Balkanization, Vegetarianism, and the Descendants of Wolves

Mrkalji – Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzegovina

Latin America has a certain Latin American-ness that helps define that whole part of the world. Yes, Mexico is different from Guatemala, which is different from Colombia and Ecuador and Chile – but there are certain commonalities for sure. They all speak Spanish. They’re all Catholic. Most of the people are a mix of European – mostly Spanish – and indigenous. 

I bring this up because what I didn’t realize is that there is a certain same-ness that defines much of the Balkan region, or maybe the whole Slavic part of the world. It’s a little bit more complicated than Latin America though. It’s like a super complex Venn Diagram. 

There’s the whole Slav thing – are you Slavic, or not? Most people in Eastern Europe seem to be Slavic. But then there are the Albanians, the Romanians, and the Hungarians. They hail from other parts of the world, I guess, and theoretically look different from the Slavs . . .

Basically the same thing with language. If you’re Slavic, you speak a Slavic language. There are a lot of them: Serbian, Bulgarian, Slovenian, Slovakian, Polish, Russian, Czech – you get the idea. Separate languages – but belonging to the Slavic language category is definitely a unifier.

But not so fast with the language. Because there is an added twist. What alphabet do you use? Latin or Cyrillic? Or some variation of the two. Or maybe, like the Serbs, you use both. The upshot is that you can speak the identical language, but still find room for division.

Then there’s religion. There are the Orthodox folks, the Catholics, and, of course, the Muslims. The Orthodox and the Catholics provide kind of an amusing schism. I guess Orthodox priests are required to be married, where it’s forbidden for their Catholic counterparts to tie the knot. And the Orthodox, when they cross themselves, they go left to right across their chest, whereas the Catholics are the opposite. I mean, how can you be neighbors with someone who doesn’t know how to sanctify themselves properly? 

Seriously, divisions along religious lines are a huge thing. The primary difference between the Croats and the Serbs seems to be their religious faiths. And yet they seem to have built up a pretty fierce animosity. Sad. 

I’m sure we could find a dozen other ways to divide everyone up. But these three are already a great starting point – and the Balkans area turns out to be a pretty good microcosm of the world on all this. Tito and the South Slav state – Yugoslavia – tried to put a lid on all these rivalries – and, I guess, succeeded for a while – but the pot eventually boiled over . . . resulting in the Balkanization of the whole region – with six different tiny republics the result. And even six wasn’t really enough. Even with little Bosnia & Herzegovina there are ten autonomous cantons and the federal government has very little power – because the various “ethnic” groups (which, as far as I can tell are really just religious divisions) are all afraid that another ethnic group will gain too much power. 

All this has caused me to reflect on our own country. We talk a lot these days about how divided we are. And it is definitely ugly sometimes. But, really, with a long-term view, there is so much to be proud of. As far as I can tell no other country in the world has the huge mix of different religious and ethnic groups that we have. For sure there are individuals and groups within the country that espouse hate against each other. And terrible things happen because of it. 

But we have not given up. We have not Balkanized – or divided into a million tiny pieces. I know people think that everyone hates us now, or that America has lost its standing in the world. Let me just tell you that we haven’t seen it. People still look to America as a shining hope. My sense is that it has a lot to do with all of this . . . the fact that we are still fighting wars of ideas – not wars of religion or ethnicity. (I know there will be some that will dispute this – and for sure we have been veering in a bad direction – but, I think there’s a big difference between reckless tariff-ing, and arguments about our borders and even immigration – and the crazy stuff that happens in the rest of the world (see, e.g., the recent history of the Balkans)). 

Now, before I go too deep into a rabbit hole that will get me in trouble, let me get back to Bosnia and Old Dan and Little Ann and the little things that make this trip fun . . . All that was just some stuff that I’ve been thinking about as we traverse this Balkans and Balkanized part of the world . . .

Alright, here’s a little bridge topic for you . . .

The other day we met a young Bosnian man who was gay. We had quite a conversation. I won’t tell you his real name – let’s call him Luka – or share his picture or anything, because his parents and family don’t know. He shared with us that it is very difficult to be gay in Bosnia. There is no gay marriage, and while it is formally illegal to discriminate based on one’s sexual orientation, it is not an easy row to hoe to be gay in Bosnia or the Balkans in general. He is looking forward to getting out of “this shithole of a country” as soon as he can. (His words). He is hoping to go to Vienna to continue his studies.

Again, people will say that it is not easy to be gay in America. And I’m sure it’s not. But I can tell you that Luka would jump at the chance to live in a place like America, where gay marriage is legal and Pride parades happen out in the open every year.

Okay – I said this was a bridge, let’s bridge to other things . . .

Luka also talked about food. He has vegan tendencies, and complained that all Bosnians eat is meat. Basically impossible to find a good vegetarian dish – especially in the smaller towns. 

He may be right on that. But, fortunately, we are not vegans or vegetarians. 

Although I have to pause on this point as well . . .

Because when I first met Diana, she was a vegetarian. I mean, she would eat some fish occasionally, but otherwise it was all about broccoli and cauliflower. 

In fact, the first time we really did anything together socially we had a big debate on this very topic . . . We had met another student named Ming. Ming had a kitchen at his disposal and we were making pizza. We made the dough and the sauce together. All good. But then we arrived at the ingredients. Diana wanted to put carrots on the pizza. 

So wrong! 

I had to endure this type of craziness for the next fourteen years or so. Spent the whole time longing for a hamburger . . . I would have to sneak out occasionally just to stay alive . . .

But then something wonderful happened. Diana became pregnant. Now, I guess most women long for pickles or something when they’re pregnant. Not Diana. One day, I don’t know, about four months in – she announced that she wanted steak. 

One of the greatest days in the annals of our family. 

We’ve never looked back. I’m thinking that we should celebrate that day as a formal holiday. And, really, I thank our older daughter, Ellie. Pretty sure it was Ellie who really wanted the steak – and managed to communicate that to her Mom in that unspoken language that mothers and daughters seem to have with each other . . . Whatever the case, it was like a miracle . . .

Still paying dividends even here in Bosnia. 

Like when I ordered Cevapi for lunch yesterday. 

So good. A bunch of little skinless sausages. They are about the size of our breakfast sausages in the States. And then they are placed in pita bread. But the pita bread is so much better than what you get with your typical gyro. First of all, it seems a bit thicker. But it also holds together better – so the whole sandwich is not falling apart in your hands. There’s no sauce or anything. Not needed. Because the sausages are so flavorful. 

I guess I’m not sure what Luca is thinking of. For God’s sake, man, you have one of the best foods in the world right there in front of you. And you want broccoli? Maybe you need to get pregnant too . . .

I will say this, though . . . Eating a large serving of Cevapi is maybe not the absolute best choice for the middle of a big day of biking. It’s maybe more of a pre-nap type dish. Because there’s a pretty significant amount of digestion that needs to take place after a meal like this. I mean, about 90% of the blood supply is going to the stomach. A nice feeling . . . except if one is in the middle of a 63-mile-5,800-feet-of-elevation-gain-with-packs-on type of day. 

Then it’s not such a nice feeling. More like someone has put a led weight in your mid-section – a weight that is taking up valuable lung capacity, and just generally dragging you down . . .

Still, the Cevapi was so good that it was all worth it . . . Plus, one must think of the day as a whole. Yes, it was a little difficult to bike through the post-revery haze of the Cevapi. But four hours later, when we were still biking at 6 p.m., I was feeling great because of the slow-release process of digesting 4,000 calories worth of meat in one sitting. 

In that regard, it’s like how wolves operate. They’re never sure when their next meal is coming, so when they finally take down a deer or something, they eat huge amounts of meat and then run around with a distended tummy for a few days . . . 

I think I could be a wolf. Kind of sounds like a great life . . .

Speaking of wolves, today we had our worst-ever encounter with our domesticated wolf friends. We’re biking along, minding our own business, climbing a ridiculously big mountain, when CUJO decided to attack. That’s right, a full-on assault. Out of nowhere, this big black dog lunges out of the bushes and laid the full force of his lupine jaws – on my rear pannier. 

Seriously, he almost pulled the whole bike over. And, afterwards, we realized that he literally bit a big hole in the pannier. Thank goodness he went for the pannier, and not my leg. 

Now, when this happened Diana was a little ways back. Not wanting CUJO to take a chunk out of her leg, I circled back and grabbed a few rocks. Sure enough, as Diana biked up our rabid friend started growling. But for all his posturing, he’s just a coward. As soon as I even cocked my arm he started retreating, tail between his legs. I guess most bullies are really pathetic like that . . . As soon as they realize that you are not scared they run off . . .

Alright, last story for the day . . . 

Duroc. 

He left Bosnia after the war – like 25 years ago. Went to Sweden, where he has been, I think, a carpenter of some kind (his English was not great, so we were just piecing our communications together . . .). He says the Swedes are “clever at woodworking.” 

Duroc still lives in Sweden, but he comes to Bosnia pretty frequently because this is “where [his] heart is.” He built himself a beautiful house, and he is hoping to power it with a homemade water turbine that he has set up in the creek adjacent to the house. I think he said it will produce two kilowatts of power. Does that make sense? 

Anyway, Duroc is probably pretty representative of a big phenomenon in Bosnia – people who moved away because of the war, the subsequent unrest, and the challenging economy that resulted. Apparently there were about 4.6 million people living in Bosnia in 1990; down to 3.1 today. Still seems like a lot for a country that is less than one-quarter the size of the State of Minnesota – meaning that it is more than twice as densely populated. 

As I referenced earlier, today’s ride was BIG – lots of climbing. But it was also beautiful – and finished with a twenty mile long cruise down into Sarajevo – complete with a number of little tunnels. 

Off to enjoy the capital of Bosnia . . . And then we head to Novi Sad and Budapest, where we meet our daughters for a week of riding together. Can’t wait!