Okay, so yesterday I got totally and completely lost.
This is how it happened. Usually if I have a few days in a city, I'll pick one direction and keep going in that general direction, and then turn back. I have in mind the kinds of places I can visit if I happen upon them, but I don't stress if I don't find them (or if
they don't find
me). It
usually works. I
usually find my way back. This time, though, I got distracted, and from there I just kept milling around until I really had no idea which way was up.
I started out walking south behind the hotel. The guidebook didn't seem to say anything about attractions on this side of town, so I was surprised to run into a series of really huge, official-looking buildings which I assume were embassies. Ignorant me doesn't know her flags of Eastern Europe well enough, but these were definitely government buildings, very stately, very imposing. In the middle of a few of them was an open courtyard with a statue in the middle of Knez Milos (forgive me for omitting the markings, but I don't have access to language settings on this computer), who was apparently very important. Yes, I know that seems really irreverent, but I promise to look everything up when I get home and ooh and ahh at that point.
I was admiring this statue, walking around it, taking pictures when I looked past it and saw a huge building on the other side of this park. A building with a huge gaping hole. No, not a hole. The middle third of the building was just gone. On the other side of the hole were bullet holes all up the side. A ten story building. Like, something as substantial as my apartment building.
I kind of turned around at that point, and gasped again. Across the park on the other side, and across the street were a pair of buildings also with huge gaping holes. Each of these places had orange construction fences around them and warning signs, but they didn't seem to be under repair.
Forgive the language, but this was a complete mindfuck. Here I am, the end of my trip. I had absorbed a lot of pain from Sarajevo, let it wash over me, and eventually let it go with a week vacation in Komiza. After Split and Zadar I was on top of the world again, focused on the travel thing. By the time I got to Belgrade I was rolling again, and I had nearly forgotten the war in any context other than an historical one. I didn't expect to turn around and have it hit me in the face full force.
It's not just the fact that these buildings were bombed, nor that people are walking up and down the street where it happened. It's that these buildings were targeted and missiles or rockets or whatever tore through them like they were cheese. They are clean hits, in the middle of the buildings. It's the precision that gets to me. We did this to people. We have this kind of power.
I have no idea what the buildings are, nor why they haven't been touched since the war. I assume that buildings don't just randomly fall apart or explode or get bulletholes like that. These have to be left from the war. One suggestion was that one of the buildings was the Chinese Embassy, but I don't have any confirmation on that.
I couldn't help but stare for a while. I wanted to cry. I was stunned.
Yeah, I know. I'd make a shitty war president. But it's not as if I'm applying for the job.
So needless to say I was lost for a while, consumed in thoughts and emotions while blundering along in the next direction, any direction. It was a while before I really snapped back to reality, and by then I was nowhere recognizable.
A fellow I talked to later in the evening was commenting that that's part of the fun of travel -- getting lost -- but it wasn't as if I was delightfully lost but knew how to get back on track. I had no idea which way was uptown, where the rivers were, nothing. I really had no idea where I was, nor how to get where I wanted to be. I'm not really sure I even knew where I wanted to be, so I didn't ask for help.
I eventually got the idea to ask which direction the town center was, and it turns out I was 20 minutes away. A nice couple pointed me in the right direction (completely the opposite of what I figured) and off I went. The plan was to just get back to the hotel with my now soggy pljeskavica, but after a while I sat down with a pigeon and ate it, still kind of out of it.
I made my way back to familiar territory with good time, and ended up befriending a woman who runs a knick-knack kiosk in Skadarska, the former Bohemian quarter of Belgrade. We had a long, empassioned talk over coffee and juice about war and politics in the Balkans, and she shared her personal story with me. After being alone with the ruins, it was really good to connect with her and share the emotions this war brings up in me.
Afterward we sat wordless and meditative with our coffee, laughing intermittently at passers-by and enjoying the live gypsy music in the cafe behind us.
My new friend told me about the museum night and soon sent me on my way, with very specific directions on where to go and how to get there, and what to do when I did.
I left touched by her hospitality, smiling broadly from ear to ear, clearly not lost anymore.