Cleopatra in Serbia

Europe is Europe, east or west the girls will know how to dress. The people here are all fashion statements, unlike california the sight of the cotton t-shirts, wife beater tops, and flip flops is extinct. I see dresses, I see patterns, I see tall beautiful girls with sharp features and bold hair colors. I feel like I have turned on Fashion t.v. and the models popped out of the t.v and became the ordinary people. Even Zara the Shop here is more elaborate it has been sparked with european taste. I realize Serbia is not France, however love is in the air. During my stay in California I did not see what I expected the no couples in the street syndrome was spread in the city. Here Love is an art not just the physical need. Here I enjoy watching the silent gazes and eye kisses, the couples fully engrossed in each other kissing in the street, is always a sight I love to see. I have always wanted to travel with the one I love and one of the main reasons was public affection. Here every couple walks out of a fifties french romantic movie and love is about romance.

I wish the Egyptians and the Americans would learn something from the Europeans. Forget practicality, remember European romance. I feel like I am in another era, coca cola bottles are small in glass and popped open with a bottle opener, and they taste so good. little Evian glass bottles that also need a bottle opener to get to the water in them. Drinks taste better in glass, than they do in plastic and metal. Things are small and charming unlike the American theory of the bigger the better. A huge Cafe culture, and no sight of greasy diners. Old building bruised from brutal wars, walls that tell stories and carry pains and joys of those who lived in them. Graffiti that covers the buildings and couples who look like each other walking in their own pace in total harmony and isolation from the world. The streets are grey, the way is not straight and little alleys pave your way to nostalgia. Something about Serbia screams Beirut!

War marks on the buildings, people who killed each other for their differences, and beautiful women dressed up like super models. A night life that you will not find in the rest of Europe and music that is louder than any I have heard before.

The  moment I rode with the crazy cab driver who thought he was a formula one driver in his old car with his tiger teddy bear in the back, and a million lucky charms hanging on the mirror, I felt home. This is like Cairo, Chaotic, poor, yet endearing! However You could feel the traces of war every where and an obsession with fashion and weight, in an ordinary cafe you would find that Fashion t.v is the channel that the flat screen is set to. There is a place in Serbia that looks a lot like Solidaire in Beirut: many cafes next to each other spread along the sidewalks and humidity that you find in a beach city. The river here looks a lot like the Nile. They used it to plant flouting open air clubs that are aligned next to each other and the youth gather in style to dance and enjoy their precious nights.

I could feel the tension in the air of the street in broad day light. Religion is not a subject to discuss, it is too sensitive. I took off my Allah necklace and decided God lives in my heart and I do not want to experience any unpleasant situations. I will wait when I am back home to wear it again. Carrying the burden of their cruel past the Serbians try to live their life like nothing happened. Although the wounded buildings never fail to remind them. However they stay focused on the current peaceful situation. 

The culture here is more collectivist and less individualistic, family ties are very important and so is family honor. Being a Muslim I was scared to come here but until now I have not faced anything major. It is just the small incident at the airport when the woman who was checking my passport and who was supposed to stamp it was unwelcoming. She looked at my green Egyptian passport like it was a cockroach with dog poop on it. She took so much time skimming through it back and forth looking for something that she did not find. She had the face of a sad male goat and around her nose was redness that made me question if he she was healthy enough to work. She skimmed through my passport and on the empty pages that had king Tutankhamun's pictures she looked with disgust. She disrespected my ancestor and looked down on him. I wondered if she was a Natzi from the way she behaved, I have never experienced racism before, it feels horrible.  Finally she stamped it like she would kill a fly that bothered her for a week. My patient husband said thanks, and she said Bye like hitler would, and in a way that was more of a get out of my face rather than enjoy your trip. I said bye back in the same tone of voice and I was shocked that someone could be so rude, I was not coming to steal Serbia I was there as a visitor, a tourist, a guest who will be spending money and boosting their economy.

It was sad to realize humanity can be cruel, all those people who suffered, all these innocent people who who were killed, their spirits fill the streets and the kind Serbians carry their guilt around. Sadness fills the air, however so does romance. Serbia is a perfect place to film a tragic romantic movie. I am enjoying Serbia because it is Europe but it is chaotic.  It is not dreamy. It is realistic, It is up in your face and it is a place with a sad story. Ramadan here does not exist and people here are basically like they are every where, trying to make it through the day like the rest of us.

Cleopatra from Belgrade