We've just spent a lovely day in Girona, a small Catalan city a short drive from Torroella, a very small, very charming Catalan town where we're staying with two friends who grew up in this part of the world. On this evening's drive back to Torroella, our friend stopped his car in a town called Begur, so we could walk up to where the Begur Castle, built in the 11th century, once stood. The view, as you can see, was fantastic. We soon made our way back down to land, and back down to sea. Our friends call this place home. We call them lucky.

Earlier this month, we left Berlin to spend 10 days with Tamara's relatives in Bosnia and Herzegovina, where she grew up. It was a very special trip. Our relatively new Lumix GF1 camera was along for the ride, and we ended up taking more than 500 photographs. With almost too much to share, we thought we'd start with a post focusing just on what we ate and drank. Which was, quite frankly, a lot.

On the drive from Zagreb's airport to Bosnia, Tamara's uncle Saša stopped by a tiny shop on a roadside to pick up one of T's favorite items from childhood: Argeta, a kind of Slovenian chicken paté she especially likes at breakfast time. Here, she also holds a bottle of cockta, a Slovenian soft drink. 

Upon arriving in Bosanska Gradiška, we had lunch at Tamara's grandparents apartment. Among the items served was this Cabernet from Montenegro. (Lunch happens at 3 or 4pm here, if that makes you look more kindly on our consumption.)

Every morning and after several lunches, Tamara's grandmother (we call her 'Baka') presented this platter, holding what's akin to Turkish coffee. I'd been drinking this since 2003, when Tamara first introduced it to me. 

This was new to me: rakija, a homemade schnapps-like drink, consumed in very small amounts (it's about 40 proof) before lunch or dinner. Two or three sips. It can be made from several types of fruits, like pears, plums, and apricots. (The riper and more fragrant the fruit, the better the rakija.) The upside to all of them, according to the relatives pouring it for me, is that it ... well, I'm not sure there's a definitive answer. The message seemed to be that it was good for digestion and a healthy constitution in general. Živjeli! (That means "Cheers!")

Here's Saša preparing octopus from the Adriatic. As you click through, you'll see that the octopus was roasted with potatoes (which soaked up the sea creature's aromas), then served with a vegetable-feta salad and wines from Serbia and Slovenia.

On a side trip to Banja Luka, we stopped at a café/bar called Mr. Brown and Mr. Black (likely a nod to "Reservoir Dogs"). In addition to the coffees and cake we ordered, I tried Nektar, one of the most popular Bosnian beers. Pretty tasty.

While in Banja Luka, we had dinner at Ćevabdžinica kod Muje, a local favorite. The second photo shows the actual ćevapi — a seasoned, grilled meat patty (sometimes made as a sausage), served inside a soft bread called lepinja. I've been eating this dish in St. Louis' Bosnian circles for several years. 

Saša presents a beautiful meza plate that holds a variety of home-cured meats.

Here, we're at the home of Tamara's aunt's parents. When we arrived, the hosts immediately sat me at the head of the table. Homemade rakija, a bit of homemade wine, and lots of food.

We spent a day in Novi Sad, Serbia, where Tamara's cousin is attending college. (It was about a three-hour drive.) We had a late lunch at a small, traditional Serbian restaurant called Prozorče ("Little Window"), which specializes in grilled meats and salads made from locally sourced ingredients. It's not visible in these photos, but the meal started with a complimentary appetizer of baked potato with a dollop užički kajmak, a type of cheesy sour cream. Delicious. 

When you stop by people's homes and apartments — as we did here in the town of Laktaši (where Tamara's grandmother is from) — you can count on a sweet being offered, as well as coffee and mineral water. Above is pita od jabuka, a rolled apple pie. 

Vesna's bakalar, a rustic cod stew that was brimming with flavor. 

Toward the end of our trip, Saša and Vesna served us girice — tiny pan-fried fish, seasoned with a generous pinch of salt and eaten whole. (Vesna and I didn't eat the heads; Saša and Tamara did.) The bread you can see in the top right is called pogača, and it was incredible. Right from the oven to our salty hands.

A few sips of rakija with Saša on our last full day. 

Our last lunch: One of many delicious meals (her soups!) served up by Baka. This one was a vegetable soup, followed by Lovačke Šnicle ("Hunter's Schnitzel") and two side dishes of warm cabbage salad and potato-onion mash. One rule that stayed consistent at these lunches: As hosts, Baka and Tamara's grandfather prepared and served, but didn't eat. Baka was always close by, though, asking me: "Još malo, Stephen? Još malo?" Yes, Baka: A little more...I'll take a little more... 

Just before we left for Bosnia (details to come), we had the good fortune of attending a soccer match in person, after watching many on German TV. On a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, Berlin's own Hertha BSC beat SC Paderborn 2-0, and my cousin (who was visiting us with her husband) captured the above video after one of the goals. (Here's a second clip.)

Late last summer, before I left for Berlin, I emailed a few people with Berlin connections and invited whatever advice crossed their minds. One of those I contacted was Bookslut's Jessa Crispin, who has lived in Berlin for a few years. Her response included this bit:

The history of Berlin is going to be overwhelming in a really unexpected way, unless you choose to be completely oblivious to it. It happens to everyone I know who moves here, the frankness of the history, the fact that at any moment you will have within your eye line some sort of reminder of either WW2 or the Wall.

I remembered Crispin's comments on this Sunday afternoon. We'd had these tickets for a few weeks, and it was only as we headed out to catch our train to the match that I learned of the historical backdrop to our leisurely afternoon. The match was held in the Olympiastadion, built for the 1936 Summer Olympics and inaugurated by Hitler. Seventy-five years before we were there cheering on Hertha, Jesse Owens was onsite, capturing four gold medals. 

In a way, though this post is mainly to say things will continue to be quiet here. We're in Bosanska Gradiška, visiting Tamara's relatives and, among other things, taking walks along the Sava River. More photos and a few details to come.

By now you've likely read that Knut, the Berlin Zoo's globally beloved polar bear, died March 19 at age four. Knut had been rejected by his mother, then hand-raised by zookeepers. We planned to visit the zoo just to see Knut, but just hadn't gotten it on the schedule. Even so, I felt like a blog documenting life in Berlin should at least acknowledge this sad news. The above image is from Life magazine, whose editors offer this slideshow of Knut through the years.

This morning I made my first visit to the well-known Türkischer Markt in the neighborhood of Neukölln. In addition to food—fruit, veggies, breads, falafel—there was row upon row of fabric. 

We last visited the neighborhood — and markets — of Schoneberg in early December. Today's warmer weather meant two things: We stayed longer, and we ate more.

This afternoon, Tamara and I stole a few moments for a snack in the second-floor café of Fassbender & Rausch Chocolatiers am Gendarmenmarkt. It's a legendary chocolatier spot dating back to the 1890s. Today's visitors can purchase truffles to go (as we did upon exit) or sit down in their upstairs café for sophisticated cakes and coffees. Above: the Schwarzwälder Kirsch-Törtchen ('Black Forest Cherry Mini Cake'), described as "cherries in cream on a chocolate biscuit with cherries in a dark chocolate coating." An espresso macchiato helped wash it down.