Well after a long break due to a project it's time to finish my travelogue. Let's start from where we left off. We were in Sarajevo, ready for another trip but didn't exactly know where.
The candidates were Visegrad and Canyon Tara. We haven't decided it for sure back then; but the option of Canyon Tara soon gained weight. So seeking Canyon Tara we began to hitchhike again. First we left Sarajevo to a smaller suburban town, for making our trip easier and then from there the cars we hitched brought us via Foca to Brod, a small village near the Montenegrin border, in the autonomous region Republika Srpska. When we made it there it was almost dark, there were hardly any cars passing through the small road to canyon. A few people we asked said that there are 20 km to go to the canyon so it was in a walking distance. The usual solution of combining walking and hitchhiking was applied in this case as well..almost. As soon as we started to walk soon we heard a Serbian villager man with a Stalin moustache shouting to us: "Come for a coffee." (of course in Serbian, sth. with kafa/or kafu - one of the accusative/dativ or whatever versions of the main word kafa-) At that time probably we couldn't guess what kind of a family we were to see, but as usual we of course gladly accepted his offer.
The man was a farmer like almost all the other villagers, well having also the river Drina made the village perfect for farming I guess. Not to mention the forests all around and the fresh air. Anyway as usual Dorota had her chance to practice her Serbian skills whereas I again began to play the role of a good listener. In fact throughout the trip I have seen very clearly that once you are eager to learn a language and listen carefully to the people, learning a new language is a very easy thing. If only I could spend a year or so in ex-Yugo countries!
The farmer was doing the final work of the day when we entered the garden of his house. His main business was but animal breeding; to be more specific: Goats and pigs. Well it also meant that the pig and goat shit is everywhere but for me it was not a problem; I haven't grown up that sterile. The man began to talk with us, or Dorota in a friendliest manner. Soon we were to learn that he was drunk but anyhow. What he kept on saying was the word "polaku": polaku, polaku, polaku. (With an intonation similar to Italians) Which means "slowly". It was a clear offer to spend the night at his place. He told us that we were like his children; we were sent from God,let God protect us etc. (As translated by Dorota, hey I remember the Serbian sentence, Bog vas cva!) Since I'm from Turkey he also said that he doesn't care about where people are from or to which religion they belong, God is one and is for all. Well if all believers would be like him the world would be a far better place now. Anyway it was the funniest talk of the trip due to his manners, we laughed a lot.
Meanwhile the family members began to appear one by one then like in movies. First the daughter who was to make coffee for us came. She knew just a little bit of English but like everyone else we could of course speak about Turkish TV series. I can't remember her name but only what she looks like: like a boy, in every manner. After some time she went to a town 5 km away in order to watch a football match! There was something strange about the family but in the funniest sense. They reminded me of families in Italian movies, where everyone shouts to the other; regardless of his/her position in the family. Drinking our coffees it was sure that we were to spend the night there so we took everything easy like the man said: "polaku".
The wife of the farmer came into the scene after we have finished our coffees. She gave her hand to us saying: "Woman", by which she meant that she is the woman of the family of course but it made us laugh as well. She seemed a little bit angry at first, since her husband was drunk yet again. Probably he has invited also people like us before and considering the poorness of the family it was clear that it's not something they can afford all the time. From her tough look one could understand who is the boss in the family. When you have a drunk husband you have to be tough but right?
The farmer asked about what we want to eat when the woman arrived. Do I eat pork? He asked it by imitating the snorting of a pig. Everything was so theatrical. I replied yes but what we finally ate was chicken and fried peppers from their field/garden. It was delicious and we were subjected to see how a hungry and drunk villager eatsa chicken in a rush. Dorota found it disgusting but for me it was just how it should be.
We went two times to the market of the town, first to buy beers and then to buy some packs of cigarettes for the woman, since she smoked a lot and as far as Dorota understood kindly asked for it, in a hidden way of course. When we came back and gave her cigarette packs she couldn't hide her happiness although she preserved her pride and politeness by first declining it saying that there was no need; but it didn't last long. It was touching to see how a few packs of cigarettes made her happy. When our drunk man went to sleep, she showed us a few family pictures in the house and told about their relation to a famous pop star proudly. As far as I can remember the driver of the popstar was a relative of them and that's how they could meet her as well.
As for sleeping we had two choices: Sleeping on a bed/couch in their house or to sleep in a hayloft! Well not everyday you can sleep in a hayloft so went for the second option. After enjoying briefly the clear sky full of stars and peeing outside somewhere it was time to sleep. The hayloft was 2/3 full with hay and it was in the middle of the goatbarn so in order to enter it you had to pass through the goats. If you are curious about sleeping on a hayloft however, I can tell that it's not the most comfortable place to sleep, although I managed to do it. Dorota had more difficulties than I with all those hays, so she went down to sleep on the hay-free ground next to the door whereas I stayed on the "upper floor". The continous movement of hays was another problem but finally we survived! It was definitely an experience, that's for sure.
I got up pretty early in the morning but the farmer woke up even earlier. He was feeding goats and pigs and then when a pick-up arrived began to fill the pick-up with pig- and goatshit, he was selling it I guess. He made a gesture to me like he has a hangover from yesterday, but he was definitely not as funny as the day before. Probably being sober and working made him a dull boy.
When Dorota woke up I took a few pictures of her in the hayloft and then we left our hosts in order to reach our canyon as soon as possible. After eating the thunafish and bread we bought from the market on a roadside and chatting with another villager, a car appeared on the road. A man and his son took us, they were totally looking like out of Texas; like rednecks who are also Ku-Klux-Klan members, carrying a rifle all the time. But the first impressions can be wrong and nothing happened of course. We had to make another change and this time two guys driving a van took us. (Was is it a van or a jeep?)
They were driving to a campside in the canyon where they also worked, perfect. The slim guy was a skipper for rafting on the river while the driver was working as a driver again for bringing the people interested in rafting to the starting spot. We passed through the Montenegrin border called Scepan Polje and after sth. like 10 min we were sitting in the cafe of the camping, talking with the skipper. We asked for what to do there and he said that there is not so much to do other than rafting, which was for 30 euros per person. All the cash we had with us was not even enough for one person so we thought that maybe it's a good idea to go to the national park Durmitor, advised by the skipper for hiking. He told us that he can bring us to Foca at noon from where we can hitchhike to Durmitor and we accepted it. So after drinking our teas we started to wait for him.
After some time the guy shouted us and told us to come to raft! Two seats in the boat were empty, how fitting! Well luck was on our side again, rafting for free! (Almost since we gave him the cash we had, other than the coins which summed up to a surprising total in the end and made us to eat pljeskavica at a restaurant) We changed our clothes, shoes etc. in order to wear the swimsuits and boots which were made for rafting :)
Soon our journey with the van began to the starting spot with all the other members of team: A local couple and three American guys traveling in Europe before going to Paris for a wedding. Soon we made friends with American guys, who were about my age. They were graduates but the "lightness" of Americans were felt also when you talked to them. It is an easy-going, straightforward way which Americans take in human relations; but sometimes it gets weird. Not to mention their ignorance of all the other parts of the world but definitely an interesting and different culture they have. Anyway after carrying our boat to the river with the American guys, our rafting experience began. Both for me and Dorota it was a first time so we were pretty excited. The route was not however. The river was mostly calm and even if it got a little exciting on some spots, they were also not like those you see on TVs etc. But for a first time it is perhaps better and at least we got wet a few times.
Rafting is a tiring thing to do, especially when you are in front of the boat and try to row all the time. We spent more than 3 hours on the river, while there were some breaks in a few spots. At one of them there was a small waterfall and together with Dorota we let the guys take a picture but other than that nothing to see in particular other than the beautiful river and canyon with trees. By the way as Dorota told me later on one of the guys asked Dorota whether she has worked as a hooker before since apparently her t-shirt was one for a slut according to him :) Well not the usual sentence to get closer with a girl but Americans have strange ways sometimes :)
When the rafting was finished we were hungry and a little bit tired. After dressing our clothes again, giving our skipper the money we had and exchanging some contact info with Americans we left to head to Albania! Why not to see a new country in the remaning days, especially being in the neighbouring land Montenegro. For which we had to cross Montenegro and it was already afternoon when we left the campside. Eating our pljeskavicas with the coins we began to hitch again. Luckily a car stopped soon, a Bosniak man and his aunt who brought us to Podgorica. The guy was in the tourism business speaking perfect English and German and his aunt who had cooked some bureks for the trip before was lovely as well.
The road from Scepan Polje to Podgorica is a nice one with some tunnels, mountains, rivers, bridges, dams etc. But it brings one to the ugliest city in all ex-Yugoslavia: Podgorica. When we got to Podgorica it was evening so we thought it would be a better idea to spend the night in Podgorica. Walking to the city center to look for a cheap hostel in vain, asking for internet cafe, buying sim card from a shopping mall were some of the activities we did. We also thought to spend the night outside, once giving up to look for a hostel and even sit on a bench where Dorota wanted to rest and sleep a while. It was only when I asked to the receptionist of a hotel the price of a room -and also whether he knows a cheaper option- we were saved from sleeping in a park, which seemed a little bit more dangerous than say in Serbia or Bosnia. He said he knows a woman who had recently started to rent rooms illegally so for somewhat higher than our usual price we rented her room for the night. Leaving our things in the room we went out to eat something which was again pizza in a cute little pizzeria nearby.
The next morning began also with eating pizza at the same place and drinking tea afterwards. When we asked in the cafe how we can make it to the road to Albania, a guy brought us to a good hitchin spot on the road. After taking several cars, one of which was perhaps the smallest ride we had ever done (barely more than a few kms, the son of the driver is a young footballer playing in the Turkish Football,or soccer, League by the way) we finally took the car of an Albanian man. The road from Montenegro to Albania might have been the worst road in Europe if Albanian roads didn't exist.
When we passed through the border of Albania we were already expecting to see a poor country but then from what we have seen in the coming days our expectations were not up to the level of poorness in the country. But that's the theme of a new post, for now we are in the Albanian border, in the car of an Albanian man who is doing some business btw. Montenegro and Albania.
The candidates were Visegrad and Canyon Tara. We haven't decided it for sure back then; but the option of Canyon Tara soon gained weight. So seeking Canyon Tara we began to hitchhike again. First we left Sarajevo to a smaller suburban town, for making our trip easier and then from there the cars we hitched brought us via Foca to Brod, a small village near the Montenegrin border, in the autonomous region Republika Srpska. When we made it there it was almost dark, there were hardly any cars passing through the small road to canyon. A few people we asked said that there are 20 km to go to the canyon so it was in a walking distance. The usual solution of combining walking and hitchhiking was applied in this case as well..almost. As soon as we started to walk soon we heard a Serbian villager man with a Stalin moustache shouting to us: "Come for a coffee." (of course in Serbian, sth. with kafa/or kafu - one of the accusative/dativ or whatever versions of the main word kafa-) At that time probably we couldn't guess what kind of a family we were to see, but as usual we of course gladly accepted his offer.
The man was a farmer like almost all the other villagers, well having also the river Drina made the village perfect for farming I guess. Not to mention the forests all around and the fresh air. Anyway as usual Dorota had her chance to practice her Serbian skills whereas I again began to play the role of a good listener. In fact throughout the trip I have seen very clearly that once you are eager to learn a language and listen carefully to the people, learning a new language is a very easy thing. If only I could spend a year or so in ex-Yugo countries!
The farmer was doing the final work of the day when we entered the garden of his house. His main business was but animal breeding; to be more specific: Goats and pigs. Well it also meant that the pig and goat shit is everywhere but for me it was not a problem; I haven't grown up that sterile. The man began to talk with us, or Dorota in a friendliest manner. Soon we were to learn that he was drunk but anyhow. What he kept on saying was the word "polaku": polaku, polaku, polaku. (With an intonation similar to Italians) Which means "slowly". It was a clear offer to spend the night at his place. He told us that we were like his children; we were sent from God,let God protect us etc. (As translated by Dorota, hey I remember the Serbian sentence, Bog vas cva!) Since I'm from Turkey he also said that he doesn't care about where people are from or to which religion they belong, God is one and is for all. Well if all believers would be like him the world would be a far better place now. Anyway it was the funniest talk of the trip due to his manners, we laughed a lot.
Meanwhile the family members began to appear one by one then like in movies. First the daughter who was to make coffee for us came. She knew just a little bit of English but like everyone else we could of course speak about Turkish TV series. I can't remember her name but only what she looks like: like a boy, in every manner. After some time she went to a town 5 km away in order to watch a football match! There was something strange about the family but in the funniest sense. They reminded me of families in Italian movies, where everyone shouts to the other; regardless of his/her position in the family. Drinking our coffees it was sure that we were to spend the night there so we took everything easy like the man said: "polaku".
The wife of the farmer came into the scene after we have finished our coffees. She gave her hand to us saying: "Woman", by which she meant that she is the woman of the family of course but it made us laugh as well. She seemed a little bit angry at first, since her husband was drunk yet again. Probably he has invited also people like us before and considering the poorness of the family it was clear that it's not something they can afford all the time. From her tough look one could understand who is the boss in the family. When you have a drunk husband you have to be tough but right?
The farmer asked about what we want to eat when the woman arrived. Do I eat pork? He asked it by imitating the snorting of a pig. Everything was so theatrical. I replied yes but what we finally ate was chicken and fried peppers from their field/garden. It was delicious and we were subjected to see how a hungry and drunk villager eatsa chicken in a rush. Dorota found it disgusting but for me it was just how it should be.
We went two times to the market of the town, first to buy beers and then to buy some packs of cigarettes for the woman, since she smoked a lot and as far as Dorota understood kindly asked for it, in a hidden way of course. When we came back and gave her cigarette packs she couldn't hide her happiness although she preserved her pride and politeness by first declining it saying that there was no need; but it didn't last long. It was touching to see how a few packs of cigarettes made her happy. When our drunk man went to sleep, she showed us a few family pictures in the house and told about their relation to a famous pop star proudly. As far as I can remember the driver of the popstar was a relative of them and that's how they could meet her as well.
As for sleeping we had two choices: Sleeping on a bed/couch in their house or to sleep in a hayloft! Well not everyday you can sleep in a hayloft so went for the second option. After enjoying briefly the clear sky full of stars and peeing outside somewhere it was time to sleep. The hayloft was 2/3 full with hay and it was in the middle of the goatbarn so in order to enter it you had to pass through the goats. If you are curious about sleeping on a hayloft however, I can tell that it's not the most comfortable place to sleep, although I managed to do it. Dorota had more difficulties than I with all those hays, so she went down to sleep on the hay-free ground next to the door whereas I stayed on the "upper floor". The continous movement of hays was another problem but finally we survived! It was definitely an experience, that's for sure.
I got up pretty early in the morning but the farmer woke up even earlier. He was feeding goats and pigs and then when a pick-up arrived began to fill the pick-up with pig- and goatshit, he was selling it I guess. He made a gesture to me like he has a hangover from yesterday, but he was definitely not as funny as the day before. Probably being sober and working made him a dull boy.
When Dorota woke up I took a few pictures of her in the hayloft and then we left our hosts in order to reach our canyon as soon as possible. After eating the thunafish and bread we bought from the market on a roadside and chatting with another villager, a car appeared on the road. A man and his son took us, they were totally looking like out of Texas; like rednecks who are also Ku-Klux-Klan members, carrying a rifle all the time. But the first impressions can be wrong and nothing happened of course. We had to make another change and this time two guys driving a van took us. (Was is it a van or a jeep?)
They were driving to a campside in the canyon where they also worked, perfect. The slim guy was a skipper for rafting on the river while the driver was working as a driver again for bringing the people interested in rafting to the starting spot. We passed through the Montenegrin border called Scepan Polje and after sth. like 10 min we were sitting in the cafe of the camping, talking with the skipper. We asked for what to do there and he said that there is not so much to do other than rafting, which was for 30 euros per person. All the cash we had with us was not even enough for one person so we thought that maybe it's a good idea to go to the national park Durmitor, advised by the skipper for hiking. He told us that he can bring us to Foca at noon from where we can hitchhike to Durmitor and we accepted it. So after drinking our teas we started to wait for him.
After some time the guy shouted us and told us to come to raft! Two seats in the boat were empty, how fitting! Well luck was on our side again, rafting for free! (Almost since we gave him the cash we had, other than the coins which summed up to a surprising total in the end and made us to eat pljeskavica at a restaurant) We changed our clothes, shoes etc. in order to wear the swimsuits and boots which were made for rafting :)
Soon our journey with the van began to the starting spot with all the other members of team: A local couple and three American guys traveling in Europe before going to Paris for a wedding. Soon we made friends with American guys, who were about my age. They were graduates but the "lightness" of Americans were felt also when you talked to them. It is an easy-going, straightforward way which Americans take in human relations; but sometimes it gets weird. Not to mention their ignorance of all the other parts of the world but definitely an interesting and different culture they have. Anyway after carrying our boat to the river with the American guys, our rafting experience began. Both for me and Dorota it was a first time so we were pretty excited. The route was not however. The river was mostly calm and even if it got a little exciting on some spots, they were also not like those you see on TVs etc. But for a first time it is perhaps better and at least we got wet a few times.
Rafting is a tiring thing to do, especially when you are in front of the boat and try to row all the time. We spent more than 3 hours on the river, while there were some breaks in a few spots. At one of them there was a small waterfall and together with Dorota we let the guys take a picture but other than that nothing to see in particular other than the beautiful river and canyon with trees. By the way as Dorota told me later on one of the guys asked Dorota whether she has worked as a hooker before since apparently her t-shirt was one for a slut according to him :) Well not the usual sentence to get closer with a girl but Americans have strange ways sometimes :)
When the rafting was finished we were hungry and a little bit tired. After dressing our clothes again, giving our skipper the money we had and exchanging some contact info with Americans we left to head to Albania! Why not to see a new country in the remaning days, especially being in the neighbouring land Montenegro. For which we had to cross Montenegro and it was already afternoon when we left the campside. Eating our pljeskavicas with the coins we began to hitch again. Luckily a car stopped soon, a Bosniak man and his aunt who brought us to Podgorica. The guy was in the tourism business speaking perfect English and German and his aunt who had cooked some bureks for the trip before was lovely as well.
The road from Scepan Polje to Podgorica is a nice one with some tunnels, mountains, rivers, bridges, dams etc. But it brings one to the ugliest city in all ex-Yugoslavia: Podgorica. When we got to Podgorica it was evening so we thought it would be a better idea to spend the night in Podgorica. Walking to the city center to look for a cheap hostel in vain, asking for internet cafe, buying sim card from a shopping mall were some of the activities we did. We also thought to spend the night outside, once giving up to look for a hostel and even sit on a bench where Dorota wanted to rest and sleep a while. It was only when I asked to the receptionist of a hotel the price of a room -and also whether he knows a cheaper option- we were saved from sleeping in a park, which seemed a little bit more dangerous than say in Serbia or Bosnia. He said he knows a woman who had recently started to rent rooms illegally so for somewhat higher than our usual price we rented her room for the night. Leaving our things in the room we went out to eat something which was again pizza in a cute little pizzeria nearby.
The next morning began also with eating pizza at the same place and drinking tea afterwards. When we asked in the cafe how we can make it to the road to Albania, a guy brought us to a good hitchin spot on the road. After taking several cars, one of which was perhaps the smallest ride we had ever done (barely more than a few kms, the son of the driver is a young footballer playing in the Turkish Football,or soccer, League by the way) we finally took the car of an Albanian man. The road from Montenegro to Albania might have been the worst road in Europe if Albanian roads didn't exist.
When we passed through the border of Albania we were already expecting to see a poor country but then from what we have seen in the coming days our expectations were not up to the level of poorness in the country. But that's the theme of a new post, for now we are in the Albanian border, in the car of an Albanian man who is doing some business btw. Montenegro and Albania.
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