It’s 5:30 am here in Vrdnik Serbia. Roosters woke me at about 4:15 after about 6.5 hours sleep. I am still exhausted given that I did not sleep at all the night we flew, and only 4 hours the next 2 nights. Yesterday my head felt tortured because I was so tired. I don’t understand why I have trouble sleeping when I’m so tired. In any case, I like the sounds of roosters mixed in with all the other birdsongs.
Our drive from Zagreb to Vrdnik yesterday, mostly on the ‘Autobahn’ through the mostly flat farmland of northern Croatia where the speed limit is 130 kph and many people go considerably faster than that, was uneventful. And the much feared wait at the border was only about 35 minutes, not hours like some people said it could be. However, for those in semi-trucks the wait was hours. The line of trucks stretched for at least 4 miles.
Our hosts at ‘Oaza Mira’’, a one bedroom house where we stayed 3 years ago while recovering from Covid, were waiting for us and greeted us warmly. After exchanging pleasantries in broken English and Serbian our host (I can’t recall his name, she is Bojana) offered us his homemade rakija which we accepted despite being so tired. It was one of the better rakijas I’ve had, truly enjoyable rather than barely tolerably. He served it in little shot glasses with Red Cross medical symbols on the sides which he pointed to and (half-) joked that the rakija is medicine. Whether it’s wishful thinking or they really believe it people here often speak of this powerful beverage in this way. Our hosts gave us the bottle to enjoy while here and said, ‘for the morning’.
His wife speaks no English but his English is about as good as our Serbian so we chatted for a while. Their 31 year old son is getting married here next Saturday and they are busy getting ready. He also disparagingly spoke of the student protests going on around the country which have shut down the universities. Their son is at the end of training to be a doctor at the school in Novi Sad but can’t take his exams until the university opens again. He is impatient and frustrated as I’m sure many people are. We also learned our host is a truck driver. He used to drive all around Europe but now only drives in Italy.
After our hosts left we walked down the hill to the market, passing chickens and sheep foraging along the side of the narrow road, a sight that still tickles and heartens me while simultaneously making me sad about a dying way of life that in so many ways is healthier than our modern way of living. Food prices here have risen as they have in Croatia, but still are inexpensive for us. But for the locals whose income has not increased the higher food prices are a hardship.
After taking our groceries back up the hill to the house we walked up the main road to the cash machine outside one of the several health spas the village is known for. 1000 Serbian dinar is worth $9.62 USD. (Currently the Euro, used in Croatia and Montenegro, is worth .87 USD). From there we walked across the street and ate dinner outside at a place we’ve been to a number of times. Chicken risotto for me, chicken breast for Jim, and shared salad, bread, grilled veggies and a bottle of sparkling water, for about $34 including tip. Very good. Came home and I was in bed before 9.
view from ‘our’ place, favorite mineral water ‘with gas’, and looking at our place from the yard:
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