Hvala, Sarajevo.

We got the hook-up. Our hostel informed us that they could book us a mini-bus from Sarajevo to Belgrade for less than the train, no overnight baloney. And best of all, we had an extra day, which we all immediately decided to spend in Sarajevo. No bones about that, we were here for another day.

Day four of the trip: we wake up to indecisive weather. It was sunny one minute, threatening rain the next. We didn't actually hit any rain for the most part, so that was definitely to our benefit. We had seen what we wanted to see and all that was left was finding the souvenirs, the postcards, the knick-knacks and chotchkies.

Wandering the market, I found this absolutely phenomenal print of a Nazi propaganda proposing a serious ransom on Josip Tito's head. Seriously, if there was any way it could have been transported back home safe, it would be framed and on my wall in a skinny minute. I wavered and eventually said, "I'll think about it" to the shop-keep and began my what-ifs. On top of everything, this vintage amazingness was only 20 KM (about $15, or 20 Captain Crunch Marks, as we began to call them). Too bad.

We camped out/napped out in the hostel common room until it was time to leave this fair city, on the mini-bus to Belgrade. This trip, supposed to leave at 3 pm and take 5 hours, turned out to be leaving at 4:30 and take 7 hours. But we got there. And, oh how we got there. I have been on some mountain drives, but going through the Dinaric Alps regularly accosted us gorgeous views not too dissimilar from this lovely online pic I found:

A gorgeous drive to end time in a beautfiul city within a wonderful country.

Not to mention that the Serbs in the seats in front of us were listening to that Muppet Show classic, Mana Mana. Or however it's spelled.

And so, from there, we find Belgrade. Now, this city is known as the "White City", but rolling in, it's very obvious why tour guide books let us know that we should get used to all the shades of gray in the color palate. It may be dark outside, close to midnight, but we can tell that this city has maintained an aesthetic that is far from colorful. But final judgment will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, it's pizza and a beer, and off to bed.

Play that funky music, Josip Tito

The sun came out in Sarajevo. Finally seeing this beautiful city in bright, dazzling rays of light truly set the mood off right for the day.

We planned to head to the museums and enjoy some history of Bosnia and learn even more about where we were. The first stop was a museum in a building that was partially destroyed during the siege and intentionally not fully renovated. It was a very interesting building to even approach, somewhat decrepit and actually looking a bit abandoned from the outside. We also got a history of the country in general at first, just a brush strokes analysis of the formation of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Then came the "Surrounded Sarajevo" exhibit. No punches were pulled. We wandered through a room full of photographs and other tributes to an embattled time. Every last one of us took immense pause at reading the letters from children pleading for help from the international committee. There were also some very inspiring portions. The people of Sarajevo did a phenomenal job of maintaining cultural integrity, including people such as Milos Forman and Susan Sontag coming to Sarajevo to direct plays and present films to the people. There was also this breathtaking photograph of an orchestra performing Mozart's "Requiem" in a bombed-out symphony hall. The whole grip of that picture was beyond allegorical.

Overall, the history of this city, especially that from the past 20 years, has engendered immense amounts of respect for these gritty people. To walk around and saunter past anybody above the age of 15 and consider what they went through just seems unbelievable.

A quick turn from the museum brought us to the Tito Cafe, named after Josip Tito, the Yugoslav leader involved in Nazi resistance and formation of Yugoslavia after World War II. It was a nice break from paying 4 KM for the depression of the war, as we walked into Wild Cherry's jam, Play That Funky Music, followed by serious funk for the rest of our cappuccinos.

We decided to head back to the hostel and take some relaxation time before heading out for the evening, but along the way, we had to grab some of the local fare, delicious burek:

This tasty dish is filled with sausage, onions, and a wonderful mix of spices.

Sausage with garlic at a local brewery restaurant, along with the lightest-tasting dark beer we've ever had, followed by good conversation and whiskey at City Pub down the street topped off a great, albeit emotional day.

But because we found a van ride to Belgrade for the afternoon tomorrow instead of taking the overnight bus, we have one more day in a city that we have all truly fallen in love with.

Life reflects history

After a sufficient night of heavy crashing, we are ready to take on Sarajevo for a full day.  The hostel provides us with breakfast, and the Aussies staying here dare us all to try something that looks and smells suspiciously like pate but not.  Turns out to be this chicken paste that is pretty foul (pun intended), and the looks on the faces of me and Connor definitely deterred anybody else from giving it a shot.  But if you prefer your protein in spreadable form, that is the way to go.

We took the morning to walk around and explore the city a bit more, as we had an afternoon tour of siege-era Sarajevo coming up. The overcast skies and threats of rain seemed to put a possible damper on the day, but as will become evident, the weather proved all too appropriate by day's end. All of two blocks from the hostel is the site of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie, on the Latin Bridge spanning the Miljacka River. We continued to wander, including harassment of the pigeons at Sebilj, also affectionately called "pigeon square" for reasons that are extremely obvious.

From the hostel, we embarked on a tour of some of the famous sites crippled by the siege of Sarajevo by Serbian forces from 1992-1995. Our tour guide, Saeb, was one crazy cat. He was born in a concentration camp in Croatia during World War II, eventually making his way to Bosnia after spending the first 12 years or so of his life bouncing between orphanages all over the Balkans. As if that weren't enough of a difficult life, he spent the entire siege holed up in the hostel, trying to eke out survival. His stories are too countless to remember or retell, but it was an amazing perspective to have him lead us around the city.

Our first site was the Olympic stadium from when Sarajevo hosted the Winter Games in 1984. Although the stadium has been restored, it was burned and destroyed in the war eight years after the games. After meandering the city a bit, we headed up to a tunnel that was built to bring supplies in during the siege. It serves as such a strong testament to the resiliency of these people as they struggled through such a harrowing time. The tunnel measures 800 meters, or about 1000 yards long, if my mental conversion tables are correct, and is about 5 feet tall. We saw videos of the building and use of it from wartime, as well as getting an oral history of the war from Saeb. All captivating and inspiring, as we came to appreciate the immense difficulties of the war.

Our next stop was a winding pathway up Olympic Mountain, where the bobsled track could be found. While a lot of it had been decimated during the siege, there is a section that is easily climbed on, as well as easily tagged by the climbers with spray paint. We walked the bobsled track for awhile before heading back down the mountain, but not before stopping and getting a truly breathtaking view of Sarajevo from the mountaintop.

After we had learned the difficulties of the siege, we began to learn the horrors of it. Our next stop was the Jewish Cemetery, a hillside vista that will forever be marred by the atrocities of the snipers that camped out there for four years, picking off civilians on the streets of the city from about 1000 yards away. All told, 11,000 Sarajevans were killed during the siege, including some 1600 children, many of them victims of sniper and mortar fire from a hallowed place of rest. The complete disregard and genocide is unbelievable, but so little removed from history for these people. Walking past tombstones riddled with bullet holes, tombs desecrated and destroyed by the violence; it is all we could do to keep moving in spite of a tragedy of only 15 years ago.

The overcast clouds that seemed to cast a pall on the day soon became embraced by all of us. It seemed to be the only way to learn and discuss such appalling circumstances. We talked about it, stood speechless, tried to process it. All we could come to was the fact that this terror is so outside our narrow worldview. It is hard, nay impossible, to comprehend the thoughtless killings that is so fresh in this city.

Sarajevo is tragically beautiful. It is a stunning city of immeasurable strength and resilience, while remaining astonishingly clean, friendly, accessible, and lovely. We managed to pick up an extra day here. And that is quite the boon. Day three will be a happier day, so I hope.

Operation: EuroDomination

Sunday, July 24, 4:36 am: The coup of the summer has arrived. We got picked up to head to the San Francisco airport. Final destination: Sarajevo, Bosnia.

Monday, July 25, 12:02 pm: The eagle has landed.

We flew into Sarajevo through the rain, but as soon as we parted the clouds, I was so glad to have the first window seat I have had in a very long time. Sarajevo is immediately striking. It is nestled in the mountains, this bastion of glory in a beautiful valley.

Connor, Wendy, and I hailed a cab and began our sojourn into this city, and another quick thing to just jump out and grab you is the architecture. It is very interesting, but it is also riddled with bullet holes, scars from mortars, and rockets, and evidence of engulfing flames that wreaked havoc on the city for 4 long years of siege from 1992-1995 as the Serbian forces engaged the Bosnians in an atrocious ethnic cleansing war. Our cabbie, who spoke about three words of English, pointed out all the shrapnel and devastation he could, and we sat speechless as we weaved our way to the hostel. He also gave us a sense of the life of the times, ending it with the proclamation: ˝Clinton! Super!˝

The Residence Rooms hostel is buried in an alley in one of the busier areas of the city, right across the street from the Cheers bar. No one yelling NORM! but the influence is still here.

Sarajevo proved to be an immensely travel-friendly city from the start. The people running the hostel are gracious and accommodating, English is very prevalent (even though we would prefer to have a modicum of the native language outside of being able to say Thank You to our waiters), and the city is just downright gorgeous. We explored the neighborhoods around for about an hour before deciding that any sense of accomplishment could only be reached with naps under our belts.

Three hours later, dazed and drowsy, an old friend from grade school, Joe, wanders into the hostel, and the four of us again go about the exploration. First stop, food. The BBQ veal caught several eyes and fulfilled numerous taste buds, and refueled, we set upon a nighttime constitutional of the city. We walked up and down the main drags for a couple hours, stumbling across the first McDonald`s to open in the country, having just served up their first Royale`s with Cheese but 5 days prior. It was a sight for sure. Also a highlight was, for the first time, hearing the Muslim call to prayer as the sun set into the mountains. Sarajevo has a high Muslim population, and it would be a difficult endeavor to avoid finding a mosque in this city. The minarets tower over the neighborhoods and can be seen for blocks, a sight that is truly interesting and beautiful.

Day one was exhausting. Little sleep on the plane means little adventuring aside from the walking tour, but even that was an outstanding adventure.

Tourist trappings and buffalo droppings

Running through the maze of my brain is tonight's soundtrack:

Whether it's the rhythm on Lounge (Closing Time) or the riff in Doin' The Cockroach, I will always enjoy this album. And it's playing in the car and running through my head.

So I need to unload myself of blogging burden before heading west. Tomorrow morning, I mount the friendly skies, traveling to sunny San Francisco for a week before the ultimate adventure: Operation EuroDomination begins next Sunday. So let's explore that land of the billboard, that wonderful tourist trap that sends two Senators to Washington like any other blue-blooded state: South Dakota.

All jabs aside, South Dakota does have some very interesting things to see. I was looking forward very much to the Badlands, Mt. Rushmore, and visiting my little sister who is spending her summer behind one of the counters at Wall Drug.

The journey began on a side trip to lovely Sidney, Nebraska. I'd never been to the birthplace of Cabela's, but it's a nice little town with good folks and at least one decent Mexican restaurant. I spent the evening with a dear friend from med school and got up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to take on the panhandle of my fair state. I know I haven't included many of my own photos here because I usually find better ones online. But I have to share my own wondrous experience with Chimney Rock. Mere words cannot describe the majesty:

Ok, so it was 8 in the morning and I shouda known I wouldn't see it. But I had to try. Next time, we'll do  better.

But then I proceeded through Rapid City, South Dakota, and onto Wall to meet up with my little sister so we could drive through the Badlands:

and then head out to lovely Mt. Rushmore (my first sighting, at the young age of 26):

All very cool. Quite the day. And I was tired. I spent a lot of time in the car over a couple days and was ready to chill. So we took the night easy and I explored Wall Drug the next morning:

I'm not much of one for souvenirs, so I managed to pick up a book of Kakuro number puzzles...because that's just who I am. Don't judge.

Well, I went all of 4 days before returning to lovely South Dakota. My grandparents have a nice little trailer in Yankton and it was high time a visit was in order. We took the trek up on perhaps the hottest day of the year, the heat index hitting 116, according to one of the locals. It was hot. I stayed inside and watched team USA put up a valiant effort and fall just short in the Women's World Cup. Congrats to the Japanese and American sides for a great match and all their accomplishments.

And then we went to Gavins Point Dam to check out the Missouri River raging like a disgraced athlete getting called out on his steroid habit:

I must say that I want to challenge someone to come up with something interesting that matches flooding with a name for the end times. Everything else gets this distinction (remember Snowmageddon?) but the devastation we've been living with for months has yet to get something of note (Floodpacalyse...Floodmageddon...something...). Damn liberal media.

That is the South Dakota ramblings. Tomorrow begins a new chapter, one with a west coast bent. Wine country, dear old friends, and plenty of time at the Jack London Lodge. This is shaping up...

A day of final expectations

The FINAL DAY had one mission, and one mission only. To find Robert Plant and the Band Of Joy and listen to them with all my being. I am very glad to say that the FINAL DAY was a complete success.

1) The Head & The Heart
I thoroughly enjoyed their stuff. We saw about half of their set before moseying on, but they played some fun music that was highly enjoyable. I would check out Lost In My Mind for sure. They also referred to slowing it down in the afternoon at a music festival as "not super kosher." Needless to say, I dug.

2) Mavis Staples
I was really looking forward to this one. I remember listening to an episode of "Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me" where they interviewed her, and she told a story about when she was singing with her family in the Staple Singers. People would often ask who the guy was singing the baritone parts and they'd be shocked to find that it was Mavis instead of a man. She tells the story much better and much funnier. But you get the idea. Anyways, she belted some wonderful gospel music, prefacing it by saying, "I know it's Sunday but Bonnaroo is the closest you're gonna get to church." She had a couple members of Robert Plant's aforementioned Band Of Joy perform The Band's The Weight. Extraordinary doesn't do that justice in the slightest. And we may have missed Buffalo Springfield performing For What It's Worth on Saturday night of the festival, but we sure heard Mavis rock it.

3) Galactic
Some guy from Curb Your Enthusiasm, someone I couldn't quite figure out who it was, introduced this New Orleans band of wonderment, letting the crowd know that "we have to get intergalactic. But before we get intergalactic, we have to get Galactic." It started off a sweet jam session. My friend, Andrew, had informed me that I would really enjoy them. He hedged a little bit and said he used to like them more than he does now, but I was having a blast. Their trombone player got off the stage and went down into the pit and walked around playing his 'bone while walking amongst the Bonnaroovians. It was outstanding. They had Corey Glover from Living Colour come out on stage and he sang along with about half the set. They killed Heart Of Steel. The drummer later pulled his snare off and had a couple techies come to the front of the stage holding drums for him and one holding a guitar. He then played a wicked drum solo for about 5 minutes, banging on several drums and whacking the guitar as well. By far the best drum solo of the festival. To end it all, Corey Glover announced a dedication to the next man to grace the stage, Robert Plant. It has always been beyond a dream, fantasy, or death wish to see Led Zeppelin perform live and in form. And seeing Galactic cover How Many More Times may be the closest I get. It was amazing, in every way. Truly phenomenal.

4) Robert Plant and the Band Of Joy
There was little I could ask for to end four amazing days than to be 200 feet from my favorite male vocalist of all time, no matter who he plays with. I would prefer Page and Jones and Bonham, like any red-blooded music lover, but this is a wonderful close second. Most of his new band is from Nashville, and they play Zeppelin with that feel to it. They began their set with a bluesgrass-twinged Black Dog. Some of their music lends itself very well to the new style. What Is And What Should Never Be fits better than Black Dog with the new aesthetic, but nothing fits with it as well as Gallows Pole. I highly recommend checking out the Bonnaroo version here. They also played plenty of their non-Zep stuff, such as In The Mood (which is a solidly wonderful '80s video) and Angel Dance. But I'd be lying if I said I went there to for the music post-1979.

Well. I must say it's a wrap. Bonnaroo 2011 was an immense success of music and fun. THE OFFICIAL WINNER, with all apologies to the Decemberists and Matt Damon, was most definitely My Morning Jacket. Although they get nothing official for such an honor, I will attend every show of theirs humanly possible from now until the heavens collapse on me out of jealousy for witnessing such wonderful music.

A day of altered expectations

Whoo. Been too long. I need to be better about posting these in a timely manner. Especially considering Bonnaroo was over a month ago and I'm finally getting around to posting about it. But time does not matter when you have awesome things to write about, such as The Black Keys:

 They were the must-see of DAY THREE, thanks in large part to their wonderful album, Brothers.

But first, the introductory acts:

1) Old Crow Medicine Show

Very cool to listen to them for awhile. They had some technical difficulties with the guitar but the show was still solid. At this point, it was early afternoon and we were boiling. There were people already camping out for Mumford & Sons five hours before they went on, so it was an interesting vibe there. In the interest of not dying of heat exhaustion, Andrew and I moved on early from that show. We did have the pleasure of hearing Wagon Wheel from a distance. But moving around and not letting the moss grow on our rolling stone became the theme of the day. The heat just got to you, so we kept moving.

2) Deer Tick

This was another short show. It was enjoyable, a band I was looking forward to hearing a little bit of, but nothing much needed to happen. The good thing about the Saturday afternoon ramblings was that it was easy to keep moving because there were no shows that we were clamoring to see in a bad way. We could just soak in a bit, get slightly overwhelmed by the heat and the humanity, and then find a tree to nap under. It was a nice little cycle that repeated itself a few times that day.

3) Portugal. The Man.

This was a show that came highly recommended by pretty much every passer-by and random conversationalist. While waiting in line for water, I was told on several occasions that this was a show to see. So we stopped by for a bit and caught the end of their set. This was another one of those "if I had the time/energy..." sets. Enjoyed what I heard, wanted to hear more. But about the coolest thing about this band is that they hail from Wasilla, Alaska, home to our dear Sarah Palin. So they can see Russia from where they practice their music.

4) Wiz Khalifa

If you know anything about my musical tastes, you may be shocked to learn that I went to see Mr. Khalifa. I was there for one reason only, and that was to get as close as possible to the railing for The Black Keys set. So we sat through 45 minutes of "music", and I can't stress those air quotes enough. Sorry, just not my style. At all.

5) The Black Keys

The must-see of DAY THREE was no disappointment at all. It began when comedian Aziz Ansari came out and introduced himself as Ken Bonnaroo and then led the crowd in a chant to welcome the "Black-Eyed Keys" to the stage. It was quite entertaining. I was actually expecting some comedic bantering with the crowd from the band, especially considering the introduction and their videos. Howlin' For You, Tighten Up, and most certainly Next Girl are very entertaining videos. But they just start rockin' and bluesin' your face off, and do a damn fine job of it. Their drummer, Patrick Carney, seems very angry, like he's constantly talking to his drums and getting very upset with them for not playing properly. And then he sweats more than I've ever seen anyone sweat onstage before in my life. It was ridiculous. They played some outstanding stuff and finished with about 15 minutes to spare on their set. I think everyone was expecting an encore but none came. I've never been so disappointed to hear the Killers on the PA system, truly signaling that the set was done.

And rather than witness some Eminem excellence, I thought it was time for my first shower since Tuesday. Best $7 shower. Ever.