A short three days in Sarajevo . . . We walked with Amir, Inela and Mak along the Bosna river on the old caravan road between Istanbul and Sarajevo and then had coffee back in their flat . . . VIsited Almir and his sister and mother at their apartment in another part of town . . .Enjoyed rock, sevdah, and homemade music and food with Almir and Dragana . . . walked and walked and walked . . . Road the train homewards through deep Bosnia valleys and Hercegovina rock . . .
After a week or so of hiking, playing rummy, going where no man has gone in 2000 years, we are off for a few days to Sarajevo. Guest House Rose.
Julia holds on tight as we bounce and swerve up heavily eroded roads to the Shrine of the Black Madonna. When we arrive, the Lady is gone, replaced by a dour Josip. Our car, Bella Bakica, (Beautiful Granny .), complains with disappointment as we slide down the road towards home.
After the harsh, dry summer, the Beauties of the Night bloom once again along my walk, outside my gate, in my garden. Walking home in the evening, I am ravished by the scent of orange blossoms from a neighbors tree. Drinking coffee on my patio in the morning, the scent floats in through my gate, over the stone wall. I close my eyes and am transported.
JUlia and I drove our old car to Murivica yesterday to start the grape harvest. A very, very hot year with no rain for months, so there were more raisins than grapes. STill between the picking at Ivo's vinyard and buying from his neighbor, we got enough for hundreds of liters of fine red wine. THis year it was a family event, with Llijana and Julia, Pavle, Ivo and me . . . Hot sun . . . Polako, as they say in Dalmatia, (slowly), then a cool swim in the Adriatic, a brief snooze by the vines looking out to Hvar, and a grilled steak dinner (special grilled veggies for Julia). A slow drive home across the island through the night with four liters of wine in the trunk and a bucket of white grapes for eating. NExt week I will return to help press the grapes.
Just a photo of Julia at her internet station, under the bougainvillae and in front of the fig tree.
Julia and I walked to Osibova for an equinox swim. Hang on, it's that time of year and here we go again!
EArly this week, before Julia arrived, I spent a couple of days in Solin, above Split, with Slavko and Nada. THey have been working hard on their new house, but took a break when I showed up. SLavko and I visited the cave Vranjaca. THat was an pretty profound experience. VAst caverns filled with curtains, spears, veils, Hindu carvings, lovely women of stone. WE also visited the Catheral of St. JAcob in Sibenik. BUilt in 1400's by George the Dalmatian, master mason. THere was a lot to marvel at there but I was struck by the status of Mary from the 1400's standing upon a great horned crescent of Isis/Ishtar/Artemis.THen before I left for the ferry, Slavko and I discovered and explored a Benedictine complex from 850 a.d. which was located just below his house. WE discovered hat it had been built on a earlier Roman villa of the 1st or 2nd century. THere were several sarcophagi about, including a lovely carved one for a Lady Cornelia --'from Cornel the Illyrian, loving daughter, affectionate mother'. (I have been working to translare the inscription.) THe carving of the pagan Eros was especially nice, signifying eternal life through love. (UNfortunately, I forgot my camera.)
She arrived in the night while the wind moaned and the boats rocked in agitation, the rain and the temperature both plummeted! Welcome!
Looking sporty in her faux leopard? cap. She loves plants and works all day at home and in her little field behind our house to keep them watered and healthy. Her jasmine smells divine.
WAlking on thehill behind our house last night, I found a stand of particularly ripe, plump, succulent prickly pear. RIch purple juice gushed when I picked a tuna. SO this morning I am back up there, gonna make some juice for punch, prickly pear lemonade, jelly? I have developed my own secret method for picking the fruit after suffering two years ago . . .-
"Looks like that thunderbolt of yours made a lot of damage in the neighborhood! TVs and appliances died....."
"Some say it bounced from church tower to satellite dish and made a mess in the area....."
BRac wa a vicious place during Worldwar II. THe Nazi's were firmly established atop Vidova Gora (the highest mountain in the Croatian Adriatic) and from there they terrorized the island. THat the Partisans under Tito, who was headquartered only two islands away, were active here in Milnais evidenced by the memorial next to the old school and near the present day kindergrten. THe are similar memorials about the island. THe greatest evidence is to be found in the many village graveyards around the island with so many headstones bearing the faces of young men and young women who died in the early 1940's. I sent a photo of the Milna memorial to Charles who noted that one family had 9 names on the stone. THat was the Bonacic family. IN fact, the woman who owned our home here before us -- Luca Bonacic -- was a hero from WWII. THere is a story of howthe Nazi's were rounding up village men and boys when she intervened, telling the Germans, "Stop. YOu don't have to do this." Even when a bayonet was pressed to her neck and she was told to shut up, she appealed to their humanity. THat day the Germans walked away without incident.JUst before the close of the war, Brac played a part in the attempt to deceive the Germans into thinking that the D-Day invasion was to be from the south, through the soft underbelly of Europe, as they said. AS a part of the orchestrated movement of ships and men around the area, in Operation Flounce, the British invaded Brac to retake it from the Germans. I believe they parachuted onto the island, and that in the subsequent fighting a son of Winston Churchill was killed on Vidova Gora. (I could be wrong, but someone else can check the facts!)THere are known caves where the Partisans hid weapons in the area. MY neighbor displays an old trenching tool with German labelling that he said was taken from a German soldier.WHen digging up my yard to put in our sewer line when we first purchased our house, the diggers found an old canteen from WWII, which I have on display in my artifacts nook.
MAdness rides the wings of the Yugos -- those hot, dry winds from Africa -- as they wheel and whistle through the ship's masts and croon crazily careening down narrow stone streets. THey came at dusk.
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AT 6 a.m. it was still 80 degrees. I put together my pack, pick up some water and apples at the village store, and climb out of town up the steep and rocky old path to Bobovisca. I do a loop on the old roads, from Milna to Bobovisca na Moru, then up to Bobovisca proper, then over the hill and back down to Milna.
THe dry hot summer had burnished everything. THere was still the green of the pine and gray green of the olive leaves, the sky and sea were blue, but everywhere else was bleached yellow, or burnished brass, mahoghany, rich oiled leather, gleaming chocolate. THe stones in the walls lining the path grew bluer as the day heated.
THat evening brought the storm. SHarp, cracking thunder directly over head, great sheet lightning, and heavy rain.
I sit with my doors open, facing the weather, watching the rain bounce off my patio, and continue reading The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf.
BElow me on a neighbors roof there is a sudden explosion and a cloud of angry sparks. SOmething has popped.
I had to evict 3 obstreperous squatters but I was finally able to claim the backroom studio as my own.
It is the worst drought in Croatia in 50 years. SOme areas have not had rainfall in 15 - 18 months.
MY poor little smokva -- fig tree. Half of its leaves are yellow and dying or dead. INstead of a plump, juicy yellow-green, its fruit are small and a thick-skinned black from the sun. I am watering it daily.
On the other hand, the small prickly pear cactus that someone has planted in my garden seems to be doing just fine.
I have found a couple of free wi-fi sites. Unfortunately, the one with the best connection and fewest problems is located in Models --one of the open air bars with the worst and loudest music imaginable. I will keep working on the connection down by the toursit office as a preferable alternative.
