Meating Nina

There comes a time where you reach a point in your life and you wonder where you went wrong. How did you get here? And will you ever be able to make things right again?

I just got back a few weeks ago from a two week bike trip from Serbia to Istanbul and one of the most important things I learned is how small we are. There is nothing like standing at the top of a mountain overlooking a city with 17 million people and experiencing this sense of utter isolation. You are just one of so many, who are you to think of yourself as the centre of the universe. It is a very foolish thing to think so highly of yourself. And yet are we not all guilty of self obsession?

We build our lives around ourselves and judge others by our own standards and try to mold people to suit our needs. We search for a partner that will be most compatible to our lifestyle and who will placate our egos. Anything other than that is discarded without even seeing the soul inside. It makes me sick to think of it, and yet I am as guilty as the next person. We can label it any way we want but at the end of the day most peoples helpful criticism isn't always improving others they are merely trying to conform them to their own way of thinking.

Well what if I don't like your way of thinking? What if I feel as far removed from your opinion as the earth from the stars? Well that would make me contrary independent, selfish and stubborn.
I am contrary, independent, selfish and stubborn. These are not traits to be proud of and I have fought with them through my entire adult life. I am pleased to admit that I have mellowed from my more fiery youth and I do not jump to my feet when I hear an opinion that conflicts with my own. But I have also come to realise and accept that no matter how tempered I have become the roots remain true. But rather than chip away at my soul with your relentless pounding why not see the good?

I am contrary – I bring other options to the table that you might not have thought of otherwise, I keep the balance of ideas level.

I am independent – I do not impose on you for anything and will not be a burden but rather a shoulder should you need someone to lean on.

I am selfish – I am not a pushover and will not agree with whatever people say just to please others, as I do not feel the need to please everyone.

I am stubborn – I will follow things through, I will not give up on you.

The next time you encounter someone that pushes all the wrong buttons, just keep in mind that they most likely see you the same way. We are nothing but a speak of dust floating on the breeze. The man herding his goats in Bulgaria has a story a life and an opinion just as valued as yours. Try to look past the exterior and see their heart.

My heart is good.

Why I do what I do

Written prior to my bike journey.

So some people have been asking me why I have decided to bike through some of the poorest countries in Europe with just another girl as a companion and if I have some sort of death wish.

Well first of all no, I quite enjoy life and have no desire to end it at this point in time. I just believe with all my heart that life is something you grab onto with both hands, you jump on the bull you surf the wave and you eat that second piece of cake! Sure there are consequences you might get gored by a horn, you might get pounded by a wave and you might EVEN gain weight! But isn’t it worth it for that one pure moment of feeling alive? That moment where you can truly say you felt every beat of your heart. Its moments like that that make life worth living. I am in love with life; I love the way it changes with every breath and the way it flows through the landscape of your soul. Life is never boring its peoples attitudes that make it boring.

Contrary to some people’s perception I don’t do things so that I can say how wild I am, I do things because I love the wild. And unlike the many who talk about their dreams I like to act on my dreams, there are of course limitations and there are dreams that I dare to dream that I will never let escape the confines of my heart. But this is not one of them.

I love to be outside there is nothing I love more than to watch the sunrise or a cloud break over the horizon. I love the moon I love the stars I love fields of wheat and apple trees. Sometimes I get so happy just experiencing natures beauty that I think that life is complete just by viewing its splendor. I certainly wouldn’t have gotten this far without it.

So a chance to view all this first hand is something I wouldn’t give up for the world. A chance to cycle through mountains, fields, towns and countries is a gift. I would take this over lazing on the beach any day!

Airports

(Written on the 14th of July)

I have come to a stage in my life where I have started to despise airports. The very place that used to hold such mystery and excitement now fills me with a sense of foreboding at overpriced coffee and linoleum hallways.

This could also have something to do with the fact that an experience that once consisted of free miniature bottles of gin delivered with a smile and complimentary headphones on a trip consisting of an hour, now involves being herded like sheep down institutionalized seats, legs hitting your chin and a look of derision should you request a cup of water.

15 hours of said torture could explain my mental state today.

I left my friends in Serbia yesterday at 01:00am and didn’t put my feet on Irish soil till 16:30, the 15 hours in-between were a surreal experience of nodding off at airports, jumping each time the loudspeaker went off threatening to destroy my bag should I leave it unattended, eating packets of chocolate chip cookies at prices worthy of the inflation days of the depression, and dreaming of waves lapping against the poisoned shores of my mind. (Don’t ask)
I went through one too many security checks was asked to take off my outer garments by men
and women who looked like they were just itching to tackle someone in order to break the monotony of their useless existence. I would be pretty pissed off too if I was told that I was protecting homeland security by confiscating tommee tippee water cups and Dove shampoo.
I did however sneak through my razor at each checkpoint and felt a perverse sense of excitement that although my face cream was scrutinized with displeasure I still had the option to hijack a plane with my wicked Gillette.

I think though that the main reason I dislike airports is that they symbolize goodbyes, regardless if you are departing or arriving there is something that you are leaving behind.

It's lonely being right all the time.

Being right can be a terrible thing.

There is something incredibly annoying about someone who is always right. Is it jealousy perhaps that causes us to detest those who with a look of superiority manage to crash our plane before it even has a chance to take a test flight.
I think once upon a time I was a little like that, I seem to recall heated arguments about the properties of egg whites and the Latin name for jaguar, but I believe I have come to a point in my life where as Rhett so eloquently put it “Frankly my dear I don't give a dham” .
Who cares about winning the game, who cares about knowing what the indigenous people of Borneo are called (Its Dayak by the way). And who gives a flying fuck about what you did or didn't say five or ten years ago. And yes I just used a swear word, and who the hell gives a dham?

Lets just learn to let it go people! Give each other some slack, don't break out into a self-righteous sweat if someone has a different opinion then yours, even if it IS wrong.

There are two kinds of strong people. They of course come in many different shapes and colours but they have a underlining thread that is common in all.

There are the ones who are strong and make you feel weak because of it, and there are the ones who are strong and make you feel supported because of it.

The difference in action can be minuscule sometimes, but the effects are astronomical.

I wouldn't consider myself a weak or strong person, but I have come into contact with both types of strong people.
One made me feel guilty for my weaknesses and while I did work harder it was because I feared disapproval more then anything else. I felt inadequate.
The other encouraged me and although no exact words were exchanged I did not feel that I was being compared to or measured by anyones standards.

Both led by example, both were hard workers, both are people that I like.
But the feeling I came away with at the end of the day was as different as night and day.

It made me want to be more careful with how I act around those who are “weaker” or “slower” then me.

Something profound happened to me the other day as I sat on the London District line, between Wimbletown and Earls Court.

I was swaying mildly with the trains momentum and idly watching the different variety of humans board and disembark, and thinking about the dinner conversation I had had with some friends the night before.
I had gone out to meet a old girlfriend from highschool and we had met up with one of her friends and spent the evening in a Lebanese restaurant talking about almost everything under the sun, but ultimately culminating in men and relationships.

We talked about the different experiences we have had and the current ones we were going through. I explained to the girl whom I had just met that I have been in my current relationship for 8 years. At first she was a bit shocked but then she said something that shocked me. She said “well I guess thats what we are all ultimately looking for”.

I had never thought about it that way before. And as I sat on the tube, I looked at everyone around me and wondered if that was what everyone was looking for, and what gave their life meaning. Is life simply a search for Mr or Mrs Right? If we find that person and settle down is that what its all about?

On some level I feel like screaming NOOOOOOOOOOO there is more to life then a string of relationships where we are constantly screening and eliminating those that we do not feel would fit our idea of lifetime partner material.

But I have a feeling I would be screaming in vain.

I have a feeling that she was right, that it is what life is all about and what we are, no matter how much we deny it, looking for.
We are looking for someone to love and to love us, and everything else is secondary, you might try to fool yourself sometimes and focus on your career or hobby or even just your friends. But deep down inside no matter how deep we bury it, no matter how many locks we put on that door, we know what really lies within us.

Happy hunting everyone, may you find your great catch!

On the road again

Written on the 3rd, posted due to internet complications on the 8th, from London.


I am currently sitting on a airplane neatly parked on the tarmac in Rome, which true to Italian efficiency is ridiculously late in taking off.
And I realise that I have been negligent in keeping you all updated on the latest happenings in my “exciting” life.
In the space of two weeks I will have been to 5 different countries and had many adventures on the journey.
But lets start at the beginning. It is the Bookfair season and this year Bologna and London are only one week apart. So a week ago I kissed Claudia goodbye and set out with a makeshift backpack and rolling suitcase to catch the bus to the Romanian border, I started to have my first doubts when it seemed like the concept of human capacity did not seem to be in the drivers vocabulary. For a long distance bus they squeezed a surprising amount of people in and even standing space was non existent after a while. Thankfully I had got on at the first stop and had procured a good spot where I could make sure nobody “mistook” my luggage for their own. Although the actuality of being able to squeeze my way off the bus in time to catch the thief was really nonexistent. I had no idea what my stop looked like, and it seemed like the timetable was more of a suggestion then an actual reference point. Thankfully shortly before I started to panic, I found someone who was able to let me know which stop to get off at, they left me however with the comforting words of, “there are three stops in this city you know which one to take right?” I have to confess I knew no such thing and hoped for the best as I jumped out.

It was pitch black by now, and I was supposed to be picked up by a friend in Romania, I would stay at their house and then fly to Milan that next day.
Well he wasn't there. The bus stop was really just a dirt hard shoulder and there was no station or even phone booth so I was feeling quite forlorn. Lucky for me two girls had gotten off at the same stop, they recognized by my furtive glances and nervous twitching that I was a foreigner and probably in a bit of a pinch.
They were very concerned as they warned me that this was a bad area, (great) and I shouldn't be standing there by myself. I wholeheartedly agreed with them. One of them lent me her phone and I was able to text my friend who had gotten stuck at the border, and let him know where I was. Which was lucky as he had no idea which bus stop I was at...
So within 45 minutes he arrived, I have to say I have never been so happy to see let alone get into a Korean car as I was then. Of course the border crossing took a good hour as they busied themselves sticking cameras down the fuel tank and I did my best impersonation of a dumb blond when I got caught with 8 packs of cigarettes over the legal limit. The ploy seemed to work and even though my Swedish accent was unconvincing they seemed to buy the dumb part. Sometime after midnight I was asleep in Romania after eating some non identifiable grains with what I presume was meat. I didn't ask.

Three hours later I was on my way to the airport in a semi state of delirium. I caught my flight and at 6:00 am was in Italy. Ahhhhhh sunshine! Coffee! Milan!
I checked in my luggage at the train station and spent the first part of the day, basking in the sunshine in fount of the Duomo, and doing my touristy bit at the various churches and castle. Soon enough I was feeling the effects of the early departure and made my way to Parma where I was staying with some friends.
After a nap of indeterminable length, as I couldn't seem to go to sleep, I was awoken by a horde of Italians on their way to play soccer... Now for those of you more familiar with me, it will come as no surprise that I had indeed forgone 3 kilos of valuable baggage space in order to accommodate my soccer paraphernalia.
So suffice it to say that when I have the makings of a proper game available, wild horses cant drag me away!
So strapping on my protective armour (I am terribly clumsy) and donning my cleats we went off and had a brilliant game in the 27 degree heat and to top it all off my team won!

The next day the rest of the bookfair team arrived and we drove off to the fair to prepare for the setup which took two long days. On the last setup day we managed to finish up before 5 so another soccer game was in order. I was feeling rather cocky after our crushing victory and strutted unto the field. Things went stupendously, we even let the other team score a few for moral purposes ;) However it all ended rather ignominiously with a horrible crunch as I managed to twist my ankle in a most unnatural angle. Great. The day before a four day fair were I stand for about 9 hours a day, I twist my ankle. And it wasn't just a ladylike sprain where I hobble off the court on some gentleman's arm, and have a delicate bump oh no.... This was a ugly blue ankle, swollen to hitherto unimaginable proportions, kind of sprain. No gentleman would even want to give me their arm after the sight of my obese swolleness! The only consolation was that we were winning at the time so my competitiveness was at least somewhat appeased.
Thank God for painkillers! My Dad happened to have some which were given to him by my grandmother. They were leftover after my Grandfather died of Cancer and were the strongest imaginable, (Yepp that's right Dad travels around with opiate painkillers, I guess he knows the kind of stuff I get myself into)
So for four days I stood elegantly leaning against the wall and wore slacks and black tights. Note to self, reserve any limb endangering sports till after important events.

After the fair we drove down to Rome where we spent a day taking in the sights, now I LOVE Rome, and museums but there is a limit to my interest in stone busts and Renaissance paintings. The Vatican while amazing become one long blur of blurriness and although I did my best to act amazed at yet another sculpture of some naked roman I think it was rather halfhearted. The Sistine chapel however was stunning and some of the rooms in that place were downright scandalous in the amount of finery used.

Well after Rome its now back to Belgrade where a whole new set of goodbyes will take place as I fly back to Ireland and then the next day to London.

In order not to bore you all, I will post only two pics from Rome and two from Milan.
Dont mind the spots on the pics from Milan, there was dust on my sensor, which I am proud to say I managed to remove with a balloon pump :)

Duomo in Milan.




Vatican in Rome, I got terribly excited over that statues bottom.

Happy St. Patricks Day!

St. Patrick’s Day was so much fun here in Serbia.

Anna and I, the two people from the land of beer, decided to attack the local Irish pub in Novi Sad and offer face painting to the customers. We hoped to earn some extra cash for our charity here and have a good time while we were at it.
I don’t think we knew what we were getting into…

Arriving at the Pub decked out in our finest shamrocks and all complete with Irish cover names (I was Shannon) we took out our hastily mixed paints (yes I mean mixed paints, we didn’t have orange and so after some experimentation ended up with some pink looking yellow.) And with our most winning smiles we plunged into the crowd, with jars of water in hand and paintbrushes tucked behind our ears. We didn’t resurface for about three hours.

Turns out everyone wants to get their face painted on St. Patricks day, even in Serbia. It was two floors of packed madness, with people beckoning us this way and that, everyone eager to join in the fun. Poor Anna and I started going mad, setting down our jars of now green water and mistaking it for the pints of green beer, ending in some almost disastrous consequences. After the donation jar could not fit another note we decided to call it a night and join in the fun ourselves!

So we danced away to the local’s interpretation of Irish Rock music and ended our night with the biggest Pljeskavica we could find at two in the morning. (All those who have not visited the Balkan regions and familiarized themselves with this local specialty has only to imagine a mix between a kebab and a burger.) Mmmmmm and at only 2 euros each its amazing! Not to mention incredibly filling.

So Paddys day was celebrated in true Irish fashion at the pub with Guinness, music and laughter. Hope you all had a wonderful time as well!

P.S. We made allot of cash too, just thought I should mention that ;)

So last weekend was just blah, no other words can describe it.

Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. It was so depressing that I actually went to my bed got under the covers and cried. That’s right, great big fat poor me tears. I had managed to injure myself, screw up an important delivery and missed my big night out all in the space of two short days.

Life was officially over. Thankfully Lani and Mary recognized the symptoms, declared a state of emergency and threw together a pan of brownies. The smell was enough to make me venture out of seclusion and that coupled with a cinema style film on the projector made life seem a little less catastrophic.

By the way it was one of the best movies I have seen in ages! It was a Serbian Movie called Black Cat White Cat, and I haven’t laughed so much over a movie for a long time! Highly recommended, although the humor is definitely an acquired taste.
So I have to admit I was still feeling pretty low on Monday but today has got me back on track! I had such a good day, two very successful meetings lots of coffee and brilliant sunshine!!!

Its so good to be alive! But seriously watch that movie, its something else….

I forgot to tell you I got my stomach pierced. It was one of those surreal experiences that you look back on and say, “what the hell was I thinking?”.

I have wanted to get my stomach pierced for some time now, but told myself I had to get a six pack first, somehow even when I did manage that feat I would neglect getting my piercing, probably because when it comes to needles I am such a sissy its pathetic!
Anyway back to my story, I casually mention to the girls here that I wanted to get a piercing and of course they happen to know someone who can do it for me. Great now I really don't have an excuse, to make matters worse they call immediately and arrange it for the next evening. Arrrg, me and my big mouth, I don't really want someone to stick a needle in me, regardless of the aesthetic benefits.

Its all arranged and the next evening I find myself waiting at the trainstation where we are mysteriously led into some aging soviet style crumbling apartment block and inside the freaky elevator (you know the type that has bars in front and if you put your hand out you can touch the walls that slide by as you ascend, scary!). After a series of coded knocks on a auspicious door, it cracks open to reveal a den of musical instruments, vodka bottles, cigarette smoke and several men who casually let us in as if foreign girls regularly enter into their apartment to have needles injected! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

So now I am seriously reconsidering the logic behind this decision, but Anna is happily chatting away getting them to bring her snacks and determined to ease my discomfort be regaling me with the humorous tales of how “Zoran” (my competent piercer) managed to get a chin piercing wrong and ended up putting it off center. Oh ho ho ho SO funny, thanks Anna, for the moral support please leave the room!

After successfully evicting Anna from the room, we get down to business. I lie down on the bed with my feet up on someone's pillow and take a deep breath.
Ouch! Okay so it wasn't so bad, after having a baby nothing will ever seem that bad again, but I am not a happy puppy when I hear “Oh shit”. What has he done? Punctured my colon? Turns out the needle went through, hmm that would explain the pain, but the plastic piece wrinkled and didn't go through.

Murphys law.

Oh well don't worry just nip out to the nearest pharmacy and buy a new one. Don't mind the fact that its past nine and most of them are closed. I will just lie here bleeding on your bed til you get back, don't mind me.
Well sometime later on during the night we finish the procedure and Anna has dutifully held my hand while exclaiming that she is sure it will look all right once the swelling has subsided. She didn't look very convinced, who could blame her? After all that trauma it looks like someone punched me in the stomach several times. Now lets bike the 7 kilometers home, no problem, super women in the making here, haha.

As soon as we left the apartment I went to the nearest kiosk and bought a two liter bottle of beer. Figured I deserved it for being such a trooper. But once I got over the infection, (I will spare you the gross details) it looks pretty good and now I even have a memory other then some boring chair in a tattoo parlor to remember this piercing by.

Note to self, if Anna is involved just say NO.

Disclaimer.
Before you start reading let me just inform you that the word "Love" is not to be found in the text below so I have kept to my promise not to discuss that emotion. I have however neglected my essay on thread counts. After a final revision of the original draft I realized that it was quality material that most of you readers would have no understanding or appreciation of so I have instead sent it in to the proper section where it can be put to good use.
End of disclaimer.

Today was another one of those days where I felt rotten, just down right rotten.

I was ready to go out the door early after breakfast with my detailed list of places, names and addresses to visit. God my organization is starting to impress me these days, all that time living with a Virgo finally rubbed off!

So my partner aka Serbian translator, driver and yes a Virgo (how do I always get stuck with these Virgo men?) was slightly delayed. Whoever said that women were late definitely has not been in the company of half the men I have worked with, as I always seem to be waiting in the car a good half hour while they painstakingly finish gelling their non existent hair into the perfect spike. (Now guys don’t get all offended, this is just a women speaking after all what does she know?)
Moving on, albeit slowly…

So since I have time on my hands I decided to sit down and think for a bit. NOT a good idea! Whoever said that women shouldn’t think for themselves was right!
We really shouldn’t, our minds are deep dark chasms that should not be entered without the most able of guides, preferably equipped with some sort of weapon to fend off the whirlwind of conflicting emotions and ideas.

But don’t worry this is not another post about the evils of emotions, although for the record yes they are evil. Blah, yuck, gross.
Back to my story, I started to think, and I started to scare myself! Soon I was staring out the window two milliseconds away from tears. A chipped fingernail would have sent me over the edge and you would have had to apply an IV drip just to rehydrate me.
Just when I think I am a strong independent women (all those women’s lib meetings with Anna have really inspired me) I realize that I am just a scared little girl on the inside, lying to myself. I pride myself on honesty but I deceive myself to distraction.
Why can’t I let go? I feel like that dammed eagle just chained to that post going around and round the same problem, and when given the opportunity to fly and leave it behind I go right back to that post arrrrgggg!!!

Anyway this story has a happy ending, we finally got out of the house just before I melted into a little puddle of depression (terrible stuff that) we had an amazing day full of crazy Serbian encounters and after speeding down the Main street I was feeling pretty good (that last part is a LIE I wasn’t actually speeding, ahem, I am a safe and careful driver…)

This time away has been so good for me, but it has also shown me my limits and to some degree my selfishness. Feeling sorry for oneself is really just pride and if I accomplish anything from my self imposed banishment it will be to stop thinking about myself, and what I think would be best for me.

Now the day is at its end, I just finished drinking beer and eating amazing sushi and feel so lucky to be surrounded by people that accept me for who I am, and who maybe even appreciate me.

Who cares how many friends I have on facebook, or how many guys I have dangling after me or even how much I weigh, I never did care about those things why should I start now? So enough with the menopausal moaning, get up and get over it, eat some more Sushi, drink some more beer. Life is too short to waste it on people who don’t care anyway.

When does love stop being the answer for everything? Growing up I was always taught that love covers all sins. That if you have enough love then you can see past all the bad things all the imperfections, ignore the glaring differences. But at what point does love stop being enough? When are you just pulling the love card to excuse yourself from making change?
Someone once said 'Love is what you've been through with somebody.' Why do we have to always be going through it because of Love? Why can’t we seem to have balance between our Love for people and our tolerance for their company? Sometimes I wish that four-letter word didn’t exist.

No I can’t say that it’s not the loving thing to say.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not going through some mid youth crisis, there is no box of chocolates half eaten, along with a bottle of vodka hidden under my bed. No pile of tissues heaped in my rubbish bin. Been there done that, it doesn’t help. Only thing it creates is a larger waist size and undermines general coherency.
I have nothing to complain of I have experienced plenty of love in my life; I am not one of those people who crawl into their closet and cry that nobody loves them (okay fine, maybe once or twice in a diva moment I have been guilty of such a act). I just think sometimes that we should use the love word a little more judiciously. And not brandish it about as a one size fits all miracle cure for all our problems.

We Love each other so everything is going to be fine.

Well I certainly hope so, cynic that I am I will be rooting for true acceptance none the less.

P.S.
For all those who are sick about hearing my twisted perception on the most beautiful thing on this planet do not fear, my next post will be about something entirely different. No more romantic musings for me, next time I will examine the benefits of a 300 point thread count in cotton sheets versus the more common choice of 180. Enjoy, it promises to be riveting!

Its that time of year again...

I have decided to boycott Valentines this year.

The fact that I don’t have someone to spend it with is irrelative; the real problem is that there is too much expectation revolving around this holiday. For so many years I waited in anticipation for the fateful day, requiring some token of love to feel like I had some worth. And when I didn’t receive what I thought was appropriate I would spiral down into the depths of despair. Thanks but no thanks, I will pass this time, I think I might try the beef instead of the lamb.

The problem is I have always seemed to make a big mess of anything related to emotions, I sometimes feel like a child desperately trying to hold unto the lead of some dog, straining to control all the feelings I have within me. Sometimes its better to just leave the dog at home, and not have to deal with those issues.
So that’s what I am doing now, I know I am not strong enough so I’m leaving all those things behind closed doors, while I build the strength to try again.

Never, never, never give up!

We all know that the human will is stronger then anything that can be thrown at it. But that doesn’t mean that our personal will is. We have the capability to rise above, but we are flawed by our own nature to give in.

It’s like the New Years resolution to loose a few stubborn pounds, or quit smoking. These are relatively easy and realistic goals but so often we cant seem to follow through on them.

Because it’s easy to fail, its almost comfortable to admit to yourself that you cant change. That you are the way you are and you tried but just couldn’t make it, and why cant people just accept you for the way that you are?

But its not about other peoples acceptance, its about you accepting yourself. And you can’t lie to yourself, you can’t pretend that you are happy with the way things are.

I am not saying that you wont fail if you try hard enough, sometimes you will fail the first and even the second or third time round no matter how hard you try. But instead of giving in, just get up dust yourself off and continue trying to scale that wall.

This is for Mom

Wow, it’s the first of February already!
Seems like January flew by, everything has happened so quickly.

Last Sunday was such a wonderful day; The sun was shining brilliantly for the first time in what seemed like forever and it just happened to be on my day off.
Even though it was minus 8 and the roads were covered in ice I couldn’t stay inside on such a glorious day, so I took out the trusty “pony”. To clarify things we aren’t talking about an actual equine but a miniscule little bicycle, which looks like it should have training wheels.

I looked so comical with my knees hitting my chin every time I pedaled, but such inconveniences are nothing compared to the feeling of getting out of your life for a day, and enjoying simple pleasures like watching the pigeons fly in the city square, eating icecream from a cafe and sitting on a fortress to watch the river churn by.
I biked for 3 hours and frightened the Serban people with my off-key renditions of whatever song happened to be on my play list. Then I came home and while I was in energy mode did my workout before cooking myself the greasiest meal imaginable! I had saved my two eggs for the weekend and made my self a massive hash brown with eggs, grilled sandwiches and for dessert Nutella! Which of course had to go with some good beer and a movie.

Over the weekend the temperatures have dropped even more and today it was torture to go out on the bikes. I had an accident on the bike I usually use on Friday last week, I hit a patch of ice and punctured the tire and it didn’t get fixed till today. At first this was a bad thing but it turned into a little miracle.

This morning I went out with Anna for some appointments that we had with a few companies, which went very well by the way, and on the way home we stopped by the bike repair shop. Anna had met the man before to fix the same popped tire and he was very nice. We were able to spend some time with him and explain to him about what we were doing in Serbia, the projects that we run etc. In the end he changed the whole wheel for free as it had been slightly bent in a previous accident involving a car… The brakes had not been working either and I thought that they needed to be tightened so I asked him if he could do that as well. Turns out that the brake pads were worn down to metal, which explains why I had to use my feet to stop the bike from flying into some hapless pedestrian. Anyway he changed them all for free.
During our conversation I mentioned that I was looking into buying a bike while I stayed here, but that I didn’t want to spend so much money as it would only be for a few months that I would use it. He then looks at me and says, I have the perfect bike for you. Turns out his sister is selling her bike, an 18 gear city bike with a back seat so I can put on a child’s seat for Claudia. Its in perfect condition and he promised to service it for the duration of my stay. All for the bargain price of 3000 dinars. Sounds like allot? Well it isn’t its 30 euros! God is good :D

Serbia

I have been in Serbia for a few weeks now, so I thought it might be a good idea to write a little update on how things are going so far.
It’s a big change from what I am used to in so many ways, but I know that in order to grow as a person I need to challenge myself and experience new things.

Claudia is very happy, which is such a relief to me as one of my biggest concerns was that she would miss her Dad while we were staying here. For the moment she is so busy having fun with the other kids, that it hasn’t been a problem.
I am also very busy, I don’t get much time to feel lonely and that’s a good thing as it’s hard to adjust from always having someone around to not being able to get help or comfort from that source anymore.

My job here is very different from what I was involved with back in Ireland, and I feel good about the change and the things that I am learning. Serbia is cold right now, but it wont be long before Spring will peek its head around the corner and the whole country will transform itself.

I want to start driving here, as it’s almost necessary in order to get around with a kid on your day off, without squeezing into over crowded buses. I drove for the first time a few days ago and it was an experience, not only was I constantly grabbing for the gears on the wrong side but the traffic here is nothing like the orderly lines you see in “civilized” countries. The drivers are very impatient and a bit too liberal with their horns.

In contrast to the drivers, there seems to be some strange transformation that happens behind the wheel, the people here are very friendly and young and old alike love to practice their English. I have been going out with a colleague, Anna, to various companies for sponsorship of our humanitarian programs here. It has been an interesting experience, between her basic Serbian and my nonexistent vocabulary we have stumbled into the most bizarre circumstances. Nothing like ignorance to give you faith. But most people we have encountered have been more then happy to speak with us and practice their “how do you dos”

The things I miss the most right now are being able to drive to the store on Sunday and buying steak and Port for dinner. Things are very expensive here compared to the wages and things like meat and cheese is a luxury. I feel so spoiled when I think about the mountains of eggs, cheese and meat we have in our fridge back home in Ireland, and being able to eat as much of it as I want.
Instead the humble cabbage and various legumes are on the table almost every day here, and to think that we would throw away cabbage at home!
But don’t worry about me loosing weight, on the contrary I think I have put on a few pounds, as to compensate for the lack of protein I stuff myself on bread, which is thankfully always on hand…



Giving out free books at the Roma school in Novi Sad