Blog 4: To the Balkans and back

I know they say comparison is the thief of joy, but I honestly can’t help myself sometimes and (just between you and me), I get a little joy out of it too.

It was probably inevitable that having travelled to so many different places in so short a time, I would begin to compare them. And even then, I’m not really comparing them, as much as parts of them: I’ve become absorbed in oddly specific common things, which each city has but displays slightly differently.

American embassies/consulates: in Munich and Sarajevo, these were predictable grey slab buildings with aggressive fences and nests of cameras. But in Ljubljana, the embassy is rather charming and characterful, with red ribbons in wreaths on the front. I take this to mean that Slovenian-American relations are doing rather well, at least relative to their neighbours.

Manhole/maintenance access covers: admiring these feels a bit like how we preserve beautiful floor mosaics that the Romans stomped all over for hundreds of years. A special mention must go to Bratislava for their 3D/sculpture effort. To those interested in such things, there is an excellent Instagram account dedicated to the manhole covers of the world.

Supermarkets: one of my first stops in each city was always a supermarket. I think they’re a fascinating, anthropologically-rich site for discovering culture and habit. Does it have a self-serve salad bar? (Munich). Does it have vats for pickled gherkins and sauerkraut? (Dresden).

What sort of chip flavours do they have? Which brands of chocolate do they sell? How much is a beer? Is the sliced meat section or the cheese section bigger? What’s their ‘international’ food section like? I feel you can discover so much about a place just by browsing the aisles and snooping into other people’s shopping baskets.

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I remain amazed (and quietly proud) that I have survived over two weeks crossing roads in right-hand drive countries and not been hit once. I know I’m supposed to look the other way to what I’m used to, and I think I do this each time, but then doubt creeps in- did I look the right way? Which is the right way anyway? Then I look the other way, but that doesn’t feel right, so I switch back again and start crossing, and end up scurrying across while flicking my head from side-to-side like I’m in the sideways-on seats at a tennis match.

The situation is further complicated by an eclectic array of pedestrian-crossing infrastructure across the continent. I am used to the red, flashing red and green stop/go signals of my homeland, and the daga-daga-daga-daga sound which plays when you can cross.

Every place I’ve been here seems to do it slightly differently: some flash green rather than red when you need to finish crossing, some don’t flash at all, some have a countdown clock telling you how long you have left to cross (or is it how long until you can cross? I don’t know!). Some have zebra crossings on roads which are surely too big for cars to stop, or will they? Few if any play noise to aid the visually impaired (or those distracted on their phones). Add into the mix trams, which are a law unto themselves, and I’m basically doomed.

Copying other people is not always a reliable tactic either, as many of them are doing the same dance as me. Several times I have been duped into following someone who, with an aura of confidence and local knowledge, stepped out into the road, only to narrowly avoid being clattered by a bus.

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I’m looking forward to the next leg of my journey, before returning home to Derby in the middle of next week. Everything has flown by so quickly and I feel it will take some time to digest, but for now I feel refreshed, inspired, motivated, and hungry for more.

Onwards!