Wacky kind of good

It’s soon two years since we moved to the mountain. I catch my breath thinking of all the things that have changed, all the events we never expected, and all the happenstances that have shaped our family.

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Living in Bosnia and the mountain is challenging. I’m out of words explaining how it is to live here. It’s a continuous culture shock. And numerous times I’ve decided we’re going back. Back to civilisation, back to normal life, perhaps Slovenia, perhaps somewhere else.

And that will never change. A new friend, an expat in Bosnia himself, introduced me to the term Bosnian blues “the kind of blues that is pretty black actually“. He’s got far longer experience than I do, and he confirmed my thought: the blues might never fade away, it’s a returning kind. But I’m strangely ok with it coming again. It will return, relentlessly, and so will my plan of going. (See I’m a Finn, we like things to have names and explanations, having that we’re much better with even the bad stuff.)

But then there’s the flip side: The good stuff. This week I’ve experienced once again the incredible hospitality and sweetness of the people here. The kindness, the generosity, the joy of just sitting down with friends, neighbours, and family members. Open doors, open arms, endless amounts of coffees and food on the table. Where I come from people have so much more – possessions and fortune – but many don’t have the time or the will to share it.

I find myself smiling, nearly purring. Coming from the reserved North, this over the top warmth is just plain wacky! In nothing but good ways, of course!

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— This post serves also as a thank you and happy birthday note to my husband: “I would never have experienced all this if it wasn’t for you. I love you, my hero, the love of my life. Happy birthday!”

 

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