I’m on the porch, 8 am. It’s already warm. Sheep are grazing in a bunch in the field, morning sun shining on their backs. Earlier there were birds perched on their backs. Magpies are squawking. Wood smoke and meat smells tinge the air, not unpleasantly. The Bosnian hillside is lit up across the river.
I’m hearing that sound again, one I’ve heard numerous times a day every day here. It sounds like claws scratching on metal in the house next door. We can’t figure out what it might be- giant rats trapped in the metal overhanging eaves? A mute dog scratching on the closed window blinds? It’s a mystery. (Later we found out the sound comes from birds on the roof, probably pigeons). Oh and there’s the pig squealing. Of any sound in the village I think squealing pigs are the most disturbing.
I woke at 4:45, way too early again. That seems to be my pattern here, waking between 4:30 and 5:30 regardless of what time I go to sleep which often is too late. I’m tired and being tired tends to bring my mood down. I’m feeling sad about leaving this spot. I probably said earlier this is one of my favorite apartments, hosts and locations. I wish we were staying longer. I toy with the idea of returning after we leave Zajačar in a week but don’t want our hosts to feel obligated to feed and entertain us. Part of me wants to go for the easier and familiar places to stay. Part of me feels I should be open to going somewhere new.
Speaking of new places, at noon we will start the 3 hour drive to the city of Kragujevac to visit Ana, our third Serbian teacher and her family. She invited us to be their guests. Initially she said we would stay in their house with them but yesterday said we will stay in her mom’s apartment in the city. We appreciate the generosity but when we learned there is no parking and we will park in a public garage some blocks away I became anxious. Ana assured me they have it all worked out. I need to trust that all will be fine. But when it comes to cars, parking and driving over here I can’t help but feel anxious.
But here I am, in this warm, pleasant, scenic comfortable spot. I inhale deeply. Close my eyes. I try to fathom that I am actually here. As with every trip I feel again like I’m in a dream. It’s hard to grasp that life in Seattle goes on while we are here in a world different in many ways. What is similar are mostly the bad things- cars, cell phones, environmental destruction, corrupt politicians. But as I’ve said, being here I witness a culture that is behind ours in its cultural decline. It is beautiful to see peoples’ connections and loyalty to each other. And it’s almost unbelievable to see the lack of crime and to know we can walk safely anywhere without fear of being assaulted, shot or robbed. When I imagine getting back to Seattle with all its problems with drug addicts folded over on sidewalks and in parks, and illegally parked RVs and their generators that run all night, and filthy encampments surrounded by stolen bikes and all sorts of illegally gotten products on sidewalks and in parks, and all the crime that goes along with this… part of me does not want to go back. There are so many problems here, too, but at least daily life is more humane and pleasant for most people.
Again I inhale and come back to the beauty here. I feel the warmth of the morning sun on my feet. A bird is singing. And others. A yellow jacket comes to investigate me then flies off. The weird scratching noise happens again. Tea digests in my tummy. The sheep are lying in the shade now. Clothespins on the line over the porch sit still, holding on with no effort. I can’t see it from here but the clear blue-green Drina river, I know, is flowing as always. My mind drifts with it. I wish I could have seen this region before this river, and many others, were dammed. Every invention comes with costs. I wish wiser people were in charge. I must be a wiser person as I make choices for my own life.
…
Milesa invited us down for coffee. She had 2 kinds of special rolls baking in the oven.we had more nice conversation (with Google’s help), drank rakija, coffee and water and sat comfortably together. They charged us way too little ($35/nite) and offered to charge less if that was too much for us. We would happily pay twice what they charge, but they would not accept anything more. As we said our goodbyes (they were about to leave for lunch with friends in a distant town) Milesa gave us a big bag of rolls, and a large jar of honey that her brother wanted us to have.
We headed upstairs to pack and clean the apartment, then left around noon for the 4th largest city in Serbia, Kragujevac, a huge contrast from quiet little Bajina Bašta. I was sad to leave but looked forward to seeing Ana, one of our former teachers.
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