The Beggining

I felt I had to put these thoughts on paper -or data here- since I am leaving Europe in a couple of days. 

-You're leaving Serbia ?! Forever ?, ask surprisingly my Yugoslavs acquaintances. 

I answer them they're crazy, I'm just going home for the holidays and will be back to celebrate new year in Belgrade. In French, we say Ce n'est qu'un au revoir. As I explain I'm going to Quebec for a four weeks period, partly because I feel the urgent need to see the people I love there, partly for logistics reasons, I picture myself last July in the exact same situation, explaining to my Quebec friends I was going to Serbia and Croatia for a four week period only. Yeah yeah, my return flight to Canada was initially on August 16th. I obviously did’nt catch it. 

-You missed your flight ? ask candidly  people who knew I had a return ticket. 

Well, we can pretend so. Let's just say that on this particular day, it really was impossible for me to reach Paris Charles-de-Gaulle Airport, since I was on Ada Bojana, a wonderful Montenegro beach next to the Albanian border. 1000 kilometers away from France. Opa. 

Anyhow, this choice was'nt uncalculated option. 
I listed the pros and cons, wondering if it was worth going back, having as main obligations a commitment to a friend, a theater project, an apartment and a cat. And University session starting. I had to listen, to slip inside my head and my heart to know what I really needed. 

I asked myself many times, when exactly did I decide I was'nt going back ?

I remember the very first days of this trip. Flying from Montreal to Paris, then the next day to Berlin, meeting up with these lovely German girls that hosted me 4-5 days. I partied hard with them on the weekend, and even harder on the weekdays that followed with new friends. My tendency to talk to anybody in any situation helping, with the guidance of a guarding angel, I met the loveliest and craziest people and spent an amazing time in the German capital. That's how passed my first week. 

I pursued my journey in Vienna, and then arrived at the Tuskan's -family that hosted my cousin Nora in 2009- in Zagreb, Croatia, four days later than it was planned. 

Yeah, yeah, four days late.

It's a never ending joke when I come visit them. They always tell me they never know if I will actually come for real this time. I'm working hard to be more reliable, believe it or not, Janet Tuskan ! This amazingly lovely and generous mother of four came to pick me up at the bus station around 11pm, and when we arrived at their place, I found out I was awaited by five other people in the dinning room. 

Excited to be there and ashamed to be so late, I told them in one breath all the croatian phrases I knew -all were coming for a little Sprski-Hrvatski phrasebook Nora made for me- and just learned how to pronounce correctly during the Vienna-Zagreb bus ride with a croatian girl sitting next to me. The family was astounded by the whirlwind I am, I had seven pairs of eyes staring at me saying : from which planet is this creature coming exactly ? And within couple of hours the Tuskan's, I felt home and thought theses people were the loveliest on Earth. And that it was out of question to go back home in 4 weeks. 

I spent some good time with the family in Zagreb, and eventually arrived two days late at the Kosjeric Art Kamp, which was the initial reason for me coming to Serbia. I was taking a night train to from Zagreb to Belgrade, and started freaking out about two hours before I catched it. The Tuskan boys were making fun of me, telling me there was'nt any wireless Internet in Serbia, and that in the small villages like Kosjeric, ‘they don't always have electricity and hot water’. Considering I had never spoke to anyone from the Balkans before, I kind of believed them. Yeah yeah, a bit dumb from me. Anyhow, it got a little scarier when this  American woman said she though it was’nt really ‘safe’ to cross the Croatian border by the middle of the night. Especially considering I did'nt know anyone on the other side. 

Well, I knew Natalija, the project leader to whom I spoke on the previous day, in order to advice her I would be late. But when I called her, she could hardly tell who was I, asking me if I was ‘the one from Canada’. 

So I anxiously took this night train, hiding my camera in my backpack, even removing the battery and the SD card in case it would get stolen. Just figuring I did'nt know anything about Serbian people, I did’nt speak the language at all and had no clue where I was going exactly. 

That was the beginning.