Culture Shock

We almost forgot. The Jurassic age that had arrived last week had disappeared over the weekend. We no longer had any expectations on Monday morning. So when we came into the living room to get ready for pre-school we were surprised to find our prehistoric friends very comfortable. We were still in a daze so we didn't even think about how they might have made the popcorn. But it turns out food is a major part of their lives.  There was no question their leader was beginning to assert herself more and more.  In fact, all of their personalities were beginning to come through.  After all the eating, terrorizing and building, they found some time for play. But now it was time to spend a couple nights at baka's  house. Would they follow us? Unfortunately, there were no dinosaurs at baka's  but as soon as we got home, we asked mom and dad if they had done anything else while we were gone. They said no, so we forgot about it ...

One of the things about culture shock is that you expect to experience it to some extent when you move to another country.  New faces, different mentalities and foreign behaviors are all things you're ready to be confronted by when mingling with a new culture. And even though it's sometimes difficult, any reasonable person is ready to make some adjustments to the new world around them. But what happens when that foreign culture enters your home? How is one to adjust to their personal space being invaded - especially when there's anthropomorphism and a time warp involved? Monday morning was supposed to be a normal get-ready-for-preschool kind of morning. Yet, when we woke up we happened upon the following scene: Our favorite peanut crunchy snack -  bobi flips  - were being consumed by prehistoric beasts! Yet, when we sat back and took it all in, there was something exciting about seeing dinosaurs outside of their natural habitat. Would this just be a one time occu...

Hrvatski prijevod:  Iskopčani u Zagrebu "If someone in walked in here off the street, they wouldn't believe what's going on." My wife and I were standing in a former casino hall in Zagreb surrounded by 300 other Croats, Slovenes, Serbs and Bosnians enjoying a Slovakian band singing in Serbian. Some were dancing, others talking among themselves or simply listening; but everyone was having a good time. My wife was right; this scene was rare. The event that brought these different cultures and languages together was called "Srcokret" - a word that's not even a word. Photo courtesy of Sara Delić Suncokret is Croatian for "sunflower". It literally means "turn towards the sun". The wordplay was designed around a desire to see hearts ( srce ) in the former Yugoslavia turned toward Christ. This was the third Srcokret since 2008 and the second one my wife and I have attended. All three of them have been examples of how true Christ...

Croatia generally does not celebrate Halloween. Sure, you'll occasionally see cafes or clubs advertising Halloween parties, but the tradition of trick-or-treating has its equivalent in February here. Being outside America and analyzing how others celebrate holidays has led me to take a more critical stance on how I celebrate. So last year, while we were visiting America and anticipating Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, I asked myself this question: How are we as American Christians supposed to celebrate the various holidays our culture emphasizes? I think the decision should begin by making a distinction between participating and celebrating . For Halloween last year, my wife and I decided that our family would participate by allowing our kids to dress up and go trick-or-treating. We had several conversations before the event because we didn't want to do something simply because everyone else was doing it. Nor did we want to reject it simply because it's not a ...

Good morning! I've never been shy about how much I love coffee . In fact, soon after I started this blog, I post ed a New York Times  piece that offered plenty of reasons why coffee is healthy. Just the other day, another article surfaced, maintaining that there are at least 11 reasons why I should drink coffee everyday. Needless to say, I'm convinced. That's not to say I don't tweak my coffee drinking habits from time to time. For awhile, my father-in-law has been appealing to my faith to get me to add milk and honey to my coffee like he does. "It's the only biblical way to drink coffee!" he tells me frequently when we're gathered around the coffee pot. I finally tried it a few months ago. And then again. Now, I drizzle in a teaspoon of honey and mix in some milk just about every time I drink coffee at home. I'm not going to say that I've noticed any changes in my health yet, but research says that there are many , many , many heal...

The main reason I started my series on signs is because I find it fascinating that Europeans depend on pictures to convey important messages while Americans simply spell it out. Of course, the simplicity of European signs sometimes make their meaning harder to decode.  Since I've lived here though, I feel like I've gotten used to the traffic signs, and have noticed visual patterns on the other signs that help me understand what the sign is saying even if it's a new one. ...Until I saw this sign in Osijek the other day. I looked around for context and found this set of signs close by. Even though I can guess what the signs on the adjacent glass window are trying to convey, they don't help me understand the first one. Notice they all have the black border and similar illustration style. They must be related, but I can't figure out how. What is sign number 1 is trying to convey? How is it related to the four signs in the second picture?

As the countdown began I got a little emotional... osam, sedam...  Here I am, one of   thousands of runners listening to the countdown in Croatian. tri...dva...jedan...  Then Olympic gold medalist Sandra Perković shot the pistol. We slowly walked forward, then began to jog, walked, jogged, and then...freedom. I was off! But where in the world was I?  The last time I was running in an individual effort to achieve a certain time was 12 years ago as a U.S. Marine qualifying for my PFT in South Carolina. Now, here I am, on my way towards a lifelong goal of running a marathon, but fully settled down in a foreign country. And now there are five more Bohalls - all of who came to Zagreb with me to support me as I ran the half-marathon. That's when it hit me. Living in a foreign country would be much more difficult if it weren't for my family. Obviously, most credit goes to my wife whose help has been invaluable. She has done her best to help me flourish in Croatia...

Her straggly blond hair streamed behind her and pointed towards the blue sky and perfectly placed clouds. But it was her wide eyes and growing smile that highlighted the exhilaration she felt as she came back to earth. Mid-70's, slight breeze, sun, a few clouds and a beautiful two year old who laughed more enthusiastically every time I threw her in the air. The swallows swooping around us accompanied our joy like a beautiful melody on the 12-string. This is it , I said to myself. This is the moment you dream of before you become a parent. These are the memories you long for after they grow up. And already there are times my heart groans when I realize that these days won't last long. Maybe that's how I justified the offensive thought that came into my head the next time I threw her. Is there a way I can toss her, grab my smartphone and quickly take a picture while she's in the air? Of course, the danger of such an attempt, especially in light of the growing dista...

My college roommates and I were out for dinner 10 years ago when I told them that I was dating a girl from Croatia. "Cro... what?" was the reaction of one of my friends. The others around the table confirmed that even if they knew what Croatia was, they weren't sure where they might find it on the map. And while it is a relatively small country, in a part of the world where geographical borders have been redrawn often throughout history, it's worth talking about where Croatia is. Because it's not just a geographical question. Where one places Croatia, and how they talk about Croatia, can say a lot about what they think about the country, culture and people who live there. Kukljica, Croatia 2013 In a post I wrote in the spring, I implicitly included Croatia as part of Eastern Europe. Several commenters took exception. In private conversations, I've talked with Croats who have, without hesitation, maintained that Croatia is indeed part of Eastern Euro...

Eight, eight O eight. Eight o clock in the morning. Our lives will never be the same. Five years since we saw your striking face. Fascinated by your every move. Three siblings following in their own seasons. Each reacting with their own unique voice.  Two parents humbled by the grace shown in birth. Both prouder than can be expressed.  One. Only one Enoh Daniel Bohall.  Happy Birthday!

May and June are full of Bohall family milestones; Petra and I just had our fourth child, my parents are about to celebrate their 40th anniversary, and Petra's 30th birthday is in less than a week. As often happens during these times, I've found myself reflecting. Specifically, I've been thinking about what it means to be a husband and a father. Doing so has reminded me of my father. Obviously, he's taught me a lot of things. But there are two that stand out - especially in light of who and where I am. Ever since I can remember, my father memorized Scripture. Constantly. And he taught me to memorize as well. Besides the church program I was part of, my dad encouraged our family to memorize passages of Scripture together - even prompting me to learn the whole first chapter of Ephesians when I was eight or nine years old. He also emphasized seeking the Lord's will and allowing God to lead in whatever decisions I made. As I grew up, I witnessed him making diffi...

Ten months ago I asked our oldest son Enoh if he would like another little brother or sister. "Yes,"he responded, "little baby David". "But how do you know it will be a boy?" I asked. "Because girls aren't named David." he replied as if there is such a thing as a stupid question. Then, a couple months later when we found out we were having a baby, Enoh casually reminded us that his name would be David. While we were still in the States we found out that he would be a boy and wanted to surprise Enoh and Ian with the news over lunch. Enoh wasn't surprised. In fact, he had already decided that David's middle name would be after a character he had been introduced to in preschool - David 'Mad Birds' (as he called it) Bohall. I'm not even sure those who subscribe to "child led parenting" would go with Enoh's suggestion for a middle name. But we had to consider the first name. After all, King David was...

Many of those who know my wife Petra wonder why her husband is the one with the blog. She is the more opinionated of the two of us, can usually (ok, always) construct a better argument, and she's incredibly creative and dedicated - all characteristics of people who write great blogs. Well, now there's proof. She was asked to guest write for whenyourise.com  - a blog whose creator is passionate about helping children fall in love with their Savior.  Petra's post  is about the most important thing in parenting. It's good. And so is the blog. Take some time to check it out. 

The Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul in Tvrđa, Osijek, Croatia What do you do when your car isn't where you parked it an hour ago? That was the question running through my head when I walked out of a traditional Croatian restaurant in the old part of Osijek after a great conversation with good friends. Would this be the first thing I've had stolen in Croatia? I soon found out it had been towed by a truck called "the spider". I had made the mistake of parking in a clearly designated walking zone. If it hadn't been for the 10 other vehicles parked there when I first arrived I probably would have thought twice about parking there. After explaining the situation to the waiter, he called me a taxi to get to where my car was impounded. By the time I got there, I was prepared to accept the penalty. Even though it was an honest mistake, there was no denying the fact that I was in the wrong. When the policeman told me how much I owed, I asked if it might be...

"Do you know the difference between Americans and ours (Croats) when it comes to elevators?" I had just pulled into the new recycling center in Osijek and had begun unloading old plastic milk bottles into the designated bin when the man in charge approached me speaking Croatian. How he knew I was American within two seconds without even talking to me  was beyond me. Plus, what in the world does recycling have to do with elevators? It must be joke, I reasoned to myself. "No, I haven't heard this one before," I responded in Croatian. He looked at me puzzled. Then resumed: "Well Americans only get into the elevator if they can maintain their personal space. But Croats will keep filling the elevator until no more can fit..." I was taken aback. He was absolutely right. He had correctly identified a key distinction between Americans and Croats. But this was a strange setting for a conversation about cultural differences - especially seeing tha...

A basketball skitters along the gravel driveway prompting a dog to defend himself against the perceived threat. A mower to my right and a weed-wacker to my left provide white noise while the moon balances on a phone line above me. And barbecue, from every direction, reminds me of my former life. This evening could easily be part of a 4th of July weekend in America. But the air around me, filled with these sensory stimulants, is foreign. Even though I call Croatia home, there are still days like this - days full of effort, hard work, preparation and presentation but void of satisfaction. It's not always like this. I've received a kind word and a pat on the back before. There have been compliments accompanied by smiles. There have been warm greetings and fond farewells from genuine people. Still, encouragement seldom arrives when I need it most. Nor do I suppose that America is the land of the carefree or home of the praise. Dreams built up by well-intentioned mentors in elemen...

It's been awhile since daddy posted. It's been even longer since he let us post. So we'll try to pick up the slack a little. No, this one doesn't have anything to do with culture shock. If you're looking for a more frequently updated American perspective on Croatia, head over to the zablogreb .  For now, here are a few of our favorite things:

Like most siblings, there are many characteristics Enoh and Ian share.  For example, they both enjoy their evening routines of reading, being carried upstairs and even brushing their own teeth.  The way  they brush their teeth though is a different story. Any idea which toothbrush belongs to which brother? Both toothbrushes were brand new a month ago.

My head bobbed back to level after bouncing off the tiled wall behind me. The just-woken-up feeling was familiar now after nodding off numerous times throughout the overnight flight over the Atlantic and the drive through Hungary. It had been eighteen hours since we left Boston and a half hour since I had been taken into border control. And I still wasn't sure why I was there. The official had explained to me that I was the only one in my family who didn't have a Zurich stamp in my passport. They couldn't figure out how I was in the same car as the others, had a ticket that showed I went through Switzerland, but didn't have a stamp. They were determined to get to the bottom of it though. And my family was to wait while they did so. Soon a police man came out and asked me what my mother's name was. I paused, thinking of several reasons not to tell him - including the fact that the document in which I was to write her name was only in Hungarian and there was no w...

We returned from America exactly a week ago. During our first dinner, Enoh looked around and said "I'm so glad to be home!" Then he sank his teeth into some burek .  Apparently the other two agree. Here they dance to their favorite Croatia song by October Light :

A Slovene by birth, my father-in-law isn't very familiar with American jokes. So he was a little taken aback when his Mujo and Haso joke was followed by a: "Knock-knock!" He paused, thought a little bit and then replied with a hearty grin: "Come in!" The house erupted in laughter. "No, Dad, you're supposed to say "who's there?" one of his daughters said. The joke took on a life of its own because it was indicative of the difference between the Yugoslavian culture he grew up in and the American culture he was celebrating Christmas in. From the meter man to the next door neighbor, in small-town Croatia it doesn't matter who you are - guests are always invited in for coffee. I learned this first-hand during my first year in Croatia. Even if you don't call ahead of time, your instant host will invite you in as if they'd been expecting you for a week. Then they'll get you out of shoes and into slippers faster t...

Our five month stay in New England is drawing to a close. I've had very little time to blog, and even less to articulate any differences between the world I grew up in and the one I live in now. This post is an effort to catch up. Here are a few ways America shocked me this time around. Sugar:  Why in the world is there sugar in virtually every food product in this country? Every time I come to America I go to the doctor for a physical. And every time I see the doctor, I am reprimanded for my high triglyceride level. This time it's happened twice. In fact, according to the  doctor: "if you haven't had a heart attack yet, I guess you probably can afford another 6 weeks to try to get it down without medication." So I got the message. No red meat. Very few carbohydrates. And no sugar. I eliminated the sugar from my coffee. I stopped eating desert. But then I realized there's sugar in everything around here - even the healthiest cereals and breads! (Update...