This is not Dubai

I've never been to Dubai. And given the snow on the ground in Islam's northernmost major outpost, it is hard to mistake the two burgs. But while Dubai collided with Western modernity in the late 20th century, Sarajevo collided with it centuries earlier, and had a more recent collision with "socialist realism".

A thorough examination of Sarajevo's architectural patrimony will wait until tomorrow, though the night sky yielded outlines of a stew of Islamic Traditional, Art Nouveau, classic Gothic and socialist Panelak. Tonight will belong to the Avilja, a restaurant recommended by Agnesa, an IABCer I've been in contact with and hope to meet before I leave for Belgrade. The language barrier is fierce here, though I was well understood at my guest house, the Halvat. But I had to be rescued by some big guys wearing government-flag lapel pins when I inquired whether the Balkanski Gril menu item contained pork. ("No Pork!", exclaimed the heavies). Indeed, a pair of small but exceptionally tasty steak kebabs appeared, along with a tray of deep fried dough squares. The squares, which were at the core of Agnesa's recommendation as it turned out, were certainly tasty, but I will avoid them for the rest of the trip because I do desire to return to Holland in something other than corpulently cadaverous form.

...As a woman who looks like a potential sister of dear Washington-based Serb-Canadian friend Michele Saranovich walks in to the Avilja, I'm left to ponder the simmering ethnic stew this city is. There are no major racial differences between Muslim, Serb and Croat-there are Muslim redheads, black-haired Croats and blonde Serbs. One doesn't assume whom one is speaking with until the person broaches the subject. In the late stage of my train ride in, some youths joined the crew in my compartment in Zenica., and, after halting attempts at conversation in French, German and a smattering of English, one says: He's Bosnian (Muslim), he's Serb and I'm Montenegrin!