sarajevo days

Sometimes I think that the sole purpose of the shuffle function on my ipod is to play every single song I don't want to hear. I believe that my ipod has a brain, maybe even a personality (a contemptable one at that), and it is dead set on using its shuffling capabilities to thwart my music listening enjoyment by consistently forcing me to ask myself "why the hell do I have this song on my ipod?" One such song came up the other day- PORCELAIN, from Moby's PLAY record. Whats strange is that I didnt press the click wheel to move on to the next song. Instead, I turned off the shuffle and played the entire record.

Stop laughing and I'll tell you why.

Seriously. Shut up.

It happened a few weeks ago, right as the weather began to turn. The afternoons were still warm but the evenings were cool, and there was no humidity and a consistent breeze. The sky was big and blue and dotted with huge fluffy clouds, and I was on my way downtown via interstate. My earbuds were securly snug in my ears (and yes, I know that is illegal, but there should also be a law against jared driving a car without a stereo) and the windows were down. PORCELAIN came on and the weather and the wind and the sound and the song hit me all at once and sent me on a series of intense memories of Sarajevo days. You see, six years ago I spent a summer in Sarajevo, where the days were warm and the nights were cool and the sky was big and blue and dotted with big fluffy clouds. And everywhere I went in Sarajevo, no, everywhere I went in Europe that summer, I heard Moby's PLAY. It was literally EVERYWHERE-cafes, stores, clubs, tv, radio...I even think that it was blasting out of the call to prayer speakers that are fastened to the tops of the many minarets of all the mosques in Sarajevo.

My most distinct memory is of the ART PLACE. The ART PLACE was a little gallery/cafe/reading room that Hajdi and I frequented. It was right next to the river that ran through the middle of the city, and it was the place of our first date. Hajdi (pronounced like Heidi) was beautiful. So beautiful that I had no idea of why she wanted to be with me. But she did, and I think we were in love...in love with each other and in love with language and art and books and music. The ART PLACE (and i never knew if that was the actual name of the place, or if it was just what Hajdi and I called it) was simply decorated- blue walls with a few posters and pieces of local art, lots of hand written advertisements for clubs and dj's and rock bands and parties. The chairs were a mix-matched mixture of red, orange and yellow and they orbited white table tops that supported used cups and bottles and overflowing ashtrays, full of the remnants of previous conversations and silent thoughts gone up in smoke.

Hajdi and I would always order a coke in a bottle or a cappacino and PLAY would be on the house speakers. We might talk about the books we had read or tell each other about our families or share childhood memories and PLAY would still be on the house speakers. Sometimes she would tell me about the war, and sometimes we'd sit quietly and flip through magazines. She would read and i would look at the pictures, and PLAY would be on its second or third full rotation on the house speakers.

I loved those afternoons in Sarajevo with Hajdi, and I suppose that its those memories that cause me to keep Moby on my ipod, so that when I happen to hear those songs I can be taken back to one of the most beautiful places Ive ever seen, with one of the most beautiful girls I've ever known.

Here is a photograph of Hajdi on the tram in Sarajevo: