Like just about anybody in the west, I've spent a good amount of time in Ikea. As a student in Canada they furnished my student room, and since then I've accumulated dozens of things. I guess it isn't my favorite furniture, and it tends towards the cheaply made side, but it is relatively easy, and neither outrageously ugly nor outrageously expensive like so much of what is available in Germany (in my humble opinion). A necessary evil: if I had more money, time, inclination, I would go elsewhere, but alas, I don't.
It surprised me a little, then, to find out that there is something of a craze in the former Yugoslavia for Ikea furniture. People in Novi Sad, for instance, will drive to Hungary to place orders and then usually charge some kind of premium for the service. And it seems the second hand stuff sells like wildfire, and at a hefty price. And it isn't just furniture. Much as I hate to admit it, before our last visit to Serbia, we bought a lot of the kind of Ikea stuff that I normally avoid on the basis that it is just them flogging us things we don't need: rucksacks, cookies, little plastic gizmos, pen holders, Swedish vodka (for chrissakes). We did this for presents, which by and large were greatly appreciated as something good. I mean Ikea - super je.
There are a lot of other things like this in Serbia: Addidas is a fashion label, not a sport shoe-maker; Nescafe is a luxury, not a convenience - they even sell it in Duty-Free in Belgrade Airport. I also found it rather strange during a visit of my mother in law they way she would handle some of my things. For example, some Ikea 50 cent napkins, bought in a hurry to accommodate guests, were hand-washed, ironed and put carefully away whereas my precious hand-made, very expensive, one-of-a-kind, Provencal napkins bought during a holiday some years ago were used to clean paint brushes. Ditto cheap 1 Euro glasses were hand-washed and dried, while 25 pound apiece, lead-crystal glasses from Harrod's were used to hold paint-thinner (you couldn't see the Ikea label on the latter).
I'm not trying to have a go at the taste of people in Serbia, but rather to point out that one values things for different reasons. It is, I must admit, quaint in a kind of genteel way to see how cheap-as-chips things in the west are so covetted in former communist countries. I always remember with a smile the first post-Glasnost Russians (scientists, lawyers, doctors, whoever) arriving in the west in the early nineties, and how within days they would all being decked out in white trainers and acid-washed Levi's circa 1984.
What is ironic to me, however, is that it was only in Serbia that I started to appreciate the worth of things - well made things, long-lasting things. At least when I started going there people bought things to last, and checked out the material and the stitching. This was in contrast to my typically western Gap/Zara/Ikea approach which consists of buying a lot of cheap clothes and renewing them every year when they wear out. To see people being converted into this label-only, it-isn't-cheap-if-I-see-a-name kind of culture is a bit sad.
Or maybe I'm just a sentimental old fart. Oh, to hell with it, buy and enjoy what you like!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The real Serbian mentality
My mother-in-law recently gave me A Guide to the Serbian Mentality, by Momo Kapor. I was looking forward to reading it, mostly as it looked on the surface to be a bit like "How to be a Brit" by George Mikes, which was a great humorous read, and how else, I thought, could you write such a book. Through the humor both foreigners and British people alike learned a lot about who they are. These kinds of books, so I thought, just have to be funny to work.
As to Kapor's book: not my cup of tea. I'll spare you a lot of detailed criticism, but the book is neither what I expected, nor terribly funny, and moreover I found it rather over-sentimental and even nationalistic in places. Proud Serbian traditions, people, places, etc. But very little poking fun. Where, I wondered, was the true impression of the Serbian mentality?
As to men, I think there is a certain humorous side to the mentality of the Balkan man. The first time I heard the term "typical Balkan man" was during a Croatian course for a boat license. Every time the Lucka Kapitan had to refer to some not-so-bright, but nevertheless righteous local he would say "Now imagine I'm a typical Balkan man" and then go on to describe some stupidity-meets-boat-related incident to make his point. There is a kind of chest-thumping, know-everything attitude that can lead to all kinds of humorous situations - particularly when they gather in significant numbers, or meet people from outside of Serbia/Croatia. Almost Borat-like at times, but with a peculiar Balkan charm.
As to women, of course (as the book points out) Serbian women are beautiful, but there is also a funny side to their mentality. Here it is a more, dress-to-kill, stand in the corner and smoke, little bit grumpy, very sultry, and, well again, pretty funny.
I sense what I would love to read is a book about the more humorous, lighter side of the Serbian mentality - meaning how the people behave, and not what the cities or restaruants in the country are like. I think Serbians (and other Balkans) pride themselves on being funny, but as for Germany, I've never noticed a great tendency to laugh at oneself. I firmly believe that problems like nationalism arise out of certain self-righteousness that often goes along with a tendency to take oneself, one's community, or one's country a bit too seriously. In Serbia, the Balkans (and many other places to be sure) a good dose of self-effacement could be a good thing.
As to Kapor's book: not my cup of tea. I'll spare you a lot of detailed criticism, but the book is neither what I expected, nor terribly funny, and moreover I found it rather over-sentimental and even nationalistic in places. Proud Serbian traditions, people, places, etc. But very little poking fun. Where, I wondered, was the true impression of the Serbian mentality?
As to men, I think there is a certain humorous side to the mentality of the Balkan man. The first time I heard the term "typical Balkan man" was during a Croatian course for a boat license. Every time the Lucka Kapitan had to refer to some not-so-bright, but nevertheless righteous local he would say "Now imagine I'm a typical Balkan man" and then go on to describe some stupidity-meets-boat-related incident to make his point. There is a kind of chest-thumping, know-everything attitude that can lead to all kinds of humorous situations - particularly when they gather in significant numbers, or meet people from outside of Serbia/Croatia. Almost Borat-like at times, but with a peculiar Balkan charm.
As to women, of course (as the book points out) Serbian women are beautiful, but there is also a funny side to their mentality. Here it is a more, dress-to-kill, stand in the corner and smoke, little bit grumpy, very sultry, and, well again, pretty funny.
I sense what I would love to read is a book about the more humorous, lighter side of the Serbian mentality - meaning how the people behave, and not what the cities or restaruants in the country are like. I think Serbians (and other Balkans) pride themselves on being funny, but as for Germany, I've never noticed a great tendency to laugh at oneself. I firmly believe that problems like nationalism arise out of certain self-righteousness that often goes along with a tendency to take oneself, one's community, or one's country a bit too seriously. In Serbia, the Balkans (and many other places to be sure) a good dose of self-effacement could be a good thing.
Monday, September 8, 2008
The wrong rung of the social ladder
We had a Serbian lunch yesterday, complete with home-made Gibanica and Ajvar. The mother of one of our work friends was visiting from Belgrade, and we spent a pleasant afternoon in a little Serbicised corner of Heidelberg. A good deal of the discussion, as ever, was about whether or not to move back to Serbia. Our friends are both Serbian, and often think of moving home. One of the things she was mentioning yesterday was ones social standing in the countries in which so many Balkan people now live: France, Germany, Austria, the US. One can be the king of the hill in Serbia, but when you move somewhere else, you end up on the bottom rung of the social ladder. And as a result one ends up mingling with people outside your normal social group in the new country. Our friend was telling us that they - with four college degrees between them - regularly attend parties with Serbians or Croatians that are truly working class: cleaners, laborers, etc. Something that is mostly unheard of in - well - anywhere.
Examples are everywhere. Consider the old friends of G.'s parents: they moved to Calgary for work. He had been a leading petroleum engineer in Serbia, but found himself being placed with entry level engineers. I think they like living in Canada for many reasons, but struggle to cope with the loss of status. Most people start to wonder, indeed, if it isn't better to go home and face whatever reality they have to face there - lower salaries, lack of work, etc. - if only to be better off in terms of connections and social standing.
It isn't, of course, a problem unique to Serbians in Europe. It is everywhere. Poles moving the UK, Russians moving to Israel, and many others all make the same comments. The university professor turned street cleaner is a well-worn cliche.
I think the problem that most Westerners have with understanding this, is that we normally don't move countries out of shear necessity. Normally those who go abroad are doing so by choice, and more often than not it is the opportunity of a lifetime that allows somebody to take direct advantage of skills gained at home and needed abroad. And if things go foul, we can usually return home, without too much lost in the process. For those moving out of a need to support families, the situation is alas different.
I guess my message is that the next time you hear a foreigner struggling to make him or herself understood in a language that he/she probably learned after the age of 30, that possibly you might nevertheless be in the presence of a genius or at least somebody that you would like to know better or perhaps possibly admit onto your social network. You never know, maybe - in exchange for just a modicum of respect - they have a house on the Croatian/Bulgarian/Romanian coast (free holidays!), or can get your foot in the door into something lucrative in a country you don't understand.
Examples are everywhere. Consider the old friends of G.'s parents: they moved to Calgary for work. He had been a leading petroleum engineer in Serbia, but found himself being placed with entry level engineers. I think they like living in Canada for many reasons, but struggle to cope with the loss of status. Most people start to wonder, indeed, if it isn't better to go home and face whatever reality they have to face there - lower salaries, lack of work, etc. - if only to be better off in terms of connections and social standing.
It isn't, of course, a problem unique to Serbians in Europe. It is everywhere. Poles moving the UK, Russians moving to Israel, and many others all make the same comments. The university professor turned street cleaner is a well-worn cliche.
I think the problem that most Westerners have with understanding this, is that we normally don't move countries out of shear necessity. Normally those who go abroad are doing so by choice, and more often than not it is the opportunity of a lifetime that allows somebody to take direct advantage of skills gained at home and needed abroad. And if things go foul, we can usually return home, without too much lost in the process. For those moving out of a need to support families, the situation is alas different.
I guess my message is that the next time you hear a foreigner struggling to make him or herself understood in a language that he/she probably learned after the age of 30, that possibly you might nevertheless be in the presence of a genius or at least somebody that you would like to know better or perhaps possibly admit onto your social network. You never know, maybe - in exchange for just a modicum of respect - they have a house on the Croatian/Bulgarian/Romanian coast (free holidays!), or can get your foot in the door into something lucrative in a country you don't understand.
Monday, August 25, 2008
More little countries
The situation in Georgia reminds me again about the force of nationalism. I don't pretend to understand the situation at all, but I presume that again there are multiple groups of people who a) don't like each other, b) treat each other badly, and c) probably deserve each other. And as for the whole Serbia/Kosovo thing, I don't know what to think. Separation is a good thing as it might stop the bitterness, but a bad thing because it provides another example that groups can't co-exist. It is a good thing as we should acknowledge groups of people their right to self goverment, but a bad thing because the new divisions often go along with the creation of small, embittered and often badly treated minorities inside them. And on and on.
But frankly, my biggest problem with dividing big countries into smaller ones is that I begin to wonder why we need all these silly little countries and what good does it do in the long run? Drunk a few months ago I was arguing with a Nationalist Catalan friend of mine, and my final comments were along the lines of "why do you want to create another bullshit little country?" and "what, another Switzerland? Sheesh." Drunk or not, I think I may have had a point.
Smaller countries don't just create additional currencies and border crossings, but actually divulge power into smaller and smaller pieces. What chance of a powerful voice in Europe does (say) Slovenia have compared to (say) Poland? Sure, they can be members of the EU, they can join Nato, etc. but will any of the big players in the world really listen to them? When I think of the former Yugoslavia, exactly this force - namely the desire by neighbors not to have an over-ambitious all-slavic nation - was very often behind the politics. Italy and Austria, for instance, were always vetoing the early Yugoslavia pretty clearly for this reason. Originally it was because they thought it easier to make land claims on a set of smaller countries, but perhaps those now running Italy and Germany and France and England have, at the back of their political consciousness, a desire not to have another Poland storming into Europe, but a series of smaller, rinky-dink countries that are easier to manipulate.
I don't pretend that such a view addresses any of the complexities of the Georgia or Kosovo situations, but it is at least something that a semi-nationalist might like to remember. United we stand; divided we have less influence.
But frankly, my biggest problem with dividing big countries into smaller ones is that I begin to wonder why we need all these silly little countries and what good does it do in the long run? Drunk a few months ago I was arguing with a Nationalist Catalan friend of mine, and my final comments were along the lines of "why do you want to create another bullshit little country?" and "what, another Switzerland? Sheesh." Drunk or not, I think I may have had a point.
Smaller countries don't just create additional currencies and border crossings, but actually divulge power into smaller and smaller pieces. What chance of a powerful voice in Europe does (say) Slovenia have compared to (say) Poland? Sure, they can be members of the EU, they can join Nato, etc. but will any of the big players in the world really listen to them? When I think of the former Yugoslavia, exactly this force - namely the desire by neighbors not to have an over-ambitious all-slavic nation - was very often behind the politics. Italy and Austria, for instance, were always vetoing the early Yugoslavia pretty clearly for this reason. Originally it was because they thought it easier to make land claims on a set of smaller countries, but perhaps those now running Italy and Germany and France and England have, at the back of their political consciousness, a desire not to have another Poland storming into Europe, but a series of smaller, rinky-dink countries that are easier to manipulate.
I don't pretend that such a view addresses any of the complexities of the Georgia or Kosovo situations, but it is at least something that a semi-nationalist might like to remember. United we stand; divided we have less influence.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Yugo diary 2008 VI - Building a house without a boiler in the bathtub
In England, even now, people almost never have good water pressure. I remember being amazed when I bought my first flat in the UK to find that, though the flat was built in 1988, that, like most other places I'd lived in to that point, hot water was made by heating (electrically) cold water that was stored in a large, un-pressurised bucket stored in the ceiling. This means that, like every where else I'd lived, that hot water pressure consisted of a dribble driven simply by gravity from the ceiling, and that, consequently, one could never adjust temperature in the shower, having either scalding hot or freezing cold water, and nothing in between.
Things are generally better on continental Europe (including the former Yugoslavia), but as we slowly begin to renovate a house here, I've been noticing some of the oddities of house-building here. Namely the boiler-in-the-bathtub phenomenon. Having a boiler in the bathtub seems to be about as consistently ex-Yugo as the insistence on wearing slippers in the house (watch out for Brain fever) or the universal paranoia about drafts causing serious illness even in hot weather (ditto). In both Serbia and Croatia it often seems the norm to place the houses boiler above the bathtub. And more often than not this comes at the expense of any ledge to put soap on, or (more seriously) anywhere to fix the shower head to the wall, meaning that showers consist often of a rubber hose with a shower head that one has to hold, while always avoiding contact with the boiler next to you.
And its funny that people rationalise this with the same pseudo-logic that English people use about the water pressure. Where English people might say that European hot-water is too strongly pressurised (one friend told me that showers in Germany actually hurt), at least one Croatian builder told me that if the boiler was anywhere else, it might take 20 minutes for the hot water to move through the pipes. And just like in Enland, there is no counter argument along the lines of "but I've seen it work better in other places, honestly".
Still, if I had to choose, a boiler in the bathtub beats never having proper water pressure, but I'll fight tooth and nail to get that damned boiler put somewhere else.
Things are generally better on continental Europe (including the former Yugoslavia), but as we slowly begin to renovate a house here, I've been noticing some of the oddities of house-building here. Namely the boiler-in-the-bathtub phenomenon. Having a boiler in the bathtub seems to be about as consistently ex-Yugo as the insistence on wearing slippers in the house (watch out for Brain fever) or the universal paranoia about drafts causing serious illness even in hot weather (ditto). In both Serbia and Croatia it often seems the norm to place the houses boiler above the bathtub. And more often than not this comes at the expense of any ledge to put soap on, or (more seriously) anywhere to fix the shower head to the wall, meaning that showers consist often of a rubber hose with a shower head that one has to hold, while always avoiding contact with the boiler next to you.
And its funny that people rationalise this with the same pseudo-logic that English people use about the water pressure. Where English people might say that European hot-water is too strongly pressurised (one friend told me that showers in Germany actually hurt), at least one Croatian builder told me that if the boiler was anywhere else, it might take 20 minutes for the hot water to move through the pipes. And just like in Enland, there is no counter argument along the lines of "but I've seen it work better in other places, honestly".
Still, if I had to choose, a boiler in the bathtub beats never having proper water pressure, but I'll fight tooth and nail to get that damned boiler put somewhere else.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Yugo diary 2008 V - Langauge Lunancy in Unlikely Places
Croatians are probably the most language sensitive in the former Yugoslavia, and I'm certainly not the first to comment on this. But I must admit this sensitivity is being expressed in some pretty odd places, the oddest of which is surely ingredients of snack foods. While on holiday, one always buys a lot of junk food - salty sticks, coke, etc. - and Croatian manufacturers clearly see this is as an opportunity to express linguistic distinctiveness.
On the back of many foods, the list of languages explaining ingredients is impressive: Slovak, Russian, Hungarian, Romanian, German, English, Italian. And helpfully the standard traveler/car symbols for the countries are used to denote them: SK, RU, HU, RO, DE, GB, IT. I noticed the other day a symbol I hadn't seen before MNG as well as separate lists of ingredients for BiH, HR and SRB (Bosnia/Herzegovina, Croatia, Serbia). And then it clicked: Montenegrin, making four lists of ingredients where previously there would have been just one. A glance revealed that the differences were mostly a mixture of ijekavian and ekavian changes variously mixed up in ways presumed to be most peculiar to the language and some cute differences, such as Kisela voda being used only in Serbian & Bosnian for carbonated water.
I wonder if armies of ex-Jugoslav polyglots are employed to accentuate the differences in what is, after all, a single list of ingredients that would - minor variations aside - be understandable by all four groups of people. Perhaps it is worth thinking about what the equivalents would be like in the various English flavors. I mean, after all, it is obscene to consider English, American, Australian and Canadian to be the same language. So let's set the record straight with the ingredients to Coca-cola.
USA: Seltzer water, High fructose corn syrup, carmel color, phosphoric acid, natural flavors, caffine, aspartame (NutraSweet brand), potassium benzoate, citric acid
GB: Sparkling water, corn syrup elevated in fructose, colour of caramel, phosphoric acid extract, flavourings (including caffeine), Nutrasweet, benzoic acid potassium salt, citrate at low pH.
CAN: Club soda, sweet corn syrup, carmel colour, phosphoric acid, natural flavors, caffeine, Nutrasweet artificial sweetener (contains aspartame), potassium benzoate, citric acid.
AUS: Carbonated water, corn syrup, carmel coloring, phosphoric acid, flavors from natural sources, caffeine, Sweetener (Nutrasweet, contains aspartame), benozic & citric acids.
No problem. A few spelling differences (e.g. Caffeine/Caffine, Colour/Color, Carmel/Caramel), different colloquialisms (Sparkling/Seltzer water), and rearrangements and voila! Not that there is actually any difference between them, but perhaps somebody who didn't speak English might begin to believe they were truly different, though related.
On the back of many foods, the list of languages explaining ingredients is impressive: Slovak, Russian, Hungarian, Romanian, German, English, Italian. And helpfully the standard traveler/car symbols for the countries are used to denote them: SK, RU, HU, RO, DE, GB, IT. I noticed the other day a symbol I hadn't seen before MNG as well as separate lists of ingredients for BiH, HR and SRB (Bosnia/Herzegovina, Croatia, Serbia). And then it clicked: Montenegrin, making four lists of ingredients where previously there would have been just one. A glance revealed that the differences were mostly a mixture of ijekavian and ekavian changes variously mixed up in ways presumed to be most peculiar to the language and some cute differences, such as Kisela voda being used only in Serbian & Bosnian for carbonated water.
I wonder if armies of ex-Jugoslav polyglots are employed to accentuate the differences in what is, after all, a single list of ingredients that would - minor variations aside - be understandable by all four groups of people. Perhaps it is worth thinking about what the equivalents would be like in the various English flavors. I mean, after all, it is obscene to consider English, American, Australian and Canadian to be the same language. So let's set the record straight with the ingredients to Coca-cola.
USA: Seltzer water, High fructose corn syrup, carmel color, phosphoric acid, natural flavors, caffine, aspartame (NutraSweet brand), potassium benzoate, citric acid
GB: Sparkling water, corn syrup elevated in fructose, colour of caramel, phosphoric acid extract, flavourings (including caffeine), Nutrasweet, benzoic acid potassium salt, citrate at low pH.
CAN: Club soda, sweet corn syrup, carmel colour, phosphoric acid, natural flavors, caffeine, Nutrasweet artificial sweetener (contains aspartame), potassium benzoate, citric acid.
AUS: Carbonated water, corn syrup, carmel coloring, phosphoric acid, flavors from natural sources, caffeine, Sweetener (Nutrasweet, contains aspartame), benozic & citric acids.
No problem. A few spelling differences (e.g. Caffeine/Caffine, Colour/Color, Carmel/Caramel), different colloquialisms (Sparkling/Seltzer water), and rearrangements and voila! Not that there is actually any difference between them, but perhaps somebody who didn't speak English might begin to believe they were truly different, though related.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Yugo diary Summer 2008 IV - Becoming normal Europeans... on the road
I was reading the other day about the late, great Zoran Đinđić. I was interested to read in Wikipedia that (and I like they way this is put) many people felt he was, at the time, the best hope for Serbians to become "normal" Europeans. Certainly Gs mother thinks this. "If he was still alive, we would be in the EU." But what are Normal Europeans? Tough one to be sure. What links the person in Athens with the one in Helsinki? This is a theme that I would like to develop later, but let's focus on one thing that I've been exposed to a lot during the past week, and that makes Serbia very abnormal in the context of Europe: Driving.
Now I must say I've driven in many European places with crazy drivers: Crete, Greece, Sicily, Marseilles and other more terrifying places like Istanbul & Tunis. And based on this I'd have to say that people in Serbia drive more like those in Turkey or Tunisia than those in Spain or Germany. I've had crazy driving experiences in France, Portugal, Italy - the usual stuff: tailgating, rude hand gestures, speeding, etc. And I always feel like Germans are rather brutal, or at least inconsiderate on the road, even when they are being safe. But in these places I've experienced nothing like those I experienced in just six days of driving in Serbia. Overtaking at speed on the left shoulder when somebody is waiting at a pedestrian crossing - mothers with children carefully leaning out past my car to avoid instant death. An eight year old child nervously and quite desperately trying to cross the road to his mother only to be sworn at by savages in white vans. Driving in the middle of a two lane national road under the assumption that people coming the other direction will just get out of the way on the hard shoulder. Actually pushing a car that is, in your opinion, taking too long to go around a large gaping hole in the road. Tailgating, gesticulating and honking impatiently at the driver in front of you in a construction zone on the Autoput when the other driver is doing 80km/h in a 40km/h zone, and knows (as well as you do) that there is a police speed control 1km ahead. Making it a habit to reverse on the Autoput when you've missed a junction (and well done, you've put your hazards on, that'll stop all those over-taking lunatics behind you). Normal? Hardly.
The other rather savage thing is the attitude towards seatbelts. In the seventies and eighties in Alberta (my sometimes redneck home province in Canada), when the laws about seatbelts gradually came into force, there was a lot of complaining and I had mostly forgotten about all of this until I drove with passengers (or as one) in Serbia. This week I've heard the same moronic statements I remember from Alberta 25-30 years ago. "Seatbelts trap you in a burning car, or one that is submerged under water" or "You don't have to wear a seatbelt here" or "Don't you trust my driving?" And odd behavior too: I see people taking the belts off (say) when they get off the Autoput, or when they get close to home, or taking them off on the Autoput once they are on the straight. I half-wonder if it might be embarrassing to be seen to be wearing one. Incredibly, at least one of the ex-pats we know (i.e. returned to Serbia after years of living in Normal Europe) also has this attitude, looking at me like I'm somehow less of a man for insisting that she wear one. For me seatbelts in the car are like slippers in a Serbian house - its dangerous not to be wearing them. Anyway, all rather primitive, rather 30 years ago, and not very, ahem, normal European.
I often think that something said in the US version of The Office applies here. When sycophantic employee Dwight Shrute is asked by noodle-head boss Michael Scott about the most inspirational thing that he was ever told by him, he answered immediately that it was: "Don't be an idiot", clarifying that now "whenever I'm about to do something, I ask myself 'would an idiot do this?' and if the answer is 'yes', I don't do it". Applies, seemingly, on the road here. Would an idiot put his blinkers on and reverse 500m to get back to a junction on a busy motorway to save ten minutes?
And more seriously, for any Road Gorilla who might getting upset about this as some kind of slight on his (or her) manliness, watch these:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVBfMMMUsGs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lb5q_YYpxB0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1HV5h4K8D0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AT5e44lty88
And you will change your driving habits forever.
Now I must say I've driven in many European places with crazy drivers: Crete, Greece, Sicily, Marseilles and other more terrifying places like Istanbul & Tunis. And based on this I'd have to say that people in Serbia drive more like those in Turkey or Tunisia than those in Spain or Germany. I've had crazy driving experiences in France, Portugal, Italy - the usual stuff: tailgating, rude hand gestures, speeding, etc. And I always feel like Germans are rather brutal, or at least inconsiderate on the road, even when they are being safe. But in these places I've experienced nothing like those I experienced in just six days of driving in Serbia. Overtaking at speed on the left shoulder when somebody is waiting at a pedestrian crossing - mothers with children carefully leaning out past my car to avoid instant death. An eight year old child nervously and quite desperately trying to cross the road to his mother only to be sworn at by savages in white vans. Driving in the middle of a two lane national road under the assumption that people coming the other direction will just get out of the way on the hard shoulder. Actually pushing a car that is, in your opinion, taking too long to go around a large gaping hole in the road. Tailgating, gesticulating and honking impatiently at the driver in front of you in a construction zone on the Autoput when the other driver is doing 80km/h in a 40km/h zone, and knows (as well as you do) that there is a police speed control 1km ahead. Making it a habit to reverse on the Autoput when you've missed a junction (and well done, you've put your hazards on, that'll stop all those over-taking lunatics behind you). Normal? Hardly.
The other rather savage thing is the attitude towards seatbelts. In the seventies and eighties in Alberta (my sometimes redneck home province in Canada), when the laws about seatbelts gradually came into force, there was a lot of complaining and I had mostly forgotten about all of this until I drove with passengers (or as one) in Serbia. This week I've heard the same moronic statements I remember from Alberta 25-30 years ago. "Seatbelts trap you in a burning car, or one that is submerged under water" or "You don't have to wear a seatbelt here" or "Don't you trust my driving?" And odd behavior too: I see people taking the belts off (say) when they get off the Autoput, or when they get close to home, or taking them off on the Autoput once they are on the straight. I half-wonder if it might be embarrassing to be seen to be wearing one. Incredibly, at least one of the ex-pats we know (i.e. returned to Serbia after years of living in Normal Europe) also has this attitude, looking at me like I'm somehow less of a man for insisting that she wear one. For me seatbelts in the car are like slippers in a Serbian house - its dangerous not to be wearing them. Anyway, all rather primitive, rather 30 years ago, and not very, ahem, normal European.
I often think that something said in the US version of The Office applies here. When sycophantic employee Dwight Shrute is asked by noodle-head boss Michael Scott about the most inspirational thing that he was ever told by him, he answered immediately that it was: "Don't be an idiot", clarifying that now "whenever I'm about to do something, I ask myself 'would an idiot do this?' and if the answer is 'yes', I don't do it". Applies, seemingly, on the road here. Would an idiot put his blinkers on and reverse 500m to get back to a junction on a busy motorway to save ten minutes?
And more seriously, for any Road Gorilla who might getting upset about this as some kind of slight on his (or her) manliness, watch these:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVBfMMMUsGs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lb5q_YYpxB0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1HV5h4K8D0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AT5e44lty88
And you will change your driving habits forever.
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