Blood Collection in Bosnia

Celebrating the return of the blog

Written by

Dieter

Published

March 3rd, 2022

In

Sarajevo, Bosnia

Welcome back. Let's move on.

Raise your hand if you would not be able to locate Bosnia-Herzegovina on a map. Raise your other hand if that actually made you realise you should brush up on your geography knowledge. And while they’re both in the air, please put both hands together repeatedly for the return of the blog! It’s been a few months since I returned from Australia, and by now it’s time to move on to the next letter of the alphabet; the B from Bosnia-Herzegovina. How I got here? By plane, of course. No seriously, all jokes aside, read on to find out why I’m here, why the title has this creepy feeling to it, and to remind you why this website is your homepage (it is, right?). If you can’t read, or you’re here just for the pretty pictures – you won’t be disappointed either!

In a nutshell

So here’s what’s been up (besides, surprisingly, the tiny plane that flew me here). Covid hit me right in the proverbial nuts by arriving on the same day as I had planned to start my second year of living abroad. Call it luck, coincidence or faith, but I actually was visiting family in Belgium at that time. So instead of living in New Zealand for a year, I ended up in lockdown with mum and dad. We had an absolute blast. And since neither of us ended up with a child, a divorce or a puppy, we still refer to this period as The Big Success (but don’t ask my parents though).

Being stuck here did force me to once again evaluate my options. With almost no restrictions, I saw the world as my oyster! You don’t know that yet, because that story has not been published, but I had lost my oyster-virginity in Tasmania a few months earlier. Needless to say I was more than ready to spritz some citrus in my options, slightly stir them, and gulp them down without them ever having touched my teeth. And so it happened that I started a full-time bachelor’s degree in nursing in September that year. This was not, as you might assume, an oyster-induced stomach inflammation, but a well thought of and carefully balanced decision.

Fast forward 18 months and I’ve just arrived in Zenica, in Bosnia-Herzegovina, where I’ll start a short nursing internship in the local hospital. I wouldn’t know a thing about the road here, because I came by plane, but I do know organising this hasn’t been easy. Communication and organisation from both the school and the local university has been vague, hollow, and mostly just absent. “Don’t worry” must’ve made out the majority of words in e-mails and Facebook Messenger messages where I was supposed to contact local professors for a faster reply.

Despite that, my trip went surprisingly well. Too well. When I arrived at the local student center, where they reserved a room for me, and introduced myself, the receptionist looked at me like a toddler would look at Dora when he’d have absolutely no idea whether she should turn left or right. He readjusted quickly and explained friendly that there was no mention nowhere of my arrival. Good thing I wasn’t worrying! A quick heated discussing with his superior later, and he brought me to a dorm room, gave me a key, and left. Imagine a student dorm room, with two beds with sheets that haven’t been able to fully get over their previous owners, in a building full of such rooms, with the air almost tangibly smokey from all cigarettes that were smoked… in the hallway.

Languages à volonté

Startled, I returned to the reception desk to find the receptionist talking with three girls about – I would later find out – an exchange student from Spain that would arrive in about a month. Before they realised yo no hables español though, they were talking and translating for me, and ultimately decided to give me a quick tour of the city. Nothing spectacular to see, but it was nice to be outside and breathe in some fresh air. When we returned they ran into a friend from university. After a short introduction, she reached out her hand, presented herself and asked “Are you the exchange student from Spain?”. WHAT HAS THIS GUY DONE TO BE SO EXPECTED?!

Final hurdle of the day was dinner. In a small restaurant across the street, where nobody wore masks and a big part of the clientele was smoking, I sat down and looked at the menu only to realise that I couldn’t make a single thing out of it. I know quite a few languages, and I’m pretty good with different alphabets as well, but I would not have been able to figure out that pitte wasn’t pita or kebab, but that it meant cake. And while finishing my safe option, the hamburger, it slowly occurred to me that these eastern countries don’t send those kind of special (to my western ears) songs to the Eurovision Song Contest for fun. No, it’s because that’s the music they actually listen to. I’m pretty sure that if I eat a hamburger there every day, that the trauma’s which I’ll consequently get, will make sure I’ll never ever ever will eat McDonald’s again without hearing some Bosnian song.

Anyway, that’s it for now. It’s been great catching up! You’re absolutely right, we should do this more often. I’m in Zenica for about five weeks, I promise to try to keep the blog alive. In the meantime, as usual, tell me how you’re doing! Adíos!