathtaking, but the city itself had some nice places to share. Here is some pics from the old city, which was full of weird dancing people, cotton candy, and of course SHOPPING. Walking home, we took the scenic route back alongside the river, and of course some more photo opportunities arose, which I gladly grabbed :D I figure seeing some pics would be a bit easier than reading about my gracious stroll through the bricked streets and blooming flowers, and villagers in funny hats selling cow skin rugs on the street fences (I of COURSE had to get not one but TWO- I sure know how to bargain).

One of my favorite pictures from Sarajevo. Reminds me of Einstein and his friends trying to figure out the Theory of Relativity.

I dont think anyone actually gave him money for dancing like a Martian, he just does it for the love of the game :D

Mmm cotton candy. Oh, thats a new bag I bought :D

Mr. Sexy himself hahah



Oh did I have an audience at the other side of the river? I did..




And last but not least.. the lovebirds perched on a fence <3

So Bosnia...definitely recommended for those who like to have a good time and smile in the face of adversity and sorrow, and live another day with a wrinkle by the eyes instead of folds by the lips.