BULGARIA April 26, 2013
THE RILLA MONESTERY CONTINUED...
The monastery is a big surprise. It is unusually
kept up. Still occupied by monks, it gets great care. Inside the big gate,
which we walk through, there is a large common square. We cross a small bridge
into it, over a fast flowing stream, and in front of us, across the big
courtyard is the church. The biggest surprise is that everything is beautifully
painted! Lovely wood buildings of the common area are boldly decorated in black
and white or red and white...stripes, squares, jaunty motifs. The church is
wall to wall paintings of Christian stories. More than I have experienced
before. And all are brightly visable which makes me think that the monks keep
up the painting and patching. A room can be rented here...along with meals and
a place to do some thinking and walking in nature. And to attend church if
Orthodox is to your liking. Or maybe to satisfy a curiosity of the worship of
others by staying in the sidelines and observing. David and I agree that this
monastery is well worth the visit, one to remember for certain.
As we drive back down the road more of the local
flavor wafts our way. Five white storks at the river, feet in the water. Women
shepherding, women with straw on their backs, women bent low in the fields. Old
ladies are in the majority. Old ladies have work to do here! Most eastern
European countries seem to have red earth, and we thought red earth belonged in
Prince Edward Island!
We find a small town park to camp beside and walk
a ways. People are fishing along the river. Frogs croak a very different song.
A night-time bird sings one note, sort of a 'bong'. As we prepare a meal in the
van, door open, an old woman with a white goat on a rope stops by. She is
coming home from working in her garden, pulling a cart with all her garden
tools. She is hunched over, bow legged, old world. Her smile shows just a few
teeth. She does not mind that we do not understand her language, she rattles on
happily, telling us something...and after awhile continues on her way. This is
the kind of interaction that we love. That night, very early morning really, a
puppy is crying and wandering, for hours. Hard to hear. Impossible to sleep. We
cannot take a puppy with us. I pray for a kind person to take her in.
April 27
Our gardener friend walks by with her goat again,
on her way back to the garden. Perhaps she is in the middle of planting, maybe
lettuce, for it is that time of spring here. She talks to us some more, we
smile and talk back and laugh. If we stayed she would be our friend and we
would help her when she needs it. But this garden keeps her fit and focused and
happy...along with her pal, the goat.
Today we are heading to Serbia through orchard
country, a flat valley always surrounded by hills or mountains. Old villages
like we know in Romania dot our road. We stop for lunch in a cherry orchard.
Picnic tables and chairs. Continuing on we catch glimpses of lucious backyard
gardens. Lots of red tulips scatter themselves up the hills. Families are out
in their garden plots planting and weeding, a garden to produce a years food
for their tables. A glimpse of a mountain creek through a lacey deciduous
forest. It is a sunny day. All looks idilic. The leaves of the woods have just
come out making the hills lumpy and fuzzy, the color of hot spring green.
Others are bare of leaves and their red grey bark shows through...and then
there is the darkness of the pines. There is always the thought that 'we could
stay here” but the next thought is...no roots here. Families are in our hearts
calling us home.
At the Bulgarian border we have a good talk with
an English speaker. He suggests a lunch stop at Wassima Lake. Then on to the
Serbian border. Their flag is red, blue and white, top to bottom. There seems a
ho hum attitude here. It is not a border that is much used, still climbing into
the mountains. As usual, they check our passports and car papers...but this
time they want to inspect the inside of the van. Never happened before...but
then, what else do they have to do? I think they are interested in the camper
aspects. I am still in the front seat and I do not turn around. I hear zippers,
I hear pill bottles. Everything falls out of the fully stuffed medicine
cabinet. A question for me...so I turn to see a baggy of red pills in the inspectors
hand. “What are these?”, he asks in Serbian. IBProfen I answer. Oh. Okay. End
of inspection. “Gentleman, come!”, he says to David. And they go off to the
office but David returns soon. All is well.
On the road in Serbia, we turn the music
up loud, Moody Blues, Knights in White Satin. It is open hill country. We are
hungry and stop for lunch. There are steep roads pushing upwards to a house
perched high above. They must use ski machines in the winter, even for cars it
is a climb. A woman appears in front of us. She must be waiting for a bus. She
must live up the hill? She is waiting for a bus but it is only to pass a
package off to the driver or a passenger. And she does live up that hill. She
starts off in her city clothes, or 'meet the bus' clothes, a skirt and sweater
and nice jacket. It takes her ¾ of an hour to get to the top of the hill, and
she does not take the road. She meanders through the fields at whim.
A great day to travel. Two long red roads wind
into the distance, into canyons and appearing again up hill, along a
river....like earth red ribbons. On our CD player a French singer is singing,
'Do You Wanna Dance'. Fluffy cherry trees softly spark the hillside green
growth. Through towns and villages we go. It is Saturday. Door steps are getting
a good sweep. Women watch their children play, from their kitchen doors.
Mothers and daughters coming from shopping, bags on wheels, bags hanging from
both arms. Chore day. Adults on bikes coming down dirt roads to market. Kids on
their way to Ti Chi lessons, fresh in their white garb. An old shepherd,
stooped and using two canes, guides his sheep along the lush green at the side
of the road.
We land in the center of a small town, Surdulica,
and watch the Saturday night action from our home. Definately there is a
Serbian facial look. Old cars race around, lots of Yugos. Young people gather.
The fast food joint is popular, food dispensed out a window. Older fellows
drink their beer and get louder as the evening progresses. Everyone is dressed
like the western world. They are not much interested in us...a good thing. When
11:00 comes, cafes and bars close down. We go to sleep...
Last night this place seemed like a western
cowboy town. This morning it is 'My Sweet Little Village'. Everyone dressed up,
all walking or bicycling in one direction. Especially the middle aged to older
women. I assumed it was church that inspired the change, but, it is market day!
I think this is the largest market yet! And everything 'under the sun' is
offered. Maybe it is sort of a traveling market and this town has it on
Sundays. We have only 60DIN, $3.00, to spend on a few produce bits; some
tomatoes, greens, zucchini and bananas.
On to Croatia. Slavonski Brod is our
overnight choice. We ask a motorcycle policeman if it is okay for us to park in
the street overnight. We ask how he likes working in this city. “It is a nice
place...a nice place to grow up in, to grow old in...just to spend your days
in...but I know everyone here and if one of my buddies does something wrong...well,
that can be difficult.” He says there is no problem parking but to use our
discretion. When we do, it is near a hotel. An employee tells us to follow him
and he will show us a good place. This is when we learn that, yes indeed, this
is a nice town beside a pleasant river. Trails go for miles along it, walking,
skating, bike riding... and ends up in a loop at a lake. Everyone is out this
evening taking advantage of good weather. Mosquitos are out too. This lake
front parking is our hotel employee's pick for us. We thank him immensely and
move on when he is out of sight. Too many mosquitos! We find a grocery
superstore parking lot.
THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:
> We are blessed with so many
rewards in life at our age. It is so much easier to go with the flow. We have
learned to let go when things don't turn out like we thought they might. We are
not climbing the ladder, nor are we falling from it. Life is a pleasure, and
even more so if your partner is marching alongside you. Laughter! Caring.
Appreciating. It is certainly my favorite time of life.
> The road markers...how do
they cut the grass around each one? Solved! A guy pulls them out for a
distance, mows, then puts the markers back. There must be a metal sleeve in the
earth.
> David remarks that the religions
of a country, the percentage of different religions, the percentages of folks
active in those religions, can tell so much about the sense of place.
April 29
Slovenia again. All seems right with the world as
we drive in this small country. And back to a most wonderful city...Llubljana.
We hope our friend Lijana is working in the library today. And she is. It is
fun to see the surprise on her face when she realizes that it is us standing in
front of her. She looks so pretty and so familiar! Before we know it we are
sitting at our old computers and a cup of tea is placed beside each of us. When
she is finished work we take a lovely walk to the river and over the bridge to
a quiet cozy restaurant, where David and I eat plates of meat and potatoes served
in the Slovenian way. Delicious. We walk back a different way in the dark and
Lijana shows us the Peace Trail that is almost complete around the whole city.
Also she points out the labyrinth of art, the way is marked by 150 evergreen
trees from Canada, Tsuga Canadensis. She points out some words, inviting
participants to walk the paths and 'come to yourself'. There is a tiny book
shelter. Bring books to leave, take books to read. It is late, we must get
Lijana home.
April 30
We will meet Lijana for lunch at her apartment
before she goes off to work so we have some time to do a few things. First we
go to the Architectural Museum, then to check out the Peace Trail and the
Labyrinth for ourselves. First we walk part of the trail which, to our
surprise, follows by an elaborate 'pea patch' garden. Gardens are just getting
started but the sheds and shacks in each patch look inviting enough to stay for
a few days. It is like looking at a concentrated patch of small summer cabins
in a riot of growth. Then we cross the road to the Labyrinth. As we walk
through the trees, which are now about 10 feet high, there are sayings in the
path. I took photos with my camera. Here are some...
Every new beginning comes from some other
beginning's end. Seneca
The only journey is the journey within. Rainier
Maria Rilke
The best things in life are not things. John
Ruskin
Gardens are not made by sitting in the shade.
Rudyard Kipling
There are no short cuts to get to anything
worthwhile. Beverly Sills
Lijana catches up to us on her bike. Her face is
rosy and happy. Two walking sticks are collapsed in her bike basket. She has
ridden her bicycle to the forested hills and walked her beloved trails. We
follow her home and it is not long before she sets a good meal in front of us. No
recipe, just work with what there is, and it is all healthy and tasty. At 1:30
we say goodbye as she is off to work. We will see her again. Llubljana is in
the perfect position, it seems always on our path. Our GPS is set for
Innsbruck.
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