Naming a baby Balkan

For only the obvious reasons I've been thinking about names in Serbian/Croatian. What kind of name can you give to a baby girl with a mixed heritage? Amidst all the Jelenas, Tanjas, Mirjanas, Tijanas & Bojanas, there are some real gems. Some beautiful, and some, well, even if they are not ugly, they are, well, difficult.

I think that SerboCroatian produced some of the funniest names in history. For example, quaint, charming, and out-of-the-question for us is Traktorka, probably given to many peasant farmers' daughters in the newly industrialised Yugoslavia as a tribute to the biggest equipment purchase of his life. It would be like an American calling his daughter Fixedtermilina or something. Right up there with Hitlerina is Staljinka, derived from the short-lived friendship with the Soviet Union. Equally frightening is Mašinka , which I read is a direct tribute not (as you might think from the sound) to machine, but to a Tommy Gun (machine gun). It does, however, have a cute diminuitve: Maša which you might never associated with an implement of war. Admittedly these are all names G's grandmother's generation, and I doubt many people kept them to the present day.

Elsewhere there are relatively common names that would stymie easy friendships with the English speaking world only owing to unpronouncability. For example, Ksena and Tihana both require you essentially to gob while saying them. Other names look like somebody forgot a letter, like Smiljka which I have simply never been able to say correctly quickly, or the male name Grgur (Gregory or Gregor) that would at least require some coaching for the non-Serbian family members to pronounce. To this day my family members have to do a little jump when they pronounce the island Krk and even then they don't say it right.

I think, on balance, we can't be too creative here. Two syllables max, and no messing about with R-as-a-vowel, or sounds that hurt the mouth of a non-native speaker. Ana, Marija, Mila, Ema?

Blowing hot and cold about Serbia and this blog

It's been a while since I blogged anything here, and perhaps the reason why is worthy itself of an entry. Being honest: we've had a few rather bad experiences in or about Serbia over the past few months. Nothing that serious, but just enough to dampen my enthusiasm to the point where I haven't felt inspired to write anything for a while.

I remember in Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island (his tribute to life in Britain), he said that a smile from a pub owner, or a pleasant sunset in the English countryside would be enough to make him think that he should never leave the country. Something of the opposite has happened recently to me regarding Serbia. As I said, nothing that serious, but just an accumulation of things that have dampened my enthusiasm.

Its a funny ole relationship that one has with these countries sometimes. A real mix of hope and despondency. Meeting an enthusiastic young person in the workplace can make you believe that there is great hope, and some ape-like, un-intelligent staunch nationalist on the street can tear it away. Grace, charm and courtesy shown by some stranger in a restaurant is ruined by some pushy Balkan stereotype in a swimming pool threatening to punch a pregnant woman (I kid you not). A deep sense of family can make you think that other countries have a thing or two to learn from the ex-Yugoslavia, but then the ass-backwards logic that one has to adhere to in order participate makes you think that they actually have it wrong. Pleasant scenery in the countryside is offset by the mud and pollution of Novi Sad in February. Et cetera.

As ever, other countries are similar, and having been an ex-pat basically all my adult life, I know well that one often simultaneously loves and hates where one lives or visits. I guess its the extremes in Serbia or Croatia that are the difference. As much as I whinge about Germany or the Germans, I don't ever really feel afraid or worried like I can do in Serbia. English people can be rude, but never on a par with what can sometimes happen in Serbia. It's as if there's this precarious control mechanism that can both pleasantly surprise or deeply terrify without warning.

Anyway, it will blow hot again, and when it does, I'll be back at it.