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Montenegro means “Black Mountain.” The place evokes the fratricidal chaos of an age when fathers taught their sons “your neighbor’s neighbor is your friend” in anticipation of future demographic struggles. When so-and-so-ovich was pounding on so-and-so-ovich (in Slavic names, “ovich” means “son,” like Johnson), a mountain stronghold was worth the misery.
From the idyllic Adriatic, I love to drive up the 26 switchbacks — someone painted numbers on each one — which take you from the Montenegrin coast into another world. At switchback #4, you pass a Gypsy encampment. At #18, you pull out for a grand view of the fjord-like Bay of Kotor, marveling at how the vegetation, climate, and ambience is completely different up here.
At #24, you notice the “old road” — little more than an overgrown donkey path — that was once the kingdom’s umbilical cord to the Adriatic. The most vivid thing I remember about my last visit — decades ago — was that a grand piano was literally carried up the mountain so some big-shot nobleman could let it go out of tune in his palace.
As we crest the peak, the sea disappears and before us stretches a basin defined by a ring of black mountains — the heartland of Crna Gora (as the locals call Montenegro). And just down the road was Cetinje, the “Old Royal Capital” as the road sign proclaimed.
Every hundred yards or so, the local towing company had spray-painted on a rock “Auto Slep 067-838-555.” You had a feeling they were in the bushes praying for a mishap. We pulled out for a photo and noticed a plaque marking where Tito’s trade minister was killed in a 1948 ambush.
This is brutal country. And it’s poor. Desolate farmhouses claim to sell smoked ham, mountain cheese, and medovina (honey brandy) — but we didn’t see a soul. Up here, the Cyrillic alphabet survives better than on the coast.
Then came Cetinje. I’m nostalgic about this town — a classic mountain kingdom (with that grotesquely out-of-tune grand piano). Established as capital in 15th century, it’s the historic heart of the kingdom of Montenegro.
The capital was taken by the Turks several times. The hedonistic Turks would generally move in and enjoy a little RP&P. Quickly realizing there was little hedonism to enjoy here, they basically just destroyed the place and moved out. The people — I envision short men with long white beards — rebuilt.
Today Cetinje is a workaday, two-story town with barely a hint of its old status. The museums are generally closed. The economy is flat. A shoe factory and a refrigerator factory were abandoned with Yugoslavia’s break-up. (They were part of Tito’s ultimately unworkable economic vision for Yugoslavia — where, in the name of efficiency, things were made en masse for the entire country is one place.) Kids on bikes roll like tumbleweeds down the main street past old timers with hard memories.
At the edge of town is the St. Peter of Cetinje Orthodox monastery — the still-beating spiritual heart of the country. I stepped in. An Orthodox monk — black robe and beard halfway to his waist — nodded a welcome.
A classic old woman in black was at a candlelit basin. I photographed her. She snarled at me like a mad cat. I recalled hearing stories of how — just two decades ago — Serbs were raping old women in Catholic churches and Croats were raping old women in Orthodox churches; and realized I couldn’t imagine the scars that these people lived with (even in places like Cetinje, which saw no actual fighting).
A service was in progress. I stepped in and stood (as everyone does in an Orthodox liturgy) in the back. The action was amazing. People — mostly teenagers in sporty track suits — were trickling in…kissing everything in sight. Seeing these rough and casual teens bending respectfully at the waist as they kissed icons, bibles, and the hands of monks was mesmerizing.
And for the first time I understood what the iconostasis (called a “rood screen” in Western European sightseeing) is all about. Used long ago in Catholic churches, and still today in Orthodox churches, the screen separates the common worshippers from the priests and holy magic. Here, with flames flickering on gilded icons, incense creating an otherworldly ambience, and almost hypnotic chanting, I stood on the commoner’s side of the screen.
Behind the screen — which, like a holy lattice, provides privacy but still lets you peek through — I could see busy priests in fancy robes, and above it all the arms of Jesus. I knew he was on the cross, but I only saw his arms. As the candlelight flickered, I felt they were happy arms…wanting and eager to give a big Slavic bear hug.
Kids on bikes roll like tumbleweeds down the main street past old timers with hard memories.
wow. really, really beautiful writing today rick. absolutely beautiful.
thank you.
Wow! This is a very different part of Europe. The people here have a real story to tell. Travel does give us a world outlook on life.
Happy travels!
It is no wonder she snarled at you. You invaded her privacy. I hate to say it Rick, but you became the “ugly American tourist” that you preach about. Shame on you.
I’m afraid I agree with Dan…If I’m not mistaken, it’s impolite, if not illegal, to take and print someone’s photograph without the subject’s permission…Did you find that unnecessary just because she was an nameless old woman from a “nasty” country? I’m afraid your condescension towards this area and its people seeps through your entire commentary here…Dan is correct…Shame on you.
Arlene..he’s in Montenegro which probably has never heard whether it’s legal or not to take one’s picture..he’s capturing the flavor of the country “nasty” or not & unless you have been there, how do you know? I’ve never seen Rick be condescending in re:to any place he has been or to the people he sees. I believe he is telling a story from his point of view, inviting you to go there yourself & form your own opinion. He also leaves room for anyone to agree or disagree with him as you & Dan were able to do. Isn’t democracy dandy!
Thanks for a peek into Montenegro. Happy day!
I have no problem with Rick “capturing the flavor of the country”, however photograghing someone without her(or his)permission is, at least a little, an invasion of privacy. Maybe I am just a little paranoid, but as a woman concerned with personal safety I would be a little creeped out if a man I didn’t know was taking pictures of me.
SHAME! SHAME!SHAME!!! Gomer Pyle
We have personalities in travel, too! :) Gomer and Goober. Happy travels, fellas! Montenegro is another different part of the world.
More blogging like June 3, 2007 with less full-up entries, keeping entries shorter and on varied topics, was really enjoyable. Current thought, more often, has me coming back daily!
To Chris: I’m sorry, but sometimes respect for people is more important than “capturing the flavor” of a country for the edification of tourists, virtual or otherwise. You cheer “democracy” but seem to have a problem with Dan and I directing any criticism towards…”your hero”??? Please grow up.
Nice writing about Orthodox service. Enjoy your blog, Rick.
I never got the feeling Rick felt this was a “nasty” country or that he was condensceding…wow, Arlene, you got alot more out of it than I did…Rick does make countries “come alive” for me when I watch or read his blogs…he is always forthright and very factual..and that is a powerful and amazing picture…tells a story and you don’t even see her face…she has no need to worry…
Just a small error in the description of Rick’s encounter (and photo) of the elderly woman: that is not a candle-lit washbasin, it is a place for lighting prayer candles either for the dead or for the health of the living. You can see that the bottom of the basin has sand in it, I assume the water just helps extinguish the flame once the taper gets too short. In Orthodox Churches in the U.S. we just use the sand without the water. Anyhow, she may have snarled at him because she was there to pray and not for a photo-op. By wearing all black then she is most likely a widow or recently in mourning, not a time when most women would want to be photographed by an unknown man. Also, In Orthodoxy, we do not call it a Mass (that’s a Roman Catholic term) but (Divine) Liturgy. I hope you’ll make these corrections. Otherwise, I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your tv shows! I’m just discovering your blog, so I have some catching up to do!
I looked at this blog by Rick and listened to his radio program on the KUOW (aired on June 25, 2007 hosted by Steve Scher). As a native Bosnian and a historian specialist in the Balkans who resides in Seattle, WA, I must say that I am very disappointed with Rick’s superficial knowledge of older and recent history of the region, as well as with his lack of sensitivity for and familiarity with the local culture. His seemingly “easy-going comments†uncover his methodological superficiality and factual ignorance. There are too many flaws in this post by Rick to comment on all of them. However, I would just like to address one ethical issue. Instead of blaming the troublesome past of the region for the anger of the elderly woman whom Rick photographed without her permission, Rick should blame himself and admit his professional ethical mistake. It is obvious that he treats his photo subjects differently in the US and in the Balkans. Why the discrimination, we should ask ourselves.
I applaud Mr. Steves and his organization for bringing this treasure to the attention of travelers. His organization’s comments about cultures are usually considerate and kind hearted. He makes confusing cultures more understandable for travelers. However, this time I felt a line was crossed. Not only are there inaccuracies, but the tone is condescending and objectifying, not to mention disrespectful of the people who live there.