I landed in Macedonia a few minutes before 2 PM. The sun was blazing, and although it was the end of August, the world felt like mid-summer. When I found out the price of a taxi ride from the airport, I politely refused. I didn’t hitchhike for a long time, but I decided to give it a try. Unfortunately, nobody stopped. After an hour, I gave up and took the taxi anyway.
The town looked a little exotic. Relaxed. I went into the first bakery I found, and bought a burek, and a cup of yoghurt to drink. My food of choice whenever I’m travelling the Balkans. I enjoyed my late lunch by the lake. For the first time after a while, I was travelling alone. Sitting in the shade of the trees, listening to the waves, I soaked in the scenery.
There’s not too much to be said about the hostel where I’d stayed. It was cheap. Located on the second floor of a bus station, it was right next to the local casino. A small café downstairs also belonged to the same owner, but it was full of locals drinking their macchiato, coke and booze. I also drank my fair share of malo makijato there.
I wasn’t there for the hostel though, nor for the café. I put down my backpack, and went into the town center. Although I had some quests prepared for this trip, I spent the first evening getting to know the place. I checked out the ancient Greek theatre and explored the old town. By accident, I found a small church up on a cliff above the lake. I had watercolors with me, and I spent the rest of the evening painting the sunset over the lake. I highly recommend this to anyone. It’s more fun than trying to see everything. Acutally, I spent every evening but one doing this. I finished the day with a hearty dish of cevapi with a side of fresh salad. The food in Northern Macedonia proved to be fresh and very tasty. It felt like straight out of the garden (at least in the case of vegetables).
I didn’t do much the next day. I had to work in the morning, and I moved between the hostel’s living room, and the small café downstairs, overdosing with caffeine. In the afternoon, I went to the old town, drank some Turkish tea and ate a lot of baclava. After painting the sunset, I went to the same restaurant for dinner. Unfortunately, I noticed a cockroach in the toilets, which ruined the meal for me. Guess I’m not as wild as I think I am…
Wednesday, the third day of my trip, I had scuba dives scheduled. The dive center was some 20 kilometers from Ohrid, and although Jovan, the divemaster, offered to take me in a car, I opted for an early morning bus, and some time spent alone. I wanted some adventure, exploration, peace and quiet.
What can I say about the bus ride? They don’t take timetables too seriously. That I experienced in Morocco before, but I didn’t expect it here. The bus was almost 20 minutes late, but it came in the end, which is good, I guess. Closest I could get to the dive center was a small village called Pechtani. It was still about 3 kilometers to go on foot, through the mountains, but that was exactly what I needed. I scored a pretty good golemo macchiato in Pechtani, which was a bit too expensive. I left the village southwards, tracing the lake shore. The road was narrow, but calm. There were very little cars at that hour. Most people were still sleeping, and there I was, walking among the hills, sipping on expensive, but tasty coffee. It was worth every minute. The views definitely were.
I arrived to the Bay of Bones early, almost an hour before the scheduled dive. Bay of Bones is an archeological site on the lake, where people used build their settlements from the Bronze age to the Roman era. Although I wasn’t there for the history, I walked around the place and visited the small musem, which was built directly on the lake. It was interesting, but I’m not sure if it is worth visiting on its own. You can see the whole place in at most two hours, and even then you’d be really taking your time. You can see the replication of the Bronze age village, but it’s not exactly the best exposition ever. Without a guide, you don’t really know what you’re looking at, and I don’t think they have any guides available for tours. You can also visit a site of an old Roman fortress, but there’s even less to see there, except for the views.
When I finally met with Jovan, he was with two other divers, who were also going under water. Jovan explained the dive plan, and we prepared our gear. I was fresh out of the course, and this was my first real dive. In theory, I knew what to do. My preparation on shore was flawless.
Unfortunately, the same can’t be said about the under-water part. I struggled with air management, and I ended up breathing through Jovan’s octopus towards the end of both dives. Jovan later explained some of the mistakes I made, and what to improve for the future. Unfortunately, I didn’t have an opportunity to dive since. Other than that, the visibility was perfect, and the temperature comfortable. I wouldn’t say that these were the most spectacular dives out there, even though I don’t have the experience with any others. There wasn’t much to see, definitely not fish. The whole area advertises itself as archeological. We saw some paraphernalia on the first dive (parts of old tools made of bone, broken pieces of pottery) and old fishing nets on the second dive.
After the dives, we went to St. Naum, where we had lunch, and visited the local monastery. As much as I enjoyed it all, I was ready to go back to the hostel. I spent the rest of the day laying in bed, I didn’t even go painting that evening.
The next morning, it was raining, so I gave up on my hiking plans. To be honest, I enjoyed making the decision to not rush. Traveling is also about this – you can’t have everything. And you shouldn’t come back home more tired than you left.
In the afternoon, I visited several little museums, among them one, which focused on the history of print. There was a copy of Gutenberg’s printing press there as well. It always amazes me how this one guy shifted the course of history so much. In the evening, I finally finished my painting, and I enjoyed one last dinner of cevapi.
My last day, I woke up early. I had a kayak rental scheduled, and since the weather was good, I spent my morning on the lake. The water was calm, and the sun formidable.
One last time, I tried to get a bowl of ribna čorba (a traditional fish soup), failing again. Every restaurant during the previous days told me that I cametoo late, as they only serve it in the mornings. When I finally came in the morning, they told me they didn’t have it that day. What can I do…
As my flight approached, I was growing restless. There wasn’t too much to do in the town anymore. I also had my backpack on me, and I kind of wanted to be at home already, with F. To pass my time, I went to a small Turkish café, where I drank at least three teas, and ate a lot of baclava. There was a young waiter, probably a son of the owner, and we talked together. I had my film camera on the table, and he was curious about it. He took it and examined it. I didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing with it, which turned out to be a mistake. I heard a familiar click, and the film chamber came undone. He exposed my precious photos from the trip to the sunlight, completely destroying them. My restlessness grew into rage and confusion. Why would he even do it? I snatched the camera from his hands and left the café.
I had enough. Enough of that day, enough of that town, enough of the blazing sun. Enough of traveling. I wanted to be home, fast. I took a taxi to the airport, although I still had more than three hours until the flight. I hoped going to the airport would make the wait shorter. It didn’t. The flight was delayed, and the airport was small and shitty. I could barely buy a bottle of water there. I waited, and waited, and waited. Just like the trip satarted with waiting for a car to take me to the town, it ended with waiting for a plane to take me home. When it finally came, almost two hours late, and we boarded, the passengers delayed the departure even further. I will never understand what’s so difficult about “small bag under the seat, big bag overhead.” I will never understand what’s so difficult about sitting in your allocated seat, especially when the plane is full. I will never understant what so difficult about moving away when somebody else sits in the place you arbitrarily chose. You should’ve paid the fucking 20 Euros if you wanted to be next to your wife so badly.
We finally landed in Vienna when the sun was setting. I wondered about how life would be if I was immortal. About how travelling like this would be, esentially, futile. Now that I’m writing this, I came to a conclusion: chasing the cheapest plane ticket, going to a place for few days is, esentially, futile. It’s fun and all, and I’m not saying I will never do it again. But it just doesn’t cut it. It’s like a temporary escape from a boiling pit, just to be returned there after a few days. You don’t have enough time to comprehend what happened, and you’re back in your everyday madness. And so your experiences, and anything worthwile, anything worth learning from, slowly gather dust. And then you push them even further back with yet another trip.