Travels With Baby: Pee Our Guest
Our Mostar, Bosnia-Herzegovina, hosts loved us, until . . .
by Ayun Halliday
June 26, 2007
I'm not the type to trash a hotel room. If anything, I spend far too much vacation time trying to guess which the housekeeping staff prefers: a guest who strips her sheets and leaves them in a tidy pile or the guest who makes her own bed as a sign of solidarity.
We've only stayed in one hotel since we've been gone. The others have all been family-owned-and-operated apartments, usually situated in or quite close to an extended family compound. I suppose anonymity can be a plus if you're a business traveler or a sex tourist eager to pass the evening in the company of some attractive young locals, but the personal touch counts for a lot when you've got the kids in tow.
The family who hosted us in Mostar couldn't have been friendlier or more helpful. "My mother wants to know, do
Everybody was beaming like we were going to be their best guests ever. In fact, we were their first guests ever. you drink coffee in the morning?" asked the daughter, a delightful University of Sarajevo student who'd spent a semester in the States.
"You bet," we told them and they laughed happily because what could be more sociable, more quintessentially Bosnian than sitting around drinking coffee?
"My mother say, 'Your daughter is so beautiful.' And the boy, he is very smart. I can tell." Obviously we'd come to the right place. Everybody was beaming like we were going to be their best guests ever. In fact, we were their first guests ever. Meena, the college student, was thrilled, because, according to her, very few tourists actually spend the night in Mostar. The majority blow out of town on their tour buses after bargaining with the coppersmiths, touring a couple of mosques, and taking several dozen shots of the gorgeous Ottoman bridge, the one that was blown up in 1994, and has since been rebuilt according to traditional methods. "I think it is very good you take your time, so they can see," Meena said, nodding at Inky and Milo. Goodness, me, what an accomplished and flattering young lady! I could tell that it was only a matter of time before she'd be letting an adoring Inky administer some outlandish hairdo.
"Is there a place where I can park the car?" Greg asked.
"Yes, here is okay, except maybe I think the police might tow you."
"Oh. Uh . . ."
Meena and her mother conferred. "Okay, my mother say, maybe I will go with you to find a place where your car can be safe." What a wonderful feeling to know that your hostess trusts you enough to let her virtuous, young, Muslim daughter get into a car with a strange man whose money she hasn't even accepted yet!
©2007 Ayun Halliday and Nerve Media
About the Author
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Ayun Halliday is author of The Big Rumpus and No Touch Monkey! and the popular zine East Village Inky. She is a columnist for Bust and a frequent contributor to Babble. Visit AyunHalliday.com.
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