What is my bone to pick with the Balkans?

Long before my first introduction to Slavic culture in the Czech Republic, I have been interested in the Balkan region, perhaps it is a fetish of so many foreigners—to see how multi-ethnic societies function amidst cultural clashes and religious clamor in their fragile yet proud ways to self- preserve under one nation. Bosnia is precisely this place.

It appears to be a pattern that I take to the more haphazard parts of the world, but I do so with discretion, and I would never be guided by vainglory. I have no aspirations for being a war correspondent. Though I believe in every state’s right to independence from colonial empire, “uti possedetis,” and thus favor the underdog; the romance of an overnight junta is one in the same rush as a one nightstand.

I have absolutely no fascination for war. None whatsoever. I am interested in the recovery of regions, which is rather presumptuous. It would be more accurate to say I am steadfastly observing the transitions; the more ambiguous periods in which things are not so defined. This is, in so many words, a euphemism for chaos, but contrary to how it may appear—corruption, black markets, and bureaucracy; the chaos is not in fact on its face, but the basis for former socialist or totalitarian states to survive in, as they at best, tip their hat to the harbinger of democracy and capitalism.