The American Tourists by Donald Strawn (rocket ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“Where Civilization Never Got The Tax Man Did.”
Daniel Kokic *

The American Tourists

The Jugoslavian Experience

After waiting four years, we finally meet Family Karamehmedovic on 10 December 1989


*Daniel Kokic: Jugoslav poet, who also said, “Considering that most of our children are conceived in the dark and in ignorance, they really have turned out quite well.”

Acknowledgements

We would like to express our gratitude to everyone who helped make this trip possible.

First to our daughter, Donne, who pointed out the Ad for Help Needed in the GLEANER. To her husband, DeWayne, for tolerating the extra responsibility placed on his little family as they managed our financial affairs while we were gone.

To Vickie and Darin for their monumental efforts to keep the place from self-destruction.

To our son, Kevin, for driving us to Sea-Tac airport for our departure and for maturing enough to manage four months of his life without advice from Mom or Dad.

To my mother, Anita Pearl, for encouraging us to “Just Do It!”

To our foster son, Gary Kimberley, for not going crazy with so many “bosses.”

To Kathy Boberg, the Von Ekermannʼs, and all those involved with the Edeby Springs Project who provided the airfare for this volunteer affair.

We thank you all.

Our illustrious guide and constant companion, and translator, Jesenka Karamehmedovic, (Or Nina for short). Of course, because she had been our foreign exchange student, she was the main reason for our going to Jugoslavia!

The last 3 1/2 weeks of our four-month experience was spent visiting the families of our two foreign exchange students.

We left Friday afternoon from Nyköping. Traveling by Continent Bus, we reached Trelliborg on the southern coast of Sweden about 9 p.m.

This part of Sweden appeared a lot like our New England States; lots of deciduous trees on low rolling hills. Nearly every ridge has an outcrop of of granite or limestone. The southernmost part is mostly low, flat land and lakes.

The next eight hours would be spent on a ferry. We had been warned about the over-drinking of passengers on board and were admonished to take a sleeping compartment. We really had no idea what to expect from a Swedish ferry, since our only previous experience had been with the ferries of the Puget Sound of Washington State.

Our lot fell to the Peter Pan

of the TT-Line. She is eleven stories high! She held a line of cars and buses, and trucks that stretched for nearly a mile, plus a small train. Then there was several hundred foot passengers. It was nothing short of a floating cities! There was a hotel with two bars, a cafeteria, a duty-free shop, an exchange bank, recreation rooms for table tennis and videos, two swimming pools, hot tubs and saunas.
There are a number of ways to wile away the time. Some slept in nice staterooms, some like us, intended to watch videos in the lounge rooms and maybe sleep a little. Others plainly intended to
spend their time in the bars until they closed, then consummate the night with the duty-free booze from the shops.

By 1:30 AM the bars had closed and the booze had started taking its toll... On the teens first.
As we attempted to get some sleep, stretched out on the floor of the video lounge, a group of young people drifted back to the lounge where we were deep into dreamland.

There is nothing quite like being wrenched from your sweet dreams by the drunken cries and wails of girls, and the loud ranting and retching of guys who just canʼt keep their booze down any longer!

When the second girl stepped over us and started puking against the wall, we picked up our stuff and headed out the door for fresh air. But the couple of hours sleep had taken its toll on my bladder, so I was in a desperate mood for a pit stop. All of the water closets on the first 3 floors had already been visited by puking partyers and were no longer fit for human use. The main deck had one that was only partly abused and I found my relief in a urinal that was partially clogged with vomit. We spent the rest of the night on that floor in the foyer, where the security guards did a pretty good job of keeping the pukers out of sight.

Early in the morning we docked at Travemunde, Germany.
Disembarking, we set out again by bus, traversing the mid-section of that country. The bus stopped about every two hours for smoke breaks or meals.
Sometime during the night we passed through Austria, dropping off the last of the “foreigners.”
We were the only non-Jugoslavs left on the bus. When we didnʼt get off at that last stop, several passengers turned to us with questioning eyes and asked, “Zagreb?” We nodded, “Yes.”

At the boarder we had no VISA, so we were motioned off the bus to follow the guard who was holding our passports. He turned them over to a man behind bars who was vigorously stamping another pile of passports. He looked at ours and stamped them without saying a word.

The bus driver wanted to know how much the stamp had cost, and was surprised when we answered, “Nothing!”





At a “coffee stop” in a little Jugoslavian town, we passed these Golden Arches. We both had a snack attack and the almost overwhelming desire to test the quality of the fries. When the bus rolled to a stop, we did a 1/2 mile power walk, just to get
there and back before the bus left again. We were surprised that we could order a beer with our fries, had we wished .


Across the street from the coffee shop was this delightful Butik and Friseur (Beauty Parlor)...







... and right beside it a farmer was loading manure
into a spreader and hauling it down the street to a field.




This one and a half lane street was large compared to some that we travel on at night, when I couldn’t take any photos.




I liked the blended look of stucco and brick.

Back in our bus seats and rolling down the road, I whipped out the passports to see what our VISA looked like. That's when I discovered that it was a “transit” VISA good for only 7 days! We were planning on spending 2 weeks. Well, that was a problem that weʼd have to take care of later.

Our arrival in Zagreb was very early in the morning at a huge bus terminal. Nina wasnʼt there to meet us, so we sat around while trying to decide if we should try looking for the train station, since she would be arriving by train and we would all be leaving by train.

I looked around for a clerk who might know some English. After several attempts, I found one who knew what I was looking for, but I could hardly understand her answer.

Returning to where Evelyn was guarding the luggage, I told her the lady had said it was at the second light down the street. I could see the first traffic light about two blocks away. I calculated that the station must then be about 4-5 blocks away. Certainly not too far for us to walk, but not lugging those two monstrous suitcases. We decided that Evelyn would stay with the luggage and watch for Nina while I went looking for the train station.

I had just started out when Nina came calling after me. She had brought a fellow with her who had a small car. We headed for the train station with a trunk full of luggage and carrying some on our laps. As it turned out, I had misunderstood the clerkʼs directions. It was closer to 4 miles than 4 blocks! We decided that she must have meant the second BUS STOP not the second stop light.
At the train station we checked our luggage into a Guard Robe (locker), and set out for this fellowʼs house.

All the while I kept wondering, “Who is this dude? Did I miss the introductions in that fleeting time warp between their finding Evelyn and me?”
“Surely this isnʼt her newest boyfriend!” I whispered to Evelyn, “Heʼs nice enough, but heʼs at least ten years older than her.”

Arriving at the guyʼs apartment, we finally got around to the introductions. This dude, Braco, is the son of Ninaʼs grandfatherʼsbrother, i.e.. her great uncle. That makes Braco her first cousin-once
-removed, not her boyfriend. In fact, this was the first time she herself had ever met him.
He and his wife, Zdenka, gave us a whirlwind tour of the city Square, Old town, a couple of churches, and an open market. Since it was Sunday, there werenʼt many stores open, so we didnʼt make any
purchases.

They both spoke English very well. He is an engineer and has worked in Africa for several years. They have two sons and share a small three bedroom apartment with his parents. This custom of
sharing apartments with parents is one that we would see more and more of as we traveled throughout the country.

By early afternoon we were on our way by train to Sarajevo. This was the first genuine train ride I had ever taken. I was filled with adventure and excitement. We shared our compartment with another
fellow for the first hour or so, then he got off. After that, the girls had a hard time keeping the windows closed. I just had to see what was
whizzing by outside! And whiz it did! Nearly every train we saw was electric and got its power from overhead lines through spring-loaded arms that pushed up against the wires, like a trolley.

Trolleys? Did I say trolleys? Yes, they have trolleys and street cars, too. They both run on electricity, but a trolley runs on steel tracks in
the streets, while street cars roll on rubber tires like a truck. In Sarajevo at least, they both are nothing short of motorized sardine cans! They are always packed to overflowing. But at certain times of the day they are packed more tightly than at other times. We quickly learned to stand as close to the curb as possible, wait for the out-flowing humanity to begin to subside, then start elbowing our way in through the too small door. I, being the polite person that I am, was usually the last one onto the step, so all I had to do was hold onto the handle and let the door slam me into the crowd. If we werenʼt getting off at the next stop, though, this presented a problem of being swept out the door and not being able to get back on!

When Nina started to apologize for the long train rides and packed trolleys, etc. I had to counter, “But this is the experience we came here seeking. We came to see how you live, not to pass judgment
on it! Thank you!”

Miro and Enka.

We spent the first day shopping in the big city. From