Time does indeed pass. Work is busy, social life is busier. People are leaving and going away parties are organised. A weekend away skiing. Papers to write. A conference in work. I've started monitoring a war crimes trial. My mother comes to visit this week. Trying to catch up with people via email but its proving difficult.
I spent a few days in London last week, more of a brief Special Guest Appearance rather than anything more substantial. When I've been away I forget how much I love that amazing city, so that when I get the chance to return I'm so devastated to realise as of new that I don't live there any more, that I never really fully enjoy the time I get to spend there. So it was this time; I had frequented some of my old haunts, caught up with friends and ate a hell of a lot of the kind of ethnic food that doesn't exist in Bosnia.
Going away from Sarajevo for a few days is a funny experience. After a few weeks here, you forget your first impressions. I spent my first month here tip-toeing around and thinking of all the terrible things that had happened here and the awful memories that everyone must carry around. But of course, we're all human and get on the course of things, and after a while that sensation of history just... wears off. You stop noticing the bullet marks on the concrete, stop carefully circling around the Sarajevo roses, and stop referring to the war in hushed whispers. You stop noticing the shabbiness - Bosnia actually differs little in this aspect from the other parts of Eastern Europe I've seen. The tower blocks here look identical to those which cover most of Poland, except that Poland doesn't have the excuse of a recent war or failed economy for its drab concrete. This is just what socialist housing looks like.
Not a socialist example, but a hauntingly ruined Austro-Hungarian Mansion
The brand new Parliament building - restored with international donor funding - seen through a nearby wasteland of concrete and weeds
Which is why seeing both London and Sarajevo in the course of one day was fairly depressing. It's difficult to fail to notice the patched-up walls and uneven pavements and ancient cars (the mid-80s VW Golfs are my favourite) which are so ubiquitous in Bosnia, when you've only just passed through Kensington a few hours before. In fairness, the sensation had worn off and was all forgotten by the time I woke up in Sarajevo the following morning, but it was interesting to see the city with new eyes again. Its funny what you also forget of the rest of the world when you've been here for a while - London stunned me because everyone on the street was so stylish; I had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by Hipsters. And how it felt not to be surrounded by people speaking a language you don't understand. And to be able to get any kind of food imaginable at a moment's notice. I think I had just forgotten sushi in general. Sigh.
The usual mix of beautifully landscaped street and war-scarred building
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