After Marko’s -Trebinje, BiH

The drive from Virpazar to Trebinje was beautiful and only stressful now and then. The road was mostly in good shape and not too narrow or frightening, it’s just the darn speeding impatient drivers that make it scary for me. There was an extended section of rocky dirt road that was under construction with nobody directing traffic but we made it through safely. Mostly I enjoyed the varied views, including seeing Ostrog Monastery as a speck on the cliff across the valley  after we left Podgorica. I still want to go back there some day and walk up the rocky path in my bare feet like some pilgrims do.

The scenery got more and more dramatic as we neared Trebinje with cliffs and forested big hills that rose above the river. The river was damned many decades ago yet somehow remains (peacefully) wild looking much of the way.

Google took us on a hair-raising route to our apartment once we reached Trebinje. The city is flat and the Trebišnica river runs through it, but most of the houses are perched on steep hillsides and are accessed by mazes of narrow winding roads with poor sight lines. Of course too many drivers speed with no consideration for the dangers to other cars or pedestrians, but we made it!

Our host, Nedelje, spoke no English but his cheerful young teen age daughter was able to translate a little.  Our place, downstairs from theirs, had 3 bedrooms, a large covered balcony and very spacious rooms. It was clean and nicely furnished. When I introduced myself Nedelje said, ‘oh! Your name is ours, from this place.’ (I still find it interesting that my parents gave me a Serbian name without ever associating it with being Serbian).

He and his wife had left cookies, rakija, beer, juice, mandarins, and grapes for us. Later their daughter brought us a big bowl of figs and some pomegranates, all from their property. 

We walked down the hill into the small but lively city. As with almost all cities and towns in the Balkans there are scores of cafes that extend onto the sidewalks, and  the usual assortment of shoe stores, betting rooms, hair salons, meat sellers, bakeries and lingerie shops, among other things. We went through the stone archway into the photogenic Old Town which at this time of year had some tourists but not many. It was quiet, pleasant and picturesque with its stone walls and old mosque and many cafes and restaurants. We ate dinner(pizza) and stopped at the store on our way home. We were happy to see the many people who were  out and about, walking, eating ice cream or pop corn, or sipping coffee at the cafes on an ordinary week night. 

Next morning we ate breakfast on the terrace and watched the construction guys who were working in a large building, probably a 5-6 story apartment building. When the building is done the view of the city below from the apartment will be reduced, but at least not totally obscured.

Even though I was still congested and not feeling 100% we set out on a walk, hoping to reach the church we could see perched on the hill on the other side of town. We planned our route so we could stop and see the beautiful arched stone Arslanargić bridge, built in the 16 th century but moved 3 miles downstream to its current location when the hydro station was built upriver during the Yugoslavia era. The walking surface of the pedestrian-only bridge rises at a relatively steep angle and down again on the other side. It’s smaller than the longer famous bridge in Višegrad but maybe equally beautiful. 

From there we walked narrow streets up through neighborhoods of orange-roofed houses clinging to the hillside toward the church. We passed an assertive but friendly woman sitting outside her house trying to sell her jams, herbs, teas, honey, and assorted liquors to passersby. I suspect at this time of year very few people walk up this road, so we decided to give her our business and bought a couple herbal sachets and she threw in a third for free.

The mostly brick church, Hercegovačka Gračarnica, sits atop the hill on the south side of the city. The church is only 23 years old but is designed in an old style and is handsome and impressive. It was commissioned by a well known Serbian poet, philosopher and diplomat, Jovan Dučić, and  eventually funded by a wealthy Serb living in America. We appreciated the beauty of the church and the expansive view from the top of the hill but were not impressed by the somewhat rude young clerks in the gift shop, and we found the juxtaposition of the church with the hilltop cafe right next door to be a bit jarring, but stopped for coffee and mineral water nonetheless.

We took a detour on our way home, hoping to stop by an ancient tower that appeared to be accessible from a near by dirt road. We never found a way to access the tower but what we did find was a magic carpet on the road. It was a very surreal sight to see this large Turkish style rug in good condition neatly laid out on the road in the middle of nowhere. There were no houses or buildings on this road. We wondered who put the rug there and why.

That evening we ate in the Old Town again, enjoying the stray cats and dogs wandering around, as well as people watching. Even in this somewhat touristy spot prices were very reasonable, around $20-$24 for the two of us, including drinks, bread, salad and main courses. We are big eaters but portions throughout the Balkans tend to be larger than even we can eat.

The next day we set out to visit the intriguing small church perched on a rocky outcropping a few blocks away from us that we could see from our terrace. We could not find much info about the place online, and when we reached the church there was no info there either. The doors into the church were locked but we were able to go up the stairs and enjoy the views from the covered terraces. We assume the church is not especially old, and that perhaps it is not finished, but it does not look like anyone is working on it. Yet from what I read online it does seem to be used at least occasionally. We both think it would look good in a sci-fi movie.

Our next stop was the outdoor exercise area by the river where Jim was hoping to find a pull-up bar. But first we stopped at the Cathedral Temple of the Holy Transfiguration of Our Lord right next to Old Town. It’s an Orthodox Church but designed in a more Roman influenced style. It’s beautiful inside and the gardens and park around it cool and peaceful.

When we reached the exercise area next to a large pool of river water where people can swim or use small boats Jim was disappointed to find the chin up bars way too high for him to reach, and there was no rock or step he could use to help him reach it. Balkan people tend to be tall.

From there we had a pleasant stroll along the river. I had seen a photo online of the old train station which didn’t look like anything special but gave us a destination to look for on the other side of the river. We almost decided not to bother but went ahead and crossed a bridge and continued our stroll on the other side. When we got to the old building it was indeed nothing extra special. There was a cool old steam engine parked out front. While Jim was taking pictures of it to send to his brother I was standing, looking at the building from a distance. An old guy sitting alone out front came over and started talking with me. He knew some English and it turns out he had even been to Seattle. Years ago he worked on a cargo ship and he spent a couple years on the ship in various ports around the US. His name is Lazar and he is from a village near Trebinje. We had a nice chat then said bye. He went back to his seat at the cafe in front of the train station where several tables of men were drinking coffee, beer and rakije at 12:30 in the afternoon. One table of guys were singing traditional music. They saw me watching them and waved for me and Jim to come sit with them. None of them spoke English but they greeted us warmly. When I extended my hand to shake theirs a couple of the guys kissed my hand. They wanted to know what we wanted to drink. We both ordered domestic coffee. Lazar, meanwhile, seeing the situation came over and sat down with us and served as a sort of translator. He told them I have relatives in Serbia and they were all happy that I was one of them. They started singing again and pointed at my phone for me to video them singing. They sang numerous songs, and Lazar joined in. Through our little bit of knowledge of Serbian and Lazar’s occasional comments we came to understand that they were mostly singing old Četnik songs from WW 2. These guys, although not old enough to have fought in that war, hold Četnik sentiments and were definitely not pro Communist. They also sang a spiritual song about St Djordje. During one of the songs the guys made gestures with 3 of their fingers. Lazar said, it’s a Serb gesture. Later our friend Nikolina explained it is a symbol of Serb identity, connected to the way they hold their fingers when making the sign of the cross, and that this is a gesture Serbs can’t freely make when in Croatia or Sarejevo, for example.

The history of the četniks and partisans is complex and mind- bending and I can’t go into it here because I am no expert. All I will say is that online I found one article that listed the Četnik’s enemies and their allies, and the 2 lists were virtually identical. Basically they aligned themselves in the  moment with whomever they thought would best help them reach their end goal which was to protect and expand a strong Serbian kingdom. In the process they could be ruthless killers, yet one Serb friend said if it weren’t for them some Serb areas would have been wiped out.

Politics aside, these men sang robustly and were passionate and welcoming to us. The guy next to Jim kept firmly grabbing Jim’s leg and squeezing it affectionately. They paid for our coffees. Lazar said the train station served as a club for pensioners and drinks were cheap. He said his son is in Denver and plans to stay there. He is glad. He said the Balkans are good for the birds but for people opportunities are better in the US. He mentioned several times about the decline of the world but said it’s best not to think too much about problems. Instead, he said, they just come here to the station each day and drink and sing. The guys told us to play the songs for our cousins in Loznica, that they would understand their significance coming from Trebinje.

Trebinje, like so many places here, has a complex history, and was a prominent Serb base during the 90’s war. Serbs drove out and killed many Bosniaks and Croatians who lived here.  Currently it is inhabited mostly by Serbs. There is a big monument in town that honors those (Serbs) who fought to preserve the area as a Serbian city. No mention of what the Serbs did to those people who also lived here that weren’t Serbian.  There is still so much unprocessed trauma in people in this whole region. We are careful not to probe too much.

When we stood to leave Lazar said to come by again next year. One of the guys kissed my hand again and then fondly grabbed my cheek (like one would do to a kid 50 years ago). I know many women would be offended but I found it amusing and I knew it was done in a playful warm spirit, not creepy.

As we walked away some of the guys at one of the other tables gave us looks that were not very friendly. We don’t know if they don’t get along with the guys we were sitting with, or if they didn’t like foreigners coming into their space. We can only guess. But our time with the singing men felt like another special gift. We are grateful.

That night we ate by the large square outside of Old Town. The Square was busy, as it seems to be every night, with families and friends walking about or sitting and chatting. Our food was ok but that night Jim had a recurrence of his digestive symptoms. We wonder if it was from what he ate.

I’m very glad we went to Trebinje. People have been suggesting we go there for a number of years.  If we travel over here again we would like to go back and explore more of the many old sites in the region.

Photos: Row 1: construction on the main road, heading in to Trebinje, ‘our’ house. Row 2: the odd church near our place, death notices in town, the mailman and his bike. Row 3 and 4: old town. Row 5: old town, church from our patio, construction project below our house. Row 6 and 7: old bridge, church on the hill. Row 8: church, magic carpet, view from that end of town. Row 9: odd church near us, our apt. Row 10: grain growing for someone’s Saint day, short Jim reaching for high bar. Row 11 and 12: river walk, big church in town, mosque doors.