"I am George Clooney and here is my friend Antonio Banderas!" Our family lawyer Dusan and my husband are sitting side by side at an outdoor cafe in Novi Sad grinning at me. I'm startled to realize it's true. The resemblance is remarkable ... if Clooney and Banderas were Serbians.
The boys are just back from a four-day road trip to Knin, once a Serb stronghold in central Croatia, where Dusan was born. I suddenly realize this whole Clooney/Banderas thing is a finely honed act they've used to flirt with barmaids and waitresses all the way there and back. It's a side of my husband I've never seen before, and it makes me laugh.
Novi Sad is Serbia's second largest city. It seems to consist of super-shiny banks and slightly-dingier apartment buildings. Only the old town area has many antique buildings in Austro-Hungarian style. Most have had their ground floors transformed into glass-fronted boutiques and cafes. Cars are banned so people can stroll about at ease. The resemblance to one of those vaguely 'Olde World-style' outdoor shopping malls in America is striking. Only, I guess you could say, this is the real George Clooney.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Change My "Dirty" Dollars Into Serbian Dinars, Please!
It's been too long -- I've really been missing Sombor. So, when I found out this past Friday that Air France was having a discount sale on Boston-to-Belgrade flights, less than 24 hours later I was on the plane.
Which gave me no time to change money. (Try asking for Serbian Dinars in practically any US bank and they'll tell you it's a week's wait.) This morning, I knew I would die without Diet Coke or Pepsi, because I am such an Amerikanka. But there was no cash to buy soda with. Luckily my husband had a $100 bill in his pocket that he'd snagged for travel expenses. We set off for the money-changer in downtown Sombor to get some dinars.
She took one look at the bill and shook her head. No way. No Dinars for us. The other money changers we visited all said no as well. Why? Well, something was scribbled in ink in the corner of the bill, so obviously this was not a bill that could be changed. Only dollars that are fresh, clean and PERFECT can be changed in Serbia. No folded corners, no worn edges, certainly no rips or tears, and absolutely no writing!
Well, actually a couple of years ago we did manage to get some slightly worn dollars changed in a Sombor bank, but we had to pay an extra 15% fee on top of the normal exchange fee to cover the extraordinary trouble they were taking.
To me, this is just so weird that it defies comprehension. A dollar is a dollar is a dollar, no matter what condition it is in. My husband's theory is that dollars are easier to fake than Euros, something about fewer glowing bits showing up under the blue security light. Therefore exchange offices have to be much more careful. Why, I'm still not sure. Wouldn't it be sensible that fake dollars would be crispier and more perfect-looking than those that had clearly been through a few hands?
Which gave me no time to change money. (Try asking for Serbian Dinars in practically any US bank and they'll tell you it's a week's wait.) This morning, I knew I would die without Diet Coke or Pepsi, because I am such an Amerikanka. But there was no cash to buy soda with. Luckily my husband had a $100 bill in his pocket that he'd snagged for travel expenses. We set off for the money-changer in downtown Sombor to get some dinars.
She took one look at the bill and shook her head. No way. No Dinars for us. The other money changers we visited all said no as well. Why? Well, something was scribbled in ink in the corner of the bill, so obviously this was not a bill that could be changed. Only dollars that are fresh, clean and PERFECT can be changed in Serbia. No folded corners, no worn edges, certainly no rips or tears, and absolutely no writing!
Well, actually a couple of years ago we did manage to get some slightly worn dollars changed in a Sombor bank, but we had to pay an extra 15% fee on top of the normal exchange fee to cover the extraordinary trouble they were taking.
To me, this is just so weird that it defies comprehension. A dollar is a dollar is a dollar, no matter what condition it is in. My husband's theory is that dollars are easier to fake than Euros, something about fewer glowing bits showing up under the blue security light. Therefore exchange offices have to be much more careful. Why, I'm still not sure. Wouldn't it be sensible that fake dollars would be crispier and more perfect-looking than those that had clearly been through a few hands?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Yugoslavs Use Landmarks, Not Street Signs, to Find Their Way
My husband calls me as his train pulls into Manhattan's Penn Station. He is slightly panicked. "This is not Grand Central Station!" I say it's OK. Penn is the main New York station for North-South trains and he should get off the train immediately because he's in the right place. Now, all he has to do is walk 30 minutes to the Croatian Consulate where he has an appointment.
"But I only know the way to get there from Grand Central! How can I find the Consulate if I am walking from a different place?!"
I suggest he get directions from someone or take a cab maybe. "Don't be stupid. Most New Yorkers do not know where the Croatian consulate is," he replies crushingly.
As it turns out, he himself has no idea of the actual address of the place. It's never even occurred to him to research it or to carry it with him on a slip of paper for easy referral. After all, he already "knows" how to get there. By landmark. Isn't that how everyone knows how to get places?
Suddenly I remembered a remark his sister had made a few years ago, which I hadn't really understood at the time. She said, "It used to be impossible for me to find my way on the highways in America. Every exit looks so much the same! I could never recognize where to turn." At long last it had occurred to her to read the signs.
I never realized that relying on road signs, addresses, or even maps could be such an alien concept to some people. People who are from a smaller country, a place that's rife with landmarks, where everyone knows where to go because they've been going there all their lives.
"But I only know the way to get there from Grand Central! How can I find the Consulate if I am walking from a different place?!"
I suggest he get directions from someone or take a cab maybe. "Don't be stupid. Most New Yorkers do not know where the Croatian consulate is," he replies crushingly.
As it turns out, he himself has no idea of the actual address of the place. It's never even occurred to him to research it or to carry it with him on a slip of paper for easy referral. After all, he already "knows" how to get there. By landmark. Isn't that how everyone knows how to get places?
Suddenly I remembered a remark his sister had made a few years ago, which I hadn't really understood at the time. She said, "It used to be impossible for me to find my way on the highways in America. Every exit looks so much the same! I could never recognize where to turn." At long last it had occurred to her to read the signs.
I never realized that relying on road signs, addresses, or even maps could be such an alien concept to some people. People who are from a smaller country, a place that's rife with landmarks, where everyone knows where to go because they've been going there all their lives.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Belgrade Serbia named #1 "Ultimate Party City" on the Globe by Lonely Planet
And well deserved too.
Personally, I've always described Belgrade to people as "the New Orleans of Europe." A little corrupt, a little scruffy, a little impoverished, but my god the spirit and fun of the place.
Note: As a businessperson, my next thought is how to monetize this burgeoning party reputation. If only the Belgrade tourism board could get their act together and copy New Orlean's incredibly organized convention services bureau. Putting on a conference in New Orleans is a pleasure because they make the organizer's job easy every step of the way. The hotels, the taxis, the entertainment, food, and even the drinks in the airport are all set up for a smoothly functioning and pleasurable event. With a few fact-finding missions and serious government support, Belgrade could become the coolest new meetings and conference center in Europe, especially now that we're all bored of Barcelona which practically became the Orlando of the European event industry in the past decade.
Just an idea....
Personally, I've always described Belgrade to people as "the New Orleans of Europe." A little corrupt, a little scruffy, a little impoverished, but my god the spirit and fun of the place.
Note: As a businessperson, my next thought is how to monetize this burgeoning party reputation. If only the Belgrade tourism board could get their act together and copy New Orlean's incredibly organized convention services bureau. Putting on a conference in New Orleans is a pleasure because they make the organizer's job easy every step of the way. The hotels, the taxis, the entertainment, food, and even the drinks in the airport are all set up for a smoothly functioning and pleasurable event. With a few fact-finding missions and serious government support, Belgrade could become the coolest new meetings and conference center in Europe, especially now that we're all bored of Barcelona which practically became the Orlando of the European event industry in the past decade.
Just an idea....
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
At Long Last! Our Car is Floating Across the Atlantic to Rijeka Croatia
Dropped off our car at DAS Global Services's New Jersey location about 10 days ago, and now she's all packed up in a shipping container in the bowels of a giant ocean-going vessel. Next stop Rijeka!
After my past experiences trying to ship a car to the Balkans using an el cheapo shipper, I was relieved to see DAS's warehouse is in a well-lit, high-security, nicer area of the port district. In fact it's just behind a giant Wal-Mart. Our customer rep Sergei came running downstairs to meet us and help with final paperwork when we arrived. Then another staffer came out to personally inspect the car with us, carefully noting any and all dings on a form we co-signed so we won't blame them for pre-existing problems when the car gets to the other side of the ocean. Two days after we got home, a third customer service rep contacted us via email to let us know about final shipping dates and tracking contacts.
So, far the experience has been throughly friendly and professional. My favorite part -- the big sign in DAS's lobby covered with 23 different countries' flags and the headline "Those who work here are all Americans. This is where we came from!"
It was one of those moments when you're proud to be an American, looking at the original home country flags of your fellow-citizens. From Russia to Peru and so many places in between.
After my past experiences trying to ship a car to the Balkans using an el cheapo shipper, I was relieved to see DAS's warehouse is in a well-lit, high-security, nicer area of the port district. In fact it's just behind a giant Wal-Mart. Our customer rep Sergei came running downstairs to meet us and help with final paperwork when we arrived. Then another staffer came out to personally inspect the car with us, carefully noting any and all dings on a form we co-signed so we won't blame them for pre-existing problems when the car gets to the other side of the ocean. Two days after we got home, a third customer service rep contacted us via email to let us know about final shipping dates and tracking contacts.
So, far the experience has been throughly friendly and professional. My favorite part -- the big sign in DAS's lobby covered with 23 different countries' flags and the headline "Those who work here are all Americans. This is where we came from!"
It was one of those moments when you're proud to be an American, looking at the original home country flags of your fellow-citizens. From Russia to Peru and so many places in between.
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