3 Feb 1994 (Thursday)

Yesterday Woody and I installed a mobitel in a Nissan 4WD, and it went very easily.

This particular vehicle belongs to one of the white collar guys in transport, and it's outfitted with every imaginable electronic device, including HF and VHF radios and a DC-AC converter. The funny thing is that he never takes this truck outside of Zagreb. He had a magnetic antenna mount and portable mobitel before, but someone stole his antenna, and he wanted the installation more permanent.

I like working with Woody. He's a smart fellow, and at almost 43 (his bithday is Saturday) he lacks a lot of the impatience of young Terry. He's thinking of calling it quits here and returning to his job with British Telecom. He's been here about a year. He has a great sense of humor, and when we were finished with the mobitel fitting, he looked at me and said "Let's go!"

I knew what he meant: "Road trip!!!!"

So off we rolled like a couple of teenagers in dad's new car out for a "field test" of the installation.

We ended up at the UNPROFOR HQ here in town, made a visit to the PX, checked the mail, and headed back. At the gate on the way out, the guards stopped us, and momentarily I thought the vehicle's rightful driver had beat us at our own game. No so. An American named Ted was wandering all over Zagreb looking for UNHCR HQ, and he happened to see the truck with the appropriate insignia, and he got the guards to stop us and ask for a ride. No problem.

Ted was from Portland, Oregon. He'd made a break with a small Portland- based relief operation, because the assignment hadn't worked out quite the way he'd expected. Too risky for a newly married guy, and he wanted to stop into UNHCR and see if they had opportunities. Woody said he'd be glad to take him to personnel, but suggested Ted would probably have to work through Geneva. Chit chat on the way back to our building, and that was the last we saw of Ted.

I think the Nissan's assignee was miffed at our stunt, but he didn't say anything to me. He told Woody he really needed the truck in the afternoon, blah blah blah, all after he'd originally said he didn't need it for a couple of days. Woody and I had a good laugh, and I'll bet it's a while before he asks us to put something else in is truck.

Not much happening at work today. Carl made it back OK from Banja Luka, and tomorrow he's off to Sarajevo and Kiseljak for an extended period. He likes being away from the office, and I can see why. It gets tedious around here.

Tonight at dinner I had a most remarkable and disturbing chat with one of our operators, an African American woman "volunteered" from the US Navy. I've talked to her before a bit, and I've tried a bit to befriend her, since like me, most all of her coworkers are British. Also, I heard through the rumor mill she'd had some landlord problems, and now she was back in the Hotel International. A little kindness never hurts, and I thought she could use some.

In our past discussions she's been very negative about her situation, and I figured she was having trouble getting to know anyone. Tonight, though, I sensed a good deal of anger just under the surface. If anyone is proof that we can make our own hell on Earth, I think she is.

In essence, everything to her about this place is bad, bad, bad. "It's going to be the worst experience of my life, I just know it." I tried to get her to find some up side to life here. Work is boring. People are unprofessional. They're stupid. Work schedule sucks. There's nothing to do here in Zagreb. @#!?!!@#. It's no good here, and it's never going to be good here. Wow.

She said something about there not being any black people here. Not quite true (there are a few at work in other offices), but I asked if the Croatians treated her badly because she was black. "No. In fact, they're kind of curious about me." Still, she couldn't see making any Croatian friends. Movies? (They're cheap here, about $1.50.) "Seen 'em all two or three times. They're so far behind here." I asked what she found to do in Rota, Spain, she was stationed for a while. "Just whatever I felt like. It doesn't matter anyway, because if I did the same things here it would be bad. I'm nearly 30 years old, and I've seen a lot. I just KNOW this is going to be the worst experience I'll ever see for a very, very long time."

Yeah, right. All I thought was, "If you think this is bad, you ain't seen nothin' yet." I think you catch the drift.

Despite my complaints about Zagreb, I can certainly find the up side to life here. In all my travels, I've come across plenty of people who don't like life in foreign countries because "it's not America." Never, though, have I found someone who is so profoundly negative and determined to have a bad time. So much for offering a helping hand. My only real complaint right now is that my nose runs almost constantly. I think it's the air pollution.

Those coming to Zagreb with certain, ahem, vices should know that prostitution is very common here, particularly at some of the downtown hotels. A two-hour stint costs about $55, according to an "inside" source. The locals tell me drugs like cocaine, hash, and pot are widely available and widely tolerated. Pot is apparently grown in Bosnia.