This Country Goes to 11

In the past month I have attended what may be two of the loudest events I've witnessed in my entire life. The first was a brass festival held in a small town of the same name, Guca ("goo-cha"). Guca is about 2.5 hours away from Belgrade along long, twisty, narrow highways. Once a year, tens of thousands of Serbs descend upon this small town in the mountains to drink beer, eat lots of meat and cabbage and make incredible amounts of noise. While there is a schedule of events, the excitement comes from the noise generated by hundreds of 6-piece brass bands wandering the streets. If you aren't careful, they will perform just for you. The performance consists of playing as loudly as possible, directly in your face, until you cough up a few dinars.

The food is truly traditional Serbian cuisine. Piles of grilled meat and this special wedding cabbage, which has been cooking in that clay pot for much much longer than I want to know.

Guca is a truly Serbian celebration. National pride comes out in full force. Considering the amount of alcohol consumed and the means by which the Serbs express their joy and pride, it's a wonder most people make it home in anything like the condition they arrived. Apparently, the most intrepid celebrators clamber for a spot atop the great Guca statue in the center of town. While you can't actually see it below, it's a statue of a trumpet player. Now covered in man.

Every evening of the festival ends with a concert in the main stadium. The concert kicks off promptly at 11:30 pm. I'm not used to this European schedule now and I don't think I ever will be. I'm quite pleased to report that we scored seats in the VIP section. This kept us out of the crowd on the ground level. While, to me, almost every song sounded the same (over played and out of tune) the Serbs went wild as their favorite songs came up in the play list. Their absolute favorites prompted them to climb on top of one another and light road flares. Lighters are too subtle I guess.

Just when I thought the ringing in my ears had stopped, it was time to head to the next musical sensation. Of course, this one was a long time in the planning. Madonna came to Belgrade last Monday. A group of us got ourselves tickets for the "fan pit" right up against the stage. I mean, really, if you're going to go. Go large. Luckily, the crowd at the Madonna concert was much more restrained than the Guca crowd. Fearing a stampede when she made her entrance, I was pleasantly surprised at the civility of it all. It was, without a doubt, a fantastic show. At 51, she's still able to put out quite the performance.

And, I have to hand it to Madge. She managed to put out more sound than all of Guca combined. For a girl who can't even shop in Abercrombie and Fitch anymore thanks to the soundtrack volume, it was a bit of a shock to the system. Maybe I'm older than I thought. Either way, I'll probably tone it down for the next few months.

The Plot Thickens

Remember my post about Bert and Ernie and their pigeons across the street? Well, summer is a very busy time for them. In early June they established a camp, of sorts, on the roof. Bert, Ernie and sometimes friends are in attendance almost every day. From loungers they use binoculars to stare at the sky for much of the day. Group meetings take place around a shaded table which looks perfect for cards and cool drinks. Their day starts early, usually before 8 and can go until dinner time. (Yes, I know I have too much time on my hands).

The other day, my housekeeper looked out the window and said, "Wow, they really do have a nice job." Thinking she was kidding, I replied with my theory about their unemployed status. "Oh no," she answered, "They are raising champion pigeons."

After closing my jaw, I jumped on the internet and began to do some research. It turns out that pigeon racing is a legitimate sport in this part of the world, and much of Europe. There is, in fact, even a Federation of Racing Pigeons branch in Serbia. The binoculars and bizarre staring into the sky seem to be an attempt to track and monitor the birds to find the best and fastest. I don't recognize any of the new members on the site or winners of recent competitions as my neighbors, but I'll keep my fingers crossed for them.