Disguised as a Bosanka

Haris at AS near Mercator knows how to transform me into a Bosanka. Unfortunately I'd have to go back every morning to pull off the straight hair!

Good Day in the Neighborhood

I started off with my introductory interview with the Resident Representative of the IMF. Up the red carpet to the reception desk at the Central Bank, through the metal detectors, up the marble stairs. Great conversation. Fishing around to make sure that my fundamental thesis is on track...and PLENTY of confirmation that I'm no looney.

Lunch with Jean, a friend since 1984 at a restaurant where we were the only customers. The chef had done 3 tours of duty on a cruise ship. Saw the entire world, but being away from the kids for 6 months at a time was tough, he says. I'm thinking, "Dude, tough for whom?? Ever think what you left your wife to deal with??" But nice guy. He makes a wicked hot sauce from peppers he picked up in India.

Couldn't find the music school for my first violin lesson, so I took a cab. 15 minutes of a fomentingly mad Bosniak driver denouncing Obama and the international community for not doing enough to stop the fascist Serbs in Republika Srpska from ruining the country...WHAT COUNTRY??...he kept saying." Phew, he found the music school before I had to agree to armed insurrection or bed, couldn't tell which way it was going.

I'm going to a junior high school for the performing arts to find my new teacher. I walk through the door and see the proud/anxious look on parents' faces as they wait for their kids. 12 year old girls in pink tutus. Chopin from behind another door. Forget the chef and Bosniak, I'm a kid again swinging my violin.

Amelia was incredibly sweet. Rather than put me on the spot and inspect my playing like most teacheers, she had already photocopied 3 different violin duets, each progressively more challenging and we play duets for 30 minutes. She was watching me as we played, but I was enjoying playing with her so much that I didn't think much about it. What a cool way to assess. Then we talked about my bow hand. Gently, respectfully talked about what is stiff, where form isn't exactly right, and on to the lesson. Her English is about where my Bosnian is, so it truly was in half Bosnian and half English.

Walk home, now that I knew basically where we were, through the 33 degree rain/mist/100% humidity to watch a Boston public TV broadcast of Anna Karenina.

And your day?