Midterm, Mid-way

Dobro jutro / good morning,

This morning my students are writing a midterm examination. How quickly the middle of the course has come upon us. I have not yet seen any of their writing, so I will find out shortly how much they have absorbed from the lectures and readings. It’s an intensive course, and they have to work quickly and efficiently, but so far I have been impressed by their intelligent comments in class, their astute perceptions, their enthusiasm about the material. Oh, they can be shy and a bit quiet (as our Canadian students can also be, of course) but when they do speak they are delightful. And we share the odd laugh.

Note to Zagreb students who might be reading this. I’m not exaggerating! As far as I can tell, you are doing very well. Okay, let’s see how the exam works out. Keep writing.

The midterm exam also marks six weeks that I have been here. In that time I have come to know my way around the centre of the city. I commute to work from Novi Zagreb by bus with all of the locals and I don’t think I stick out. Much. I have increased my vocabulary of Croatian words to about twenty (I can now count to ten!). I have become rather fond of my little apartment, and when I return from travels to other universities I have a sense of coming “home” to Zagreb—yes, I know how silly that is, really, but one has to pretend. I know all the places downtown where there is free wifi, and I’ve fallen in love with skype. Of course I am missing my own home, my family and friends, Shirley and especially Arlequino. But I am not homesick. It’s good here. An excellent way to spend a sabbatical. 

Ljubljana photos

I was in Ljubljana for about 24 hours. A lecture, some discussion with students and colleagues, a nice dinner. Networking. Learning. And then some time to look around this beautiful small city. River runs through it. Castle on the hill.

Apparently a member of the English department has an apartment in the building with the tower. Nice! The university is centrally located on the other side of the river from the old town.

It had rained the day before, so the following morning was foggy. The river is a lovely colour green. 

Below is a photo of the oldest house in Ljubljana (1528), which is now now a restaurant. The bust in the window is of a writer who lived in the house--actually, he was a grammarian.

They have statue of their most famous poet in the main square!

Look closely below. It's a milk-o-mat. Never seen such a thing.

More writers. Really, these busts that honor their artists and intellectuals are all over the place. Love it!

And then the sun came out.

If you are ever in Ljubljana, eat in this restaurant. Four courses on the prix fixe menu for 8 Euros. I didn't take a photo of the leek soup, but it was also excellent.

 The postcard shot.

Slovenian hospitality

Another week, another country, another talk. This time at the University of Ljubljana, Slovenia. A guest lecture and then dinner. Dinner was in a lovely modern restaurant in the castle! Quite a hike up there, but worth the exertion. I had a salad and then some sort of grilled fish, which they serve (as do the Croats) with swiss chard and potatoes. Yum. The complementary nibbles were amazing too—delicious but artery-clogging pieces of pork crackling fried until crisp and eaten with bread. This is not a part of the world that is friendly to vegetarians. It is sausage land. I’ve eaten a lot of sausages: hot, cold, smoked, unsmoked, dry, juicy—you name it.

I want to say a word about Euro breakfasts too. At these smallish hotels I’ve been staying in you get breakfast. And this is not your English fry-up. Nor is it the French half baguette or croissant and jam. And let’s not even mention some pitiful offerings at modest North American lodgings—I’ve seen fake “juice” and stale muffins or dry wonderbread and coffee that is undrinkable. No, this is a generous meal, self-serve, but eaten at a table with tablecloth and simple but elegant dishes and cutlery. On offer this morning at the Hotel Pri Mraku was the following: all manner of breads, buns and croissants, cold platters with salad vegetables, cheeses, hams and other cold cuts, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs and ham, mushrooms sauted with onions and (I think) cheese, bacon (cut in thick slabs), cereals, cake, yogurts, fresh fruits both whole and cut up in a fruit salad. Okay the coffee came out of a machine, but it was good. This is the way to start a day. This is a way to say to your guest, welcome.

I’m off to explore the town for a few hours before the train takes me back to Zagreb. This visiting professor gig is sweet!

Do I have a social life?

Well yes I do. Coffee and lunch are when I go out with other people, mostly with two of my (younger) colleagues in the department. I also go to the movies, get my hair done, shop for clothes and groceries, hang out in cafes (especially those with free wifi). I chat with the nice man who sells sandwiches and little pastries in a booth near my flat. His English is not that good, but he’s a character, always cheerful, always trying to get me to try something new (Croats do not really understand, it seems, why I don’t eat sweet things). The young guy at the internet café likes to practice his English with me. 

There is much that is different here, but also much that is the same. One evening I went with friends--and V and T have become friends--to see “The King’s Speech” at the CineStar in the Avenue Mall. 

It was much like going to any Cineplex/Galaxy cinema. No, it was exactly like it. Even the popcorn and drinks were outrageously overpriced as they are at home. Globalized mall culture is just as vapid here as there. But when I need a dash of the familiar, it’s nice to go to the movies. 

Exploring the neighbourhood

For those of you who might doubt that I’m working, here’s proof.

At home.

In the classroom.

It’s Sunday and I’m tired from three days of marathon teaching. I had my regular two classes on Thursday and Friday (three hours each) and then taught for four hours on Saturday to make up for the classes I missed when I went to Graz. By last evening my voice was gone. Today I’m taking it easy. Late morning coffee, scrabble games, yoga, reading, and walking.

As you know I’m living in the new part of Zagreb, which is all huge apartment buildings. They are not very pretty, but they are well serviced by shops and cafes and the like. Today I walked in a different direction and discovered a farmers’ market just a couple of blocks away. Prices were much cheaper than the market in the old town and the quality of food just the same. I had to do a lot of pointing and using my few words of Croatian, as the locals in this area tend not to speak much English (why would they?). Buying my weekly groceries today was a lot of fun. I’ve been told that the wild asparagus will be in the markets very soon, and that, for sure, is a sign of spring.

So are the flowers. Around here there’s quite a bit of green space but not many flowers. A few daffodils popped up outside my building, and the other day I saw an old woman picking them for her apartment. Lady, they’re for everyone to enjoy! Why would you take them? Are they private or public property?

Today on my walk back from the market I stopped to admire a lovely large patch of spring flowers that someone had clearly taken a lot of trouble to plant. I looked up and saw that a ground floor apartment had flower pots on the window sills and a window box full of primulas. Ah, that must be where the person who planted the flowers lives, I thought. And it was. An elegant older lady in a fuzzy purple hat was also looking at the garden plot, and she spoke to me in a very sad voice. I apologized and said that I did not speak Croatian, that I was English-speaking, and what d’ya know, but she switched into English. “Someone stole my flowers and I am very angry,” she said, “I try to make a bit of beauty, but the people ...” What’s mine is not yours. What’s ours is also mine. Is this bit of land mine to do with as I please? Complicated questions. People around here might own their apartments but they don’t own the land. In honour of that lady and her efforts to beautify a concrete environment, I post a photo of her flower garden.

Two countries beginning with the letter "C"

Things that are better in Croatia

The buses. I can’t get over the buses. Yes, I realized I have mentioned them before. And the trams. They go everywhere; they go frequently; they are really inexpensive and you can transfer in any direction on any vehicle as much as you like for 90 minutes on the same fare. Buses are articulated and they have anywhere from 3-4 doors, which you can step into or out of as you like. That means no crowding at the front, no need for the driver to ask (with exasperation in voice) people to move RIGHT TO THE BACK FO THE BUS!, no misanthropic thoughts going through Linda’s mind about how idiotic people are. Here bus riders just find a spot to sit or stand and they make room for others.

The bakeries. They too are everywhere and they sell lots of different kinds and sizes of loaves and rolls, baguettes and croissants, sweet pastries and savoury. You can buy a slice of pizza or burek, which is filo pastry stuffed with spicy meat, fresh cheese, potato or spinach and that comes in various shapes and sizes (indeed, might be called different things depending on the shape and size). All warm and crispy. Bakeries sometimes also have prepared sandwiches (actually rolls and sometimes wraps), hot and cold drinks and yogurt. You can buy a lunch for about $2 at a bakery. You eat it while walking, as everyone does.

The sheets and towels. One hundred percent cotton, colourful, and inexpensive. Closest we get is linens from Ikea. Where does The Bay get off charging $60 for a sheet? I ask you.

Flowers! Croats buy and give each other flowers. Gorgeous bouquets or potted plants. There is a “flower square” in the centre of town, as well as a flower market. Plus small flower shops in any neighbourhood. Bouquets are artfully arranged and neatly tied. For $10 you can get something really beautiful. I have flowers in my apartment always.

Things that are better in Canada

It does not take 30 minutes of lining up at the post office to buy a stamp for a postcard. Of course, I could have bought a stamp from a kiosk, but I’m not always confident people who sell things in kiosks know how much postage to Canada is. That was true in Austria as well. And snail mail takes FOR EVER. I don’t know if the problem is at this end or ours, but snail mail takes more than two weeks. And that’s by airmail, not steamship.

Bureaucracy. Here at the university things move slowly (although our lovely department secretary is fabulous). I’m not doing much of the running around; my colleague V. is doing it for me. But it’s amazing how difficult it seems to be to get  the right pieces of paper signed and delivered. We had to get me registered with the police. That took two visits before we had the right documents and the right dates stamped on my passport. (V. assures me that only two visits is not at all bad).

Okay, I have to say it: diversity. So far I have seen exactly one black person in Zagreb. One. I have seen a few Asians, young people, probably students.

Recycling. There is some here, but I'm shocked at how much garbage I accumulate in a week without the composting and solid materials recycling we can do in Canada.

More selection of wines from all over the world. Don’t get me wrong: Croatian wine is good. But I’m longing for a big fat juicy minerally Italian Nero d’Avola. Maybe someone will bring me a bottle.  

Graz, a photo essay

After the talk I had a whole day to explore before catching the evening train back to Zagreb. Tourist photos, again without me in them :(

First order of business: coffee.

Hauptplatz. Graz is a nice, walkable city. And the weather was great.

Street performers were everywhere. They are mostly Roma. There were also a lot of people begging on the streets, also Roma, I was told. I gave out lots of coins.

This is the food of my childhood visits to Germany. Two frankfurters with a brotchen and lots of senf. Eaten standing up at an imbiss. Cheapest lunch possible and quite delicious, actually.

There's a castle and clock tower up a big hill. I took the lift up and walked down. Stopping along the way for a cold drink at a cafe on the summit. Such a lovely day.

That last shot was taken from a "skywalk" cafe on the top floor of a department building. 

And these women (very well dressed in modern "tracht" clothing, which echoes traditional costume and signifies a commitment to nationalism) were deep in gossip beside me.

And then, of course, there was shopping.

Spring!

Arlequino told me that there is a big museum of armour in Graz, and, indeed, there is!. There's also a plaque on the wall of the old city affirming that the Nazis were bad.

Live from Pension Rückert

Coincidentally, Rückert is my maternal grandmother’s maiden name. But here the B & B is named after a 19th-century poet, Friedrich Rückert. There are quotations from his poems stenciled on the walls, including in my room.

I love European train travel. Although the one I took yesterday to get here was slow because it stopped a lot, the trip from Zagreb to Graz was calm and I had a compartment to myself most of the time. We traveled through Slovenia, so I had to show my ticket to three different conductors and my passport—my “dokumenti”—to two different border control people. The Slovenian one also asked me questions and checked out my passport number. Of course, I’m legit, so no worries. When asked why I was going to Austria I got to say that I was going to give a lecture at the university. Finally, at age 52, I feel like a professional professor lady. There’s something about being outside of my own country that affirms this.

The university of Graz organizes a speaker series on Canadian literature and culture (French and English), and I was the first speaker of this year’s series. As the organizer—the esteemed Dr. Ertler—said to me later, the first speaker is very important because if the talk goes well, the students will return for subsequent ones. And apparently mine went well. There were about 40 people there, mainly undergrad students but also some other faculty and a visiting writer. I connected the discourse of Canadian multiculturalism, as it currently signifies in Canada in all of its muddleness, to two recent events: the controversy over the “Too Asian?” article in Maclean’s magazine, which implied that Asian Canadians are not real Canadians; and the performance of a play, The Last 15 Seconds by the MT Space theatre company in K-W which told a Middle Eastern story but did so in an entirely multicultural Canadian way. Then I connected all that to the role literature plays in encouraging citizens to remember histories—sometimes Canadian histories and sometimes histories of other places, other peoples. Or at least I did something like that. The audience was receptive and they asked good questions afterwards.

In Austria they don’t applaud by clapping their hands but by knocking on the desk. It sounded weird to my ear. More like a judge’s gavel coming down in a courtroom. Knocking on a desk signifies “shut up” to me, not “thank you.”

Today I get to be a tourist again. My train doesn’t leave until 6:30 this evening, so I’ve got the whole day to wander around Graz, which is a very pretty place. I’ll post photos later.

On the train yesterday I stared out of the window for most of the journey. Slovenia is very hilly. I wonder if they call those big hills mountains. The train followed a river. What is that river called? No doubt it empties into the Danube. Last bits of snow clung to the north sides at the upper elevations, but by the river trees are becoming ever-so-slightly tinged with green. Farmers’ fields are narrow and long. Here in Graz I have seen snowdrops and crocuses. The sun is shining. 

The travelling professor

It feels a bit like I'm on the Grand Tour, except that I'm supposed to be the teacher not the travelling, privileged student. Tomorrow I go to the University of Graz, Austria, to give a lecture at their Canadian studies institute. Yesterday I received an email inviting me to give a similar talk (in truth, it will be the same talk) at the University of Osijek in Eastern Croatia. There is a rumour that I'm going to be invited to Serbia--or was it Slovenia? I'm saying yes to all of these invitations because travel is good, because it's all in the name of inter-cultural exchange, because that's why I'm here. The Visiting Professor must VISIT and consult and distribute and discuss. I'm rather enjoying it.

The weather has changed. A colleague said that here Spring "cracks open" all of a sudden. I like that metaphor. Today there is sun; it's warm; people are sitting outside; I opened my coat and took off my scarf. I'm in my office with the window open. I swear every time I look outside the grass seems just a little bit greener.
Ah, bright wings!

University libraries

I never feel more at home than I do when I am in a library. The Arts Faculty library at the University of Zagreb is a lovely building. All of the work spaces face a building-long window. Most of the lighting is natural. The desks and chairs are blond wood. At each work space there are plugs, individual lamps, and ethernet ports (unnecessary since the building is wifi). It is calm and comfortable.

The collection of Canadian literature books is modest, but well selected. Most of the books are relevant. I am using some of them right now to write a lecture.

I am happy here. Almost at home.

Week one: orientation to Canlit

As promised, some blather about what teaching at the University of Zagreb is like so far.

This is the building, the Fakultet, as they call it, in which the departments of English, Archeology, History, and other Arts/Social Sciences are housed. The architecture is brutal, but out of an adjacent building I hear the sounds of musicians practicing. Hey, there's a faculty of shipbuilding here. Cool!

This sculpture is in front of it—it’s supposed to represent some kind of workers’ struggle, but as one of my Croatian colleagues said today, it reminds her more of having cramps.

This is my office, which I share with two others (last week it was three others). Professors have their own washroom, for which you need a key. But there's wifi. Yay! Can you see my gorgeous new MacBook Air?

I have met my students; I have taught for six hours. I do not really know how it is going. One thing I know for sure is that six hours of introduction to Canadian history, geography, literary history, and so on, is too much. Ramble, ramble. I bored myself. On day one I gave them a “fun quiz” to see what they know about Canada. Questions were both serious and silly. I modeled the quiz, partly, on Rick Mercer’s “Talking to Americans,” but I assured these Croatian students that there was nothing at stake if they did not know the answers and that I did not really expect them to know much about Canada. Indeed, I assured them that not all Canadian students could answer some of those questions. Certainly, I was not (like Mercer) trying to embarrass them. Some of the students have relatives or friends who have immigrated to Canada, so obviously they got most of the answers right. Even those who did not have much background knew that, for instance, the official languages are French and English, who the Metis are, and that Justin Bieber, Nelly Furtado, and K’naan are Canadian musicians. Wow! They were less clear about which actors I mentioned were Canadian, but that’s probably true of our own students because the actors I named are all in the Hollywood system. And truly, when it came to identify Canadian authors, they were stumped. Enter visiting lady professor of Canadian literature. Pleased to help you with that!

So, the intro was too long, but this is their first week, and I could not expect them to have read any literary texts. I began with basic context. Only today did we do some analysis of a text—and it was the Multiculturalism Act. The rhetorical analysis we undertook was fascinating. I asked them to identify key words: they identified these: equity, community, diversity, rights, heritage (and more, but I forget what I wrote on the board). What I would have identified are the verbs in the document: preserve, recognize, enhance, foster, promote (actually one student did offer that), share, participate. So we already had a place from which to speak. Why did I focus on the verbs and they on the nouns?

These are my students (minus who has what we call scheduling conflicts and what they call ‘collisions’—I like collisions better). 

Helena, Vedran, Pavle, Andrea, David, Katarina, Natasha, Adriana, Ana. Igor is missing. They are all smart.

And we are in one of the three classrooms in which I teach. We move around a lot and breaks are longer than ours. In a three-hour class a break could be anywhere from 45 minutes to 1.5 hours. All of the classrooms are nicer than those I teach in at UW. And the classrooms are in the same building as my office (the library is in the same building as well); the classrooms have new, wood furniture; they have windows; they have state-of-the-art computers and data projectors that are not locked away and that always work. They have room to move and air to breathe.

This is a photo of a pile of outdated computers that are just dumped in a stairwell. I don’t know why they are still there.

Today I told my students that I was writing a blog and I told them what it was called. They immediately responded to the phrase “in the Balkans.” They do not think of themselves as living in the Balkans. Should I change the name of the blog? What do you think? 

Vegeta

The food here is good. Very good. Vegetables and fruits are of exceptionally high quality. I ate a grapefruit the other day that was as good as any I had ever eaten in my life—even in Florida. Where do the citrus fruits come from? Spain. I have no idea if there is a local and organic movement but I do know that eating seasonally has always been part of the European ethos; freshness of produce and meats is expected. I shop every day, which is a rhythm I like. There are small and big markets all over the place and they are amazingly well stocked. What there is not much of is heat-and-serve foods, either frozen or in cans. Canned soup, for instance? Can’t find it, but I can find the basics of soup-making in the veggie aisle—a carrot or two, a bit of parsnip, some savoy cabbage leaves, some parsley, all packaged together and very cheap. Just add onion, garlic, water, a bit of seasoning (Vegeta, an all-purpose mix that I know I’ve seen in Vincenzos), maybe some meat and you have soup. I made such a basic soup with an added poached chicken breast last week and it was excellent. But I worry about that Vegeta--what's in it exactly? 

Remember I’m cooking on a two-ring stove top. No oven, not even a toaster oven. Please send me your favourite recipes for meals that can be made in either two saucepans or one saucepan and a frying pan (these are my only pots). It’s like camping, but with refrigeration. Stir fries, okay, but where is the soya sauce? Pastas, a no-brainer. I’m planning to make Arlequino’s spag bol this weekend, but I can’t find ground turkey so it will have to be with beef meatballs. Risottos, yum, but it’s difficult to warm up any leftovers without a microwave. In fact, how does one warm up food without a microwave? I’ve forgotten.

Soon I am going to write about the university and my work here. I promise. My first touristy week is over, and teaching began today.