“Serbia and On the Road to Nis”

• August 5, 2020
• By Daryl
• 2 Comments

As we leave on our journey of the new day, the roads are glistening for the wet payment as sprinkles have blessed our path. Fog envelopes the road like a giant spider web hanging in front of our eyes. Patches of fog cling to the tree tops wicking moister from above. The limbs reaches for a clear glimpse of the sun across the our path on the roads, stretching like bony long fingers reaching to grab the passing victim. Then there is the old contentious desiguous tree, which has learned tricks from long ago. As the horse and open wagon passes underneath, the limbs let loose silver dollar size drops of rain, all at once.; drenching the passerby, giving the errant tree a shiver of joy. Being stuck in one spot for life has few moments of excitement. 

The temperamental maps app is a confusing pointer that tells the opposite directions. Left means right for five minutes. 4G is almost nonexistent so our directions are questionable. We are lucky to get 3G

We emerged from the mountains into a very orderly village. New pavers line the streets and sidewalks. A grand church comes in to view. They are so interesting as they are some sort of Orthodox Church. We park and run in the rain to capture a permanent memory. Inside are the bright murals and a newly carved wood alters. The graveyard is interesting with the tall grass licking our legs as we pass by, leaving their dew clinging to our appendages. The grave markers are old and tall. 

There is an interesting story to this stop. Some towns have difficult parking. We see this church and it is at a tough intersection as three roads come together. Bunny seizes the moment and drives into the compound. One car is parked but we shot past it, and parked by the church as pavers are all over the ground in an intricate pattern. We get out and take a couple of pictures in the rain. A lady comes and says we can’t park there. So Bunny moves to the last parking spot. After getting out the lady comes back out and says she can’t park there and does not offer anyplace else. So, we drive down the street and park. Still raining, we cross the busy road and take photos for five minutes. Nobody at the church and no one parks in the last parking spot. As we leave we want to stick our tongue out at the mean lady, but we refrain.

Now that we are talking about markers or stela’s, there are many memorials at crash sites. Some are in glass cases with plastic colorful flowers. More permanent ones have plaques on rocks. We have seen tall markers on the side of roads with no graves in sight. Some have pictures etched on the plaques.