It was while crossing the Bulgarian border when we met our first Serbians. The backseat of the bus contained four young men who understood English, happy to speak with us about their country. We heard Serbians were warm, and twenty minutes in, we found this to be true. I learned how to say hello, thank you, please, and good-bye, only to promptly forget. I was going to have to study. In the evening we arrived in Nis , Serbia's third largest city and the birthplace of Emperor Constantine. We took our numerous backpacks to the apartment, then went in search of Pljeskavica, Serbia's version of the hamburger. We heard they were delicious, and to us, nothing sounded better; our last meal was twelve hours earlier. My daughter is a vegetarian though, so while Adam awaited our order, I took her to purchase a salad next door. When we joined the boys five minutes later, there was much to tell. “A small Roma boy asked me for my hamburger,” Luke rela...
“Dree (create) your own weird (version of life).” Whatever that may be.