I’m sitting this misty morning on the large covered terrace at Apartman Jovanović where we have stayed three times before. It might be my favorite place of any apartment we have rented on our trips. It is a spacious 2 bedroom apartment above our host’s first floor home. Beds are decent, bathroom has a curtain around the tub (but no holder for the shower-head), it has a washing machine, it’s clean, has a fully equipped kitchen area, comfy seating, and best of all is this covered balcony (about 9’x 20’ ) which is a pleasant place to sit.
To the left I see 1 and 2 story Serbian styled houses with views between them of the forested low mountain/big hill in BiH across the Drina River. Straight ahead is the house across the tiny one-lane dead-end road, and next to it a view of fields (2 dozen magpies were feasting on the leftovers from the corn harvest, then later sheep took their place and began foraging), and a couple orange-roofed houses, and bigger mountains in the distance. Watching the changing sky and the various animals coming and going, and the occasional human passing through the field is as satisfying as watching tv, if not more so. The pace is slower, the plot undramatic, but this allows for noticing subtle shifts and changes.
(Side note- I am interested in the way my brain wants to call the mountains dark green because I see them covered with trees and I know trees are green, but in the moment it is more truthful to call them blue-grey because of the mist and cloudy sky. In other words, if I was a realistic painter I would not use much green to paint the mountains).
‘Our’ house is the last house on the road. To get to town we follow a path through the big field next to the house, meander through residential streets (I never tire of looking at the houses, yards, hanging laundry, wood piles, gardens and assortments of things not typical in the U.S.), pass a defunct (?) sawmill and a large cemetery, then through a large park complete with several soccer practice fields (always in use at this time of year, even after sunset despite there being no lights), a big soccer field in the midst of getting a major upgrade, an outdoor gym and a playground. Just past the park the commercial district begins. This town is like most in the Balkans with shops on the first floor of 4-8 story buildings and apartments above. Further into town is a large pedestrian area lined with shops and cafes, and a plaza with a fountain. Every evening hundreds of people of all ages stroll and chat. Kids ride scooters and bikes and kick soccer balls. Sidewalk cafes are busy. I wish American cities had this friendly and safe feel. Crime is rare. I long to live in such a community, but don’t think such a place exists in the U.S. (that we could afford). Yet I don’t want to uproot myself and move here either. I would consider it if Cedar wanted to move here. But at this age a big move is daunting (even within the U.S.).
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After breakfast on the balcony, Milesa, our host, brought us a big bag filled with peppers, tomatoes, onions from their garden in their village as well as eggs from their chickens and pears and apples from their trees, and a jar of homemade jam from their raspberries. Such a special gift, and beautiful to look at. She invited us downstairs for coffee, which in reality means rakija, Serbian coffee, and mineral water. She also put out a bowl of fresh walnuts, so much tastier than what I buy at the grocery store. They have a walnut tree at their village house.
Their cat named Bodlje (which mean ‘prickles’) is named such because he likes to extend his claws at times and dig into the skin of whoever’s lap he is snuggled against, climbed onto my lap and was content to receive lots of gentle scratching and petting. I prefer dogs as pets but this cat was mellow and responsive, not aloof like some. There are many stray cats outside the house that Milesa feeds but only Bodlje is allowed inside.
We leisurely drank our various beverages and chatted about our kids (they have a son and daughter both living in Belgrade), the world, water, weather and this and that. We continue to understand a good bit of what they say (in Serbian) and can ask and answer various questions, but for more complicated topics we must use Google Translate.
Milesa’s brother showed up part way through our visit. He lives in the village above the village where Milesa and Zoran have their other house (same villages where they all grew up). He has 54 sheep, some cows, 3 pigs and chickens. He lives there alone and is quite content. We had met him last year when we were at their village. He speaks no English and is pretty quiet but seems to be a gentle man. He also keeps bees and said he was going to bring us honey to take home with us.
We took our leave because we wanted time to drive to the Rača Monastery (15 minutes by car) to see the church and do the loop hike to a special healing spring which we have done several times before. They invited us to come back in the evening for coffee.
Rača is among my favorite monasteries, I’m not sure why. It was originally built in the 1200’s but was burned down in the 1500s. The current church was built in 1795-1825. The church is medium sized, not as big as some, and the frescoes are mostly in good shape. It doesn’t get as many tourists as some of the more popular monasteries. It simply has a good vibe and is in a beautiful spot surrounded by green mountains. It’s located in one of the wetter areas of Serbia. There are lots of springs and a lively creek. The monks raise fish and various animals and have a lot of land.
After spending some time in the church we went into the gift shop (all monasteries have them) and bought a few gifts as well as a couple candles to light for loved ones. The man in charge of the shop gave us one item for free, I’m not sure why.
Then we climbed up a steep hill through the woods behind the monastery to a bench perched above the complex with a great view. We had never seen this before. It must be new. Then we set off on the hike to the spring. It starts out on a mostly flat gravel road through fields then narrows when it enters the forest. For most of the way the path is next to a stream. Occasional informational signs highlight the various animals that live here- snakes, salamanders, bats, trout, and brown bears. There are also signs along the way for spiritual pilgrims, each sign about a saint and including a prayer. Eventually the path narrows even more and becomes more rugged, and every time we get to this part we ask each other if we are still on the right trail. Soon after that we arrive at the area far below the healing spring where water cascades down the near vertical mossy, ferny , shrubby, tree covered slope and pours onto what was once the path. It’s a magical spot. Photos and videos don’t adequately capture the beauty or vibe of the place. Not far from there one turns left and climbs the 50 -some steep slippy stone steps to the spring.
The water emerges from a natural opening in the rocky sheer hillside. A trough has been places in front of the opening to allow water to spill into the pool below in a way that allows visitors to more easily fill their water bottles or cup water in their hands. I choose to believe the sign at the bottom of the stairway that says the clear water is healing. Interestingly, the 3rd time we came there (last year) a sign had been added to the original that said the water might not be safe to drink. This year that warning was gone. Either someone actually monitors the water quality here and posts a sign when it’s not safe, or someone removed the sign not believing it was true. In any case, although tempting, we did not drink the water (we did drink it the first two times we went). But I did sprinkle my head and neck and arms with the water.
We carefully descended the stairs, grateful for the new metal handrail that was installed a couple years ago. The old wooden one that was there on our first visit was broken, flimsy and not trustworthy. We crossed the creek on a little stone bridge (also new since our first visit in 2017 and climbed the path out of the woods onto a (narrow of course) road that traverses the hillside past summer houses and farms. On our first trek there we were invited to coffee (and rakija) by an older couple sitting outside roasting red peppers on their outdoor oven. We have always hoped to see them again and thank them but they have not been there on subsequent visits, although this time their door was open despite no car in the driveway. But we passed along without stopping.
We passed two loose dogs, one appeared to be a stray and was friendly and yearning for attention. The other belonged to someone and had been barking fiercely as we passed by. He was not aggressive but was skittish so we spoke gently to him and otherwise ignored him. It is the family guard dogs that usually are potentially more dangerous than the strays. Locals we have talked with are themselves afraid of passing by the guard dogs, and our cousin was bitten by one a few years ago. So even though I love dogs I always feel a little nervous when we must pass by them if they are not tied up.
The sights and views from this road (slick in places from all the squished fallen plums covering much of the surface) of old orange roofed houses, (so different from what I grew up with), gardens, fields, orchards, old farming tools and contraptions, outdoor kitchens, wood piles, and beautiful mountains layered in the distance are…nourishing? Evocative? They kindle my longing for a life lived closer to nature, the elements, the seasons and the wisdom once held by people who needed to know how to use and conserve the resources around them. I am so far from that. I mourn our losses as a culture and world. I walk that road , and all country roads over here, feeling a mixture of loss, grief, and sadness, and deep awe, gratitude and appreciation of the beauty that I can be here to witness it. I have written before that I don’t romanticize the old ways. I know life was incredibly difficult and dangerous. Yet I believe our modern hardships, worries and dangers are of a worse kind, at least for me.
As we walked down the ever-switch-backing road toward the monastery Jim and I both commented on our perception that we were much higher on the mountain than it seemed based on the grade of the walk up, and how the walk down always seems twice as steep and long as the way up.
Back at the car I waved goodbye to the monastery and the land, not knowing if we will return. I will be a little surprised if we do, but I have felt that way on most trips and here we are, in Serbia for the 8th time!
Once home we walked to town for dinner- salad and pizza at a place we ate at a couple times last year, then home again through warm yellow orange evening light. Milesa and Zoran invited us down for more coffee, rakija and mineral water. Milesa served a big platter of freshly baked rolls. Having just eaten pizza we could only manage to eat a few bites but when we left she gave us a huge plate full of two kinds of rolls plus several pieces of cake filled with their raspberries.
In addition to chatting we watched a show we have seen when with them before- a very difficult game show. There are 2 contestants who challenge their smarts by facing off over 6 different types of brain games that test numerous skills and knowledge. The math puzzle looks the most difficult. They are given 4 bunches of numbers randomly arranged and one number that is the answer to the equation they must come up with using all the given numbers. That anyone could do it correctly in a short time period amazes me. The word puzzles were all in Cyrillic so there was no way I could solve those in the allotted time period, but I was able to translate quite a few words and to figure out the aim of the game. I’d like to see a show like that in English.
We said our good nights and came up to our apartment with our big plate of goodies.
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