na selo

May 19, 2009 in Weird | No comments

An official question on the Macedonian driving test: what do you do when you’re leaving a village by car and about to enter a highway?

Answer: Stop and clean your tires.

Yes, we know that’s weird, here’s why: in all likelihood you have cow shit on your tires. It’s slick stuff, and if you deposit it on the highway, it might cause an accident.

Also, did you know all Macedonians have to learn CPR before they’re allowed to drive?

Americans would revolt. There’d be guillotines on mainstreet and DMV employees lined up around the block for execution. We wouldn’t want people being able to provide emergency aid in case of an accident; that’s socialism.

за жал, за жал
јас не припаѓам за жал

Tags: americanness, driving, macedonianness

about the blog

If you’re looking to study the Balkan Sprachbund, a set of unrelated languages that share fascinating similarities with one another due to prolonged multilingualism under the Ottoman Empire, then you need to head for the Republic of Macedonia, which retains a rich linguistic and cultural diversity that has almost died out in the rest of the Balkans. My research brought me here. But everything else is what’s making it memorable.

Macedonia is a jagged, frustrating, pristine, decrepit, pragmatic, fantastical, brain-bendingly beautiful place. It exists in the borderlands between several sovereignties and spheres of influence, but it is distinct and independent. It often feels clumsily cobbled together, but its history is ancient, complex, and sometimes startling in its continuity. Nothing goes smoothly, but the jolts and bumps remind me I’m along for a ride. Macedonia is polysemic. And polysemy is where I feel most at home.