Zajačar Serbia

Saturday evening after our return from the fort in Golubac Jim developed a fever, fatigue, a headache and muscle aches and his g.i. tract continued to be unsettled, but luckily when he woke Sunday he felt well enough to drive us 2 hours to our next destination, the small city of Zajačar, Serbia. We are assuming (and hoping) that whatever caused Jim’s symptoms was due to something he ate and will not take hold inside me. So far, so good. 🤞

Since Jim still wasn’t in top form I cooked breakfast for a change, then we packed and were on the road by 11. Our road took us again past the fort and followed the river for a long way. We passed only two small towns along that winding scenic stretch of road. The south side of the road borders the very wild, hilly, forested, undeveloped Đerdap National Park. Finally our route turned south where the road became considerably worse in repair. Luckily there were very few potholes (such as we have encountered on past trips) but the surface was often rough and patched like a crazy quilt with assorted materials. It drizzled much of the way. Traffic was light. We drove through small villages that looked more dilapidated, less modern and considerably poorer than villages in the west part of the country.  We saw cars in these villages as well as tools and other signs that the villages are inhabited but we saw very few people. Usually we see people out and about working in their yards or fields, or sitting outside talking with each other, or walking here or there, but in these villages we saw very few. Maybe because it was Sunday they were off at church or inside having lunch with family? 

We arrived at our rental house on the north edge of Zajačar (at the base of the broad hill called Beli Breg), at about 2.

Our hosts, Dragan and Zorica, in their late 50’s, greeted us warmly and gave us a quick tour of the 2 bedroom house, then, when we asked where the closest market is Dragan said he would drive us to the big grocery store in town. When we got back he invited us to their terrace below for Serbian coffee and their family’s rakija (a blend of apple, plum and pear). Dragan understands a bit of English, probably a similar amount as we understand Serbian, but Google translate allowed us to communicate beyond our limited foreign language skills. 

Dragan is a train dispatcher and Zorica made bread in a local large bakery, although we later learned she has not worked for 15 months due to a back injury. She had surgery for a herniated disc 6 weeks ago at a public hospital so there was no cost. Had she done it in a private hospital it would have been $3000 which by American standards is nothing. But she also said the day she returns to work she will be fired, so she continues to be on disability leave. Of course this system makes no sense. 

They said warm bread arrives fresh each day at noon at the market (and the next day they brought us a loaf!). They have two daughters, one in Belgrade and one, married to a French guy, in France. They also have several grandkids. They have been renting the main floor of their house to travelers for four years but were on hiatus during the worst months of the Covid pandemic (Zorica never got Covid. Dragan got it twice).

We were surprised to learn the house is only about 20 years old. It appears older largely because the doors, windows, floors and finish work look older and more substantial than what we find in newer homes, and most of the furniture is old. Dragan did the building himself with guidance from Zorica’s dad (who is a builder by trade), except he paid to have the flooring installed. They used to live on the main floor but now live in the basement so they can earn extra money renting out the nice upstairs space. Because Zajaćar is not a flashy tourist destination they only charge about $27 a night. It’s a quiet neighborhood. All the houses are made of orange blocks and have the typical orange tiled roofs we see nearly everywhere in the country. I love hearing the birds, crickets, mourning doves, roosters and church bells.

Jim and I walked that first night to ‘Restaurant Bebe’ which Dragan recommended for good grilled traditional food. My pljeskavica, a traditional seasoned large burger, was good, but Jim did not get what he thought he had ordered. He thought he was getting stuffed chicken like he has ordered elsewhere but instead got chicken wrapped in a layer of some sort of fat and odd skin. It was NOT appetizing, especially since he was still recovering from his stomach troubles. Luckily the waiter had suggested we order half sizes for both dishes but even half size was too big.

Monday morning Dragan asked if we would like to go for a short hike to see an old fort up on the broad hill above us. He drove us in his small, pseudo-suv Opel (he joked, Opel exists so that Ford is not the worst brand). He also joked that Opel spelled backwards is ‘Lepo ’ which means beautiful.

Dragan drove fast and a bit wildly at times (yet skillfully) on the narrow road that has holes and deep ruts in sections. Luckily there were almost no other cars. First he took us to a remote spot (no sign or indication of what the place is) where there is a hot spring developed by the Romans and made into a spa with soaking pools. There are no remains of anything Roman now, just a Yugoslavian era concrete pool overflowing with hot (not scorching) water. Dragan said this could be a nice tourist destination but the municipality gets no help from the State and so it sits neglected. Dragan occasionally comes here to soak. The mineral water is supposedly good for skin and other ailments. Dragan drank the warm water coming from a trickling tap and washed his face. I put water on my head and face but did not drink any.

Next he drove back up the road and pulled onto a little (never?) used overgrown track and parked. It took him a while to find the correct path on the mostly treeless hillside. I was surprised by the amount and variety of wildflowers still blooming at this time of year. There were a number of corn fields as well. Dragan said it was a bad year for many crops because the area received so much heavy rain, high winds and damaging huge hail. 

When we reached the top of the broad hill Dragan found a path (invisible to us) amid the area of thick trees and tangled shrubs. The path was blocked by a fallen tree but we were able to pass under it and enter the thicket.  We soon came upon a deteriorating sign describing the fortress (in both Serbian and English), one of 8 on the hillsides around Zajačar built in the late 1890’s to protect the area from the Turks should they return. Luckily this did not happen.

We wandered through and around the long structure with its many arches. The outer walls looked nearly new and we were surprised by the time put into making them aesthetically pleasing rather than purely functional.

Once back home Dragan invited us for coffee ‘with the neighbors’, us being the neighbors. We sat on our small porch and sipped coffee and ate delicious little cakes Zorica made from nuts and orange peel and continued our conversation using a mix of English, Serbian and Google Translate. Zorica is an avid smoker, not quite a chain smoker but almost.  When I asked if she has any hobbies she said only walking and hiking (both of them love hiking and Nature). When working she has no time for hobbies. 

They asked if we’d like to see some of the sites in town and we said sure. They drove us first to the large forested park that blankets the hill on the south edge of town. We walked to a concrete monument honoring WW 2 Serb soldiers (the Nazis said, ‘for every Nazi you kill we will a hundred of you’, and they did). We took a long walk through the park, stopping at the many simple exercise stations along the way where Dragan showed us how to do the various exercises. These kinds of exercise stations are very common throughout the Balkans, great for people who cannot afford gym memberships. Jim makes a point of doing pull-ups any time he finds a chin up bar in whatever town we are in. The park also has a ‘ski area’, only about 500 meters long. It is city owned and is free but there hasn’t been enough snow the past couple years to open it. The park also hosts an annual guitar festival which started in the 70’s.

From there we drove into the center of town and walked around. The only buildings we saw that were not rundown were the museum, court building, and municipal building, all of which were freshly painted in bold colors. The rest of the buildings are worn, chipped, stained and generally shabby, although there is a brand new large shopping plaza at one end of town that is shiny and clean and wraps around a large parking lot, an unusual convenience in these parts where parking can be hard to find and difficult to maneuver in and out of. Despite its shabbiness I liked the feel and look of the city. The pedestrian area had numerous flower beds that looked much better tended than the buildings. 

It’s sad that Zajačar, and most of Serbia, is so economically depressed. Many young people have fled to other parts of Europe where there are job opportunities. Since the war in Ukraine started a lot of Ukrainians and Russians have moved to Serbia and have driven up prices for rent and real estate. There are also quite a few Chinese here now who have come to work in the Chinese owned factories. As I’ve said, the local Serbs do not benefit from these changes and in fact suffer more. Due to foreign exploitation of resources many of the once clean rivers are filled with toxic waste.

We stopped at a cafe and drank more coffee. I was hesitant to drink coffee at 6:30 pm, especially since our last coffee was at 3 and I have sleep issues, but I actually slept well that night. Maybe I need to start drinking coffee at dinner time to cure my insomnia!

We then stopped by the park next to the little Timok river (with tamed banks). There is a mini golf park and a fenced area with domestic geese and chickens, as well as a ‘beach’ (not what I would call a beach). Dragan said sometimes there are concerts and events there.

Once back home they invited us to come down to their terrace later that evening for traditional muffins. Jim and I were hungry and did not have a chance to eat dinner. First we sat outside and drank rakija, wine and beer. I showed them a couple issues of Serb World USA that have my articles in them. They were impressed. I said, in the next issue there will be a story about them and they were pleased to hear this and asked me to send them a copy if that comes to pass. Jim played for them on his computer his song about being stuck in Vrdnik with Covid. They enjoyed it.

We then went into their apartment and sat around their table spread with crackers, freshly baked sesame- cheese muffins, cheeses, homemade ajvar (a red pepper spread), olives, and homemade cured meat made by Zorica’s parents that tasted like gourmet bologna but looked nothing like it. It wasn’t exactly our idea of dinner but it was delicious and filling. We sat at the table in their main room that serves as kitchen, dining room and living room. For a basement space it was spacious and nicely finished. We enjoyed far-ranging conversation as and shared photos from our phones. I kept inwardly shaking my head at their kindness and generosity and recommitted to being more generous myself.

… Tuesday…

We had the morning to ourselves Tuesday (but first they brought us more of the sesame cheese muffins to eat with our breakfast). Then Jim and I drove about 15 minutes up the road to see the famous Felix Romuliana archeological site where Roman Emporor, Galerius, built a palace (begun in 298 to mark the place of his birth) that he never lived in because he died before it was totally finished. He built the complex as a place of worship of his mother’s divine personality, as a monument to his deeds as Emporer, and as a grand villa for himself. According to the tourist info the place was inhabited by various Slavs for a while but in the 7th century was abandoned and ignored for centuries until the mid 1800’s when people began studying it, then forgotten again, then explored more beginning in the 1950’s. It is now a World Heritage site.

Only a few other people strolled the grounds while we were there, along with a handful of stray dogs. I admit when I go to ruins and archeological sites I am generally only somewhat interested in reading all the descriptions and explanations of what I am seeing. I tend to be more drawn to the feel and aesthetics of places as well as framing shots for photos. I’m not disinterested in history, but I am terrible at retaining information, so generally I have more fun just wandering around looking at stuff around me.

We headed back to our place and rested a while before our next excursion with our neighbors later that afternoon. They had offered to take us to a healing spa pool at a rehab hospital up the road from Felix Romuliana. I had read comments about the spa in advance and so was somewhat prepared for the shabby derelict place. The old spa and hospital are in a scenic spot next to a small river and surrounded by trees. But the condition of the buildings suggests they have not received any maintenance since the break-up of Yugoslavia  twenty-some years ago. The pool itself was ok but the mosaics on the walls, the tiles around the deck, the minute changing area (unisex), showers and toilet stalls would never meet codes in the U.S. The hallways were drab, and old beds, mattresses and chairs were haphazardly strewn about. Yet it is a functioning rehab hospital, and in fact our host entered the hospital as a patient yesterday. She will stay there for three weeks and receive therapy for her back. On the one hand, room and board and therapy are free, which is great. On the other hand, the food is bland and unhealthy and the facilities bleak and depressing. And Zorica has to share a room with an old grandma who she doesn’t like. After one night there she told Dragan she wants to come home for the weekend. The hospital also has a small food market with a whole wall of various types of alcohol. We joked about alcohol therapy for the patients.

Despite the lousy facilities we had a nice soak in the hot mineral spring-fed waters. The only down side for me is there was no cold pool to jump into.  

We also took a short walk up the road by the river to see the old steam plant whose technology was developed by Tesla. Next to the spa a few older people sat by small tables of grapes, honey and souvenirs for sale but there was nobody to sell them to.

When we got home they invited us for coffee and rakija, then asked if we’d like to walk to town. Jim and I didn’t want to miss dinner again so we asked if we could treat them to dinner. They said they would have a piece of pizza. When we met up a few minutes later they had changed into nicer clothes. Meanwhile Jim and I were still in our travel clothes (that’s all we have) and we apologized. They were gracious. They took us to a small restaurant near the almost defunct train station. A train does still stop there once in a while but mostly the wide set of tracks are used as a short cut for pedestrians to get from one part of town to the other.  There was a downpour right after we reached the restaurant but the rain stopped just when it was time for us to walk home after sharing pizza and salad.

…Wednesday…

Wednesday morning Zorica stopped by to say goodbye before heading to the rehab hospital. I gave her a couple small gifts (coasters with photos I’d taken, and some frankincense oil to use for pain relief on her back). She seemed genuinely sad to say goodbye. 

 Dragan had to work that day but he gave us directions to the village up the road where he works and invited us to come have coffee with him. The village was very sleepy and dilapidated (one of my overused words to describe towns and villages in eastern Serbia). Dragan met us in town by the old church and we followed him to Zorica’s parents’ house (where Zorica grew up) where we parked and got a tour of their farmyard. There were numerous sheds, barns and out-buildings and small mucky spaces covered with hay where numerous goats and chickens ran about. There were two dirty, attention starved, sweet dogs tied on very short chains. It is sooo hard to see dogs (and all the animals) living in those conditions,but who am I to criticize others for trying to grow and raise their own food in the ways they have learned? Inside the sheds were more chickens, a bunch of geese, 2 fat pigs and a half dozen piglets. Dragan picked some red peppers and fat tomatoes from the garden for us and then we got in his car (we jokingly had taken to calling ‘Jeep’) to drive to his worksite. It’s a good thing he drove because the rough rocky road would have been hard on our rental car. 

Dragan has been working as a train dispatcher for 37 years and seems to like the work pretty well. He is the chief. He works some of the time in town at the train station and the rest of the time at this little outpost, a tiny standalone office about 10’x15’. There is a small sink, counter, a couple chairs and a desk with a board with toggle switches for moving the tracks and controlling the signals. There are a couple old phones and a log book where everything is written by hand. Dragan said some day the equipment will be updated but for now the technology is old school but works fine. 

After coffee and cookies Dragan asked if we’d like to see how to switch the tracks by hand. The guard dog who was a little growl-y and protective when we arrived became friendly when we set off down the tracks. He always goes along and knows the way.  Dragan said it takes 72  turns of the crank to complete the track switching. I joked that there is no need for him to go to the gym. Once back at the office he drove us to our car.

Jim and I walked into the city and milled about but also went into several shoe stores to see if we could find me a pair of shoes. My favorite shoes that I wear for hiking and walking just about everywhere are starting to delaminate even though they are relatively new. Hopefully they will last for the rest of our trip. But we thought it might be good to have a spare pair just in case these fall apart. The problem is, I am very picky about shoes (I need no rise heels and flexible bottoms) and could not find anything I even slightly liked. So, fingers crossed, I’m hoping my shoes will be ok for another month.

Dragan had invited us to come to his house for dessert pancakes later but first we decided to have an early dinner. We ate typical and fine meals of chicken with potatoes, great fresh bread, salad, and mineral water with gas. It was just getting dark when we crossed the tracks and paused at the river to look at the crescent moon on our walk home. As I’ve mentioned before, even when streets and neighborhoods look poor and shabby there is no need to worry about crime. Sooo different from the US.

Turns out Dragan planned to serve us both savory and sweet crepes. We sat outside while he cooked a dozen crepes on his old outdoor electric stove. He was expert at tossing the crepe so it flipped in the air and landed back in the pan. He first learned this from his mom, then Zorica  helped him perfect his technique. Both of them cook.

We learned that they first met when Dragan was working at the station in her village. He went off to Split to serve in the Yugoslavian Army and when he came home they married. Zorica was only 17. We did not ask him about the war and he did not seem too eager to talk about it. He shrugged as if embarrassed that the war ever happened. He blamed nationalism for breaking apart the country. We did talk politics several times during our visit. He, like so many people, is disillusioned with politicians and not optimistic about the future of his country. He is frustrated that those in power in Belgrade do nothing to help the ‘regular’ people in the rest of Serbia. Vučič makes deals with China and Serbia only gets 2% of their profits.

We went inside to eat our pancakes. He spread the first batch with kajmak (cheese), ajvar and the cured meat we had eaten the night before. In the next batches he spread jam- homemade apricot in some and plum in the others. All were tasty but Jim and I were full from dinner so couldn’t eat much.

…Thursday and departing…

The next morning Dragan brought coffee to our porch and we sat talking and sipping the yummy brew. We learned he is a movie buff and likes many genres, as long as they have good or positive endings. He is also an avid chess player. When we said our goodbyes he gave us a jar of honey from Zorica’s family’s bees, although he said they got rid of the bees this year so this was older honey. 

I feel so grateful that I happened to choose their house to stay in. They were among our best hosts we’ve ever encountered  during our many trips to Serbia. We all hope we will see each other again.

Row 1: On the way to Zajačar, and ‘our’ house.

Row 2 and 3: Neglected old Roman and Yugoslav hot spring, old fort amid the brambles.

Row 4: WW 2 monument, exercise in the park, view of the city from ski hill.

Row 5: Courthouse, center of Zajačar, coffee and kolač (cake).

Row 6 and 7: Felix Romuliana ruins.

Row 8: Rakija time with Google.

Row 9-11: Zorica’s parents’, the little train control outpost, old station in Zajačar, scene from Zajačar.

Row 12: Inside our place, the river.