A weekend away.

I travelled to Lake Ohrid in Macedonia for the weekend. I had always wanted to go there, but in 1990, when I was backpacking around the Balkans, I basically ran out of money in Belgrade - I had enough cash to get me to Sarajevo where I knew I could live on a few dollars a day, but could not afford the transport plus the more expensive room and board at the popular tourist destination of Ohrid. Life worked out - I saw Sarajevo and much of Bosnia before the war started, and not just during it and after. But now I finally had the chance to see Ohrid.

Ohrid is the deepest lake in Europe and one of the oldest lakes in the world - it is shared by Albania and Macedonia. On Saturday, I went on a boat ride to the far end of the lake to see the St. Neum monastery. It was freezing on the boat, which is probably an activity more suited to warmer weather, but I figured I had traveled five hours to reach the lake, so a little cold weather should not stop me from going out on it.
St. Neum Our boat.

The monks of St. Neum apparently had a thing for peacocks, for they are everywhere on the grounds, and they are absolute show offs. I'm not sure I had ever seen a peacock with its feathers spread - here you'd turn a corner and three would be there preening. As if completely indifferent to the admiring stares of tourists, they'd pose then slowly turn their backs to you in full preening position to look out at the beautiful view from the upper wall of the monastery. Not a bad life!

First he preens...then he ignores you!

Sunday provided perfect, sunny and warmer weather to explore the town of Ohrid itself. It is very tourist friendly with a cobblestone path leading through the old town to ancient churches, mosques, a fortress and an amphitheatre dating from Roman times.
I joined my friend from the UN whom I worked with years ago in Croatia for dinner at a traditional Macedonian restaurant in Ohrid Saturday evening. He is a Sikh from Bombay and when we walked into the establishment, I felt as if I were with royalty. The waiter, addressing only my friend, asked where he was from, looked very impressed to learn he was from India, and looked insanely pleased to learn he spoke Serbian. Indeed, the waiter would barely address me, and I don't know whether it was because I was an American, or a woman, or a foreigner, or reminded him of an ex-girlfriend.. ..who knows. But since it seemed they had never before met a Sikh, and were extremely happy to have a Sikh in their establishment, I figured we were in for good service, well at least my friend was, but I would benefit residually. The fish was great, the wine was okay, they brought us free baklava for dessert, while a folk music trio played in the background - where a fiddle player played the typically upbeat melodies of folk music from this region to the typically non-upbeat lyrics of death, lost love and lonely souls. One song you could really tap your foot to went like this: "You have broken my heart, Jelena; You have crushed my soul, Jelena; You have taken my life, Jelena."

The waiter, who had consistently and steadfastly spoken only to my friend throughout dinner, came with our coffee at which point my friend asked for a toothpick - a usual staple on the table of a Balkan restaurant, and so it was here, except my friend could not see them because they were hidden by the oil and vinegar bottles and were on my side of the table. The waiter removed the bottles to reveal the toothpicks all while giving me a look which I think was intended to burn my flesh from my bones. I interpreted it as: "How dare you not tell this great man where the toothpicks were. You are not worthy to sit at this table." My friend and I agreed that the waiter looked genuinely angry at me. And as we were leaving, profuse goodbyes were dispensed to my friend from the waiter, the owner, the fiddle player and practically everyone else in the restaurant. I was just happy I got my coat back. Perhaps we will be the subject of a new chorus for the fiddle player and his band: "You honor us with your presence, oh great royal Sikh; Our hearts are full because you have come here, oh great royal Sikh; How we would like to crush the life out of the terrible wench who hid the toothpicks, oh great royal Sikh."