Travel Stories >> Bosnia >> Sarajevo: Expats, Cigarettes, and Cevapi

Sarajevo: Expats, Cigarettes, and Cevapi

Today is June 28th, a holiday in the Republika Serbska (RS). This was the date, some 600 or 800 years ago when the Serbs were defeated badly by the Turks. Why this should be a holiday might strike us all as a mystery since we tend to celebrate our victories, but the Serbs are a different breed. They have a saying which goes, "we win the wars, yet lose the peace"... they are, and these are generalities of course, a rough and extremely nationalistic people. Like many of the Balkan peoples, they have been invaded and trodden upon from all sides for many centuries, and most recently by the Croats. They have an almost genetic predisposition to "victimization", and this has resulted in a frequent "cut off your nose to spite your face" sort of life view. They will, as a nation, frequently take aggressive actions which are foolish politically or economically, but result in a sort of psychological moment of power and then defeat - leading them to a sort of see I-told-you-so response. As I read more, and talk more with people around me, I am more fascinated by them.

One of the project ex-patriates (not to be confused with an ex-patriot!) had a BBQ the other night at his house, and he had invited a number of US SFOR soldiers. What a breed THEY are! The US sends out these large groups of reservists who we see floating around the streets in their camouflage with their M-16s strapped to their backs. The US group out here currently were drawn from the Southern contingents and are all good ol' boys from Louisiana and Mississippi. They are often engaged to work on the civil engineering that is taking place in the countrysides (getting utilities back up and running). Back home they are shop owners, policemen, teachers, catfish farmers and the like.

They are not so sold on the fact that the Serbs are completely to blame for this mess, and they are hard pressed to believe that any of the US assistance (like USAID programs) is making a difference. They are also completely convinced that once the SFOR troops pull out, that the Serbs will jump right back into the war. As one, Chris, related, "we were across the hills in the RS, and I was having a cold beer with a Serbskin, in a little place from which I could look right down into Sarajevo (I told you they are right up the hills), the Serbskin looked at me, smiled, and said quite matter of factly, "you know.... the day you foreigners all leave, we're taking our city back." Just as plain and simple as that. These SFOR troops have been out here since November - the US is more brutal with their rotations than the other forces. The Italians, Spanish, Frogs, Brits, and Germans rotate their troops every three or four months. So the Mississippians head home today, actually, and the new crew - in from California (and surrounding states) have arrived. You can tell the new US troops because they are all wandering around town in packs of ten (instead of the usual two or three), with their cameras in one hand and their Evian bottles (no bottled water in this country) sticking out of those big pockets which are situated at the knees of their pants. They don't stroll through the old town like the old boys did, no, these newbies stop and stare and pick through the flatweave rugs and copperwares, and "Hard Rock Cafe - Sarajevo" caps for sale at the tourist kiosks in old town.

So today is a holiday across the hills to the East of us. It is also a celebratory day for many young Bosnian couples who having gotten married. Saturdays ARE wedding days, and beginning as early as 11am, the caravans of decorated cars drive slowly through the city, honking up a storm. This continues all day and through the night. The youth in Sarajevo is exuberant. There are babies EVERYWHERE, and every third woman you pass is pregnant, shades of "rebuilding" if you will. Young couples are visible in every corner, walking in that sort of vise-grip around the neck pairing. Along the river in the evenings, where there are lots of pleasant outdoor cafes, the couples are tucked on park-benches. The youth (18-30) are very European, much like the Italians, Spanish, and French young adults, as they stroll, the young woman hold hands, the young men frequently drape an arm around the other's shoulder. They are dressed in the latest fashions which, for the gals means that their lithe, tall, androgenous bodies are covered with tightfitting short, brightly colored tops, midriff exposed (of course), almost bell-bottomed pants, and enormous clunky, platform shoes and sandals with big block heels. The men are equally beautiful, particularly the light eyes with the slightly olive skin. They are a tall people, and carry themselves proudly. Many of the young are English speakers - an indication of the fascination with the international community and with the US. They would rather wear Levi's and smoke Marlboros.

Marlboros. When I lived in Spain, I was sure that no nation (except maybe the Japanese) could out-smoke the Spaniards...I was mistaken. During the war here, soldiers were sometimes paid in cigarettes, so even those 18 year olds who hadn't smoked, started. Smoking staved off hungar pangs when food wasn't always available. The young guys in our offices told me that at the beginning of the war, the BiH cigarettes (brand named, Drini) were packed normally, the metalic paper inside, and the sheet of plastic around the paper pack. The metalic interior paper was the first to disappear after a couple of months. After a year there was no plastic exterior. After 18 months the regular stiff paper pack became recycled magazine paper and the packs were round, just the 20 cigarettes rolled into a magazine cover. After two years it was recycled news paper packs, and after the third year, as Ajdin said, "I knew we were in trouble when they started to wrap them toilet paper."

It is almost impossible to find beans and rice in any market due solely to the fact that this country ate bascially nothing except rice and beans (of all kinds, kidney, white, lentils, garbanzos) for four years - some of my Bosnian friends say they can't even look at beans because it makes them nauseous. Tough for a vegan to find appropriate proteins in these here parts. But since I'm omnivorous and don't particularly like rice... I think I can stick it out for a few months before I really crave a bean burrito.

Although some of the older US consultants out here complain about the food, it's not bad at all (and compared to what we ate in Albania last summer, it's downright gourmet!). There are a couple of really neat, progressive restaurants where, if you don't mind paying US prices you can get phenomenal meals. Otherwise, the average cafe serves excellent pizzas, a variety of pasta dishes, veggie cassaroles (sort of ratatoille style), and more...and there are a number of places to find magnificent cevapi (say: che-VA-pee). Cevapi is a local food, and WONDERFUL. This funky sausage sandwich is an enormous, very bready pita, inside of which are tucked 7-8 yummy little beef sausages (each about an inch and half long and 3/4" wide) and chopped raw onion. It is frequently served with a local soft cheese, a little like cream cheese. It doesn't sound very exotic but these things are good - and filling! The salads that come with every meal are rich in cabbage, cukes, and tomatoes and usually doused in a nice vinagrette.

The markets are stocked with apples, bananas (from Ecuador), tomatoes (from Italy), grapes, strawberries, blueberries (!), pears, nectarines, peaches, bell peppers, garlic, onions, potatoes, oh, just about all the usual fruits and veggies. All the eggs are brown. The meat vendors are like those in Hungary, Spain, Peru, anywhere - with the requisite skinned sheep heads (eyes intact, of course) sitting in the cold display cases next to the steaks, sausages, and other mostly beef products. There is a lot of veal and a lot of fresh fish eaten here, and even though it's an ostensibly Muslim country, you can find good pork products in a few out of the way places. The one thing glaringly missing is chicken - which is what the US consultants probably miss. Americans eat more chicken than any other food, I've read. [ Note: within a year of this writing, chicken is easily found in the meat markets, although it is always frozen ]

As I mentioned there is no bottled water, except mineral (bubbly) water. The tap water is clean and absolutely delicious, and there are a number of public fountains around town from which everyone drinks - it is very cold, up from the natural springs under the city - and about which is said, once you drink from the fountains in Sarajevo, you are destined to always return. Guess this won't be my last trip to Sarajevo! Beer (pivo), Wine, and Coke and Pepsi make up much of the beverage selections in the eateries, and there is a real abundance of fruit juices: orange, apricot, peach, strawberry, and they are of a thicker consistency than the watered down, cleared juices we get in the states. The coffee is what we'd call Turkish coffee. The stuff is absolute mud, and is served in little expresso cups - you can find mini cappaccinos, but no lattes. They also drink plain yogurt with meals like the cevapi, it's a little weird to "drink" yogurt, but it is good, and very fresh (all those cultures, yum).

Breakfasts usually consist of kijfla (say: "KEY-flah"), a thin, slightly sliver-moon shaped bread – lightly salted, dipped into plain yougurt or with unsalted butter. Dinner is eaten in most Sarajevan homes at about 9pm, and many of the dishes are meat casseroles made with eggplant, stuffed peppers, or potatoes. The Bosnians like desserts, and while ice cream is a staple for the street strollers, the pastry shops stock eclaires, and other cream-laden goodies. The occasional birthday party I’ve attended is never complete without a marvellously rich, iced cake – sometimes with whole bananas baked into the center!

The stories I am told about the war profiteering and the exorbitant prices extorted for a kilo of coffee, a kilo of sugar, or a kilo of wheat, helps explain why the Bosnians are so careful and appreciative of their meals. My landlady told me she remembers what it was like eating her first orange after five years, it was the most wonderful thing she had ever tasted.

Copyright © 1997 – Rachel Peterson

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