Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
Would you please correct the sixth part of my text?
Our next destination was a little town at the seaside. We were accommodated in an old sanatorium, which until our arrival lay abandoned. It was a great place to stay in. The rooms were high-ceilinged and full of light, which shone through the large windows. The food was transported with a truck from the town, and then given to us in foil disposable containers. People who handed them out and did other work like cleaning and washing were Polish workers. Because of our Slavic languages, we understood each other well.
There was nothing to do except watching TV, which I did not understand anyway, so I took long strolls along the sandy beach. The wind was blowing here also, although the sky was dazzling blue and the sun blazing down. The beach was clean and equipped with all facilities, like changing cubicles, showers, toilets, and even clocks on large poles. Everything was in pristine condition, but there were no bathers at all. I saw just one or two people with their dogs.
In the middle of June, the Adriatic coast is teeming with tourists, but here I had an impression that the tourist season had not even started. There were many tiny beach houses painted in bright colours, but there were all closed, and the streets of the little town were mostly empty. At that time, I did not know that main holiday season started in Sweden in July, and June was just an ordinary month in which people went to their work as usual.
I enjoyed these deserted beaches where the only sounds I heard was the murmuring of the sea and the rustling of the wind in the scrubland. There was no trace of birds, and I did not see any seagulls either. I strolled on the sand, breathed in the fresh smell of the sea and thought how odd it felt to be here, knowing that at the same time in my hometown my father and my neighbours were living in constant fear. I wondered if I was ever going to see them again, and how people in my country were going to live together after so many war crimes had been committed on all sides. I stayed alive by sheer chance while many people I personally knew were now lying in some of the numerous mass graves around my hometown. I had not followed the news from Bosnia in the few days since I’d arrived in Sweden, but I had no reason to believe anything had changed and the killings and crimes were still occurring with undiminished ferocity.
The nature around me was comforting, but my mind raced with thoughts. Everything happened so fast: the war, my imprisonment in a prison camp, my release, months spent in fear, and then my journey to Sweden. Now in exile I was starting to understand the terrible tragedy which had struck me. One day I had everything I needed: family, friends, house, and beautiful orchard. The next day I had only what I could fit in my small canvas bag. I had to start all over in this country, which seemed strange to me. It belongs geographically and politically to Europe, but I felt I ended up in a desolate place where I was never going to be happy. I imagined living here, and the thought caused me to feel depressed. What was the use of all well-ordered towns, beaches, halls and other facilities when you walked in them as if you were in a desert? The passersby you would meet were reserved and shy, engrossed in their own thoughts, probably thinking about the taxes they were going to pay, loans and other bills. Their native language was difficult. They pouted their lips, twisted their tongues and made strange sucking noises. I wondered if I would ever be able to speak that language fluently, and how long time it would take me to learn its basics.
Luckily, I was surrounded by my compatriots, who did not lack humour and cracked jokes all the time. That was for them a way to forget the war and their worries at least for a while. Everyone had left family and friends behind, and their fate was uncertain. Now they found comfort in telling stories to each other about the life before the war. Some people had taken their guitars with them all the way to Sweden, and the rooms of the old sanatorium echoed with music and singing until late in the night.
One day as I lay on the sand together with my roommates, someone suggested we go for a swim. None of us had swimming trunks, but we took off our trousers and run into the water wearing briefs. To my surprise, the sea was warmer than the air, and when I started swimming happiness filled every part of my body. The water was clear, and I watched fish swimming peacefully underneath. I swam without feeling any tension in my muscles and glided through the water effortlessly, as if my body had lost its physical form. Sunlight streamed into the water, which sparkled as my arms slashed through it. I held my head low not bothering to see where I would end. I swam as if driven by some unexplained force which gave me enormous strength.
When I looked back, the shore was far away and gleamed under the bright sky. I could not believe I was able to swim such a long distance and not feel exhausted. When I returned my roommates stood close to the water, applauding. They told me they had never seen such a feat before.
TO BE CONTINUED
Our next destination was a little town at the seaside. We were accommodated in an old sanatorium, which until our arrival lay abandoned. It was a great place to stay in. The rooms were high-ceilinged and full of light, which shone through the large windows. The food was transported with a truck from the town, and then given to us in foil disposable containers. People who handed them out and did other work like cleaning and washing were Polish workers. Because of our Slavic languages, we understood each other well.
There was nothing to do except watching TV, which I did not understand anyway, so I took long strolls along the sandy beach. The wind was blowing here also, although the sky was dazzling blue and the sun blazing down. The beach was clean and equipped with all facilities, like changing cubicles, showers, toilets, and even clocks on large poles. Everything was in pristine condition, but there were no bathers at all. I saw just one or two people with their dogs.
In the middle of June, the Adriatic coast is teeming with tourists, but here I had an impression that the tourist season had not even started. There were many tiny beach houses painted in bright colours, but there were all closed, and the streets of the little town were mostly empty. At that time, I did not know that main holiday season started in Sweden in July, and June was just an ordinary month in which people went to their work as usual.
I enjoyed these deserted beaches where the only sounds I heard was the murmuring of the sea and the rustling of the wind in the scrubland. There was no trace of birds, and I did not see any seagulls either. I strolled on the sand, breathed in the fresh smell of the sea and thought how odd it felt to be here, knowing that at the same time in my hometown my father and my neighbours were living in constant fear. I wondered if I was ever going to see them again, and how people in my country were going to live together after so many war crimes had been committed on all sides. I stayed alive by sheer chance while many people I personally knew were now lying in some of the numerous mass graves around my hometown. I had not followed the news from Bosnia in the few days since I’d arrived in Sweden, but I had no reason to believe anything had changed and the killings and crimes were still occurring with undiminished ferocity.
The nature around me was comforting, but my mind raced with thoughts. Everything happened so fast: the war, my imprisonment in a prison camp, my release, months spent in fear, and then my journey to Sweden. Now in exile I was starting to understand the terrible tragedy which had struck me. One day I had everything I needed: family, friends, house, and beautiful orchard. The next day I had only what I could fit in my small canvas bag. I had to start all over in this country, which seemed strange to me. It belongs geographically and politically to Europe, but I felt I ended up in a desolate place where I was never going to be happy. I imagined living here, and the thought caused me to feel depressed. What was the use of all well-ordered towns, beaches, halls and other facilities when you walked in them as if you were in a desert? The passersby you would meet were reserved and shy, engrossed in their own thoughts, probably thinking about the taxes they were going to pay, loans and other bills. Their native language was difficult. They pouted their lips, twisted their tongues and made strange sucking noises. I wondered if I would ever be able to speak that language fluently, and how long time it would take me to learn its basics.
Luckily, I was surrounded by my compatriots, who did not lack humour and cracked jokes all the time. That was for them a way to forget the war and their worries at least for a while. Everyone had left family and friends behind, and their fate was uncertain. Now they found comfort in telling stories to each other about the life before the war. Some people had taken their guitars with them all the way to Sweden, and the rooms of the old sanatorium echoed with music and singing until late in the night.
One day as I lay on the sand together with my roommates, someone suggested we go for a swim. None of us had swimming trunks, but we took off our trousers and run into the water wearing briefs. To my surprise, the sea was warmer than the air, and when I started swimming happiness filled every part of my body. The water was clear, and I watched fish swimming peacefully underneath. I swam without feeling any tension in my muscles and glided through the water effortlessly, as if my body had lost its physical form. Sunlight streamed into the water, which sparkled as my arms slashed through it. I held my head low not bothering to see where I would end. I swam as if driven by some unexplained force which gave me enormous strength.
When I looked back, the shore was far away and gleamed under the bright sky. I could not believe I was able to swim such a long distance and not feel exhausted. When I returned my roommates stood close to the water, applauding. They told me they had never seen such a feat before.
TO BE CONTINUED