To je to…sort of
I used to joke that a person only needed three phrases to get by in Serbia:
Moze, or ok/sure, could be used anywhere from farmer’s markets to restaurants. “Is this table ok?” “Moze.” “Do you want this watermelon?” “Moze.” “More wine?” “Moze.”
-To be totally honest, that response was usually, “Naravno!” (of course).
The next one was slazem se, or “I agree.” I inevitably attracted people, mostly older women, who wanted to speak Serbian with me. Even though they realized I didn’t speak much, they liked to talk about their aches and pains, other people’s illnesses, or the košava winds. I would smile, catching every third word and nodding gravely when it seemed appropriate. Lord knows what I agreed to with these women, but it seemed to make them happy.
I also was fond of “to je to” (that’s all/that’s that). This could sum up most things: a restaurant order, business transactions, or a general story. When my puppy would flop on the sidewalk in protest of a long walk, I would say “to je to” to passerby and it would always get a laugh. I’m sure I didn’t use it properly, but my meaning always got across.
“To je to” seems to be a fitting way to end this blog. The relocation, job hunt and house hunt took up so much of my time that I fell off the blog wagon. (Blagon?) And it was a little sad to keep writing about a place I loved, only to remind myself that I didn’t live there anymore.
But….
I miss writing about travel. And I miss interacting with readers all over the world. So I’m back, sort of. I’ll be writing about travel twice a week. Maybe more, depending on my schedule. I’m starting this week, while I’m in Paris and….Belgrade! Hope you’ll join me in this new, old adventure.
-RHOB
The Rapper’s Guide to Learning Serbian
What does hip hop and Serbian have in common? More than you might think. Throughout my struggles learning the langauge, I’ve recalled the wisdom (or at least the lyrics) of rappers to remember key words. Here’s a three word guide to the RHOB/Rapper’s Way to Srpski-speak.
Lesson one: hvala (thank you). This is one of the first words visitors ask to learn. It’s not easy for Americans to pronounce an H and a V next to each other, or to semi-slur the remaining letters together. Luckily, Missy Elliott gets us most of the way there. Just listen to her Holla! and merge a “v” after the H. Hvala indeed, Missy.
Lesson two: čeka (wait). Useful when you have a fast-walking Muz, a dog that pulls at his leash, or a ringing phone that you can’t locate. Thanks to DMX, it’s as simple as remembering a microphone…checka. Forward to the 12 second mark to see what I mean.
Lesson three: omiljen (favorite). This word eluded me for months. I would struggle to remember it, stick a d or a z in there somewhere, and utterly confuse the people I was trying to compliment. (Think, Oh, krempita! My favorzheutz…hud.) I needed to remember one little trick: more accurately, one Lil’ Wayne. Omiljen sounds almost exactly like the background chant to “A Millie.” Especially if you misheard it as “uh million” for years. The first ten seconds should suffice. Then you’ll either go crazy or start dancing, depending on your musical taste.
Thanks for the tips, rappers! Maybe Kanye and Jay-Z will come out with a version of The Mountain Wreath and take my Serbian to the next level. A domaćica can dream…
Ya feel me?
A Year of Days in Belgrade
NOTE: I can’t find my thingee (technical term) that transfers photos to my computer, so I can’t show you all the cool stuff I’ve done this week. Instead, I’m posting a revised essay I wrote in May for my writing group. Hope you enjoy it.
A Year of Days in Belgrade
Godinu dana: a year of days. I’m told that’s the proper phrase to use when I explain how long I’ll be in Belgrade. I like this expression; it highlights my urgency to see everything, go everywhere, and eat anything in just 365 days. When I remember this year, I’ll think of the special days that defined the confusion, frustration, and happiness of a life abroad.
My first few days in Belgrade were a rainy blur. I was dizzy with jet lag. I had no idea where we lived and was constantly getting lost. To bring some sense into our new life, I started Serbian classes on my third day in Belgrade. After 30 minutes of instruction, the teacher asked if I had any questions. She then blinked rapidly as I asked, “Where can I buy a hair dryer? What do I say when the telephone rings? Why do streets have two different names? After patiently answering all my questions, we ended the lesson in a Bosch appliance store while I asked, “Treba mi fan?”
Then there was the day I ended my semi-vegetarian lifestyle. It didn’t take long. We were invited to lunch at a winery near Topola. The table was heavy with smoked meats and roasted lamb. I tried some dried vegetables instead, only to discover it was duvan čvarci. It was the first day in my life I ate pork rind. It would not be the last.
Life changed quite a bit on the Saturday we picked up our dog. The breeder spoke little English, and our Serbian was rudimentary, but he welcomed us like relatives. We sat shoeless in his living room and admired the juices and sodas carefully displayed on a nearby table. He asked lots of questions and gave us strict instructions. It was my first lesson in the Serbian love for dogs, despite (or because of) the strays I see around town.
One Sunday evening, Serbia suddenly seemed like home. We visited Studenica Monastery and were given a tour of the three churches inside. We drank coffee with a monk and spoke in broken Serbian-English about the church, life in Belgrade, and our families. For the first time in months, I felt as though I was a part of my surroundings, rather than passing through them on a first-class train.
Now I wonder about the days when we return to the United States. I wonder if I’ll overhear Serbian, or if someone will stop me when I’m telling our dog hajde, dosta, and fuje to. If that happens, I’ll say, Zivela sam u Beogradu za godinu dana. A year of unforgettable days.
The RHOB Guide to Survival Serbian
Maybe you already know Serbian. Maybe you ARE Serbian. (Zdravo!) If not, and you’re coming to Belgrade, it’s good to know some words beyond dobar dan (good day) and hvala (thank you). It’s even better to know a few sentences and phrases that will get you through some typical Serbian experiences. These may not be grammatically perfect, but you’ll get your point across.**
Scenario 1: Finding a meal.
You’re starving. You see white tablecloths, outside seating, and a waiter hovering in the doorway. “Lunch!” you say to yourself. But not so fast…
You: Da li imate hranu ovde? (Crudely, do you have food here?)*
Waiter: Ne. (No.)
You: Mogu da jedem burek ovde? Super. (Can I eat burek here? Great.)
Note: cafes often look like nice restaurants but serve no food. Ask to bring in food from somewhere else (like a bakery or burek stand) or risk running around from cafe to cafe until your blood sugar drops faster than a Yugo’s value.
Scenario 2: Ending a meal.
You’re at a kafana, or ever better, someone’s baba is cooking for you. Food has been coming out of the kitchen for three hours. You have to stop this madness before you explode like that dude in Big Trouble, Little China.
You: Sve je bila odlicno. Ne mogu vise. (Everything was excellent. I can’t eat another bite.)
Baba: Moras da jedes malo vise. To ce pomoci da beba. (You must eat a little more. This will help you make babies.)
You: !?!?!
Baba: Napravna sam tulumbe, baklava, tufahije i torta. (I made tulumbe, baklava, tufanije and cake.)
You: Necu, ali hvala vama. Ako jedem nesto vise, mozda ja cu umreti. (I can’t, but thank you. If I eat anything else, I might die.)
Baba: Ti ces jesti tufahije. (You will eat tufanije.)
You: Mozda samo malo. Hvala vama. (Maybe just a little. Thank you.)
Note: While in Serbia, prepare to eat until you feel like dying. People will try to feed you until you clutch your heart and run out the door. Argument is useless. Besides, tufahije is awesome.
Scenario 3: Ending an evening at a friend’s house
You: Ne vise vina za mene. Mislim da je moj jetra je kiseli. (No more wine for me. I think my liver is pickled.)
Friend: Stravno? Imam dunya rakija iz cela mog dede. (Really? I have quince rakija from my grandfather’s village.)
You: U redu. Moja jetra nije važno, zar ne? (Ok. My liver isn’t important, right?)
Note: There is little peer pressure to drink alcohol in Serbia. But when you’re offered someone’s homemade rakija, peer pressure isn’t needed. Imbibe carefully.
Scenario 4: Ending an Evening, Part II
[Ring, ring.]
You: Molim? Sta? Ne, ne mogu da idem u klubu veceras. To je tri ujutru i imam sastanak sutra u osam sati. (Hello? What? No, I can’t go to the club tonight. It’s 3 a.m. and I have a meeting tomorrow at 8 a.m.)
Friend: Nole je ovde. (Novak Djokovic is here.)
You: Ja cu biti to za deset minuti. (I’ll be there in ten minutes.)
Note: Just go. You can sleep on the plane. Or when you’re retired.
***
Enjoy Serbia!
*There MUST be a better way to ask this. Srpski speakers, help a housewife out.
**I realize that there are probably several errors here, especially with cases. (Posting late, can’t find my cases cheat sheet, lazy, etc.) Feel free to correct major errors in the comments, but I probably will not correct the main text unless I wrote something offensively incorrect. Have a great weekend, everyone.
The Silver Screen in the White City: Movies in Belgrade
Sometimes even a traveling Housewife needs a break from “reality.” When that happens, I go to the movies in Belgrade.
I don’t see many movies in the States because I hate to learn that a movie is terrible AND lose $14 in the process. Belgrade offers a better cinema experience. The movie might still be bad, but tickets cost $5 and movies are subtitled, so I can hear everything in English and get a bonus Serbian lesson in the process. Twofer!
We saw our first movie in Belgrade, Harry Potter part one billion or whatever, in November at the Delta City mall. Delta City’s movie theater offers beer, stadium seating, and fresh popcorn. What more could a movie-goer want?
Apparently, silence. There were about 15 unsupervised eight-year-olds who decided that the movie was nowhere near as entertaining as running up and down the stairs, answering cell phones, and shouting at each other. I felt like I was in a remake of Lord of the Flies, except there was no conch shell to make everyone stop talking. Parents were either absent or unconcerned.
Like this, but dark. And noisier.
Daunted, we decided to change our movie genre and theater by seeing Bridesmaids at the Usce Mall movie theater. Readers, you should come to Belgrade if for no other reason than to see a movie at Usce. There’s stadium seating, fresh popcorn, and a VIP Lounge in case you need a martini to watch Transformers 3 with your suddenly adolescent husband.
Usce’s best feature is reserved seating. When you buy your movie ticket, you can see which seats are available and pick the ones you like best. No asking, “can you move over one seat?” or draping-of-the-coat technique. If a movie is almost sold out, you can decide whether you want to sit in the very front row or simply pick another movie to watch. For type-A housewives some, this is manna from heaven.
When I tell Serbians that American cinemas don’t have reserved movie seating, they look at me with a mixture of amazement and pity. I have some pity of my own, though: there are no boxes of Jujubees or Junior Mints to mix with my popcorn. Still, there’s nothing like enjoying the silver screen with a beer and a comfy, reserved seat.
For a list of Belgrade movie theaters, click HERE.
Are you my Nenad?
One of the first people I met in Belgrade was named Nenad. I’m told that it’s a common name derived from the word iznenađenje, which means “surprise” in Serbian. Some Nenads receive the name because they were a twin, the mother was told that a child wasn’t possible, or because the baby came unexpectedly late or early in life. (Of course, some Nenads are just given a family name.)
Ever since learning this, I’ve joked to Muz that he’ll come home to find a Nenad of our own, wagging his tail in our apartment. I’ve seen a lot of puppies this spring and fall but I’ve managed to not take one home because (1) Muz will have a fit and (2) it’s hard enough to bring one dog back to the States, never mind two.
I developed a serious soft spot for these squirmy little guys, though. Someone was selling them/giving them away on Knez Mihailova two weeks ago. Hopefully someone else brought home a Nenad of their own.
What’s in a name? Sometimes, a language lesson.
Nicknames are very common in Serbia. Usually it’s a derivation of someone’s name, but occasionally a nickname is born from an event or a characteristic. I like to give our guests Serbian nicknames because (1) it’s fun, and (2) it allows me to talk about them on the blog. So when my latest guest came, I immediately tried to give her a nickname based on our adventures. I thought of naming her led (ice), after the hail storm we drove through on our way to Sarajevo. It didn’t work–she’s not exactly Val Kilmer from Top Gun. Sadly.
I then thought of naming her Magnum, after the amazing ice cream bar she introduced me to in Sarajevo. But that’s an English word, and I needed a Serbian one. She almost was called mrtva baterija (dead battery), since that’s what we discovered this morning. Long story, but headlights (from aforementioned hailstorm), tired driver and hotel owner desperately trying to get back to his desk are a bad combo. Luckily, hotel parking by a police station and barely passable Serbian/Bosnian are a good combo. Anyway, mrtva baterija doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. It wouldn’t do.
After getting the car started we drove to Visoko to see the famed pyramids. I figured I would just name her Piramida and get it over with. But the nickname gods smiled upon us when we were driving out of town. “Is that a MONKEY?” she shrieked, and I immediately pulled over the car.
It was, indeed, a monkey. And the best nickname possible. Readers, say hello to my friend Majmun.
Fishing for facts on Belgrade’s Flippered Friends
For my fourth post on Belgrade Animal Week, I thought fish would be a good topic, since the city lies between two big rivers. (The Danube and the Sava, for the geographically challenged.) As it turns out, there wasn’t a whole lot out there on our fine flippered friends. Here’s what I dug up.
There are at least 97 species of fish found in Serbia, including three labeled “roach.” I’m hoping that’s a typo.Despite the large variety, you’ll mostly find trout and carp on local menus. At least, that’s what most of Vojvodina’s fish farms raise. It appears that the Danube has large catfish as well, based on this photo on the City of Belgrade website:
source: http://www.beograd.rs
That's not exactly what I meant
I love the people (Americans, I think) recording this. They sound so sad about how the fish keep jumping out of the basket. Somehow, they’ve forgotten that these fish were just hooked by the mouth and selected for certain death. Isn’t that a little more tragic than flopping out of a basket? At least they weren’t biting each other’s tails.
Monastery on Sunday: Studenica, Serbia
- Open sesame!
In an earlier post, I mentioned we bought rakija from a monastery. What I didn’t mention was that it was one of the most important monasteries in Serbia-and one of our best experiences here yet.
We decided to take the long way home from Zlatibor and see the historic and beautiful Studenica Monastery. The monastery was built by Stefan Nemanja, the first leader of medieval Serbia. Long after Nemanja fought for Serbian independence from Byzantine rule, he abdicated his throne to become a monk at Studenica. Two of his sons became Serbian leaders, and another, Saint Sava, founded the Serbian Orthodox Church.
(To think I was proud of getting the laundry done today.)
We were excited to see it, and plugged “Studenica” in our GPS. We promptly followed the directions- to Studenica, Kosovo. Oops. We figured this out before we got to the border, but it made the trip significantly longer. Studenica’s gates were closed when we arrived.
We were devastated. A passing monk explained that the doors had closed five minutes ago, and asked us about our Belgrade license plates. After we explained our roundabout way home, he said he could show us around a little. We couldn’t believe our luck.
There were once 14 churches in the complex, but now only two remain: Church of the Virgin, and the Church of the King.
Church of the King
Church of the Virgin
Photos of the interior are not permitted, but I’ve pulled some off the net. Trust me, they look much better in person. The frescoes below, from the Church of the Virgin, date from the 1200s. Time and Ottoman forces have damaged the images, but the colors remain vibrant. The image on the right is Stefan Nemajna, from answers.com.
Image from naturalpigments.com
Door detail on Church of the Virgin
The King’s Church is smaller. It’s not as awe-inspiring as the Virgin’s church, but its frescoes are in better condition. Some of the frescoes featuring the king’s life were even used to teach people about hygiene. I’d love to show a photo, but I couldn’t find one I thought I could use freely.
We admired the marble carvings on the Virgin’s Church exterior. As our host pointed out a sundial carved into a wall, he offered us coffee. He treated us like guests, rather than the gate-crashers we were.
We sipped and watched the sun set on the countryside. The Bishop wandered over to say hello. We talked about our families, our travels, and the monastery. It was a memorable example of the Serbian spirit and hospitality. It was also memorable for another reason; we were able to have this conversation almost entirely in Serbian. At last, we could participate in the Serbian community, not just observe it.
We bid farewell to our hosts and went back to our car. We had a long drive to an apartment, and a city, that felt like home.
Serbian Language Lessons, Animal-Style
My Serbian is slowly getting better. I only know this because I’ve recently realized that my grammar over the past three months was terrible. Laughably terrible. So Serbians, thank you for your understanding. We’ve still got a long way to go, but I appreciate your patience.
Still, I’m certainly no expert (or even intermediate) in Serbian. The simplest words will leave my mind when I need them the most. Sometimes I come up with a similar word. My charade skills are quite handy. And when I’m really desperate, I start speaking English.
Or I use the speak-and-say approach. Last week I was at the butcher shop, trying to order ground turkey for chili. I even wrote the phrase down in case I forgot the words. But the butcher didn’t have any ground turkey. I decided to get ground beef instead, but I couldn’t remember the word for beef. I could remember the word for veal, but honey, RHOB doesn’t put veal in chili. And I wasn’t going to go back home, look it up, and return to the shop.
The butcher didn’t speak English. I took a deep breath. There was only one thing I could think of. With a straight face, I said, “Mooooooo. Ne junjetina (veal).” Bless this butcher, because he simply nodded, showed me a cut of beef, and proceeded to grind it himself. We both pretended that this was a totally normal transaction. And yes, I am giving him all my business from now on.
I couldn’t remember the Serbian word for beef, but I did successfully (and inadvertently) use the correct word for Moo. It’s basically the same (muuu). Other animal sounds differ. For instance, frogs in Serbia say “krik” instead of “ribbit.” Don’t say RHOB never taught you something useful!
I’m not going to resort to animal sounds if I can help it, but it’s yet another reminder that I’m a long way from the basic Serbian skills I thought I would have after four months here. Like I said, Serbians, thanks for your patience. We’ve got a long way to go…
Ubistvo, She Wrote.
There are several ways to learn Serbian: books, private lessons, eavesdropping in cafes. And then there’s the RHOB way: Fox Crime.
Fox Crime is a channel that airs American crime and mystery shows in English, with Serbian subtitles. Some of them are good (like Numbers) and others are just plain awful, like Early Edition. It’s a show about a man whose cat brings him a newspaper from the future every day. Seriously.
Was there a second season?
I like mysteries, so I watch Fox Crime all the time. The subtitles are a bit repetitive but that helped me learn vocabulary. Using that vocabulary has been a bit of a challenge, though. I tried incorporating it into our Serbian lessons with mixed results:
- Volim da vidim Ubistvo, napisala (I like to watch Murder, She Wrote) made my teacher laugh.
- Dole, imam oruzje (get down, I have a weapon) was met with raised eyebrows.
- Zašto je DNA kaze DNK u Srbski? (Why is DNA called DNK in Serbian?) was answered with a puzzled ne znam (I don’t know), and an implicit “why do you care?”
I’ve stopped trying to use my Fox Crime words in class, but I can’t help wondering if they’ll come in handy one day. Will I become the Miss Marple of Belgrade? Will the Serbian FBI need my special insight to solve crimes? I’m not sure what a ukelele-playing, American housewife/blogger can offer them, but hey, uhvatiti loši muškarac-let’s catch the bad guys. As long as I don’t have to work with a psychic cat.
I'm talking to you, buddy.
Language Lesson 2: Hair care edition
Chris, you will NOT be able to film your sequel here. Sorry.
Welcome to November, RHOB readers. For this month I am pledging to write a post every work day (or more) for your viewing pleasure. I even signed up for national blog post month: http://www.nablopomo.com. I’m sure it was on your calendars. So if you’re sick of reading about entirely mundane things in the upcoming weeks, you can blame it on my obsessive need to finish assignments. Moving on…
Before I moved to Belgrade, I received a care package from an aunt containing hair care products. She was concerned about the availability of good hair products abroad and informed me that I should also be concerned because, I quote, I was “representing the family.” Okay. The movers informed me that I could not pack these items in my shipment, so I wrapped them up in plastic and took them in my checked luggage. Dedication, people!
Truth be told, I was concerned. I gave away my hair dryer before we left knowing that I would need a new one (with a European plug) when we arrived anyway. I needed all the help I could get.
When we arrived, it was cold and rainy (terrible for RHOB hair) and I made do with lotions and potions. But it wasn’t cutting it. For three days I looked…bedraggled, to put it kindly. Being jet-lagged didn’t help either. So after our first Serbian lesson, the instructor asked if there was anything else we needed to know before the lesson ended. To muz’s infinite amusement, I said, “Yes. I need to know where to get a hair dryer and how to ask for one.”
Readers, our instructor is a gift from above. Not only did she act like this was the most natural question in the world, but she offered to walk to a store with me and make sure the transaction went smoothly. They sell them in appliance stores, which I never would have guessed. I said, “Treba mi fan,” and was whisked two feet away where a prominent display was featured. But I was too excited to be embarrassed. I am now the proud owner of a “purple passion” European hair dryer. Even the muz admitted that I looked much better after I used it. Represent!
Language lessons, Jersey style
Technically a Long Island mechanic, but you get the idea.
Sorry for the delay in posting. We moved into our apartment but it will take some time (2 weeks, hopefully) to get internet up and running. I’m going to try to find an internet cafe ASAP. The first week here has been non-stop. Lots to talk about, but since I’m not going to give away all my best stories in one post, you’ll have to make do with just one.
The muz and I started our Serbian lessons straightaway. Even though almost everyone here speaks English, it’s a good idea to know “survival Serbian” when you’re traveling outside of Belgrade. Before we arrived, and when the muz was here on business without me, I asked him to teach me how to say good night.
His reply? “Lou Conoch.” (Said with an amazing Jersey accent, which he othewise lacks.)
I couldn’t get enough of this. Lou Conoch? That’s the name of a guy who fixes Buicks. In his front yard. With parts from…well, don’t ask. Would Serbian sound like an evening at the Brownstone? I was getting really excited to learn this language.
Fast forward to our lesson, and “Lou Conoch” is actually la knosh…which is nicer than it appears in writing. Color me disappointed, except to say that Serbian is a prettier language than I thought it would be.
UPDATE: Apparently it’s Laku noš (nosh, o like nose). Someone (muz) thinks he’s an expert in Serbian after 3 lessons.
Real Housewife of Belgrade 
