Just because yesterday's post made me nostalgic for the now-discontinued Yugo.
How do Japanese carmakers test to see if their cars are airtight, once they come off the factory assembly line?
They lock a cat in the car, and after three days, if the cat is dead from suffocation, the car is airtight.
How does Zastava test to see if a Yugo is airtight?
They lock a cat in the car, and after three days, if the cat is still IN The car, it's airtight.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Faux Pas
The biggest cultural "foot in mouth" moment I had in Serbia, thus far, involved a Yugo.
Four of us were driving to Srebreno Jezero (Silver Lake, unsure about the spelling), outside of Veliko Gradiste, near the border where crossing the Danube leads you into Romania, for a weekend of fun, relaxation and rostilji (again, I suck with Serbian spelling... BBQ). I believe it was the weekend before Easter, 2007.
Anyway, I was going with Goxy and a crew of his colleagues from [unamed big advertizing agency in BG].
We piled all our bags into the smallish car, which belonged to a very, very large guy named Branko (very amusing to watch him squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze into the driver's seat, then ask me to close the door HARD from the outside), and set off on the road for a cramped 3 hour drive out of Belgrade. It was all good though, and we were all excited to get out of the city for a bit.
At some point in the conversation, Goxy casually turned to me and asked:
- "Ej, check this car out, what year do you think it was made in?"
I looked around at the beaten up seats, very basic dashboard instrumentation, flimsy or non-existent seat belts, missing window rollers, scuffed up floor mats, etc... I figured, based on my own experience with cars and how much wear and tear it would take to get one to this point, that it had to be AT LEAST a decade old, possibly much more, although in relatively good condition for that age/mileage.
- "Ummmm, I dunno... I would guess about 1985 or something." I answered, thinking I was being generous. I assumed that the idea was for me to guess too recently, then they would tell me some shocking age like 1972 and then boast about how durable Yugos are or something.
There was a second of awkward silence, and they all looked at me kind of funny.
- "Brate, this car was made in 2001..."
Ouch.
Four of us were driving to Srebreno Jezero (Silver Lake, unsure about the spelling), outside of Veliko Gradiste, near the border where crossing the Danube leads you into Romania, for a weekend of fun, relaxation and rostilji (again, I suck with Serbian spelling... BBQ). I believe it was the weekend before Easter, 2007.
Anyway, I was going with Goxy and a crew of his colleagues from [unamed big advertizing agency in BG].
We piled all our bags into the smallish car, which belonged to a very, very large guy named Branko (very amusing to watch him squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze into the driver's seat, then ask me to close the door HARD from the outside), and set off on the road for a cramped 3 hour drive out of Belgrade. It was all good though, and we were all excited to get out of the city for a bit.
At some point in the conversation, Goxy casually turned to me and asked:
- "Ej, check this car out, what year do you think it was made in?"
I looked around at the beaten up seats, very basic dashboard instrumentation, flimsy or non-existent seat belts, missing window rollers, scuffed up floor mats, etc... I figured, based on my own experience with cars and how much wear and tear it would take to get one to this point, that it had to be AT LEAST a decade old, possibly much more, although in relatively good condition for that age/mileage.
- "Ummmm, I dunno... I would guess about 1985 or something." I answered, thinking I was being generous. I assumed that the idea was for me to guess too recently, then they would tell me some shocking age like 1972 and then boast about how durable Yugos are or something.
There was a second of awkward silence, and they all looked at me kind of funny.
- "Brate, this car was made in 2001..."
Ouch.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sticky Business
For the second half of my first year in Serbia, I lived in a large apartment with my initial fellow-countryman roomate (let's call him Al) and my best Serb friend, Goxy. It was all good and a fun ride while it lasted, although Al decided he had had enough of Serbia come about September and bailed on us, leaving us with a free room to use for the remaining month and a half or so left on our lease.
Being social, friendly and hospitable guys, Gox and I agreed we might as well put the room to use. As destiny or coincidence or karma or whatever would have it, very shortly after Al's departure, we met and befriended a lovely young Australian girl passing through Belgrade. She was a pretty hardcore traveller and had already put quite a lot of mileage under her shoes, and had arrived in Belgrade with a group of hippies or something and not a clue about what to do or see. They all ended up stopping by our place for a small-ish party one night, and then Gox ran into her on Knez Mihailova street a day or two later, and invited her to crash at our place while she was in Belgrade, rather than stay in hostels, an offer she gladly accepted.
She stayed for about three weeks and proved to be a wonderful roomate for that time, always positive and cheerful, fun-loving, and just generally very relaxed and pleasant to be around. She helped clean around the apartment (which was sooooooooo badly needed and appreciated), cooked a bit, and drank all our booze.
She liked to party, and I would be lying if I said she wasn't a little bit promiscuous... I don't judge though. She did get to know an impressive number of Serbian dudes in her time in Belgrade, and undeniably left with a favorable impression of the place, ha. Positive international relations...
Moving the story along... Our apartment was near our good friend Geppeto's place (see the Plastik story at the beginning of the blog), so he was often stopping by to hang out, and as these things tend to happen, a liaison formed between him and Rachel, our new roomate.
One evening, while Gox was still at work, Geppeto stopped over to get down to business with Rachel for a bit. The key element in this story was that Rachel was wearing one of Vuk's sweaters while it (apparently quite spontaneously) happened, and somehow, at the, ahem, climax, Geppeto, uuum, let's say, "desecrated" the sweater, quite significantly and frankly, impressively.
I was watching TV when they both emerged from the room looking happy, yet slightly concerned; they explained to me what had happened, and Geppeto was worried that Gox might get pissed about the sweater, and asked me what he thought he should do about it.
I told him Gox would never even notice the sweater was missing, so Geppeto should take it for a few days to wash it at his place. Gox is the single most scatterbrained person I have EVER met, bar none; his is a true creative soul, which apparently means that there are no brain cells whatsoever left in his head for remembering the location of objects. He loses things like he's paid to do it, house keys, DVDs, wallets, money, books, clothes, drugs, pets, people, maps, appointments, vehicles, food, whatever. His pockets are like a portal to another dimension, you put something inside and SHAZAM!!! It may well reappear in Beijing or Purgatory or wherever. I really am not exaggerating, it must be experienced to be believed. Gox losing something is going to be a recurring theme in many of these stories, let me warn you.
So anyway, Geppeto also agreed this was the wisest thing to do, and packed the sweater in his backpack. We all agreed to just not mention anything, and he'd return it sometime down the line all clean and that would be the end of it.
Gox came home right around then, and we all hung out and chatted in the living room for a while. He had plans to head out for the evening though, so he got up to go take a shower and get on with his evening.
Just at that moment though, through freak bad luck, he spotted the tiniest corner of his sweater protuding from Geppeto's backpack...
-" Hey, is that my sweater? Did I borrow it to you at some point?"
-"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuum, yes.... Yes, it is. " replied a totally busted and suddenly nervous Geppeto.
-" Oh great! I was looking for that the other day, I forgot where it had gone! (no kidding.) Lemme take it back, I'm gonna wear it this weekend! "
Geppeto said nothing and just pulled out the sweater and gave it to him. Rachel was looking at me with a gleefully anticipatory face that said "holy shit, this is going to be hilariously awesome!".
However, sadly, Gox never noticed a thing. He just grabbed the sweater, went to his room and apparently tossed it into some corner and took his shower. The three of us had a good "whew, that was close!" laugh about it all, Geppeto went home, and that was the last I thought about it all.
Until about a month later, that is. Rachel was long gone. It was a saturday night, and Gox and I had big plans for the evening. We had come back to the apartment after a large Serbian dinner to clean up and get prepped for the night.
As we were getting dressed, talking loudly to each other from our respective rooms, Gox noticed something.
-" Ej man, this is weird... This sweater I'm wearing has something on it, it looks like...."
I looked over to see him holding THE sweater, pressed up right to his face, sniffing the weird crusty stain deeply and scratching at it, a quizzical look on his face as he tried to figure out what it was.
The entire scene came suddenly crashing back into my memory, and I froze... I had totally forgotten about the whole thing, but now the implication of it hit me like a ton of bricks. I started laughing hysterically.
- "What, man?!?!" he said, perplexed.
-" IT IS!!!!"
-" It's what?!?"
-" What you think it is!!"
-" What?"
-" The stuff on your sweater... It's what you think it is!"
-" Huh? What?"
-" I know what you're thinking! What's on the sweater, I know what you think it is, and IT IS!!!"
-" .... Huh?! Wait...WHAT?!?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, MAN!?" he said, now seriously alarmed.
-" What does it look like? WHAT DOES IT SMELL LIKE?!" I almost peed myself I was laughing so hard.
-" DON'T SHIT MAN!!! IS THIS..." he asked, horrified. He couldn't bring himself to say it.
-" YES!!! YES!!! IT IS!!! BWAHAHAHAHA!"
-" AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!?! HOW DO YOU KNOW!?? DON'T SHIT MAN!!!!"
I quickly explained the Geppeto-Rachel crime as quickly and clearly as I could. The whole situation was so ridiculous and gross that, once the initial horror had passed, he also couldn't help but laugh at the hilarity of the whole thing.
The amusement continued still a few weeks later when we finally saw Geppeto again, who had also forgotten about the whole episode. Time heals everything, including guilty memories. Gox simply went up to him and said "I know what you did man. That was not cool." The look on his face as he REMEMBERED, OH SHIT! was really worth paying for and unforgettable.
Goxy still wears the sweater sometimes, but I can just never look at it the same.
Being social, friendly and hospitable guys, Gox and I agreed we might as well put the room to use. As destiny or coincidence or karma or whatever would have it, very shortly after Al's departure, we met and befriended a lovely young Australian girl passing through Belgrade. She was a pretty hardcore traveller and had already put quite a lot of mileage under her shoes, and had arrived in Belgrade with a group of hippies or something and not a clue about what to do or see. They all ended up stopping by our place for a small-ish party one night, and then Gox ran into her on Knez Mihailova street a day or two later, and invited her to crash at our place while she was in Belgrade, rather than stay in hostels, an offer she gladly accepted.
She stayed for about three weeks and proved to be a wonderful roomate for that time, always positive and cheerful, fun-loving, and just generally very relaxed and pleasant to be around. She helped clean around the apartment (which was sooooooooo badly needed and appreciated), cooked a bit, and drank all our booze.
She liked to party, and I would be lying if I said she wasn't a little bit promiscuous... I don't judge though. She did get to know an impressive number of Serbian dudes in her time in Belgrade, and undeniably left with a favorable impression of the place, ha. Positive international relations...
Moving the story along... Our apartment was near our good friend Geppeto's place (see the Plastik story at the beginning of the blog), so he was often stopping by to hang out, and as these things tend to happen, a liaison formed between him and Rachel, our new roomate.
One evening, while Gox was still at work, Geppeto stopped over to get down to business with Rachel for a bit. The key element in this story was that Rachel was wearing one of Vuk's sweaters while it (apparently quite spontaneously) happened, and somehow, at the, ahem, climax, Geppeto, uuum, let's say, "desecrated" the sweater, quite significantly and frankly, impressively.
I was watching TV when they both emerged from the room looking happy, yet slightly concerned; they explained to me what had happened, and Geppeto was worried that Gox might get pissed about the sweater, and asked me what he thought he should do about it.
I told him Gox would never even notice the sweater was missing, so Geppeto should take it for a few days to wash it at his place. Gox is the single most scatterbrained person I have EVER met, bar none; his is a true creative soul, which apparently means that there are no brain cells whatsoever left in his head for remembering the location of objects. He loses things like he's paid to do it, house keys, DVDs, wallets, money, books, clothes, drugs, pets, people, maps, appointments, vehicles, food, whatever. His pockets are like a portal to another dimension, you put something inside and SHAZAM!!! It may well reappear in Beijing or Purgatory or wherever. I really am not exaggerating, it must be experienced to be believed. Gox losing something is going to be a recurring theme in many of these stories, let me warn you.
So anyway, Geppeto also agreed this was the wisest thing to do, and packed the sweater in his backpack. We all agreed to just not mention anything, and he'd return it sometime down the line all clean and that would be the end of it.
Gox came home right around then, and we all hung out and chatted in the living room for a while. He had plans to head out for the evening though, so he got up to go take a shower and get on with his evening.
Just at that moment though, through freak bad luck, he spotted the tiniest corner of his sweater protuding from Geppeto's backpack...
-" Hey, is that my sweater? Did I borrow it to you at some point?"
-"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuum, yes.... Yes, it is. " replied a totally busted and suddenly nervous Geppeto.
-" Oh great! I was looking for that the other day, I forgot where it had gone! (no kidding.) Lemme take it back, I'm gonna wear it this weekend! "
Geppeto said nothing and just pulled out the sweater and gave it to him. Rachel was looking at me with a gleefully anticipatory face that said "holy shit, this is going to be hilariously awesome!".
However, sadly, Gox never noticed a thing. He just grabbed the sweater, went to his room and apparently tossed it into some corner and took his shower. The three of us had a good "whew, that was close!" laugh about it all, Geppeto went home, and that was the last I thought about it all.
Until about a month later, that is. Rachel was long gone. It was a saturday night, and Gox and I had big plans for the evening. We had come back to the apartment after a large Serbian dinner to clean up and get prepped for the night.
As we were getting dressed, talking loudly to each other from our respective rooms, Gox noticed something.
-" Ej man, this is weird... This sweater I'm wearing has something on it, it looks like...."
I looked over to see him holding THE sweater, pressed up right to his face, sniffing the weird crusty stain deeply and scratching at it, a quizzical look on his face as he tried to figure out what it was.
The entire scene came suddenly crashing back into my memory, and I froze... I had totally forgotten about the whole thing, but now the implication of it hit me like a ton of bricks. I started laughing hysterically.
- "What, man?!?!" he said, perplexed.
-" IT IS!!!!"
-" It's what?!?"
-" What you think it is!!"
-" What?"
-" The stuff on your sweater... It's what you think it is!"
-" Huh? What?"
-" I know what you're thinking! What's on the sweater, I know what you think it is, and IT IS!!!"
-" .... Huh?! Wait...WHAT?!?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, MAN!?" he said, now seriously alarmed.
-" What does it look like? WHAT DOES IT SMELL LIKE?!" I almost peed myself I was laughing so hard.
-" DON'T SHIT MAN!!! IS THIS..." he asked, horrified. He couldn't bring himself to say it.
-" YES!!! YES!!! IT IS!!! BWAHAHAHAHA!"
-" AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!?! HOW DO YOU KNOW!?? DON'T SHIT MAN!!!!"
I quickly explained the Geppeto-Rachel crime as quickly and clearly as I could. The whole situation was so ridiculous and gross that, once the initial horror had passed, he also couldn't help but laugh at the hilarity of the whole thing.
The amusement continued still a few weeks later when we finally saw Geppeto again, who had also forgotten about the whole episode. Time heals everything, including guilty memories. Gox simply went up to him and said "I know what you did man. That was not cool." The look on his face as he REMEMBERED, OH SHIT! was really worth paying for and unforgettable.
Goxy still wears the sweater sometimes, but I can just never look at it the same.
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