Happy Plants

After a 5 hour water cut yesterday - presumably owing to the fact that the town well was dry after months and months without any real rain and months and months of shopkeepers watering cement footpaths and roads - it started raining last night and it has rained all day.

The plants are very happy!

We never get notice of the water cuts, they might announce them in Albanian on local Radio Kosovo or something but news doesn't get to our us.  And while I'm completely fine with the electricity cuts, which happen most weeks, the water cuts always freak me out.  I feel like I'm desiccating and suddenly have an urge to drink 10 litres of water.  Also, invariably, I always discover that the water has been cut just as I've put soap all over my hands or lathered up my hair.  After yesterday's episode we have increased our stockpile of reserve 'non-potable' water to 6 litres - plenty to rinse a bit of shampoo out of your hair and make a cup of tea.

Tsar Lazar and the Honesty of Kosovars

Tsar Lazar was a very important bloke.  He was the ruler in the 14th Century who re-unified Serbia and led the nation to power and glory.  He died on the battlefield in 1389 in the infamous Battle of Kosovo,  fighting against the Ottoman Empire - and thus becoming a martyr and a saint according to the Serbian Orthodox Church.

And he was born pretty much in our backyard.

So on Sunday afternoon, we set off on a walk to find his birthplace.  What remains of the fortress where he was born is now mere rubble and stones.  But apparently there is a plaque signifying the spot.

We drew a mud-map based on a our google map research and took off.  It was a very pleasant drive through the late-summer countryside and we wended our way through a few small Serb-majority villages until we found the one we thought was the right one.  We asked a friendly old Serb lady if we were in the right spot for Tsar Lazar's birthplace.

With some rusty Serbo-Croat and a lot of gesticulating, we gathered we needed to go around the bend and then walk up a path.

So off we set.

We walked and walked.  And came across some farmyard folk, but nothing that looked like the birthplace of a tsar.

We decided to go back to our car and see if we could ask anyone else for more specific directions.

We found an old bloke and he was very happy that we should be looking for this particular landmark.  Yes!  He said, you are almost there.  You need to follow this road, take the first left and then go straight.  You'll see it on the way.

And so we drove.  And drove and drove.  Stopping a few times when things looked promising.  But nothing.  Until we hit Albanian-majority villages and decided we were better off not asking directions anymore.

And so we called it quits and stopped at a busy little restaurant for a post-walk drink.

This should have been the last photo Romain ever took with his sunglasses.

Because he left them on the table when we left the restaurant, only realising his folly once we back home.

After a considerable amount of cussing, he decided to drive the half hour back to the restaurant to see if they still had them.  Not hoping for much, but deciding to give it a go nonetheless.

Now in most countries in the world, if someone is silly enough to leave a $150 pair of Ray-Bans on restaurant table, the chances of ever getting them back would be fairly slim.  And in a country where the average monthly salary, if you are lucky to have a job, is less than $500, then you should expect to kiss those sunnies goodbye!

But this is Kosovo (TIK).  And the majority of people here are astoundingly honest and good.

So when he got to the restaurant, the young guy who had waited on our table recognised him straight away and handed him his sunnies, amidst a lot of smiles and back slapping.

Thanks Kosovo!

A very pretty paper daisy I found on our walk.

The moral of this story is that no-one should really own a pair of sunnies worth $150 in the first place.

Change in the weather

We have had no rain in Gjilan for nearly 4 months.  None.

And every day we have been waking up to hot blue skies.  Which would be great if we lived near the beach but not so great when we are land locked and about a 5 hour drive to the closest stretch of coastline.  The place has been so dry!  People have taken to watering the footpaths and roads to quell the dust plumes - which is an amazing waste of water and has led to a couple of full-day water cuts.  But I guess people go crazy with the dry heat.

But this morning we woke up to what felt like had been an overnight shower.  And the clouds have started to roll in - so hopefully there will be more to come.

Ghani

This is Ghani.

We have been running into him lately when we've been going on our forest walks/jogs.  He has been grazing his sheep in the gully below our mountain track.

French is our lingua franca, and his is pretty good, although sometimes things get lost in translation.

We think his story goes something like:

He grew up in the Gjilan region.  He and his wife have had 9 sons, three of which have died as babies or adults.  He bought his sheep some years ago when one of his sons got hit crossing the road.  It sounds like his son was in intensive care - or more likely home care - for months.  He said he bought the sheep to get him out of the house and give him something else to think about.  He loves talking about his sheep.  He'll point out the new ones and link them up with their mothers and go into all sorts of details about their daily habits and personalities.

I've always wanted to take a photo of him but wasn't sure if he'd be up for it.  But the other day we were there and he said 'hey do you have a camera that you could use to take a photo of me and my sheep?'  We told him we didn't have one but that we'd bring one next time.

'Oh.' he said.  'Well someone is coming this evening to see my sheep and I think he's going to buy them all, so I think this is the last time I'll be with them'.

Oh no!  so sad!!!

Then we remembered that we had Romain's camera phone so we took a few pics.

We're going back for a walk this arvo so if he's not there I guess we'll know the sheep are gone.  And Ghani too!

Romain looking a bit buggered after his jog.
Ghani is usually a fairly sombre bloke, but he perked up for the camera.
He insisted that Romain pose with his knife.