Thursday 4 June 2015

Debar and Back to Skopje: Part 15 of The Balkans

Skanderbeg, a Cherrywood Cannon and a Parking Violation

03-Jun-015

North Macedonia

Following the Crna Drin North from Ohrid

On our last full day in Macedonia we had to return from Ohrid to Skopje, but with no time pressure we chose the scenic route, along the valley of the Crna Drin to Debar and then through the Mavrovo National Park.

This time we took the main road to Struga before turning north up the river valley. North of the lake the land is flat, mainly agricultural though we saw a couple of small factories and some heavier industry. The intense development along the roadside included many new houses and a large hotel, though the area had few obvious attractions.

Further north the valley narrowed and became much prettier. We followed the corridor of land between the river on our right and a range of hills on our left, their summits marking the Albanian border.

In this post we travel from Ohrid to Debar and then to Skopje

Debar

Debar

After 25km the valley widened where the town of Debar sits above a small lake. From a distance Debar looked more eastern than other Macedonian towns, reflecting its overwhelmingly Muslim population. Three quarters of its 14,000 citizens are ethnic Albanians, which is unsurprising given its location but in every other city in the country Macedonians are either the largest or second largest ethnic group; here they are outnumbered not just by Albanians, but also both Turks and Roma.

It was coffee time so, eschewing the by-pass, we drove into town. The centre was busy and traffic disrupted by the work of turning the main shopping street into a pedestrian precinct.

Central Debar

Skanderbeg

We managed to park and took a short stroll. The prominent statue is of Skanderbeg, the Albanian national hero (see also our visit to Tirana). In 1440 he was appointed the Ottoman Sanjakabey (military and administrative commander) of Debar district. Rebelling in 1443 he spent the next twenty-five years leading a largely itinerant army of 10,000 Albanians, Slavs and Greeks to a series of unlikely victories over the Ottomans. He never succeeded in setting up a viable Albanian state, but his actions seriously impeded Ottoman plans to expand into Europe.

Skanderbeg, Debar

We drank our coffee on a terrace overlooking, if not the town's main square, at least its largest traffic intersection. Lynne was not quite the only woman but, as usual in Muslim areas, the clientele was overwhelmingly male. They were, by and large, the sort of elderly men who have the time to sit drinking coffee on a working day – just like me. It was good coffee and very cheap (30denar - 35p), as is often the case away from tourist centres.

Lynne has coffee, Debar

The Monastery of Sveti Jovan Bigorski (John the Baptist), Mavrovo National Park

We continued north through the Mavrovo National Park following the valley of the River Radika which flows southwards from Mavrovo Lake to Debar Lake and thence into the Crna Drin.

Village in the Mavrovo National Park

After a few kilometres we detoured up the valley side to the monastery of Sveti Jovan Bigorski (St John the Baptist).

From the higher ground on a hot sunny day we had a fine view across the valley where, despite the heat the mountain tops were still streaked with snow. We were about to enter a Christian monastery, but judging by the minarets the villages on the far side were mainly Muslim.

Village across the Radika Valley from Sv Jovan Bigorski

As we walked up the drive to the monastery we were accosted by the guardian who collected the entrance fee and ensured we were properly dressed. Apparently my shorts were acceptable, but Lynne’s long trousers were not, so he provided a wrap-around skirt.

The monastery was founded in 1020 by Ivan I Debranin (John of Debar) who had been a bishop under Car Samoil (see Ohrid post), but accepted the post of Archbishop of Ohrid after Samoil’s Bulgarian Empire fell to the Byzantines (no distinction between Bulgarian and Macedonian existed between the arrival of the Slavs in the 6th century and the mid-20th century). The monastery was destroyed by the Ottomans in the 16th century but restored two hundred years later and vastly expanded in the 19th century. Sadly many of the older buildings were lost in a fire in 2009, though much else survived. The monastery has a church, a traditional priest’s tower, exactly like the tower we had seen at the Popovo Kula (Priest's Tower!) Winery and monk’s dwellings.

Sv Jovan Bigorski, Mavrovo

A Cherrywood Cannon

Outside the church is a cherrywood cannon. In the April Uprising of 1876 the Bulgarians attempted to throw off the Ottoman yoke and, being short of conventional materials, resorted to constructing cannons from cherrywood. Although the first to be fired (predictably) killed the gunner but no-one else, this did not deter the manufacture of many more though few were ever fired - and even fewer were fired twice. They became symbolic of the heroic but doomed uprising and were subsequently incorporated into several civic coats of arms and parked outside places of national importance like Sv Jovan Bigorski.

Cherrywood cannon, Sv Jovan Bigorski, Mavrovo

There are impressive, though recent, frescoes in the church portico (where photography is permitted) and inside the church (where it isn’t). Various relics have also survived include fragments of the True Cross and body parts of John the Baptist, Lazarus and various other saints, some well-known, others deeply obscure. It is wondrous how these things have been neither lost nor damaged. Holy icons (including one with mystic healing powers) have also miraculously reappeared after being destroyed in fires or when the monastery was sacked. You may belive that, if you like.

Frescoes in the portico, Sveti Jovan Bigorski, Mavrovo

Inside, behind the relics and the icons, is a magnificent 19th rood screen carved by masters Makarie Frckovski and the brothers Petre and Marko Filipovski. Three of their fabulously ornate and detailed screens survive and we had seen another at Sveti Spas in Skopje. There is a photo of that in the Skopje post, though it is not mine, there as here I was too closely watched by those policing the no photos policy.

Sv Jovan Bigorski, Mavrovo

Back to Skopje

Returning Lynne's borrowed skirt we continued up the valley pausing for a picnic lunch by Mavrovo Lake. Then we left the national park and found our way to the Mother Teresa Motorway (yes, really!) which took us back to Skopje. We re-entered the city by the same route as we had left it a week before, found our way back to the same hotel and parked the car roughly where the hire company rep had parked it in a ‘dead end’ beside the hotel.

I parked the car where the green Volkswagen is in this picture

It was a hot day, and after checking-in a cold beer seemed appropriate so we strolled back down the 'dead end' road to a café.

A Parking Violation in Skopje

We had been sitting on the café’s deck behind a low hedge for some twenty minutes when I saw a white car moving down the road. ‘That’s a white Chevrolet like ours,’ I said to Lynne as I realised it was on the back of a truck. Even when I noticed it had a small dent on the passenger door 'just like ours' I did not immediately twig that it actually was ours and it was being taken away by the parking authorities.

Back at the hotel the receptionist suggested that we should have put it in the underground car park. ‘What underground car park?’ I asked. They had not told us about it as they had not known we had arrived by car, I had not asked about it as I could not see anything wrong with where I was parked - and the car had sat there for 24 hours a week ago without problem. It was, apparently, something to do with resident’s permits, and there was a sign on a lamppost, not an international No Parking sign, but a written notice in Macedonian. Ignorance, of course is no excuse, but in my defence I could point out that the sign over what I subsequently learned was the underground car park does not mention the hotel - the unlikely named 'Hotel Duvet Centre'.

The underground car park. Nowhere does it mention the Hotel Duvet Centre.

The reception team were helpful. They phoned the authorities, found out where the car was, did some special pleading so we only had to pay the £35 towing fee and not the fine and then called a cab.

The pound was not far away, under the railway arches by the station. As we arrived the clouds that had been gathering since we arrived in Skopje decided to spoil what had hitherto been a perfect summer day by unleashing a downpour. Retrieving the car was as painless as handing over that much money can be and we drove back to the hotel. This time I did put it in the car park. Behind those gates is a creaky lift which takes car and driver to a subterranean vault in which the hotel had half a dozen marked spaces. Well who knew that?

Later we went out (on foot) for out last Macedonian dinner and last bottle of Vranac - I should seek out a source when I get home.

04-Jun-015

A Long Walk to the Wrong Railway Station, Skopje

We had an afternoon flight so in the morning we decided to visit the railway station. The clock stopped at the instant of the 1967 earthquake and the station has been left as a memorial to those who died.

Lynne said there was a sign to it by mother Teresa's house, which was not far away. I pointed out that we had been there the previous day to collect the car and could walk there relatively quickly as, unlike a taxi, we would not have to detour over the river and back to avoid the pedestrianised area. It was so simple I did not even bother to look at the guide book.

After a longish walk on a hot morning we found the bus station easily enough and could see the railway station sitting on top of the embankment but could find no entrance.

Skopje Railway station, this one is not a memorial to anything

Eventually we discovered a small passageway between two ticket booths in the bus station that led into the railway station. It was largely a building site, indeed I am not sure whether it was open or if we should have been there at all, but we had a look round anyway and walked up to the empty platforms. There was no memorial, indeed nothing remarkable, except for us being entirely alone in a capital city railway station.

Pausing en route for a riverside coffee we trailed back to the hotel. Only then did I look at the guide book and discover that Skopje's old station, the earthquake memorial, was somewhere else entirely; the railway does not even go there anymore. Lynne’s words were a little harsh – but justifiably so.

Riverside walk and the Archeological Museum, Skopje

To Skopje Airport and Home

After a light lunch we drove to the airport. Despite the poor sign-posting, driving in Macedonia had been easy, indeed a pleasure, as there was so little traffic. This does not apply to central Skopje, which is busy, though the quality of sign-posting is no better. Signs that did exist were often late and required last minute manoeuvring across several lanes of fast moving traffic.

By luck or skill we reached the airport without mishap and toured around looking for the car hire garages. With the aid of a friendly policeman we realised there were no garages, just offices inside the terminal. Lynne went in while I sat in the car - I had no intention of being towed away twice. Failing to find the relevant office she asked the nice man at the Sixt desk. Our company’s only office was in the city centre, he told her but kindly offered to phone them. ‘No problem,’ said the woman on the phone. ‘Leave the car unlocked in the main car park, and place the keys in the boot.’ And so we did. I presume we would have heard if it had been stolen.

Despite the minor problems at the end we really enjoyed our first trip to Macedonia and second to the Balkans. I finished the final Croatia post three years ago by saying it was a region we hoped to return to. I finish this post with the same feeling.

The Balkans

Bosnia and Herzogivina (May 2012)
Croatia (May 2012)
North Macedonia (May/June 2015)

Tuesday 2 June 2015

Struga and Ohrid Trout: Part 14 of The Balkans

Round the North of Lake Ohrid to Struga, then back for an Ohrid (Style) Trout

Struga

North Macedonia
Struga

After a leisurely breakfast we set off for Struga. The town, about half the size of Ohrid is 15km away at the northernmost tip of the lake. We could have followed the main road, but despite the by now expected lack of signs we managed to find the minor road which hugs the coastline for most of the journey.

Ohrid to Struga and on round the western shore to the Albanian border

The Beaches and the Source of the Crna Drin

Struga is considered a down market resort in comparison with Ohrid. Its main attractions are what are described as its two ‘sandy beaches'. The cafés certainly struggle to give the right impression…..

One of Struga's beaches

…and the water is reputedly clean and undoubtedly warm, but on close inspection the beaches are neither sandy nor particularly attractive. Over 40% of Struga's residents are Albanians, and in accordance with their Muslim sensibilities the two beaches are called the 'male beach' and the 'female beach.' My photographic evidence suggests they are not actually (or no longer?) segregated, though for a warmish morning in early June there were surprisingly few people about.

'Sandy' beach, Struga

Between the two beaches is the official source of the Crna Drin (Black Deer) River. We had seen an alternative source the day before on the other side of the lake but although there are claims of a discrete flow through the lake, I find it hard to believe that the stream from springs thirty kilometres away is really the same river. There is a marked drop in level between the lake and the river and the water rushes through in dramatic fashion.

The waters of Lake Ohrid pour into the Crna Drin River, Struga

Literay Struga and the Miladinov Brothers

Struga was not always a down at heel backwater. In the 19th century it was the birthplace of the brothers, Dimitar and Konstantin Miladinov, poets who thought of themselves as Bulgarian but jointly created the modern Macedonian literary tradition. Konstantin Miladinov wrote Tăga za Jug (Longing for the South) in 1860 while in exile in cold, dark Russia. It is one of Macedonia's best known and most loved poems and one verse name checks both Struga and Ohrid.

No, I cannot stay here, no;
I cannot look upon these frosts.
Give me wings and I will don them;
I will fly to our own shores,
Go once more to our own places,
Go to Ohrid and to Struga.

Since 1966 an annual poetry festival has been held in Struga in memory of the brothers and has attracted an impressive guest list that includes Seamus Heaney, Pablo Neruda and Ted Hughes.

Coffee on Struga's Main Pedestrian Thoroughfare

We walked beside the river which is lined with cafés to the main pedestrian thoroughfare through the town. This, too, offers plenty of places to pause for a refreshingly cheap espresso, so pause we did.

Pedestrian street, Struga, looking modern and western (despite my lurking presence on the edge of the picture)

It is surprising how different the same street can look depending on the people you catch in the photograph.

Pedestrian street, Struga. The same street from almost the same place a few moments later looking distinctly eastern

There was little else to see in Struga so we strolled back to the car which was parked near the War Memorial. It is an extraordinarily ugly piece of concrete that looks unloved and uncared for. War memorials in the Balkans are problematic: though happy to celebrate the defeat of fascism, Macedonians are less happy to celebrate the victory of Marshall Tito's partisans which ensured Macedonia remained a part of Yugoslavia until the country unravelled a decade after Tito's death.

War Memorial, Struga

The Church of St Michael the Archangel, Radožda

From Struga we drove south and west, keeping to the minor road that hugs the coast until we reached the sizable fishing village of Radožda, the last settlement in Macedonia and the end of the road.

'Sleepy' is an overworked adjective for such places, but it seemed to fit here. Old men dozed on benches outside their houses or chatted with their neighbours across the street, raising their voices above the honking of frogs in the lake. Women busied themselves with a little desultory sweeping using brooms shaped like garden rakes.

The village sits between the lake and a rocky cliff up which a set of metal steps leads to the Church of St Michael the Archangel, the finest of several 13th century cave churches in the area.

Lynne starts up towards the Church of St Michael the Archangel, Radozda

The climb was hard work in the warm sunshine, but we were rewarded with a good view over the village. The headland on the right of the picture is well inside Albania.

Radozda from the steps up to the church

The church, like many others in Macedonia, has some impressive frescoes. Sadly it was locked, but paintings on the outside have survived several centuries of Macedonian weather remarkably well. It was a peaceful place, though even up here we could still hear the frogs in the lake below.

St Michael the Archangel, Radozda

There was also a small external chapel where Lynne lit a candle. Payment for the candles, 5 or 10 dinars depending on size, is left to trust, as is the tray containing the money. I find this a refreshing sign of people’s expectations in this out of the way place.

Lynne lights a candle, St Michael the Archangel, Radozda
Ohrid

Ohrid (style) Trout

A candle lit, we retraced out steps to Ohrid. The sun had been pleasantly warm, but as we drove back the clouds began to gather, the temperature fell and the windscreen became sprinkled with rain.

Salmo Letnica is a species of brown trout endemic to Lake Ohrid and related rivers. Unfortunately (for the trout) it is delicious and overfishing has brought it to the edge of extinction. Fishing is now banned in the breeding season in Albania and completely in Macedonian waters, but this protection is not enough and stocks continue to dwindle. Ohrid trout no longer appears on menus, but Ohrid-style trout does, though this seems to mean little other than grilled brown trout - which is a fine thing in its own right. We decided to dedicate lunch (and most of the early afternoon) to the bounty of the lake.

We chose a restaurant on the lakefront in the old town, sitting on the terrace over the water, behind a perspex screen to shield us from the by now unnecessarily chilly breeze. Lynne ordered the trout but I went for plasnica, tiny lake fish dusted with flour and gently fried - in other words whitebait.

We started, as had become our practice, with a glass of mastika. Lynne's trout was simply grilled and served with chips, a lettuce leaf, some beautifully sweet onion slices and a couple of pieces of shredded carrot - mainly for decoration. Macedonians are keen on salads but appear to have little interest in vegetables. My plasnica came just with lemon and high quality chunky bread, which was all it required.

Trout and small fishes, Ohrid

The wine list was confined to the produce of a single winery and at the waiter’s suggestion and against my better judgement we opted for a Chardonnay/Riesling blend. For the second day running we had encountered a waiter who knew his stuff, it was a fine match.

Lynne likes her fish 'not messed about with' so the trout was exactly how she likes it. The plasnica was good, too, treated much more sympathetically than the heavy handed ‘batter and deep fry’, the fate of whitebait in pubs at home.

At the end we had room for dessert and both chose baklava. The simple nuts and honey in pastry lacked the texture and subtlety of Greek/Turkish baklava, but it was still very enjoyable.

After lunch we poked around the market buying presents to take home and a picnic for our travels tomorrow. We had enjoyed our four days in Ohrid - it is a town which was well worth that much time, if not more.

Ohrid at dusk

We felt no need to eat again that day, but we did wander out in the evening to sit in a café, sup a beer and watch the world go by - and also to take a pleasing picture of Ohrid at dusk.

The Balkans

Bosnia and Herzogivina (May 2012)
Croatia (May 2012)
North Macedonia (May/June 2015)

Monday 1 June 2015

Ohrid to the Albanian Border Along Lake Ohrid's Eastern Shore: Part 13 of The Balkans

Lakeside Villages Ancient & Modern, Sveti Naum and a Possible Source of the Black Drin River

North Macedonia

Breakfast in Ohrid

Breakfast in Ohrid, like everywhere else except the Popova Kula winery, was eggs usually boiled sometimes scrambled and a selection of cold meats and mild cheeses. Macedonian bread, white and brown is pleasantly chunky but it all becomes a bit repetitive after a while though the olives - big, juicy and full of flavour - were a redeeming feature.

Elšani in the Galičica National Park

After a leisurely start we set off beneath a blue sky, driving south round the lake shore. After 10 km a side road took us into the hills of the Galičica National Park. Roads only graze the edge of the mountain wilderness and we ventured no further than the village of Elšani perched on a ledge above the lake. After dark in Ohrid we had seen lights twinkling from a gap in the forest, high on the mountainside - that was Elšani (probably).

The post covers a short drive from Ohrid down the east coast of the lake to the Albanian border

The village was further than we expected, several kilometres from the cluster of dwellings around the turn-off. We parked in the square and walked back in search of the church which is reputed to have a fine view of the lake. Like many local villages there is much building work, the new houses looking large and prosperous. Ironically, Elšani was the only place in Macedonia we saw a working animal, a donkey laden with twigs.

Working donkey, Elšani

Walking up the hill we found no church but there was a good view of Lake Ohrid lying below us, placid and blue and bathed in sunshine, though the clouds were gathering. At the edge of the village the dwellings looked sad and dilapidated, but we were unsure whether or not they were occupied.

Lake Ohrid from Elšani

We found the church as we left the village. It was lower down than we had expected, the view was no better than we had already seen and the building was locked.

Gradište, the Bay of Bones and a (Reconstructed) Village on Stilts

Returning to the ‘main’ road, though it is hardly big enough to justify that title, we continued south and soon passed through the small village of Gradište. On its southern edge, overlooked by the earthworks of a small Roman castellum, is the overdramatically named Bay of Bones. A stilt village on the lake existed here from the early Bronze to the late Iron Age. The site has been the centre of much underwater archaeology, which has including the bringing up of the remains of some of the former inhabitants - hence the name.

'Bay of Bones' stilt village, Gradište

The small museum has retained some interesting artefacts from the old village, but the new tourist development is the rebuilt ‘ancient village’. We were not the only visitors but it was hardly crowded; maybe we were too early in the season.

As we crossed the bridge to the village the gathering clouds decided it was time for rain. We sat in one the wattle and daub huts, pleased that the new thatch was doing its job effectively. The original inhabitants must have often listened to the pattering of rain on thatch – and also to a loud and persistent honking noise from a little further away.

Waiting for the rain to pass in Bronze Age luxury, Gradište

Frogs in Lake Ohrid

When the rain stopped we went to investigate, pretty sure we knew what the noise was, but uncertain if we would be able to see the perpetrators. In fact they were obvious, liberally dotting the surface of the lake. The honking of Lake Ohrid's frogs is renowned and they were living up to their billing, the males lying in the water and puffing out their cheeks. I do not think it's a good look, or a good noise, but then I am not a female frog.

Lake Ohrid frog in amorous mode

Picnic tables, each with their own thatched roof, had been set out on the slope between the car park and the museum, and as we had acquired the wherewithal for a picnic yesterday evening in Ohrid, we decided to eat in the dry.

Trpejca - Lakeside Village

After lunch we drove on to the next village. Trpejca, apart from being almost unpronounceable, is a traditional lake side village, though inevitably tourism is changing its face. The passing shower had moved on to bother someone else by the time we parked in the village square and walked down to the lake through streets free from cars - their narrowness dissuades drivers, but the street's habit of occasionally turning into steps is a clincher.

Trpejca

Without tides or large waves lakeside fishing villages get much closer to the water than seaside villages would ever dare. Trpejca has a narrow shingle beach on which boats were pulled up. I took off my sandals and paddled in the warm crystal clear water, but the shingle was extraordinarily painful to stand on.

The waterfront, Trpejca

The village was very quiet and the restaurants along the front were empty. It was warm and sunny now the rain had passed, but the season had clearly not yet arrived.

The water is clear and warm, the pebbles sharp - Lake Ohrid, Trpejca

The Monastery of Sveti Naum

A further 7km on is Ljubaništa, the last village in Macedonia some 4km from the Albanian border. Turning off the road after two of those four kilometres took us to the monastery of Sveti Naum. This is the end of the road and the main tourist attraction on this shore. The car park was busy, but far from full.

We walked down a path through a line of souvenir stalls, past a couple of restaurants that were doing good business and found what appeared to be the entrance to the monastery, which in part also seems to be a hotel.

The monastery was founded in 905 by St Naum of Ohrid, who is also buried here. He was a Bulgarian/Macedonian monk (the distinction is more recent than most Macedonians are willing to admit) and a disciple of Saints Cyril and Methodius. He accompanied them to Bohemia and contributed to the development of the Glagolitic script. On returning to Ohrid, he assisted in the development of a Slavonic liturgy to replace the existing Greek liturgy and so establish Bulgarian cultural independence from Byzantium.

He died in 910 and is buried in his own church which, with the usual Macedonian reluctance to sign anything, we eventually found in a courtyard of the monastery/hotel.

The Church of Sveti Naum in the monastery of the same name, between Ljubaništa and the Albanian border

It is a beautiful old building with the usual medieval frescoes and icons. Near the door is the tomb of Sveti Naum himself, and legend says that if you put your ear to the tomb you can hear his heartbeat. We diligently knelt on the floor, and laid our ears just about where his heart should be, listened hard and heard.....nothing. I was mildly disappointed, but hardly surprised.

The Icononstasis, Sveti Naum, between Ljubaništa and the Albanian border

Like all Macedonian churches the walls are covered in frescoes and as the aged monk selling tickets stayed in a booth outside I ventured a photograph or two. I particularly liked a painting appearing to show winged horses attempting to pull a cart in several directions at once. Lynne, with her biblical knowledge, assured me it was a depiction of the Assumption of Elijah and the horses are all working together to pull his chariot upwards into heaven.

Elijah being carried up to heaven - though it looks more likely they will pull the chariot apart
Sveti Naum, between Ljubaništa and the Albanian border

To the Source of the Black Drin River (Possibly)

Leaving Sveti Naum we walked back towards the car park, with large blue lake Ohrid on our left and a smaller darker looking lake on our right. What all visitors to Sveti Naum should do, once they have failed to hear his heart beat, is seek out what may be the source of the Black Drin River.

A man was just rowing his previous clients back to the landing stage, and as there was no one else about he fixed his beady eye on us. We settled a price (in Euros) climbed aboard his boat and he rowed us off across the black waters of the lake to its farthest shore.

Rowing to the source of the Black Drin

Although black, the waters are unbelievably clear and clean, and kept that way in part by a ban on motors - hence the rowing. We could see fish, the inevitable frogs and a just a few of the many birds living among the reed beds, but the most remarkable sight was the source itself, water bubbling up through the sandy bottom of the lake. Several more conventional springs surround the end of the lake.

Underwater springs, the source of the Black Drin (maybe)

After our boat trip we walked to where the waters of the black lake discharge into Lake Ohrid. There is a considerable drop from one to the other, and the water rushes through at the sort of pace that you might imagine would empty the smaller lake. Of course it does not; the springs beneath and around the lake must be pumping out far more water than it would appear to the casual observer.

Reed beds near the 'source of the Black Drin'

The official source of the Crno Drin is at Struga where it leaves the lake. The name is often half translated as Black Drin, which is inconsistent, but makes it sound dark, mysterious and slightly dangerous. What we had seen is touted as being the river’s source, but whether it can really be described as the same river is doubtful, though it is claimed the water forms a definite flow through the lake.

Where the Back Drin enters Lake Ohrid

Back to Ohrid and an Excellent Dinner

Leaving Sveti Naun we returned to Ohrid.

In the evening we dined at a restaurant with the Cyrillic name of сун, which should be transliterated ‘sun’ but the management had taken the unfortunate decision to write CUN in large letters over the door.

At seven thirty the place was filling with diners, most of them foreigners. Ohrid is a major holiday resort, but largely for Macedonians. Finding so many foreigners gathered at this one restaurant was maybe related to it being unequivocally a restaurant, most other establishments were bar-restaurants and Macedonians tend to drink out rather than eat out.

Over a glass of mastika we perused a menu dominated by skara (grilled meats). I ordered calve's liver while Lynne chose dolma. The wine list was laid out by winery, and we plumped for a vranec from the Stobi Winery we had passed at Grasko. The waiter shook his head, saying the vranec from Popova Kula (the winery we had stayed at in Demir Kapija) was far better. Cynics might wonder if his enthusiasm for Popova Kula was based on it being 150 denar more expensive, but I let him talk me into it. The wine’s dark smoky depths went so well with the dolma and the succulent slices of liver lightly charred on the grill, and with the dolma, that the waiter’s opinion was entirely vindicated.

I am a fan of Vranec which produces most of the best red wines of Bosnia, Macedonia and Montenegro (and probably of other nearby countries of which I am yet ignorant.) At its best, as here, it is a dark red wine with a rich smokiness, grippy tannins, ripe plummy fruit and balancing acidity. It has fruit, complexity and structure, all the things wine buffs bang on about, so why then, I wonder is it unknown outside the Balkans?

We just had enough space to share a couple of desserts; ice cream and Ohrid cake. The local cake is on all menus, and although the cake itself is nothing special it comes steeped in syrup, making it irresistible.

A complimentary glass of Rakija, Macedonian brandy, rounded off a very pleasant evening.


The Balkans

Bosnia and Herzogivina (May 2012)
Croatia (May 2012)
North Macedonia (May/June 2015)