PART II
We hadn’t planned to go through Novi Pazar. We sometimes prefer to avoid cities in favor of mountains or other natural features. This was the case with Golija. Someone had recommended it to us at some point and it looked nice on the map, Golija National Park. But fear and exhaustion got the best of me.
We stopped along the way to have lunch by the river. We bought some delicious smoked sausage and something called kaymak that we thought was like the fresh cheeses we’d tried but it turned out to be more like butter – which is to say, amazingly good. The river was full of trash and we were lamenting this fact when a pair of small feet with purple crocs appeared on the other side of the river. A man passing by had emptied his pockets of walnuts he’d picked on his walk and we were eating them. Jose playfully tossed one of the walnuts over to her side. She responded by picking up another and tossing it back. We quickly realized that if we wanted to continue our lunch in peace, we probably shouldn’t continue. But it was too late. She took off her crocs and started to cross the river, then thought better, turned back and disappeared. She reappeared shortly after on our side of the river. And being a 7 year old girl, she had a lot of questions.
We answered the ones we were able to understand without her losing patience with us. She’d say the words as slowly and clearly as she could before trying her hand at the international language of gestures. We were able to share our names, ages and countries without too much trouble but beyond that it was hit or miss. Sara was her name. She accompanied me to the fountain at the top of the hill and watched as I washed my clothes by hand. She loved how I wash my socks (one on each hand like mittens) and managed to teach me a few words. I managed to get that she was the oldest of three and that she lived next door. Her little brother called to her at one point through the upstairs window.
The first thing we did was look for a bike shop to buy me a replacement tire so I wouldn’t have to worry anymore about my tire blowing out in the middle of nowhere. The next day was Sunday so we had to find it that day or wait until Monday. The shop was hard to find and closed when we found it. A guy we asked for directions ended up taking us there personally and when he saw it was closed, immediately ducked into the shop next door to find out why. Turns out the owner was away but his brother came over and opened the shop for us. He spoke excellent English, but made sure we knew that bikes were definitely not his strong suit. We found a tire that was cheap and seemed to be the right size, paid the poor guy in coins because that’s all we had, and headed to the city center.
We sat in the middle of the main pedestrian street where we were able to pick up an open wifi signal. I got up to pee, asking two guys who were sitting at the outdoor tables of the bar we were most likely getting the wifi signal from if they minded if I use their restroom. When I came back, Jose was sitting down at the table with them, a juice in hand and another one waiting for me. Turns out one of the guys was the owner of the kiosk next to the bar and the other was the owner of the restaurant above the bar. The owner of the kiosk, the one who invited us to the juices, was especially kind and chatty. He had two sons and married when he was 20 and was only a couple of years older than us. He was blown away by our lifestyle - as we were by his, really! Wanting to show us the best Novi Pazar has to offer, he also invited us to try mantije, small meat pastries similar to burek in taste and texture, unique to Novi Pazar.
We set ourselves up next to a pizza place, across from a long line of outdoor tables, near where we’d been the day before. We began our little show and people were really enjoying it. Then a young Roma kid came up to play with the bubbles, then another, then another… One of them did put some money in the case but people were starting to skirt around them – and us. I was trying not to worry, thinking that they deserved to play with the bubbles just as much as any other child and it wasn’t all about the money. People had been generous with us; we could afford to be generous with them.
Some guys that were sitting across from us at the outdoor tables were obviously getting agitated by the whole situation. I was thinking that they were probably the bar owners and we were probably cramping their style and they were probably going to ask us to leave when all of a sudden, one of them stood up and threw a full glass of water at the Roma children. They scattered like pigeons. And, like pigeons, they slowly came back, one by one. This scenario repeated itself with varying lengths of time between their returns until we decided to just call it quits.
One of the kids stuck around as we were packing up, asking questions and touching things. I probably should have stuck around but it seemed like Jose had everything under control, he’s kind but firm with the children and he’s good at making friends. But once again, I needed to use the ladies’. When I got back he told me that we almost had our cell phone stolen, that if it wasn’t for the pizza lady’s sharp, trained eye, it would have gotten whisked away.
I don’t know enough about the Roma people and their culture to feel that I can hold a valid opinion. What I see through my Western eyes seems sad and corrupt: The children don’t go to school and instead are put to work begging in the streets, as are the women and the elderly. It’s the men who I hardly ever see. One of the only Roma men I’ve ever seen was going behind a mentally disturbed elderly Roma woman, harassing her and pushing her go up to people to ask for money. The children we saw in Novi Pazar were also quite violent among themselves. It seemed they had little adult supervision and had created their own system of hierarchy. From what I understand, the Roma people have been marginalized for centuries and their culture is one of survival.
I know I don’t have the whole picture, even after doing a bit of research. What I've learned is that perhaps the biggest thing keeping the Roma people down is a lack of access to a good education. If they go to school, many are sent to separate schools or put in separate classes for children with learning disabilities.
I know that large part of the Roma issue comes from our misunderstanding and prejudice, which keeps them marginalized. A Greek friend who works with Roma kids at a youth center in Athens told us a very inspiring story. One day, two teenaged Roma boys came into the center to see what it was all about. At that moment, the only people working at reception were two young German volunteers, unfamiliar with the prejudice and stereotypes around the Roma people in Greece. As such, they treated the new-comers as they would treat any other youth who walked in the door. This caused an impression on the two Roma teens, who continued to come to the center and are now involved in its operation, working to help other Roma kids feel as welcomed as they did.
We slept at his house that night and had breakfast the next morning with the dentist and his family. The dentist’s wife made loads of delicious food, both sweet and savory, a breakfast to put any other breakfast to shame. And they gifted us a bottle of rakija on our way out. As a dentist, he told us, he gets tons of homemade rakija gifted to him by his clients. He's working to attract dental tourists to his clinic, he told us, people from other countries looking to get quality treatment for less than they'd have to pay in their own country.
We were offered to stay another night if we wanted, but we were ready to move on. On our way out of town, we stopped at a small fast food joint to ask if they wouldn't mind filling up our water bottles. They didn't, and they also invited us to tea. You can't be in a hurry in Serbia!
Thanks for reading this far! Here are some links of interest:
º The tiny meat pastries we ate in Novi Pazar: Mantije
º Did we meet Pieter de Hart?? Apparently his record was shattered in 2013 when Andrew Helling rode his bike backwards for 337.60 km (209.77 miles)!
º Though I'm not sure I like the title of this article, it seems to have some good information about the Roma people in Europe, as does this video.
Note: The blog posts in Spanish are written by Jose, and those in English, by Colleen. Those of you who understand both languages have the opportunity to understand both perspectives! Those of you who do not will have to rely on Google Translate if you wish to have an approximation...or start learning Spanish today!