Thoughts On Serbia As We Move On

Serbia is a TRIP!!! It's a tough place to travel for a novice family like us. Between busy, abrupt Belgrade, crumbling infrastructure, and trying to decipher the Cyrillic alphabet, had we not had friends there, it would have been a harrowing place to start. As it was -- we met wonderful people, had fascinating conversations, drank good Rakia and truly AWFUL wine, and learned so very much.

We're told only eight percent of the Serbian population has a college education, so we realize that we ran

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Timocani Trumpet Band at Rtanj Festival: Audio Blog

This post really dates back to July 6 when we went to the Rtanj Mountain festival, but I just got a chance to put the music files together that I recorded of the band. They're an awesome trumpet band called Timocani and when you listen to them play (and yes -- drink still more rakija) it's hard not to feel just a little Serbian.

The Rtanj Festival started as a religious celebration, and morphed into a celebration of the

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Our New Digs In Krakow

Today we met our landlord, Simon, moved in to our home for the next six weeks, and unpacked. It felt so good I'm going to to say it again. We unpacked. Every single thing we own is out of our (many) suitcases and hanging in a closet, folded in a drawer, or in a pile waiting for the washing machine.  Yes that's right -- a washing machine!!  We are living, as Brenna's grandmother would say: "High on the hog"

Yesterday we dragged our luggage to the LOT Airlines counter in Belgrade and threw ourselves on the mercy of the ticket agent. We're more than 60 kilos over our 20 kilo per person limit, or about four bags over the one bag per ticket limit -- you pick the infraction. We had contingencies in mind: throw away random suitcases, ship a

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Serbian Wisdom The Billboard Way

OK - one morning we're sitting around the table under the arbor with friends drinking coffee, and we start talking about a billboard we saw on the way home from Nis the night before.  It said (in English)

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Serbian Farm Life

I grew up in a small Illinois farming town, the dentist's son. My knowledge of farming is limited to what I picked up by simply living near it. So near as a matter of fact that my backyard butted up against a corn field -- or clover or wheat, whatever was planted that season, but I fondly remember it as the corn field. Running up and down the rows and hiding was a favorite pastime when it grew taller than I was. I also remember

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