Marketing
Ochevia 2013 - Part One
If you don't want to read, skip the text and see the images here.
How does life expectancy of one desire look like!
I mean the desire like"would-it-be-good-to-ride-that-route"
First, crumb appears, beginning in the form of one view on a map or some place's name which has an admixture of exotic. Or someone's story, or part of the story, that sneaks in me, very often insensibly for me, so it hides into a deep, isolated place of my consciousness. Then, who knows what is reason and motive for that, it moved mildly, gently and often completely unnoticed, into the conscious part of me. And finally, I would surprise myself with attention and concentration I add, subtract, share, and multiply the possible alternatives, the paths, the places by the way which must be seen, and the places by the way which must not be seen...
In connection with this Očevija (I suppose it is pronounced like Ochevia), as long as I lived in the blissful ignorance of its existence, I first heard the story of the road across the Zvijezda mountain (Zvijezda = Star) in Bosnia and Herzegovina between Vareš town and Olovo town by a man who was driving on it by a his car. The story had been told to me very fast, rapidly, typical in those cases when a man can hardly wait to share emotional crowding within the soul, which is the result of exotic road experience, but there is no opportunity, and time to share it with someone. My interlocutor decorated the end of the story by the comment that its road is "the right-road-for-me" as he knows my bicycle mania.
Neither the first nor the last comment that this is "real-road-for-me", so I forgot about that story as soon as our conversation was ended. At least that was what I was thinking at that moment.
After a while, for the first time, I heard a story about the Očevija place. About a place that is high in the forests of the Zvijezda mountain, and which is originally by that it has blacksmith workshop powered by water. And it is on the Vareš - Olovo road. Now I catch myself as I look at the map and connect these two stories in one dream which I dream of ever more and more often ("Dreaming is free" as once sang by the Blondie group).
(It reminded me of unresolved dilemma whether it is better to talk about the
heaviness of the economic and political situation, ominous and dark consequences of it, or, perhaps, is better to talk about the beautiful, even if it is beautifully unproductive and unreasonable, and at first glance is unrealistic - I try, I strive, I fight to choose the latter, but I see myself that I'm becoming lonelier and lonelier in it).
With the dreams it's talked about this story - it is a bit uncomfortable. It's nice to dream of them, they are raising the elan and the notion of the meaning of living, bring the brightness and the smile on a face. They do so because there is constant faith in their realization. But when the time for their realization comes, then they become a problem. A big problem!
"In my youth, no problem was unsolvable, and now the straight road is an insurmountable obstacle!"
This quote from the writer Meša Selimović is getting more and more frequent in my head as the number of my (middle and post middle ) years increases. As that number of the years increases, those dreams I talk about, are not pretty. They are unkind and unacceptable for those years. There is a conscious part in me, let's call him Bicyclix, who has, until now, dreamt that dream with its eyes open. Someone else, besides Bicyclix, woke up and appeared and demanded the right to speak.
One of them is Ageix, which considers his life's role as constantly pointing on the number of my years which I bear on my shoulders. He is extremely nervous and angry that I do not understand him, pointing to the fact that I am already 54. That is why I should, with the last piece of the reason (which he hopes that I still have it) stop the nonsenses and start to live the last ages of life, modestly and peacefully.
That I should calm down confirms Patheticix also. Not only because of the age, but because of the role of the Father of the family and the role of the Husband, not to let it all abandoned and neglected, and as a stubborn young man in the late years, hunt down missed moments from passed youth.
Economix agrees with this absolutely, pointing it to the meaningless spending of the money for bike riding. Money that is still missing for everyday necessity, I should stop spending for such an unreasonable dissipation of the money like is bicycling.
Meteorologix requests the opportunity to say something that also points out his concern equally importantly regarding the influence of possible bad weather on me. I'm no longer young (thanks to Ageix for pointing that out) so the excessive heat, sun, and effort in it, as well as the possible wind, and rain can fatally affect on my health condition.
There are many more of these subtenants of mine which I carry in myself, but I will not mention them anymore. I hope that these are enough for you to understand my confusion which starts to hold me in the moment of actualizing my dream that slowly transforms into the nightmare. Although initially cheerful, joyful and convinced in his self-confidence, Bicyclix gradually loses his cheerfulness and joyfulness. His self-confidence melts like snow in the summer sun, and gradually he sees the senselessness and impropriety of his dream. In the end, fully beaten down by the arguments and "arguments" of those others, he finally and definitely realizes that he, and only he, is the cause of all the world's evils and disasters.
That is why I quote Selimović writer, because if I were (at least) twice younger, according to that "Youthness - no brain, no pain" I would sit on the bike nicely and get on the road.
But like this....
Because of these my subtenants and their persistent, constant and infinite debates, my soul is broken into parts which are smaller than the tiniest powder. The last, the smallest part of my dignity, frightened by the evil anticipation of quiet inaction in expectation of old age, wakes up with unexpected and sudden determination and dare to say, "Here we go!" Although with the feeling "I am alone in the world" because I did not convince anyone to share that craziness with me which biking calls.
On the first day, I was planning to arrive just to Slavonski Brod town (about 50 kilometers), and after I slept at my father in law, on the next day I would actually go on a journey to Tuzla town. That's why I started the ride in the afternoon on a hot summer day. That heat that the meteorologists also predict the following days, seems to be acceptable because I was more afraid of rain and cold wind than warm weather.
Warm weather yes, but not hot!
Although I was driving at a low pace, keeping in mind that I was riding with a loaded bicycle, the heat was on the edge of the bearable. Already after the 6th kilometer, I had to stop on the watering place. It was in the form of my thermos bottle. Half a liter of juice from the thermos bottle has disappeared for a moment. I was in a dilemma, was it harder to ride through the glowing air or when I stopped and there was no breath of wind, so all the air that I vaporized and heated was staying around me.
Somewhere behind 6 PM, the shadows became longer and longer, so the heat gradually dropped, making the ride more bearable. With a bit of confusion and moments of anxiety, I started thinking about tomorrow and the other days. I will need to get up very early and ride while the heat does not reach the hellish shapes. Afternoon, when the heat becomes unbearable, I will get in in some shade, and if it is possible, besides some water. After that, two or three o'clock before the night I'll wildly ride to get these about hundreds of kilometers, planned for that day.
It does not promise some enjoyment!
Occupied by these black thoughts I hardly noticed the beauty of the dusk. Although I travel through this route countless times a year, this part between the Krajačić village and the Gornji Andrijevci village always touches my soul. Next to the road on the left side is a forest, and on the right side is a belt of the field is 100 meters wide and behind it the forest again. Through such a landscape the road curves more than a kilometer. And all this is spiced with peace, silence and extremely rare traffic.
That night I was spinning in bed in a dilemma what to do the next day - whether I continue the journey or return home. Those subtenants in me become louder and louder, which is why I have to change my mind constantly in the decision I go-I give up, I go-I give up....Weather report from last night said that temperature next days will be 39 - 40 degrees. I do not know at what time of the night, but I knew that I finally made the decision - I give up. So the next day I returned to my Požega town.
This happened (or should have happened, but it wasn't) last year, in summer 2012.
I apologize to the reader for unnecessary confusion. This journey, after all, happened at next summer (the year 2013), and the story of it follows below.
Unlike last year, I managed to find companion this year. That was my brother provided that we have a maximum of 4 days for the journey.
Everything else, those doubts with my subtenants, are the same as last year.
THE FIRST DAY OF THE JOURNEY
You can see the map of the first day of the journey here.
Finally, on one summer morning on a Wednesday, I started the journey after I greeted with my father-in-law and mother-in-law.
Since we had a little time for this journey, the first day we went everyone on their way and at the end of the day, we joined to each other. While I was driving that morning, my brother was still in the job. That's why I'm riding to the Županja town without a companion. During that time, the brother will take the train from Zagreb town to Vinkovci town, and then continue to Županja town by bicycle. Then we continue together toward the south along the infinite Slavonian plains.
On the way out of Slavonski Brod town on the road toward the east by the local but asphalted road, I made the first short break. Here I take a snapshot toward stork's nest where there were three young storks. That they were young, I could see this by looking at the beaks, which were black, not red.
During this story, the meteorological conditions were: "mostly sunny and pleasantly warm, but a small amount of cold and unstable air is circling at a higher layer of the atmosphere ". It practically means that when it warms it is really warms, but because of increased moisture it feels that warms more, much more. At the same time, there is always the possibility that suddenly dark clouds will appear with abundant heavy rain. Luckily it lasts briefly. One of those heavy rains poured here last night, so today's morning was surprised me by the fog. A somewhat weird ambiance for mid-summer, but not quite impossible in Posavina, (part of Slavonia, along the Sava River). I do not like to ride by fog. True, if I have to choose, I prefer to fog than in the rain, but I still don't like to ride by fog.
First of all, I do not see much, so my eyes stare in something gray and blurry in the hope of seeing something or someone. Also, I do not see much around myself, so I can hardly realize the road. At the place panel, that suddenly emerge from blurriness and which, after my passing through that place, appear in front of me again, they give me a clumsy, fictitious idea of the about the road I ride. Secondly, there is a problem of heavy breathing due to excessive moisture (as if I am in the bathroom after a shower), and this difficult breathing provokes greater drive effort, which ultimately results in more sweating. Fortunately, the fog had not lasted long (it's the middle of summer), and the sun, the truth gradually, appeared behind foggy clouds. That sunlight shone with the full shine when I left the last house of Slavonski Brod town. After that, I entered in the vast plain of Posavina.
The villages alternated with forests and fields. One of these villages is also the Oprisavci village known as the village with the most cows in the Slavonski Brod region. In that village, I photographed an old house, typical of Slavonia. The forehead of the house is facing the road with the window of the "main room" while along the courtyard is enclosed by a porch over the length of the entire house. From that porch is entering to the other rooms.
Opisavci village is a long village, but the Sikirevci village is even longer. The monotony of the uninterrupted length of the village was reduced by the side road through the village, which goes parallel to the main. A huge about of space in the village was interesting for me. The rows of houses from the left and the right side were so far apart that there was room for the trees, meadows, creek and the other road. So, while in cities every square meter is invaluable and multipurpose here they do not know what to do with them.
It is long since noon, so the fogginess and cool freshness of the morning, has replaced by the heat, with high humidity, that delays any determination to increase the speed of riding. On the contrary! That's why, when I saw the big, fresh shade of a shopping mall in Slavonski Šamac town, which today's sun did not touch yet, I turned without any doubt and parked a bicycle. From the store, I came out with a dewy two-liter beer bottle. Three-quarters of the bottles I moved to my thermos bottles, already empty for a long time, and with the remaining half a liter I drank gradually and slowly, sip by the sip, enjoying in the luxurious shade.
I came to Županja town after passing through Babina Greda village and Štitar village. Typical Slavonian villages near the Sava, which I passed almost insensibly because my attention was drawn to the heat of the day. My wife by SMS message told me that in Požega (about 100 km from here) is heavy rain.
When I came to Županja I stopped into the shade to rest. Looking back at the west I saw the gloomy, dark clouds. What will they do? Will they go by my way, straight to the east to showered me, or will it turn somewhere and leave me dry?
I stayed dry. This time.
Just a fresh and short a breeze which shows that something somewhere was happening. For the thirsty inhabitants of Županja town better luck next time (it will be it today, don't worry).
It's only 2 PM, and my brother will not arrive in Županja town before 6 PM. So, I have a lot of time.
First I looked for a park with a bench in the shade to have lunch. After lunch, I have been sleepy and I got a lied down on the bench and with my hand on the bike I slept for a minute or two (ah, what a sweet delight!).
After lunch and sleep, I took a break which I was trying to extend it till the unbearable because I had a lot of time. When I was tired of the break, I forced myself to get the city tour. Although I rode (only) 70 km away, I felt tired. Is it because of the heat mixed with excessive moisture, or because of 30 kg of extra weight in the saddlebags (it's too late to admit that I was overdone with this burden). My hands, my face, and legs were well darkened (the sun was doing his job well), so I felt extra heat in them. It seems to me paradoxically after that somber, cold and foggy morning. To make the irony bigger, I put somewhere in the saddlebags the protective cream, but I forgot on it during the ride. It's late now!
In my young days (1985), I rode through Županja town by bike and the only thing that I remember was the city hall building. Now while I look at it, it looks me more beautiful than the other one in my memory.
By driving a bike slowly, just a little faster than a pedestrian, I ride through big and small streets in Županja city.Županja town is a small town so as soon as I left the center of town I entered into streets with family houses to the left and to the right side. Just when I thought that Županja town is just a bigger village, I came to the bank of Sava river. And there a beautifully decorated, paved walking trail, even with flowers. Right next to the promenade is the old museum building. It is an old but nicely decorated house with a landscaped environment where large, old wooden sleigh which has been pulled by horses with sleigh bells, in some other, romantic times. On my surprise from my memories came out to me the scene when I was riding by this vehicle as a little boy through a white canyon of snow. I do not know if there was so much snow at this time, or that is why my height was more than twice as low as now.
When I was tired of riding through the town, and I was tired more because the town wasn't interesting so much for me nor I rode so many kilometers, I returned to that park known for lunch. The sky gradually darkened, the thunder began as a sign that somewhere near the town is raining, so I sought shelter from the possible rains. And I found it in front of a closed shop. In front of it was the plateau covered with a balcony, and across the building was a bench. Between the shop and the bench is the road leading from the north to the town. My brother should come by this road.
The rain came before my brother, but somehow modesty, barely. That's why more than water on the thirsty ground, the rain brought freshness in the air.
When the sun appeared I came back to the bench and waited.
It was almost 7 PM when I finally saw my brother as he comes. We were talking a bit, after that we bought supplies, and finally, we went off later than I hoped. That's the problem or the "problem" of driving in society. Especially if the participants have not seen each other for a long time, as is the case with the two of us. So a word about this, word about that, and time is running fast. That's why we delayed the continuation of the conversation for some other opportunity, so we left Županja town, everyone with their own thoughts.
I do not know what kind of thoughts my brother had, but I had two, basic ones, shifting one to another.
The first one was about the impression of riding.
The sun shone with longer and longer shadows. The heat, so unbearable today, has disappeared, which is because of the appearance of the dusk, and because of that little rain. Because of all this, the ride has become a pleasant, almost ideal.
Enjoying this idealism was obstructed by another thought.
Obviously, we will not reach Gunja village, our goal for today. Still, we still hoped, so we tried to achieve a theoretical possibility at an intense pace.
It was already well after 8 PM when we entered in the Posavski Podgajci village, village, 9 km before Gunja village. We abandoned our theoretical goal (the Gunja village) and decided to find a place for sleeping in this village. I would like to pitch the tent and cooked the soup, all of it slowly, by resting both the body and the spirit, all of it by daylight.
Now a light ride is following, watching the houses and its the yard in the village, all looking for a nice lawn that is suitable for pitch the tent. I saw one on the other side of the road. Next to the house with the pink facade was the host who collected the mowed grass (the meadow, freshly mowed - an unexpected addition!)
We stopped, parked bicycles, and I, as the empowered delegate, started negotiating.
- Good evening! - ( I )
- Good evening? - (the host)
- My brother and me traveling there and there, can we pitch the tent on the meadow and stay overnight?
- !? (in the first moment and then immediately) so ... yes, yes you can, why not!
With relieved by 100 kg stone called "Where to spend the night?" , my brother and I are parking a bicycle. Slowly, lightly, with camping enjoyment, we consider where and how to place a tent to make our dream comfortable. Completely devoted to this enjoyment, I noticed the host's wife just when it was a step from us (where did she come from, I have no idea).
- Good evening! (the host's wife)
- Good evening!? (we, confused)
- We live in Županja town, and in our house, for seven years no one lives. Here's the key from home so you can sleep in there, and the key gives to the neighbor the next morning because we are now returning to the town.
- !!!!!! (in the first moment and then) Well, thank you, thank you, every honor at hospitality!
- You have a small hot plate in the house if you need that.
- Thank you, thank you (we, while we are melting from gratefulness)
Totally confused by the unexpectedly developed situation, we did not calm down by (pleasant) shock, but already we have been left alone with the house. Our hospitable hosts have sat in their car and have already gone to Županja town.
Slowly calming down the thoughts from the recent conversation we began to realize where we are. We started to enjoy the peace, quiet, and tranquility of the summer dusk in Posavina.
Unfortunately, this enjoyment did not last long. Only a second, too.
Around us, there was an appearing cloud of threatening danger - mosquitoes. So many mosquitoes per cubic centimeter I have never experienced before. Total alien invasion on a helpless human race. We found the salvation in the house we went in with the bikes and close the door.
I do not know if this was a clever solution because it was hot and stifling in the house, because of the heated walls and closed windows, with some scent of the ground.
Get back to the mosquitoes or not!
The answer to that rhetorical question we gave a couple of moments later when we came out to washed on the water pump in front of the house.
Like the house, the water pump was not in use for at least 7 years. That's why it was necessary to pump it fast and heavily so that only a few cups of water would come out of the pump. There, we have learned now how little water a man can wash.
But if the water was just a little, the mosquitoes were abundant. And worse, they did not mind for water on our body, they just flew on us like we were dry.
After the "abundant" showering in the idyllic mosquito society, we entered into the house (yet it was a bit better inside than outside) and started to prepare dinner. On such a journey warm soup in the evening, before bedtime is something the best. The mushroom soup, if it can.
In the kitchen, there were plenty of dishes, which we did not need because we had ours. But what we could use is a small hot plate for cooking. I was just curious how it would look like cooking on it, although I had a gas stove in the saddlebags.
The mushroom soup, for the ignorant, mixes in the COLD water and then warms up, and when it boiling, it needs to constantly stir on light fire, with care not to seethe. There is a flame regulation on my gas stove, but on this hot plate, there is no regulation. A typical example of bistable - either works or does not work. There is not anything between
So, when the soup was starting to boil, one of my hands (with a spoon) had the role of a mixer, while the other by alternating pulling by plugging the plug into the socket, had the role of the heater regulator.
Whether because of the special cooking, or for about 99 km which I rode today, or because of the unexpected, special ambiance, or, most probably because of all the above, the soup was very, very, very good! I do not know what royal dinner should be like, that it reaches this sort of appetite as we had with this soup.
While we ate soup, my attention was drawn to something that was on the floor and what returned me (again) to early, early childhood.
At that time, it was an era contrary to today's consumer abundance. Little was bought, at least in my family, most was made at home. Likewise, little was thrown (perhaps because they had little) but sought to find some sort of other purposes instead of the original purpose. Old clothes that can no longer be used, old textiles for any, former purpose, my mother tore in strips of width centimeters, and then coiled them to the ball. When she was working it, around her there were a lot of coiled balls, various colors, and designs. When she estimated that it was enough, she put them in a large canvas bag and "over 7 hills and 7 villages" took it (by foot) to the eighth village in a woman who had something like a weaving machine. I think I had a single-digit number of my age when she took me with her along that path. I had a chance to see that machine, which then seemed to me like it is from the other planet. I immediately started to look it, amazed at his looks, and especially the sounds and movements of a variety of levers as it worked (the first sign of a future engineer in me). On that machine from those coiled balls, a woman worker created some kind of sheet. The role of that sheet was the substitute for the carpet. In that case, the floor is covered by that sheet, so it is warmer to walk on it. The design of the sheet, which was made by the woman worker, based on the coiled balls that I and my mom have brought. Basically, it was a cheerful game of colors.
We put our sleeping bags in the room, although it was some furniture here. It did not give us the impression of security, so we did not dare to touch it. We had more confidence in our "bed", well known, and we did not indulge in additional uncertain adventures. Below the sleeping bags of our "bed" was the sleeping pad and the inflatable mattress. To my regret, I just discovered that my mattress was faulty. Some of the inner woven seams have broken so lower part of my body was lying on a substantial downhill. Yet I fell asleep, though a bit harder.
Before I fell asleep, I had a few moments, to sum up, today's impressions.
Though during the whole of today was a flat road, without uphills, though not an excessive kilometers, I felt tired and exhausted above expectations. Why?
Is it because of the heat with great moisture?
Is it because of the cold fog?
Or because of the excess luggage (when I got back home, I was stunned by weighing 30 kg).
Instead of answering, I was reminded of the fact that tomorrow would be uphills, and tomorrow after tomorrow much more uphills!
And I fell asleep!
THE SECOND DAY OF THE JOURNEY
You can see the map of the second day of the journey here.
There is nothing nicer than the morning of a warm summer day!
So in the morning we woke up, already behind the 6 AM, prepared and drove out bicycles from the house, all in some intention that we did not spoil that morning tranquillity. While we did so, the neighbor came for the key, with whom we spoke a few words.
We rested and extra refreshed that morning, so we rode easily by this 10 km through plains till the Gunja village.
Unlike the village where we stayed overnight, this seemed more urbanized - more like a smaller town than a village, albeit not large. Perhaps the reason for this is the nearness of the Sava river, actually the border on it, and across the river Brčko town, or it just seemed to me, I do not know. I only know that I have noticed a lot of people and cars that gave the impression that this is a bigger place, either a village or a town.
Just a couple of hundred yards before the border, the brother said that he can not ride any longer without the morning coffee, so we chose the coffee bar in the shade and came to that morning's rite.
And we stayed for at least an hour.
The advantage of traveling in society is, besides the interestingness of the journey itself, and the interestingness of the conversation with the companion. I have best talking with someone by riding a bike with him (or her). But it also has its price, and these are kilometers that are quite smaller than expected, and a sense of rapid transience of time (that many hours?!). All of this does not have to be a problem if there is enough time or a smaller number of kilometers are planned. But this time, we want the opposite - we do not have much time, but we have a lot of kilometers.
We'll see if we can succeed.
It's always a pleasure to cross the state border with bikes. Here we enter the Bosnia and Herzegovina, via the Sava River, from Croatia.
Quietly, watchfully and gently, we bypass a series of vehicles, get to the policeman at the border, show to him the documents, greet him with a mild smile and ride to another planet. This time we have done it by quite a narrow but quite a long bridge over the Save river.
I admit that my surprise, mixed with confusion, was large when I realized that, after passing the customs on the Bosnian border, only a meter or two, we enter straight to the center of the Brčko town. It is a bit strange choice of bridge location, even at the time it was built, and it was built at a time when both banks of The Sava river were in one state. And now it is necessary to put even the customs objects, staff and formality in this unluckily selected location. The consequence of all this is the traffic crowd and chaos of slow vehicles at the intersection right next to the border crossing.
Not far from our entrance to the city, we found a park in a pedestrian zone with a bench in shade and immediately occupied it. We leaned our bikes to the nearby tree so that they too stayed in the shade. As it was half-past eleven (that many hours?!), it was time for breakfast, so I first found the bank and changed the money, and then I bought food and drinks in the nearby store.
During that time my brother from shade watched the city and its people.
After breakfast, an alternative tour of the town has been followed. While one of us rested in the shade, the other made a tour by recording by a camera what was been interesting.
The first thing which must be seen by passing through this town is the City Hall. It was built in the 1892 year in the pseudo-Moorish style after Bosnia thanked the Turks and united with Austria-Hungary (In fact, the great powers allowed Austro-Hungary to annex it in the1878, without asking Bosnia and Herzegovina for an opinion about it). The architect allegedly found inspiration in Afghanistan (!). This style has been accepted by new bosses all over Bosnia, so a town hall in Sarajevo has been built similarly, which, despite the wars, the world's second war and the last one in Bosnia, managed to survive. Unfortunately, that luck did not have the railway station building in Bosanski Brod town, from whose luxurious appearance remained just only a small part.
Considering that the Bosanski Brod town is the town of my childhood and my youth, here is the display of the railway station for the last hundred years. The station building was built in 1896.
(downloaded from www.delcampe.net)
With these pictures, I have gone a little outside the topic. So let's come back on it!
The already mentioned crowd of people in the city was characteristic of Bosnia these days. So, one by one you can see the women's person conservatively wrapped from head to toe, as well as dressed in a minimal amount of cloth like anywhere in the west.
Although almost 20 years after the war, its traces are still present in Bosnia and as well as in this town. I saw this through the old part of the city, which, with its neglect after the war, looked even older. Special, some ancient city charm was made by the improvised marketplace, located between decrepit buildings. As if I was moved for about fifty years back to somewhere in a small town, far out of time and mainstreams, where most of the life passes, leaving this non-pathetic environment has been drowned in its isolation.
The whiff, the hint of some change is located across the street of the improvised market in the shape of a steel bridge, typical Austro-Hungarian handicrafts. Only later after my being in this town, by writing these rows, a granule of curiosity prompted me to find out the name of the creek that the mentioned bridge was bridging. And I to find out that this creek called - Brka by which the Brčko town was named.
But do not think that the whole city like this improvised marketplace! No, it is not!
You've already seen the pedestrian zone and the city hall.
For following the spirit of today's time and thinking of the (light, pink) future, there is something in the form of a university building. By its name, it is showing respect to the ethnic groups living in the city and its surroundings (Univerzitet = University on Serb or Muslim, Sveučilište = University on Croatian)
It was a long time behind 11 AM when we (finally!) get out of this unexpectedly interesting city. We did not even leave the city, and the road has already start uphill. It's not a big uphill, not at all, just enough that I started doubting myself or in a bike, confused by the heavy turning of the pedals. This pedaling was further exacerbated by the extraordinary heat as well as the humidity in the air. Toward the south, which we ride, we saw heavy moisture, halfway between undefined, blurry fog and threatening clouds. It was only a matter of time when this unbearable, moist heat will cross to heavy rain.
To Čelić town the road it looks like the main road with wide, mild bends. So, if there was not that constant, perfidious uphill, it could be nice to riding. How nice would be without that uphill, we saw on a downhill that appeared surprisingly and lasted for a very short time. So short, shorter than my surprise about it. Immediately after that, the new uphill has been started. When I looked at the map in one of the pauses, I realize that this road separates from the Posavina plain and gradually ascends to the Bosnia's Hills, whose I see in the distance in front of us. That climbing is not a straight line, like a constant slope, because it has disturbed by some creeks we cross over those. These creeks have their little valleys. We cyclists and others on the road go uphill - downhill, crossing these little valleys. But, and again but, the overall result is, however, climbing, because riding at uphills are longer than riding at downhills.
In the Čelić town, we entered by the longest downhill so far, by which we finally refresh by the wind. That refreshing we needed because of the great heat and humidity.
Looking at the map, just a small town, however, by passing through the town, the impression is quite different. Although mostly family houses, therefore this is more village than a town, there were also larger buildings that showed stronger economic activity. But the biggest surprise was - the pool! And what kind of pool - with a toboggan and diving board! It was more than obvious that the pool was relatively young, so it was so modern. Every honor, I'm impressed!
Upon leaving the town the road narrowed, squeezed on the right side of the hill and its shade. That fuzzy haze finally turned into a cloud, so with the occasional breeze of fresh air, in the distant, a thunder was quietly heard. At least the moisture in the air disappeared, and after that, this freshness with this occasional cold breeze was like a cold beer. Cold beer spiced with anxious fear that I shall be wet (or maybe, I worry too much!).
The first drops of rain began to fall on entering the Lopare village, so we quickly hid under the wide eaves of the store. Below the roof was a table with a bench and chairs, and behind all that a refrigerator with a cold beer.
While the rain could not decide if it would fall as heavy rain or as light rain, so it alternately tasted it this and that way, we were lightly drunk two tours (One bottle of beer - 0,5 liter - 0,45€ ).
More than an hour has been passed when the rain had exhausted all the water, so we decided to continue our riding because the rain stopped. The air was full of moisture but also cooled. Water all around us, asphalt is wet, and some kind of haze is above us.
After leaving the last houses of the Lopar village it started a long uphill that announces a climbing at the Površnica pass which altitude is over 500 meters above sea level. That means that this uphill is our society for the next 5-6 km. The road narrowed quite but stubbornly held the line in the middle.
Occupied in their minds, we split up, me and my companion. As we ride on the horizontal road, we ride together, but, when we ride on uphill, we separated, because we have different approaches to the uphill. While I'm mostly walking, pushing a bike, my companion loves riding more. So he, whether let me go ahead, and then reaching me, or going in front me, and then waiting for me. Like we have quarreled, and we don't talk anymore.
I did not even notice when the line was lost in the middle of the road, but I noticed rags and patches on the asphalt. I went on foot mainly on this uphill, so these patches did not bother me so much. On this uphill, the road was going zig-zag through the greenery of the forest. Although the moisture and water were around me, the rain did not fall, the air temperature was pleasantly fresh, so it was a pleasure to climbing up.
But not for long! That clearing up of clouds, after heavy rain in the Lopar village, changed its mind, and instead of the sun, it turned into a gathering of more and more darker clouds. I have been obsessed again by a hunch about the possibility of rain. Around us forest, forest and forest only. And that forest got wet, I heard the drops falling from the leaf on the leaf, and finally fall to the ground. So there is no shelter anywhere. The fresh, ominous breeze started to blow as a hint that every moment the rain might begin. Suddenly any tiredness in me disappeared, so I sat on the bike and drove by the uphill as fast as an impatient man that was somewhere in a hurry. Looking ahead in the upcoming curves, I was hoping that the summit of the pass will have appeared. Behind every curve that hope was transformed into disappointment, because behind the curve there is nothing but the following curve. And so in the infinity, hope - disappointment, hope - disappointment...
That infinity has interrupted - by rain.
That's it, I thought. There is no other, but get wet. Well, well, I accept. We'll stand that too.
I do not have a logical, rational explanation for it, but in my experience, I have repeatedly noted that when I accept a worse solution or the worse development of the situation, God, fate, or what already, reward me with better.
So that was and this time.
Just a moment after my reconciliation with fate in the form of rain, the summit of the pass has appeared. At the passage, 20-30 meters from the road, a small house, with a eaves under which my companion with his bike waited for me patiently.
And I pulled in under that eaves, changed wet clothes, I even dressed wind jacket, and with calmness in my soul, I kept watching the rain that was falling silently and slow, just like in autumn.
The rain was falling and falling, and we rested and talked about one of the topics. Then another topic, so another topic...The rain stopped at the same time when we were tired of the resting and when we concluded that it was time to go.
Luckily, that was (almost) all of the rain that day.
For a time we rode through the forest. In one a moment, the trees smiled to us by moving apart and showed our eyes a beautiful, idyllic Bosnian landscape.
If the landscape around us was idyllic, the road was not. Specifically, its base was the alternating game of rags and patches. In fact, it was nothing terrible, it only required more attention to riding and lower driving speed.
And when I ride slower, it was no problem to stop if I see something interesting. This time my attention has been attracted by Bosnian custom of unlimited, and sometimes incomprehensible, freedom of choice for a place for a house. So I often had the opportunity to see beautiful, luxurious homes at such locations, that I did not figure out why this location was chosen, no matter how hard I tried. Basically, at least to me, the houses look scattered everywhere.
And again, riding through the forest, and again open sight. This time it is called the Gornja Tuzla town.
We rode by a downhill to the town, and we continued with riding downhill through the town (In fact, I do not know how to call it, for the village, it is too big, but for the town seems too small for me). Somewhere in the center, we stopped to pay attention to the design of the local mosque.
By the road we have just arrived, the locals have placed a graveyard with Muslim monuments. Interesting were the plots for future residents of this silent neighborhood with a tab on which he wrote authoritatively: "Occupied!" (Occupied = Zauzeto)
Shortly after the Gornja Tuzla town, and further downhill, we got out to the main road that connects Tuzla (the Tuzla town, which is much greater than Gornja Tuzla town) to Bijeljina, and to kilometer - two we joined another one, this time the road from the Tuzla town to the Zvornik town.
I was probably comforted by the former peace and silence during the riding on the downhill, and additionally thrilled with the surrounding scenes, so now I was shocked and appalled by this traffic jungle we found on this road. Continuous vehicle column in both directions. Screaming and yelling of many different sounds of horns and engines, creaking of brakes. Drivers don't notice me as a cyclist at all, I absolutely do not exist for the participants of this traffic. They are pulled through me and the vehicle coming from the opposite direction without any doubt. The road is width enough for the three of us, but it is not too wide.
The consequence of all this is that I absolutely do not know anything about the environment about passing these 10 kilometers. I held the "steering wheel" of my bike tightly. Still more tightly I looked in the white line at the edge of the road in front of me, and completely concentrated with all my the soul and the body on only one - how to ride by that line and by that edge of the road and not to be caught and withdrawn by some of these persistent vehicles.
At one moment it was too much of this frantic situation for me. Perhaps it had a climax, I do not know, but I said, more precisely I yelled, imperatively ordered, to my companion to stop.
The oasis of peace that protects us was in the form of a sidewalk, a framed by the curb, separated from the frantic traffic, to which we parked bicycles and finally couth our breath and calmed our heartbeat down.
There was also another reason why I wanted to stop here. It was a jungle of concrete and asphalt all around us. Starting from the concrete wall on which we lay bikes, across the asphalted sidewalks and the road, to a series of concrete skyscrapers. Mostly all around us only brutally grayness of concrete and asphalt that shyly disturb the trees in the background of the image. Nothing special, somebody would say, there are a lot of such scenes in every major city in any country. True, I confess, but only an hour before, I was in the green oasis of peace and silence, where everything is moving slowly, with some harmonious and cautious transition from one to another change. It was some particular area where everything was important, and yet nobody or nothing imposed does not want to be more important than others - it is only the harmony of all and everything.
But, under the impression of the above mentioned suddenly, cruel and brutal, I found myself in a completely in another and different environment. Too little time has passed when I switch from one experience to another, totally the opposite. For a short time, I had them both in my soul so I could compare them in detail. The result of that comparison shocked me - what a big difference in a so little time !!!!
After we started further, I looked left to right, to find the hint of the old town center, but none of it. It would be best to ask someone - but who is the one !? As I watched passersby who seemed competent enough to me, I saw the taxi stand by the side. Of course, who to be asked, if not a taxi driver?
I stopped, greeted and asked.
First, he was surprised when he looked at me, then he moved his eyes to the bikes. When he saw them he raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed by what he saw. He briefly described me the desired way ("on the second traffic light left, afterward right, and finally right,") and finally he let to himself that his curiosity show out ("where are you from?", "Where are you going to?", "Is it hard?" Etc etc. ), and all this with open, sincere admiration ("every honor!").
We thanked him and continued the ride. At this second traffic light, we went to the left track, and we waited for the green light at the traffic light. Someone on the right side from us has beeped on the horn - we saw our taxi driver who, driving straight, with his hand showed in which direction our way was.
So we came to the old town center. And the old center, as in all cities that have it, is a pedestrian zone.
The bicycle is a chameleon.
When needed, it becomes a road vehicle on distant roads, and when it needs, it can be something (almost) as a pedestrian. So we were riding slowly through the area used only by pedestrians, watched from left to right, and looked for something. What? Bosnian specialties!
I stopped in front of an old building, more precisely in front of an ice-cream cooler, where ice cream dishes were arranged. The young girl was behind it and I asked her where we could eat good ćevapi?
"Well, here!" she said.
I was amazed at the speed and precision of our quest. It seems as God's hand guided us.
Now there are pleasant, beautiful moments of this kind of travel. The moments when I feel overwhelmed by the sense of pleasure and happiness, no matter how I tired physically. Moments when I'm absolutely sure of how to choose the road, the method, the society and everything else related to this kind of journey. We have come to one of the goals so we will quiet and serene, slowly and relaxed took lunch, and then also to visit the old part of town.
"Big portion and draft beer!" - it was our answer to the waiter on his question what we wanted, who waited patiently from the side while we park our vehicles, and we sit by the table.
Ćevapi is a grilled dish of minced meat. They are usually served in groups of five to ten pieces on a plate or in a flatbread often with chopped onions. Bosnian-type ćevapi are made from two types of minced beef meat, hand mixed and formed with a funnel, while formed ćevapi are grilled.
The ćevapi were aromatic, succulent, so, with our fatigue and hunger, it has been accepted it as a real royal banquet. In their juiciness, it might have been a too much fat, but it did not distract the delight of the meal, on the contrary!I'm just not sure that my digestive tract would endure heavy fat digestion without a bigger problem if I consumed this dessert half an hour before bedtime. Like this, we still have kilometers and hours till sleep tonight so physical activity will help the digestive tract to work the job without any problems.
Now that we have had a meal and drink when we rested and cooled we can slowly go to the city tour. This tour was trying to spoil by the rain that had begun to fall, but it still gave up on that job.
I was surprised how big is that pedestrian zone is in the Tuzla town. The street we came to our meal and continued by, was long for cyclists, and even longer for pedestrians. But despite his length, it is beautifully tiled and decorated. This tidiness and refinement are surprisingly high on the entire pedestrian zone.
"Kapija"(the gate) is a place in the old part of Tuzla, wherein 1995, during the war, a grenade has been thrown on people gathered at the market and 71 people have been killed. One of the nonsense examples of war's senselessness.
Here is the translation of the inscription:
Here is not living only
for living
Here is not living only
for dying
Here is dying even
in order to live
Mark Dizdar (Bosnian poet)
In this place
25 May in the year 1995
the Serbian fascist aggressor
with grenade had interrupted
71 young life
Study Fatihah and
pray,
remember and
warn
The citizens
of the Tuzla town
( Fatihah = some sort of Muslim prayer)
With bitterness in my soul, I returned to the present beauty of the city.
Even humid weather could not spoil my keenness by this town.
There, on a strange corner, formed as a junction between two streets, there was a squeezed house on whose facade wrote the name of the store "Tinejdžer"(phonetic, the way it is read, not the "Teenager").
When I was seriously beginning to asking myself how many more were these old, curving streets, we went out to a spacious square that has been decorated by a fountain from (probably) Turkish times.
We stopped at the square by making a long pause by spinning in the circle when watching and recording the sight. And there was plenty to see.
I will neglect the giant jumbo poster behind the fountain on which were the images of idyllic landscaped baths, lakes and roads, as in some a pink dream that is counterbalancing this everyday grayness. I would rather especially choose a beautiful building, probably from the Austro-Hungarian era, which was the management department of the salt factory in those days.
There is also a beautiful fountain from this time, and as an indispensable trademark of Bosnia - mosque which is nicely matched into the surrounding landscaped houses.
I was awakened from this enjoyment of the slight buzzing through the old part of the Tuzla town, recalling that it was time to solve the problem of this evening's accommodation. We wanted to spend the night under a tent on the shore of Modračko lake which is far away from the town. We asked a passer-by how to get there, and he told us that we have some 17 km till the lake. This shocked me because I concluded that it would probably be a night when we will pitch the tent because now it was already good after 7 PM.
First, we were driving across the valley, from east to west, on the road with heavy traffic. By the road is located most of the Tuzla industry, from which is the most impressive thermo-power plant with a huge condenser. At the big intersection, we turned left and drove uphill about 3-3.5 km to turn left - again uphill. This uphill ended at the same moment when I started to be desperate about this climbing. The road continued with the infinite uphill - downhill, uphill - downhill...I was already at the end of strength, exhausted, totally wet with sweat. Evil worries were overwhelmed me cause of the upcoming darkness of the night that makes this day darker and darker.
I do not know how, I suppose by God's providence (at that moment I did not have any better explanation), a shop appeared by the road. I immediately told the companion to stop the riding, to buy mineral water, and in fact, I wanted to rest a little bit and to catch my breath. In a short time, another God's providence appeared (again - at least it seemed to me like that) in the form of a cold, dewy bottle of 2 liters of beer of the Tuzla brewery. That was the same beer that we drank while we ate ćevapi in the Tuzla town, and we said that it was one of the better in the journey so far. With beer, I also bought mineral water (1.5 liters) - I know already from my experience that after an intensive riding (and this one is really intensive) I have been caught by unbearable thirst.
After the rest, we rode further and - strayed. The road turned into a yard from which a dog bravely went on us. While our confusion with the disappearance of the road and its transformation in the yard quickly replaced in the defensive position because of the coming beast, the situation was saved by the host who is calmed his dog. After our question, he directed us to the right road. And that "true" road has become so narrow and the asphalt has somehow hidden, that it is no wonder we have ignored it before. To finally reach this lake by the road (or the "road") we need to go through - a gypsy settlement!
The road, better to say, the path, became more obscure, dirty, and the air smelled of sour smell of burnt garbage. Then a typical Gypsy architecture appeared in the form of improvisation on improvisation, where it was impossible to know what is a goods sheds and what is dwelling place, along with the same improvised fence on which the laundry was put for drying. Little children were playing on the road, untidy and dirty, who was defiantly and lazily moved off the road, so that, somehow, we were passing between them by the slalom. All this was looking by the dark faces of their parents with penetrating eyes, who were standing in something that was a mixture of courtyards, open-air storage facilities, and junkyard. In the end, I note that all this scene has been darkened by the coming night, what was adding something sinister, depressive note in it.
And finally - we came to the lakeshore, but before that, we had to go through a devastated and abandoned motel, as well as a campsite of the same condition.
We rode by the lake looking for a good place to set up the tent and everyone we found, we found something fault in it. We have long since left the asphalt, we continue with the narrow road through the pine forest to finally we had agreed on the quality of the location. This location was not so much better than the countless seen so far, but the upcoming night, which threatened to cover us all in the darkness, was accelerated the choice. By the time when the last track of the daylight left us, we managed to pitch the tent.
For a long time, I've had a covert desire for this kind of accommodation ("on wild"), but I lacked audacity and courage for it. Well, now I've been encouraged by my companion and I've fulfilled to myself one of the tiny little wishes.
Modračko Lake is mostly a paradise for fishermen, and that for those who came on it is as important the peace, silence, and serenity which they find it on the lake. Because of this, they are not in the company in one place, but they are often spaced apart from each other far enough that each of them has a fraction of that peace, silence, and serenity. We did not realize this until the next day, but we felt that peace, silence, and serenity as soon as we came to the lake. Setting up the tent, cooking soup, and relaxed conversation before bedtime, we all this unknowingly performed quietly and carefully in fear of disturbing that calmness and tranquility that hangs and covers the lake and space around it. Happy and pleased that I managed to pitch the tent during the last light of the day, calmly, without hurry, enjoying in every second, talking to the companion, I cooked the soup. After boiling, it should be "cook on low heat for 10 minutes" (as it is already written on a soup bag).To do this as it needed to, a battery lamp helps me. That battery lamp has multiple usable values - or to illuminate the road when I drive at night or to check the soup cooking process, as it is now for example
Following is mystical, ritually dining of hot soup in the darkness of the dark, black night. Watching the darkness in front of us, we hardly perceived the silent oily surface of the lake from which reflected the light of distant settlements on the other side of the lake. That deafness of night was neither unpleasant nor unkind. On the contrary! It was peace at the level of all Western and Eastern religions, the peace that enters the deepest personalities of the man, acting serenely, relaxed and contented. For a moment I lost consciousness of the existence of the plates and the spoons in my hands - replaced by the feeling of floating above the ground this night, which, though black, seemed to me heavenly. We alternately said what a word or a sentence, then we shut our mouth down, almost ashamed cause the noise of our whisper disturbed this perfect peace and harmony. It's a bit strange, almost excessively, I admit (dark night and sitting on the ground on the shore of the lake - big deal!). Yet such a relaxation after these two days of exhausting riding has at least in me made some feeling like the perfect Paradise on Earth.
For such moments is needed to living!
Tired from riding but also enchanted by the ambiance, it was difficult to compel ourselves and go to bed. Contrary to it, it was easy to fall asleep. Comforted in the sleeping bag I enjoyed in the silence of the night for a one more moment. Just a moment before I was asleep I managed to put together a single thought. It lasted just for a sigh. I do not see how it managed to avoid the euphoria of bliss this moment. That thought me lightly warned on tomorrow's day while I was falling in the dream. Silently, lightly and gently as the ambiance in which I was. That tomorrow's day by a number of kilometers will be similar to today and to yesterday, but the amount of sweat will be much harder.
At the end of this day, I remained breathless. What will be tomorrow?
Not very optimistic, right?
You can view the continuation of this travelogue here.
Post je objavljen 19.04.2019. u 19:17 sati.