passage [through] Inđija

though i never actually got around to saying it, due to the veering off into the Realms of Language, i *did* take the bus to Novi Sad. the commitments at NB lasted much longer than they ought to have but, nonetheless, at that point i was even more keen on going there. since it is only 2 hours from Beograd, i figured a short trip would not be the complete waste that, say, heading to Budapest, with the current time constraints, would be. the other, enormous reason for doing this trip was to check out the state of roads and whether they'd be suitable for biking. in many respects, i would like to report that the country around Beograd looks an awful lot like the midwest and the roads seem similar to those i've biked on in Ontario. as such, they are relatively narrow, with a greater density of traffic (especially wide vehicles) than those in the States. i'd take greater care, mostly because said wide-angle/mouthed vehicles are driven with considerable speed, but was encouraged by my findings. indeed, i was nearly moved to tears. before i accumulate more lies, i'll return to the story at hand. my other primary concern was that i don't have a sense of how to navigate here, how the roads join up, etcetera; in the States and Canada, i'd developed somewhat of an innate ability to move without becoming lost, on those small highways i love so well. it seems, though, that the confusion (those maddening circles with "spokes" of roads that enmiserate my life on a daily basis) occurs within cities, whereas outside them, everything proceeds in a much more straightforward fashion. in retrospect, i'm glad that my understanding was correct about the express bus being the same price as the slower one, which i took there, as it allowed me to see the road/traffic structure more closely. the local bus wove through many small towns on the way there—towns in which i hope to stop for drinks of water near mosques-turned-Orthodox-churches, towns with names like Inđija. ah, my compatriots, would that name not be a marvelous sight, printed on representative signage—maybe with the town's "Oriental Shop" visible in the background?

hadn't a chance to call David and Sara before i left (lack of mobile exerts its ugly reality: it was either find a pay phone or hop on the bus that was leaving in 5 minutes), so i rang them upon arrival. went to their remarkably new and clean apartment, made tortillas with Sara, and then over to some friends' house for mexican edibles, complete with "Fire" sauce pilfered from Taco Bell™ on a recent Stateside jaunt, "Hot Sauce from Hell," homemade (by Sara) salsa, and regular Tobasco. that this repast went accompanied by beer held in 2-liter plastic containers and purchased for just over $1 goes without saying.

Sara and David's friends, Ivan and Alexader, a young couple affiliated with the theological college at which S & D work, have a 2-year-old son. all in all, it took me about 7 seconds to realise that the sense of deja vu that i'd put on when i'd removed my shoes was related to the fact that the dynamic of this family reminded me in many ways of spending time with Masha, Leo, and Elik. with the exception that Alexander claimed she could not cook and kept deferring to Sara. would this happen in the Gankin household? i think not....

during the meal, we talked about (what else?) srpski, as a language, scant half in srpski and half (probably more) in English. i've discovered that it seems to be a mild offense to mention my (honest) view that, no, srpski is not, as languages go, very difficult. better to agree with the widely-held conception that "hard" languages somehow make for better populations and regions. all i can say is, the *view* certainly does wonders for the amount of conflict thereby and therein. nonetheless, with my sleek and mendacious ways, i averted the subject and, in return, was told that, since i was "speaking" the "language" so "well," i had certainly been living here for at least a year, had i not?

stroller in tow, we all walked around the city at night, in a sort of manic fashion. the "city centre," such that it is, had recently been retiled—because of the basketball craze that is sweeping the nation. games were in Novi Sad last week; they are this weekend in Beograd, so obviously i chose the opportune time to flee. there'd been some sort of honey festival earlier in the day, so there were still rows of stalls set up, some of them with assortments of bees and honey still upon/around them. Novi Sad is quite small and laid back, in that "country kid trying to be hip" way, the result of which is that the kid/city is happy and without standard of comparison—and if anyone looks down upon him/it, that's irrelevant. for me, it was a strangely welcome experience, being somewhere that does not seem to command that one never let down one's guard for even a moment, where the battery starts on the bus in the morning, continues through the elevator ride up to the 28th floor, and doesn't really cease until sleep descends.

it's amazing how "western" Novi Sad feels. there's much of the Austro- part in the architecture, and the strong Hungarian demographic component completes the picture of history. it's notable that the Catholic church (with its glorious multi-coloured spire) is taller and more central than is the Orthodox one. within a small walked circle from these two are: old (unused, given that the Jewish population is now 600)synagogue and painfully new Adventist (horrible, lumbering and flaunting the expense at which it was built) church.

as a commentary on the above two paragraphs, i'd just like to say a word about centralisation, class...Novi Sad is (i found out later) the second largest city in Srbija. this is amazing to me since, in the mind of many people (both in NS and elsewhere) Novi Sad is not even "in" Srbija—but, rather, in Vojvodina, its (semi-autonomous; ie. like Kosovo) region. there's a Vojvodina parliament building in Novi Sad, which says a lot more than any true (but wishy-washy) statements about group identity. fact is, there's a markedly different sense here (western, Hungarian, Reformed/Protestant, as above) and yet (this is the main point) Novi Sad is the second largest city in Srbija. which means: everything is in Beograd. it's all falling into place in my mind—how this fits into history and the practicalities of living here. with the political, media, and sheer heft of population concentrated in one city, it is relatively easy to create a unified conception for an entire country. at the same time, that means that most of what the world knows about this country is those elements which are filtered through the system in Beograd; the actual diversity of the country is not given the mention it deserves. this overly simplified and singular conception is helpful for the nationalist project and view of reality—but, in addition to perpetuating all of the bloody conflicts, it also justifies much of the negative attention and subsequent dismissal of everything that happens here.

anyway, on Sunday morning, Sara and i went to the market on the other side of town. much had been made of the atrociously crowded bus that it was necessary to take there, but it was not nearly as packed as the ones i take several times a day here, much less than subways in Tokyo. i find that a lot, here: being told about some astounding, superlative experience or thing (perhaps "the hardest language" fits into this category), with every intention of my being warned by such telling—only to find that said experience is not nearly as __________ as was it made out to be. perhaps i am too cautious with my own use of absolute descriptions, reserving some for future adventures....

after the market, at which, had i the desire, the upper body strength for carriage, or the funds, i could easily have bought any thing i could have imagined (here i will use one of my dearly-bought-and-saved superlatives)—from new and used autos to animals (for petting and consumption, undifferentiated) to the usual dredged-from-everywhere-and-nowhere Roma junk. all of it was loosely organised, almost as in a store with aisles.

walked a few kilometres down the road to the semi-wholesale grocery store at which "stocking up" is done. of course, many was the time the little voice in my mind piped up with its telltale "Mei-jer," not only because this Rodić had its own petrol station. it seemed that most of the vegetarian-specific (D & S have these leanings and, although they still eat chicken, are considered fully so by people here) could be obtained in Beograd. it's funny, i don't get all *that* excited about products made from tofu to stand in for meat- or dairy-based standards. of course, give me some *tofu* (in a block) and i'll be occupied with its eating and shall not make snide comments about encased-in-packaging vegetarians.

lunch and then a new game: Carcassonne, which i think i like better than Settlers of Catan (although D & S have the travel edition of Settlers which i now covet, mainly due to its tiny size and minutely perfect replication of the cards). then, because we all "like walking" (as in, at various times over the past 2 weeks, we've all probably said to one of the others "i'm so glad you like walking," this being, apparently, a characteristic/habit that ranges from "abnormal" to "unacceptable" in these parts), set out to the Petrovaradin fortress, which towers above the Dunav and is one of the, obviously, notable aspects of Novi Sad. we'd observed it the previous night, which was spectacular in its own right, all lit up. the fortress is very unlike Kalemegdan, in that it never functioned, really, as such (or perhaps was most successful as such): it was never at-tacked and, thus, remains in-tact. walked around the outer wall, looking at how much ground it actually encompasses in the area below, where walls are visible along with the roads that now wind all over. the bridge leading to Petrovaradin is the pontoon bridge built as a desperate response to the NATO bombing. its replacement is nearly finished and visible down the river; when the new one is opened, the only one of its kind (anywhere? i only convey this information and will not pause to check its accuracy because who has time to waste with such details...) will be dismantled. last night, Ivan regaled me with stories of a system of boats springing up almost overnight, in response to the sudden inability of those living on one bank of the river to reach work or friends on the other. from Petrovaradin, we could also see the bombed out radio tower, completing the NATO-tour of the city....

upon checking the bus schedule when we got back to the apartment, realised that the last one was at 6pm. so i scrambled to the station and caught both it and a seat thereon (several were not so fortunate and were required to stand from Novi Sad to Beograd). i'm glad i went. in talking with D & S i see that i have not come to (and ought not) adopt the attitude of "only ___________ months/weeks left." existing *for better or worse,*somewhere means living, rather than counting down, its days. so, now, even as i don't feel i'm returning "home" to Beograd, i am doing exactly that.