Giving back

Bosnians are famous for their hospitality and openness. In Canada, as children we are always taught "Don't talk to strangers," much less accept candy from them. But in Sarajevo they must tell the kids, "Go on, chat 'em up! Strangers are cool, and I've heard their candy is damn tasty too!" A guy I met named Ibro makes it a habit to approach bewildered looking foreigners in the street and invite them to whichever bar he's headed to. Invariably, they take a half-step back and the thought "What kind of scam is this Eastern European trying to pull on me?" is written on their foreheads. I thought the very same thing when within minutes of arriving in Sarajevo at 5:30am a woman approached and bombarded me with advice on settling in. It is not considered strange to exchange phone numbers and offer to meet up with someone shortly after first meeting them. We Canadians are used to keeping our heads down and getting to where we're going. In Bosnia, every walk is a social opportunity.

It has become cliche to talk about the welcoming attitude of Bosnians, but it's definitely true. I have met a couple guys who claim that it's all a facade, that outwardly Bosnians are friendly but inwardly are elitist and petty. But I have found that said belief is usually accompanied with a story about how "I took this girl out for like 17 coffees, and never even got a bloody kiss!"

As a result of all this kindness and hospitality, I have been fortunate enough to meet many locals. I learn much in my work at the Court, but what I am learning about this country through the people who live here is invaluable. So, out of a sense of charity towards those who welcomed me with open arms into their country, I decided to donate my iPod and wallet to the region. The former I gave away on the train from Budapest to Sarajevo, a decision made while I was sleeping. I'm sure it ended up in needy hands and that its new owner is now enjoying my fine music collection far more than I did. The wallet was donated on a crowded tram on the way to work. I had been walking around with it in my pants pocket, an open offer to some poor soul who I figured would take it when they really needed it. I never got to meet the receiver of my gift, nor his friend the old lady who accidentally bumped into me at the same time he secured my donation. But I'm sure they'll write me a thank you letter some day. It feels good to be good.