Andrew and I were separated for the first time in our travels at the rather industrial port city of Bari, Italy on September 6th. While his account of his experiences reads like a casual Hemingway maneuvering through the locals with a detached calm and scientific curiosity, I will attempt to accurately capture my culture shock, anxiety, embarrassment and of course utter thrill at the experience – and give each emotion their due. Shortly after being dropped off by our taxi with a mountain of luggage, we were informed by the ferry port’s ‘Information Desk Official’ that we had to go two kilometers away to a ‘Security Station’ I thought there was no way we would make the boat in time. As it came out that it was “really only necessary for one of [us] to go”, it was easily decided that Andrew would go and I would stay with the girls and the luggage. Only after he started preparing for a two klick run did the Info Desk Lady tell us there was a shuttle. So, we pulled out our money to pay for it, then to be told that it was free. Each consecutive piece of information was like pulling teeth and it quickly became obvious that one could make no assumptions that all information had been given. Andrew took all our passports (as required) and most of our money (as I insisted), gave me a kiss and said goodbye. The girls and I were left alone with the Info Desk Lady in the port station with the flickering florescent lights and peeling advertisements. We had drank all our water on the train except for the small bottle which Andrew drank in preparation for his run. I found myself with no identification in a very dingy concrete hallway with a not so helpful woman who insisted I sit down in her chair.
The first passengers then arrived and were staring openly at us. I felt quite embarrassed to be sitting in the official’s chair, but at first was trying to respond with gratitude to the only gesture of kindness she had shown me so far. She saved all her smiles for the children and, as we have now discovered is common here, was very physical with her adoration of them. When I tried to comfort them or communicate that she was just playing she insisted I sit back down in her chair. As I watched she pulled out every kind of office supply from her desk and offered it as toys to the children. The children were so good and said “thank you” and “oh wow” to every proffered gift (though I took some away under the glare of the Official) and when they became confused Aria just resorted to introducing herself again and again and Rowan defaulted to curtsying so that the official was nearly giddy with delight. Suddenly she turned and vanished down the hallway. I was mostly alone except for a high school aged girl that until now I had been able to ignore due to the activity of the children and the Official. Now we were alone and the kids slumped into the corner on the floor behind our luggage, exhausted. The girl continued to stare at me, taking in every detail, looking me up and down over and over again completely unabashedly. I smiled. A security guard then appeared and began to question me very rapidly and brusquely about the luggage, the children, and where the official had gone, where my husband was, etc. – though the finer parts of his questions were lost to me. I tried German, French, and some terrible Russian in addition to the Montenegrin we have learned and we managed to communicate a little. In the end it was the children who saved me again as they came out and introduced themselves in Montenegrin and melted his exterior. He pinched their cheeks (literally) and called them “leetle preencesses” and also started to play. The Official appeared again and they had a conversation that seemed to answer his questions more completely. She had brought a friend from somewhere – to see the kids. The girls performed and played with the official and the security guard and the new person. At this point when bid to sit down I refused with a smile and they shrugged it off. With my smile pasted to my face I tried to stay alert while forcing myself to move slowly and appear bored with the wait.
Several passengers had now come to wait in line (and stare at us) and many were taking interest in our luggage. Most of them had these tiny, rolling, weekender, hard case suitcases that looked like they would hold two pairs of shorts and a bikini. I overheard one of them use the word “moviestar” while gesturing to our pile of luggage. A woman approached me and gestured to our luggage and asked me a question in a language that wasn’t Montenegrin (I don’t think) I explained that we were moving to Montenegro for one year and repeated ‘one year’ in as many languages as I could while gesturing to the luggage and the kids. She seemed to understand, returned to the line and disseminated the information. One man approached the info counter even though the Official was obviously playing with the girls and stood as close to the laptop bag as he could, then put his own bag down next to it so they were touching, then when I looked over to check on the girls he must have bent down, for as I turned back he was rummaging through his bag with his hands an inch or less from ours. I walked over and picked up our computer bag and moved it to the back of the pile. He stopped rummaging, with nothing in his hands, stood up, smiled at me and walked back over to the line. When I turned around the security guard, holding Rowan’s hand, was running toward the doors 60 feet away! The doors slid apart at their approach. My heart went into my throat as I watched my little girl heading for those doors. I yelled out something – I don’t even remember what. He turned around switched hands with Rowan and came jogging back, all smiles. Adrenaline pounding, anger, fear and some embarrassment creeping around the edges, profoundly aware of everyone staring at me. I gathered my chicks and gave a hard look at the security guard and said in English “You went too far.” I replastered the smile on my face, leaned against the corner in my best casual John Wayne stance, forced myself to speak very slowly and with a casual all-inclusive hand gesture said, “So, where are you from?”
The info desk official turns out spoke more English than originally admitted and as she started to very loudly discuss her ‘ethnic Albanian’ roots I nodded and busied myself with getting coloring books for the girls and telling them with quiet, intense, maternal fervor not to move from their little nest. People in line continued to unabashedly stare. A newly-arrived friend of the high school aged girl spontaneously came over and said with practiced punctuation ‘um ‘you-have-a-beautiful-family” and walked away without leaving me time for response. The official continued to talk loudly and without pause about how she had worked as a school teacher in Soviet Russia, as though the girl had not even come over or spoken with me.
“…but things are not like that anymore, you don’t have to worry about not having your passport with you every moment..don’t worry your husband will be back soon with your papers.”
At that point a friend of the Officials came over to the desk and they began talking and laughing loudly and both of them left the desk. Then I saw that her computer had internet access. I had no wifi access on my tablet, no cell phone access, no passport, no identification, no water, no food, and no husband. Not only that but the girls had begun to complain about needing to go to the bathroom, wanting to play with the other kids in line and being hungry. Rowan had not had a good nap and was starting to cry because she had to use the bathroom. I asked the security guard, when he came around again where the bathroom was. He told me with a little waggle of his finger, I could not leave baggage unattended. At least I’m 70% sure that’s what he said. Resigned now that I was going to have to let Rowan wet herself, I settled in to await the inevitable and get out some plastic bags and clean pants.
The line for the boat was now very long (my audience had grown) and Andrew was still gone. The Official emerged from what looked like a breakroom with her friend. Her friend now had a couple of water bottles in her arms and coat pockets that looked much fuller than before. The Official said goodbye to her friend and came back over to the information desk. She looked at me and said with a thumbs up “you see I told your husband would be quick, everything is good- you see . Your husband is back,no?”
I told her that he wasn’t. She looked at her watch.
“hum, that is very strange.” she said.
And she sat down and began chatting with some other people.
Later, she looked up and pointed to several men coming in the doors.
“It’s ok, you will see, he must be on this shuttle.”
He wasn’t.
A woman approached me from the line asked if I was British. I told her, using my best Montenegrin, that I was an American. Aria jumped up and chimed in with the introductions and Rowan shook hands – still dry but upset. That was apparently all she wanted to know. She went back to the line, apparently disseminated the information and started staring again.
Two more shuttles left and came back without my beloved (or our passports).
To which my Info Official could only say, “hmmm that is very strange indeed, I do not know where he could be.”
It was getting late and the line was long, boarding was about to begin. I had watched many of the people in line leave for the security Station and come back again. But my Andrew was still not back.
It was time for action. First I needed an ally, then I needed a phone, an internet connection, anything. I also needed to talk to her quietly and keep her from shouting my predicament all over the port. I told the girls, on pain of no ice cream ever again, were they not to get up or stop coloring. “Just stay here and keep coloring.” I then approached the info desk and casually leaned in close. This allowed me to drop my voice pretty low and as people do she followed – much to my relief. I asked if she had any kids – she must, I said, because she seemed so good with kids. That was all the seeding the conversation needed. It allowed me to talk quietly yet gesture toward the kids and keep an eye on them. After a few minutes I tried to casually explain that I may need a phone or internet connection at some point. She insisted that these were ‘Official’ connections and that would not be allowed. I worked the conversation back around to family and hobbies and mentioned that my Mother-in-law had a friend who turned her hobby of jewelry making into a business. “…look here is some of her work” I pulled out my earings and showed them to her.
She said she really liked them!
I told her she could have them.
(Thanks for the earrings Mom, sorry to see them go but I think you’ll agree it was for a good cause….)
The earrings disapeared into her pocket. Suddenly she said she could make a call down to the Security Station – just to see what was going on. While she was waiting on the phone she ordered one of the deck hands to bring around a hand cart for our luggage. The Security guard came back around and she barked at him. Suddenly everything began to move very quickly. She said the security station would call her when my husband was done but even before she had hung up Andrew, my darling, beloved husband walked through the doors! The girls yelled “Daddy!” and went for a running embrace. We shared one of the best gazes of our marriage yet over their little curly heads. The luggage was packed onto the hand cart, the Info Officer gestured an offer for me to use her computer, (which I no longer needed) and the security guard clapped me on the shoulder and said “You a very good mother, strong” then he said goodbye to the “leettle preencesses” and pinched their cheeks (again, literally).
We were then ushered, railroaded, escorted and led quickly and enthusiastically by the security officer, the Info Desk Official and the deck hand past the entire line of waiting passengers (my audience), including an elderly blind woman and her husband. Our embarrassment was only tempered by our confusion and our dawning awe at the undeniable power of a well-placed trinket. Every time we would stop and gesture to the line or ask if it was the line to our boat we were encouraged onward. All we could do was gesticulate animatedly, look confused and follow our bags. We blasted through security (none of our luggage went through the scanners) and had to run to keep up with the baggage. We were the first on board. We only heard the other passengers arrive after we had settled into our cabin – Rowan made it to the potty – and were ready to go above decks. We took some photos (did some hugging and kissing) and, as Andrew kept insisting, reviewed the emergency escape routes and instructions for dropping the life boats. (Some of you may blame this behavior on the Marine Corps, but I thank the Boy Scouts) We made every effort to be kind and apologetic as we passed ‘those we had passed’ in the halls of the boat and were surprised that either they did not recognize us (not likely) or didn’t care. Perhaps preferential treatment of some by the authorities is routine in the Balkans, I guess we shall find out.
fulbrightinmontenegro 