Joe’s Neighborhood
By Joe Weeg
10/1/2025
“Let’s go to Vienna!” “Let’s go to Sarajevo!” “Let’s go to Belfast!”… says my spouse.
And my go-to response? The very first loving phrases out of my mouth? Are…
“NOOOOOOOOO WAY!”
You see, my spouse desires to see the world. I get it. We spent all our working years and kid-raising years by no means leaving Iowa (apart from her stint with the UN in The Hague — which counts for one thing, doesn’t it?). Now that we’re previous, she desires to make up for misplaced time by going to see museums and castles and cafes and vineyards and mountains and oceans and the Eiffel Tower sparkle with lights.
Nope. Not for me.
I’m 71 years previous. I’ve seen the Girl with a Pearl Earring. I’m a little bit drained, a little bit settled, and a little bit rigid in each sense of that phrase.
But, my spouse scares me. So, I at all times accompany her as a really hesitant journey companion. Which is the rationale for this small information, for these few like me who’re only a bit doubtful of this entire journey factor and would moderately simply go drink espresso on the again porch.
Picture this my fellow victims…
The opera aria soars throughout the sq., previous the recent water station and the tall clock, throughout an angled avenue, and around the desk of the Viennese gentleman who’s consuming one glass too many, all the way in which to our desk. We are sitting quietly with our wine exterior a small cafe on this busy nook on the finish of a workday in Vienna.
The opera singer has a white cane in a single hand and a small tip container within the different. He stares straight forward. Blind, it seems. His voice booms with energy and vibrato. I think about he has no selection however to be nice on this city. It’s Vienna — the house of Mozart and the grave of Beethoven. It’s a city that boasts of Schubert and Strauss and Mahler and Haydn. To sing in Vienna is to sing within the Big Leagues.
And, for the following hour, the blind man sings over the competing sounds of buses and vehicles and automobiles and loud individuals. He stands tall, gripping his white cane, oblivious to the world. Unbending and unrelenting.
Well, that wasn’t horrible. But was it sufficient to beat my dithering and skepticism about journey? Hmmmmm.
Excellent. You’re nonetheless right here. Now think about this…
Like spilled milk, the graves from the Bosnian conflict wind down the aspect of the mountain into Bascarija, the previous city in Sarajevo.
Sarajevo’s shell-pocked buildings and mortar-scarred streets nonetheless stay witness to the greater than 500,000 bombs that fell in town throughout the lengthy siege of the town. A time that also hangs heavy.
From our perch, we odor cooking meats and powerful spices developing from the previous city. Delicious smells. We stroll slowly down by way of the slender streets, tasting our manner towards the river.
Eventually, we stroll previous the place Archduke Ferdinand and his spouse, Sophie, had been assassinated. This unassuming spot is barely well-known as a result of the Archduke’s driver took a unsuitable proper flip. Yup, you heard me accurately, a unsuitable proper flip.
And World War I began.
This notorious avenue nook is tiny, a little bit soiled, and a frequent cease on strolling excursions. Today, a avenue canine takes his afternoon nap on the historic spot. Yup, a avenue canine.
And, because of this you now should cross the river to the cafe on the left financial institution and order actual Bosnian espresso. If you aren’t clear-eyed in regards to the quirkiness of historical past, you can be after consuming that robust punch within the intestine. As for journey hesitancy, is it additionally historical past? Stay tuned.
And, the ultimate vacation spot for all of us nonetheless dragging our journey ft…
It’s raining in Belfast. Not that enjoyable misting rain that continuously hits these North Sea nations. Nope. This is an Iowa rain. Hard and chilly and drenching.
We are right here as a result of my Dublin daughter and her Scottish associate are off listening to a band in downtown Belfast. So, we’re let out to wander the streets of Belfast. Alone. Parents off leash, is the way in which we see it.
But it’s pouring rain. We stroll to the river, moist and a bit dispirited.
But, wait! Look at that. There are crowds and avenue performers and make-shift tents and a Ferris wheel. It’s a avenue truthful!
And the rain relents.
See, there’s a pirate strolling on stilts. And, there are mimes dressed as sailors. And, there are costumed old-timey swimmers. And, there’s food and drinks and the nice cheer of individuals undeterred by powerful climate. And, the rain comes and goes and comes.
We dip right into a pub and order a pint. An older man sits on a stool on the entrance. A guitar close to his aspect. Drinking a espresso. Eventually, he’s joined by a fair older leprechaun-looking man carrying a fiddle. After some laughter between the 2, they settle in and start to play. Traditional Irish music. Jigs and reels. Instrumental music and storytelling songs.
On this chilly and moist day in Belfast, we’re momentarily in heaven.
“Well, that’s enough of that,” as my mother used to say when issues bought to be an excessive amount of enjoyable. But, is it lastly sufficient of my journey hesitancy?
Got me.
But, simply right this moment my spouse mentioned, “Joe, what about the Bahamas in November?”
“No way!” was my go-to first thought. But, actually?
So, my underwear is rolled into my spare sneakers and my backpack is subsequent to the mattress and hesitancy is buried deep underneath my one flowery Hawaiian shirt. But, do I actually should swim with pigs? ♦
Joe Weeg spent 31 years bumping round this city as a prosecutor for the Polk County Attorney’s Office. Now retired, he writes in regards to the continuously ignored individuals, locations and occasions in Des Moines on his weblog: www.joesneighborhood.com.