Know your country and love it more
A weekend road trip in two days around the western part of Macedonia seemed like an interesting idea regardless of the fact that road-trips around Macedonia resemble the commercial with the food.
Day 1
After a quick meal of ajvar, cheese and bread we set out on the road trip to do a bit of showing off and to refresh memory of wild beauty I had forgotten. After 1 hour and 45 minutes drive on a bumpy road we arrived in Bitola. According to its citizens there are 3 types of people in the world- People from Bitola (Bitolchani), People who want to be People from Bitola (Bitolchani) and People who haven't realized yet that they want to be Bitolchani. We strolled down the narrow streets and did a bit of sight-seeing and sat down for a meal in a kafana on Shirok Sokak (loosely translated as Broadway).We downed Sharska and ribs and skewers and the traditional shopska salad. For a desert we strolled down the street to the Officer's House and the park and enjoyed tulumba, indijanka and tri leche. Topped with coffee we retreated for a goodnight rest because a big day was ahead of us.
Day 2
The breakfast was traditional welcome-kokmiska (a yeast dough with cheese) with raisins jam and rose hip jam and of course cheese, olives and yogurt. After the breakfast we were on the road to Ohrid. It was a beautiful spring day. The lake was radiating serenity. Big blue and a lonely boat, the church perched on the cliff and yellow flowers around it. Coffee on the riviera and an amazement at how much water there was.
On the road to Struga, a meal by the lake. It is here that we were surprised by the amount of food we got for 3 people. Imagine we ordered for 6, would they have brought us the whole lamb? The lamb was tasty, succulent and mindbogglinglydelicious. Needless to say we did not touch the chicken fingers.
We took the scenic road back to Skopje. There were the artificial lakes and the rivers gone wild from the recent rains. There was wild beauty hidden in the scenery. Nature changing colours, the green overtaking the white snow.
I dozed off green white and blue interchanged in front of me and it was wonderous. When I opened my eyes Mavrovo lake was in front of us with all its grandeur. I'd love to have another spin around it this year.
Back in Skopje now and I can't stop but wonder, have we lost touch with ourselves? Have we forgotten our own beauty to have it made up with concrete and plastic? Have we lost touch with the beat?
Day 1
After a quick meal of ajvar, cheese and bread we set out on the road trip to do a bit of showing off and to refresh memory of wild beauty I had forgotten. After 1 hour and 45 minutes drive on a bumpy road we arrived in Bitola. According to its citizens there are 3 types of people in the world- People from Bitola (Bitolchani), People who want to be People from Bitola (Bitolchani) and People who haven't realized yet that they want to be Bitolchani. We strolled down the narrow streets and did a bit of sight-seeing and sat down for a meal in a kafana on Shirok Sokak (loosely translated as Broadway).We downed Sharska and ribs and skewers and the traditional shopska salad. For a desert we strolled down the street to the Officer's House and the park and enjoyed tulumba, indijanka and tri leche. Topped with coffee we retreated for a goodnight rest because a big day was ahead of us.
 |
| standing tall |
The breakfast was traditional welcome-kokmiska (a yeast dough with cheese) with raisins jam and rose hip jam and of course cheese, olives and yogurt. After the breakfast we were on the road to Ohrid. It was a beautiful spring day. The lake was radiating serenity. Big blue and a lonely boat, the church perched on the cliff and yellow flowers around it. Coffee on the riviera and an amazement at how much water there was.
 |
| serenity |
On the road to Struga, a meal by the lake. It is here that we were surprised by the amount of food we got for 3 people. Imagine we ordered for 6, would they have brought us the whole lamb? The lamb was tasty, succulent and mindbogglinglydelicious. Needless to say we did not touch the chicken fingers.
 |
| leftovers |
Back in Skopje now and I can't stop but wonder, have we lost touch with ourselves? Have we forgotten our own beauty to have it made up with concrete and plastic? Have we lost touch with the beat?
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