We woke late and lazed around over a cup of tea, not sure about the breakfast routine. Eventually Boro emerged and we were to look after ourselves. That was the case for all of our stay, since the menus there were all meat based and the cook planned and prepared ahead. It was no problem since we had supplies and there was a village shop two kilometres away. Claire and T ate their evening meals with us, with Claire as assistant cook and T a willing cleaner upper.
The routine of the days was a leisurely start in the sunshine, then the arrival of bus and car loads of visitors who had come to spend the day here, walking and having picnics, and usually frequenting the bar. Boro and his family addressed one tour group on the aims and achievements of the camp, and afterwards a lady came and asked us four couch surfers if we were artists. What a pity we were not, and if ever there was a place to inspire you, this was it. It is important to the survival of the project that people learn about it and support it by visiting and spreading knowledge of it to others. There is also a business aspect in the running of the bar and in letting out the bungalows to tourists. All in all, it has grown well beyond one man’s retreat from the rat race to follow his art, and Boro is pulled in many directions at once.
We could only speak with Boro, his son Alex and the other couch surfers due to a lack of common language, but the workers were friendly and basic communications worked out OK. We didn’t know how they had come to be there, but we knew that the barman, Jayko, was a very talented artist, since his paintings of women and buildings were on display. He was always busy with his bar work so it is hard to know when he painted, although in some seasons there would be less visitors.
Our first walk took us through along a track edged by wild flowers, so profuse that visitors regularly carried home great bunches of them. The forest loomed above us, often turning the path into a tunnel. Different birds called to a background of the sound of running water. A puddle was the venue for every part of a frog’s life cycle, as well as for a small lizard like creature that wiggled as it swam and came up every five minutes for a gulp of air.
We came to a Christian cemetery, one used since ancient times as shown by the crosses deep in the soil, with some practically buried. The headstones were of a type we had not seen before, of granite with a photo of the deceased somehow engraved into it. There were slightly more deaths for the war years, although still small numbers and some were of elderly people. It was quite different to the enormous cemetery in
Following paths and winding up in fields of flowers, or stepping over a fast running stream to an abandoned orchard – it was a walk of exploration and wonder. After lunch we joined Alex, another worker, Claire and T to do some site works and tidying up around a barbecue area. It was a fairly small job for so many people but we had fun working together and the result was very satisfying. I was inspired to add to Keith’s return home list of jobs, with some nice little rustic areas to be built in our garden, but realised that the charm came from the lush and verdant forest backdrop and that a similar effect would be hard to achieve in a drought ridden flat back yard.
The day lazed away with chatting and relaxing, and with the preparation of the most tasty risotto ever. Suddenly it was
Our host, 'Boro'
Our hut with the squirrels in the woodsBelow: more views of the Zelenkovac site and the surrounding forest
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