Blog Redirect

Thank you to everyone who has been following my blog this year.  Right now, I am home in Colorado and on to my next adventure.  Of course, a new adventure requires a new blog.  So I hope you will continue to be in touch with me and follow my progress at:

 ”A Runner’s Guide to Europe”:   http://www.runnersguideeurope.com.

Thank you very much.  My best to you all, and see you on the road.

Here on the shores of Patriarch’s Ponds . . .

Patriarch's Ponds on a summer evening.

This was always my favorite place in Moscow.  Even though it is just a block off the Garden Ring and three streets away from Tverskaya, the ponds engender a center of their own.  This area possesses a quiet aura of separation, a special energy unlike any other place in the city, or any other place I’ve ever been.  Even today there is a special glimmer as the last rays of day linger, reflecting off the water’s surface, illuminating the light of the evening strollers who pass by.

I am not the first to feel this energy.  Many writers who have come before me have come as I do tonight, to breathe in the cool summer air, watch the leaves rustle in the wind, to gently grasp the cool metal hand railing that circles the pond.  To take in this city, breathe in its life, to surrender to the mystery of what will come of it all.

Tonight I have not much time for these questions.  I have to catch a train to Domodedovo Airport, and a plane to go home.  Yet I could not leave without coming here to say goodbye.  I don’t know when I will ever be back at this site, but I am so grateful for all the moments I spent here, and everywhere, in Russia for a year.  I am ready to go, I am ready for the next adventures that take place.  But for a moment I pause, in awareness, in awe, in appreciation, of all that has been, and all that always will be, in this city of mine.

Namaste, Moscow.

And that is how the traveler came home again.

Back in the USSR

Ole Mayakovsky – it’s good to be domoi

Back at RGGU – lucky for you . . ?

Evening on the Arbat with Katya

Friends will be friends . . . right to the end

You don’t know how lucky you are, Tay.  But after six weeks of running from the Baltics through the Balkans, I had 22 hours back in Moscow.  22 hours to walk, to think, to see my Katya, and to say goodbye.

Follow me on Everlater

As this is the last week of my trip, I don’t know how much time I will have to regularly update this blog.  To keep track of my day-to-day activities I am using Everlater, the newest social network for travelers.  You can follow my progress and stories at http://www.everlater.com/taychase/a-runner-s-guide-to-eastern-europe.

Belgrade

I arrived in Belgrade at 6 a.m. on Monday.  This was the first thing that I saw:

Destruction from 1999 Bombing campaign

I had never really planned on coming to Belgrade.  But after bouncing around the Balkans for the past two weeks, after hearing tales of war, nationalism, and oppression on the part of the Serbs, my curiosity was invoked.  As was my desire for the other side of the story.

So I took a two-day detour into the capital of the former Yugoslavia.  And, well, I’m glad that I did.  It was definitely not the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited (any urban environment would have a tough time topping Kotor).  It was not the most interesting place I’ve ever visited – although the dogged determination to preserve 1999′s destruction and the desperate clinging to the past in the Museum of Yugoslav History (where I learned the interesting historical interpretation of Serbia gaining independence from Montenegro) did spark a long chain of thought. 

But the Balkan narrative in my mind was lacking one important voice, and that was not just the voice of the Serb politicians.  It was also the voice of Marija, a friend of Alonit, who took me out for coffee, showed me the cool and quaint cobblestoned corners of the city, and shared with me the joy and pleasure that can be a summer evening in that city.

I think, at the end of the day, Belgrade is a lot like Moscow.  It feels big and fast, and a lot of it is concrete.  Because I don’t know this city, I am more likely to be suspicious of it than to be open to it.  But if I were to spend a significant amount of time there, I’d probably come to love it, and hate it, the same way I do my Russki home.

Destruction from 1999 Bombing campaign

Downtown Belgrade on a sunny day

Tito’s Grave

These peaches cost 50 cents a KILO

Bohemian District in Belgrade

View of City

Montenegro

Forgive the extended absence – I have spent the past few days at the end of the world.

Fjord in Kotor, Montenegro

The past few days have been a vacation from the traveling, as some mates and I headed down to the Neverland of Crna Gora, just south of the Croatian border.  Kotor is a small town that lies on the only European fjord south of Norway.  Put the quaintness of a small medieval walled town right on the coast of the most dramatic waters and scenery I have seen since New Zealand (and at times, even better than New Zealand), add five awesome travel companions, an apartment to ourselves, and a fantastic fresh veggie market, and you will understand why I haven’t been in touch for a bit.

View of town from the shore

Luba, Lea, and Taylor in Town

The mystery of Montenegro

Jake and Jack dumping Oliver in the H2O

Six backpackers, one rental car

Montenegran flag from Fortress

Team Dinner

Fjord in Kotor, Montenegro

And as the pictures will also show you, I have found the next place we all need to be buying property.

Dubrovnik

Old City

It’s not that I don’t like Dubrovnik.  It’s just that everywhere I go in this town, I feel like thousands of people have come before me, and taken the exact same photograph.

On the one hand, I can’t blame them – there are some good photos to be had here.

View of coast

On the other hand, having so many people around can get annoying.

Especially when we are going down stairs

I’m glad I came here.  But I’m glad that I decided to squeeze in all my city and research time into 24 hours so that I have more time to spend in Montenegro, where I head tomorrow.

Highlights from Sarajevo

My postcards home all start with “You guys have to come here.”

Well, this time I really mean it.  This city is not to be missed.

Emperor’s Mosque

Sarajevo Streets

At the Market – of course!

View of Sarajevo from hostel

Sebilj Water Fountain and center of city

Sarajevo Streets

Bridge over Miljacka River

Graveyard by hostel – 90% of tombstones from 1992-5

Persian Rug in Husrev Bey’s Mosque

Tay with tray of Bosnian Coffee

On the train to Mostar

The Bosnian Spirit

Mostar is known for its Stari Most that spans the length of the town’s river.  I confess, I never saw it.  Nor did I wander through the old town, or into any of the churches or mosques there.

What I did do was hop on a hostel tour that took us through the land around Mostar and the region of Hercegovena.  13th century fortresses, amazing waterfalls, a quiet monestary that holds the soul of the land.

The message of the tour was that the soul of the land is alive, as is the Bosnian spirit.  Despite the horrors of 15 years ago that continue to haunt people today, despite the frustration with poor living standards and little employment opportunity, the people are still among the best I have ever met.

I left Bosnia this morning with a heaviness in my heart.  I could have stayed longer.  Someday I will go back.

Tired backpackers at the end of a 14-hour tour

The fortress – 13th century

Waterfalls outside of Mostar

Bosnia looks a lot like Colorado

Sunset on the river

Tunnel of Life

It was 1 meter wide, 1.6 meters tall, and 800 meters (half a mile) long.  That was the one opening between Sarajevo and the outside world during the 1990s war.  From 1992-1995 Sarajevo suffered the longest siege ever endured by any city.  And this was the one passage out of the city, the one passage to life.

Today Sarajevo is a fantastic city to visit.  Most of the damage has been repaired, smiles have returned to most people’s faces.  The market is vibrant, the architecture beautiful, the food absolutely delicious and the hospitality unforgettable.

But when you start talking to people, it doesn’t take long to get their haunting accounts of the war.  10,000 dead in Sarajevo, a city of 500,000.   Horrendous lines for food, water.  After one year the first UN plane touched down at the airport, carrying a load of medicine.  But all the medicine was for malaria, the last thing that was the problem here.

It’s disturbing to walk among streets so peaceful, and think about what a nightmare was the recent past.  It’s haunting to walk down the streets and every once in a while come across a Sarajevo Rose, the blast marks in the pavement that show where a grenade exploded.

And it’s unbeliavable to think about how clueless we were about the whole situation, and how far it is from our radar today.