You stay classy Serbia

Recently, the inhabitants of Serbia have showed the world that they are on the way up.  On their way up to the rarefied air reserved for people that can afford to buy tickets to a show and boo the crap out of the performer.  No longer content to have “D’ list performers mumble their way through an act, Serbians all across the land have been united in voice as they booed two hacks from the stage!

 

Last week, drunken slobbard Amy Winehouse, was boo continuously at her concert in Belgrade.  She was so drunk that she mumbled her way through songs, stumbled, and dropped her mic.  The behavior of the crowd left me confused, admittedly.  Getting drunk and singing off-key is the favorite past time of damn near every Serb I know.  I would think that of all people, they, would be most able to appreciate that.  But I guess no one is buying tickets to here you singing with your Kum at Slava while drunk on homemade wine.

 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-13828023

 

Now, I have never watched her show, and only know of it because her name is on the guide while I’m looking for other things to watch on TV, but blonde nit-wit Chelsea Handler did a segment on her show about Winehouse and her and some gay guy took pot shots at Serbia.  I’m sure the they are both leading historians on the Balkan wars.

 

This well informed quip has launched a Facebook page boycott of Handler and the E! channel.

http://www.facebook.com/Boycott.E.and.ChelseaHandler

 

These two amazing displays of taste and class bring a tear to my eye.  To think, that this rag-tag group of up and coming A-listers has enough moxy to boo a drunken baffoon and boycott a no talent-basic cable-hack all in the same week?  Keep this up Serbia, and you’ll be sitting at the Oscars booing Michael Moore before you know it!

 

 

Shaping young minds

I am a uniter.  I bring people together.  In this tradition I have been bridging the generation gap, traversing the great divide between nations and cultures and continuing to be a shining light for the wayward.  I taught my niece Brynn a Serbian word today, one of the few I know.  I taught her “krava”, which is “cow”.  

 

I believe in the long term joke.  My wife and her sisters and cousin all affectionately call each other krava.  My niece does not see them all that often, once maybe twice a year.  I told Brynn, “the next time you see Aunt Milena’s sisters, call them krava.  They will be impressed that you speak Serbian”.  Being the little smarty pants that she is….she will.

 

I crack myself up.

….and then there was nothing.

That was intended to get the attention of my regular readers.  Did it work?  I am not ending the blog so now you can put away the ceremonial knife and start-up the Kolo.   There has been a lot going on in my personal life while at the same time not a whole lot going on in my Serbian life.  Obviously the two lives co-mingle but  those two are the main reasons that I have not posted anything in such a long time and they are linked together. 

So far, this summer, I have not been to a single Serbian wedding and more shocked, I could not be.  My dance card this wedding season is filled with American weddings.  All my friends are deciding to “go pro” this year, so now, instead of suvo meso and Kilimanjaro sized piles of bread I am getting 50 guests and “wine and beer” bars.  It’s kind of like riding in coach next to the bathroom after flying first class on the Concord.

Being that I am not one to make promises, I won’t.  However, I VOW to write more this summer and re-engaged my blog and my readers.  Having said that, I will give you some of the highlights of my personal life and the Serbian life in the past months.

- I went to an engagement party that was worthy of the Greek-Serbo Orthodox showdown.  It was for my friend who is marrying a Greek.  Let’s just say it went like this;  Steaks, kebabs, chicken, grape leaf wrapped awesomeness, rivers of beer and wine, tents, rented tables and chairs and well over 100 people.  Sorry Serbs, the Greeks won that round.

- I started a new job three weeks ago.  Working nights doesn’t lend itself to being creative and wanting to write.

- Is there an infatuation with Ottawa, Illinois that I am not aware of?  In consecutive weeks there were two events that were planned there and I was invited to.  There is a watering hole there that is worth going to but that’s it.

- And to add on to that; is paintball for bachelor parties the thing now?  I’m out of the loop evidently.  I need to subscribe to whatever magazine is telling people to do these things.

- Why do old Serb men cheat at bacci balls?  This dude runs 20 yards past the line and drops his ball next to the marker and thinks he is awesome.

- At a picnic for my Kumovi last week my Kum said, ” Serb man is only afraid of two things, God and wife!  That’s it!”  Truer words were never spoken.

- My neighbor Jeremy is a weak-sauce cry baby that can’t hang anymore!!

Student survey from Northwestern

I was contacted by a fellow blogger and student from Northwestern recently.  He is Ariel Zellman and he is conducting a survey.

“My name is Ariel Zellman and I am a Ph.D. student in the Department of Political Science at Northwestern University in Chicago. Much of my research centers around the politics of identity and territory in the Balkans, particularly Serbia. I post much of my research on the Balkans on my personal research blog at http://arielzellman.wordpress.com.

At present, I am running an online research survey (in Serbian) which examines the impact of different kinds of political speech on people’s policy preferences. The survey is targeted at Serbs particularly in Serbia but can also include those in Montenegro, Bosnia, etc. You can find it at http://arielzellman.wordpress.com/anketa.

Unfortunately I have had a bit of a difficult time disseminating the survey beyond my immediate friends and colleagues… The work is purely academic, has no corresponding financial or political agenda…”

Check him out.

A Questionable Marketing Strategy

Sign at the gym

The picture to the left is of a sign on display at my gym that is trumpeting the “Men’s Spa Services” that they are offering.  Signs like this one can be spotted all over the main floor, advertising things like “Healthy Eating”, “Cancer Screening” and a 5K run.  This sign is positioned in a good spot for the target audience, men, to see it.  It’s right outside the locker room and next to the aerobics studio that EVERY guy takes a look inside of when there is a class full of ladies working out in there.  What you can’t see due to my shoddy camera phone are the special services highlighted on the sign:

Business manicure

Sports pedicure

Please.  Give us guys a little bit more credit than that.  A manicure is a pedicure is a manicure and a pedicure.  Is a sports pedicure guaranteed to make me run faster and jump higher?  Will it lower my time in the 40 at the NFL scouting combine?  Putting a picture of 1970′s Arnold holding an emery board and toe nail clippers might be more effective than placing a couple of adjectives in front.  The type of guys that are going for these services probably already do it and don’t need them to be manned up in order to go into the spa and say “I want a manny and a peddy, get me a beer and put the game on while you do it.”

Chronicles of Serbia

Last week I was contacted by a fellow SerBlogger.  She is an American married to a Serb that splits time between the two countries and uses her blog as a diary of sorts.  There are a lot of pictures that give you a sense of the beautiful architecture and countryside in Serbia and they are just fantastic.  So check her out at the Chronicles of Serbia.  She has been added to the blog roll on the right.

http://lafemmet.blogspot.com/

A Fool for not Having Tried

Making my own foods and drink and being generally more self-sustaining has become more important to me over the last couple of years.  It started out slow by just eating suvo meso at my in-laws house and loving it, then I started watching some of these processes, then I joined in making wine and rakija, and finally I have started making my own sausage and buying farm raised beef and pork.  It is with this pork, bought from a farmer in Indiana, that I made sausage two weeks ago with my Kum and a Serb friend he likes to call Cheech.  Cheech has become a good friend.  He knows quite a bit about hunting, dressing an animal, making wine, making sausage and everything else of the like and he already has all the tools one would need to do all these things, so it works out well!  This is the second time we have made sausage at Cheech’s house so we are getting much better at it and things go a little smoother.  That didn’t mean though that we were allowed to slack and slow things down.  Kume made the comment that,

“Cheech is like Mussolini!”

Plenty of breaks for smoke and drink were had make no mistake, but it was on Cheech’s schedule, not ours.  He is the elder statesman after all.  He mostly stood there and told us what we were doing wrong, in the grand Serbian tradition.

The recipe we used was not anything complex;

25 lbs. of ground pork, paprika, salt, sugar, crushed red pepper, black pepper, and fresh garlic.

It was all done to taste and nothing was measured.  We just dumped in what we thought was enough, fried up a sample, ate it and added more of whatever.

Sausage Fest 2011 was a success.

 

In furthering my knowledge base I told Milena that I wanted to smoke these baby’s rather than freeze them and eat whenever.  At some point I want to have my own smoke house but we live in a townhouse for now, but in the meantime her parents have a smoke-house, Milena made the call and last weekend we went over to start smoking. 

Various meats hanging in the smokehouse.

When we got to her parents house we were met with food, of course, and we ate some cheese that her mother had just made and it was great.  Milena asked about it and her mom offered to show us how to make it right then.  Sweet!  I ran to the store and bought two gallons of whole milk and we got started.  This is where I started to feel like a fool.  Is anyone aware of how easy it is to make cheese?  Two gallons of milk, a couple of teaspoons of an enzyme a cheese cloth and a baking pan with a lid.  That’s all it takes.  That and time.  Why we have not been doing this before is beyond me.  We are surrounded by people who possess this knowledge and are happy to share it, all we had to do was ask. We spent the time talking, eating and drinking coffee and rakija. 

 

I think that is the part that I enjoy the most with making cheese, wine, sausage, whatever, the social component.  It is a lot of work to do these things but I have yet to do any of them alone.  Every time there has been someone else there to share the work that I enjoy spending time with.  Making food is a community effort, it invites community, it nurtures the communal feeling that is being lost today.   Being able to sit at a table and swap stories and have a little drink while doing some work that everyone will benefit from leaves a good feeling in your heart.  And of course, when the work is done you have delicious sausage to eat and intoxicating wine to drink.  Which, by the way, Cheech was more than happy to supply me with when we were done making sausage.  I got two gallons of wine that I helped make the previous summer.  Here he is siphoning the wine into a plastic gallon jug for me!

Serbian winery and bottling plant

 

 So if you have the time and the means I suggest giving it a try

 

 

Srecan Sveti Valentin; Happy Valentine’s Day

     On this day there are literally millions of greeting cards, boxes of candy and bouquets of flowers crisscrossing the country, if not the globe.  Welcome to Valentine’s Day.  The plan today is to not rehash the typical cynical view that many have of Valentine’s Day, there is a question in these words, which will be addressed.  But first a brief history.

     The origins of Valentine’s Day is a mystery to most and, like any good holiday or tradition there is debate as when it was started and why.  Saint Valentine is thought to be a third century priest that lived in Rome during the rule of Claudius II.  Claudius felt that unmarried soldiers made the best ones so he outlawed marriage for them, St. Valentine did marriages for them anyway.  The second theory is that St. Valentine was jailed and sent the first valentine to his jailers daughter who visited him.  The third theory is that he helped Christians escape jail and tortures in Rome.   It would seem that our modern Valentine’s Day traditions stem from 17th century Britain when people first began to send cards and gifts to one another.

    How did we go from a single priest standing up to the Romans to red and pink heart-shaped boxes and over priced flowers?  At one point or another we are all guilty falling into the trap that is Valentine’s Day.   When a guy first ventures out into the world of dating and women his father pulls him aside and offers up some pearls of wisdom;  Be a gentleman, don’t swear on a first date, ask her a lot of questions, wear clean underwear because you never know  and all women love Valentine’s Day.   Armed with this information we all blindly wander out to meet destiny. 

     My wife, Milena, who is Serbian, HATES Valentine’s Day.  She wants nothing to do with it in any way, like a fat kid and a carrot stick.  When we first started dating she told me this and I thought she was telling me that because she thought that’s what I wanted to hear.   She also told me that she would never get married, “It’s so stupid”.  I told her no problem and warned her that this is where she is setting the bar and that’s how it will be as long as we are together.  And, she was fine with it.  She went on to warn me that there was to be no flowers or gifts sent to work for her, ever.  The squeals of delight and constant aroma of roses drifting past  in the office every February 14th annoy to no end.  How could anyone be expected to work in such conditions?!  So that is how it has been for the 6 years that we have been together; no gifts, no candy, no cards.  The day passes like any other.

     Last year though?  I decided to test the waters, I got brave.  In my mind I started to talk myself into it, Valentine’s Day. 

     “Maybe things have changed, maybe she really wants something now.  After all we are married now right?  I bet she is regretting saying that when she did.  I bet she wishes she got something this year.  All women want a little romance on Valentine’s Day”.

     So I started putting away a little cash in my drawer, a couple bucks here and there.  There was no other choice than to do it this way, she is fanatical when it comes to our finances and accounts.  She would know within 10 minutes if I had bought something.  I went to a local jeweler and picked out a bracelet for her, it wasn’t anything too over the top or expensive, just a little something for my lady.  I waited for her to get home that day and had dinner ready and the gift.   Her response was not quite what I had expected.  She looked at the bracelet, then me and commented that she “wears a watch, how can I wear this too”?

      The next day I took it back.  I wasn’t crushed by her reaction, more surprised.  Surprised that I was wrong and surprised at her consistency.  She really meant what she said, it was no joke.

     The question I pose is:  Are all women of Serbian descent like this, do they truly not care about Valentine’s Day?  Do they recognize this holiday in Serbia?  Or have I just hit the jack-pot and been excused from this holiday for the rest of my life?

USASerbs.net

I added another one to the link family.  This is a new site that has asked me to contribute my stuff, which I am happy to do.  I am not doing anything different over there, just posting it here first then sending it on to them, so don’t stop checking here!  Pleeeeeease! 

They have stories on politics, sports, things similar to mine and forums.  It’s pretty sweet.

 I’m hoping to spread the truth!  Truth on the Serbs baby!!  Imma take my message of awesome world-wide ya’ll.  Anyway, check it out.

http://www.usaserbs.net/

SrpskiBowl XLV

I am going to assume that since an estimated 111 million people watched the SuperBowl this past Sunday you either watched it too, or at least knew it was going on.  I myself was torn as to what to do, being a Bears fan it was virtually impossible to root for the hated Packers but I also have an allergic reaction to the Steelers, thanks to a friend in Miami that is the most obnoxious kind of fan, (he turned his phone off after the loss, couldn’t stand to hear the taunts).  I decided to go to the heart of darkness that is Wisconsin to watch the game with some Serbs.  Pulling on my Bears hat I went to face the enemy on his own soil.

I arrived at my friend Slobi’s house around 3, plenty of time to get the pre-game going.  This being my first Serbian Super Bowl experience I was curious as to what the day would hold but I was optimistic that it would be fun and amusing, and I was not disappointed.  There were about 12 people in attendance and all were Serbs with the exception of 1 other American who is the boyfriend to Slobi’s daughter and also a Packer fan.  The boyfriend was not drinking in the early going, he wanted to stay fresh for the game, and that was not let to rest for very long.  Slobi kept offering him something, anything, to drink.  He eventually relented.  The boyfriend has been around long enough to know that he better take something or he wasn’t going to get any peace.  So, on we went,  having a few drinks, a few laughs and watching the soccer game that was on.  Don’t ask me who was playing, it couldn’t have been a high school game for all I care.

About 20 minutes before kick off is when things got tense.  An in-law of Slobi’s started to question his TV and why the picture was so crappy.  I am paraphrasing but the conversation went something like;

“Don’t you have HD?”

“Of course I do, it’s on the HD channel that’s just how it is.  My TV is 5 years old.  Look.”

“That can’t be HD look at it. ”

Flipping the guide on Slobi says “Look, see?  HD, there it is.”

“You don’t have the right kind of cable for it then, you need a HDMI cable.”

“Well I don’t have one, this is all they gave me when they hooked it up.”

At this point Slobi’s 21-year-old son got in the mix and started looking for a cable in the desk.  I looked over at the boyfriend at this point with a mammoth grin on my face.  He was slowly rocking back and forth, worrying that he might miss kick off, (Packer fan remember) but he was holding it together.  The son finds the HDMI cable and starts unhooking the cable box from the TV, he turns off the TV and then there is nothing.  The boyfriend looks at me again and audibly says,

“Bar?  We can be there in 10 minutes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at him and the whole situation.

They get the cable in, hook it all up and presto!  HDTV in all it’s glory. 

We watched the first half of the game while pounding down Becks, homemade vino and homemade rakija.  Slobi’s wife then brought out quite a spread:  soup, cevapcici, burek, salata, shrimps, suva meso (smoked pork loin) tomatoes and cheese and of course bread, although they looked more like baguettes to me.  We all feasted on treats while watching the half time show.  Normally I don’t pay much attention to the show because greatest hits meddlies from washed up acts don’t make me tingle but I happened to look up about the time that Usher made the stage.  Slobi did too and he was not too happy about Usher’s wardrobe choice, the baggy pants were too much for him too bear, stabbing his plastic fork towards the TV he proclaimed,

“This is why America needs a dictator for about 10 years!”

That little gem right there was enough reason for me to go back next year!  I love my adopted people, they never let you go home hungry or sober and they always keep you laughing.

Ziveli!!

How I survived Snowmaggedon 2011

Yesterday I mentioned a Plow Party on my street with the neighbors.  We were all in the same position, unable to go anywhere so we did what we do best.  We drank.  A lot.  The day started out with some shoveling, community style, which means one guy came over with his snowblower and the rest of us leaned on our shovels and watched him work.  Eventually the snow removal guys made their way to our street and they looked pretty cold to me so I did what came naturally and offered them a beer, which they happily accepted.  The shots came later.  We were outside all day playing in the snow, there was a snow sculpture that I did, there was sledding, there was street surfing on sleds and couches.  The couch on the curb that the wife sat on yesterday became a means to tour the neighborhood.  It was awesome, we even met new neighbors that just wanted to stop over and have a drink.

I claim this hill for Amurica!

Drunken flag raising Iwo Jima style

Outdoor bar doing it's thing

Neighbor stuck waist deep in snow passing off her drink so she doesn't spill

Preparing to couch surf

Sledding on the piled up snow hills

The summit of Mt. Courtland

Shortly after this pic the couch disintigrated and we put it back in front of the house we found it at.

SNOWPOCALYPSE 2011!!!

I am buried under a foot and a half of snow.  Literally a captive in my own house I cannot go anywhere because  the snow is piled so high all around me.  The Chicagoland area, last night, got the third highest level of snowfall of all time, some areas got as much as 22 inches and the least amount was 16.  The entire northern part of the state is shut down right now from Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River.  It’s not so bad though.  The wife is off work today as is the entire neighborhood, so there has been talk of having a Snow Plow party, as in we all get plowed!  I think I can start right away. 

For your amusement the wife and I ventured outdoors already today and took some photos of the aftermath.  It has stopped snowing but there are still wind gusts mind you, and most local roads are closed.  So, we are making our own fun today. 

View out of the front door

In the pic below, notice the tips of the bushes in the lower left.  Those are roughly 2 feet high.

View out of the back door

 

Standing in the garage

 

Street in front of the house

 

Me standing in the driveway, snow past my knees. I'm 6'1" BTW.

 

Mailboxes in front of the house

 

Drift in front of the neighbors front door

 

Frozen planet of Hoth. Stars Wars fans will get that one.

 

Path on the street the plow was able to clear.

 

The wife sitting on a frozen couch that has been on the street for weeks waiting for pick-up

 

The wife thigh deep in the driveway throwin' up Courtlaaaaand!

Our neighbor Sten doing a walk-of-shame from another neighbors house

 

The wife calling it quits

Behold! Running water.

This is the wifes cat, Fatty.  His name is appropriate because he has the dimensions and shape of a cantaloupe and the appetite of a 17-year-old high school football player (my mom knows how frightening that vision is).  What he is staring at is his water bowl that has a motor and filter on it to make it a fountain.  For some reason he won’t drink out of a standard water dish, only if its moving.  He is so fascinated by moving water that he will run into the bathroom and stare down the toilet bowl to watch the water go down after a flushing.  His staring at the bowl annoys the wife for some reason to the extent that she yelled at him last night for doing it.  So I sent her this picture via text and her response was;

“Kick him! Jesus!”

Oh man, I crack myself up.

Dining with dead leaves

This past Friday, January 7, was Orthodox Christmas or Bozic depending on what kind of tongue you are working with.  As I amass more time served with the Serbian people I realize that the bulk of their time spent socializing is routine.  That is true with most people.  This year’s Christmas festivities were almost identical to last years.

We got to church and we literally could not get in the door.  I pulled the door open and was staring at the backs of several people.  This was a relief to me because that meant I wouldn’t have to shove my way into the main room and stare at the frescos on the wall while the priest did his thing in Serbian.  That relief was short-lived however as the wife handed me two candles to light.  Lighting one candle for the living and one for the dead meant that I had to make my way into the main room so the push was on.  After I did that I took advantage of the packed house and the wife being on the other side of the mass of people and crept my way out the door.  I figured that I would wait it out while everyone was in line to get blessed with holy oil from the priest.  There was one tragic flaw in my plan and that was the bitter midwestern cold!  I couldn’t take it anymore so I wandered back inside to find the wife and rub some warmth back into my hands.  Most everyone had gone through line and I found her pretty quick.

“Did you go through line?” she asked.

“Yep, sure did.”  I replied.

“Then why can’t I see the cross on your forehead?”

Sheepishly I said, “Uhhhh, I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me in church.”

And with that we were in line.

After getting busted like a six-year-old with his finger in his nose, we went to the church hall for dinner and drinks.  There are always drinks at the church which is, I think, the only reason there is regular attendance.  We were at the table with the in-laws, a sister and some friends.  On the table there was a dead tree branch with dried up maple leaves still attached to it.  I had seen people grabbing branches and leaves from inside the church and putting them in their cars.  This whole scene played out last Christmas, as it does every year, but I had never asked what the significance was. So, at the table I asked. The wife didn’t know, so she asked her sister, who didn’t know.  Then the sister asked a younger woman at the table, who also did not know.  She then asked her mother who cocked her head slightly, then stared, then shrugged.  Finally it was the middle-aged woman to my right that blurted out in an accent that was just bad enough to be comical,

“It is Christmas tree for us.”

And there you have it.  It was time for a drink after that.

Merry Christmas

Lessons from Wal-Mart

On my way home last night I get a text from the wife saying “call me when you are in the car, funny story”, so I give her a call to find out what was up. 

“It’s a better story to be told in person, I need to use some gestures”, she said.  “I’ll wait until you get home”.

Ok, so I hang up and drive home.  When I walk in the house the wife has a huge smile on her face.  That confused the hell out of me right from the start.  Typically when she walks in the house or visa/versa there is no talking, no smiling, no nothing, it’s as if the start of every post-work evening is a root canal at a funeral, followed by a kick in the pills.

Still smiling she says, “guess what happened?”

“You were able to return something to the store you normally couldn’t”, was my reply.  Usually that would have been dead on.  Most female Serbs love trying to return things to the store after one use, or no uses at all.  It’s a competition they all have with retailers that I refuse to take part in, I sit in the car when she is returning things.  She has a girlfriend that has successfully returned software.  Unheard of!!

“So I”m at Wal-Mart getting some stuff; lunch meat, cat food, cat litter and whatever.  I got my cart and I’m looking for a spot to check out and I get in line where there’s this old dude, he had to be at least 70, he really looked old and he was kind of shaking, I think his name was Sid or something.”

At this point I’m wondering what the hell is so funny.  She continues…..

“He starts ringing up my stuff right? The meat, I threw the bag of cat food on the belt, but only one of the cat litters, I had three.  I just didn’t feel like lifting all of them because they are heavy, so I told my man Sid that I had three.”

I’m surprised she told him she had three.  That’s her other favorite game, leaving stuff on the bottom of the cart just to see if the checker will look.

“So while he was ringing up my stuff he keeps leaning forward, looking down and asking “3? you got 3 right?”  Yes I have 3 I told him.  He rang up something else and kind of shakily leaned forward again to look.  I didn’t know what he was doing, double checking or something, I thought he might fall over.  But he did it again, kind of leaned in a little bit like he was looking down to the floor or whatever.  He finished up and took one more look down towards the floor and told me thanks and good night.”

All the while she is smiling telling me this story and I’m just waiting for the punch line.

“As I’m walking away pushing the cart I was getting ready to walk outside and looked down and realized that my coat was still open and then it hit me….”

And then, she grabbed both of her boobs and hiked them up to the sky and squealed….

“HE WAS LOOKING AT MY TATA’S!!  And he only charged me for on box of cat litter!  What’s up Sid?!?!  He’s my man, I’m looking for him every time I go there now!!”

The disclaimer that I have to share is that she was still in her work clothes and she is an accountant, so don’t think that she is some skanked up skeezer that wears trashy low-cut tops to the store.  There was just the smallest hint of curvature and separation.  Tasteful. =)  As soon she was done with her story she exclaimed,

 ”Now I can change out of my work clothes, I just had to show you so you got the full effect.”

That’s my baby.  She was in the best mood all night long.  Scoped out by a geriatric cashier and free cat litter on top of it.

The lesson to be learned is that if you are in Wal-Mart look for the oldest male cashier get in his line and show some skin.  He might just pick up your whole tab.

Not the wife!!