Restaurant Tito, Mini Market Jovanka

The billboard looks a bit tired but the restaurant Tito is fully functional and alive with customers.

Josip Broz Tito (1892-1980) from 1953 up until his death was the leader of the Socialist Yugoslavia, a federal country that included today's Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Slovenia, Macedonia, Montenegro and Kosovo *.

* Socialist Bulgaria was also thinking about joining the Tito's federation in the early days of the doctrine and, because of this, got into serious trouble with Stalin. Bulgaria's leader Georgi Dimitrov was invited to Moscow and suddenly died there in 1949.

Although an authoritarian, Tito was loved by many and nicknamed a well-meaning 'father'. He did impose sanctions on his political opponents but the mainstream opinion was that Tito was a 'true' leader, keeping the interests of the federation's people above their nationalities.

Of all socialist republics during the Cold War Yugoslavia was among the most 'sane', and it kept itself separately from Stalin who dominated most of the socialist Eastern Europe. In fact, as I have already mentioned in an earlier post, the Yugoslav passport was highly desired not only by fellow socialists of the time but by many capitalist citizens too, as it was one of the few passports allowing its owner free travel nearly everywhere in the world.

Even now, 33 years after his death and 21 years after the disintegration of the socialist Yugoslavia, Tito is well-respected and even missed by some Serbs.

It is 2013. I am hitch-hiking from Belgrade to Niš. A Serbian driver, seemingly in his 40s, offers to stop for a coffee at a roadside restaurant. The place is called 'Tito'.

It looks like a little shrine, or a museum, or a memorial to the great leader and the socialist times. Both inside and outside there are busts, portraits, maps, newspaper clippings, ideological books. Groups of customers sit here and there at a few tables, chatting in what sounds like Serbo-Croatian. It is only a weekday afternoon, there are no large cities nearby. I can estimate that perhaps well over a hundred people could be seated on the premises if need be.

Next to the restaurant there is a mini market 'Jovanka', named after Tito's last wife. You get to visit the whole complex.

Even if some of the outside posters & photos seem to be deliberately damaged by those who do not miss the old days, the restaurant does not seem to have problems finding a sufficient number of customers, my hospitable driver including.

Mini market Jovanka, some of its exterior photos damaged by those who do not miss the old times.

You have now read the post. If you have an arhaeological interest, here is what you can do next:

- Watch the film 'Good Bye Lenin!' about an East Germany woman who falls into coma during the socialist times and wakes up in a whole new era;
- Visit the Grūtas Park in Lithuania. After separating from the Soviet Union, Lithuanians decided to move all their marxes, lenins, stalins and other communist decorations into a specially-designated theme park, now a popular tourist attraction.

Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013.

Bombed by the NATO

Former Yugoslav Ministry of Defence, building bombed by the NATO in 1999.

Walking in central Belgrade you are likely to come across the mutilated building pictured above. It stands in an otherwise quite a presentable part of the city but, it seems, no one is trying neither to to repair nor to remove the shattered carcass of the once very important building.

The edifice is that of the former Yugoslav Ministry of Defence. It was bombed by the NATO troops back in 1999, during the Kosovo war. In short, Kosovo (mainly the Albanian majority of it) wanted independence from Serbia and was supported by the NATO, while the Serbian government was strongly against it.

Even nowadays, Kosovo officially being an internationally recognised independent republic, the status of this former Serbian province is still being questioned. Many of the Kosovo Serbs would not mind at all if their region re-joined Serbia, whilst many of the Kosovo Albanians certainly want independence.

The few Serbian Serbs I have talked to seemed to be rather careful discussing the Kosovo question with me. Then, in the city of Niš, I found a street exhibition by the Serbian Tourism Organisation - in one of its maps Kosovo was shown, in the same way as the northern Vojvodina province, as a region of Serbia.

Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013. 

Plazma, nourishment for generations of Serbs. Then add some grilled meat.

 

Plazma, a recent street advertisement stand.

At least a few people here in Bulgaria, both locals and foreigners, have told me that they adored Serbian food. Before actually getting to Serbia I knew only one certain thing about their food: Plazma.

Plazma are biscuits, and not your average tea biscuits in this regard. They are packed with vitamins & minerals in order to make their consumer beautiful, healthy and fit. Invented during the socialist times, Plazma biscuits retain their cult status nowadays. Moreover, today you can buy them in more forms, even crushed and mixed into ice cream, if you prefer so.

Then you may also want to taste Eurokrem - the Serbian version of Nutella. If you are excited by biscuits you will easily find ones with the Eurokrem filling.

Biscuits aside, a real Serb cannot live without meat. Meat is an essential part of the Serbian cuisine, the lead of all meals. Usually it is eaten grilled. I have witnessed numerous kiosks selling various grilled meats, both solid fillets and minced chevapi, of different animals - and little else.

Another type of small shop in abundance in Serbia is pekara - a small bakery. The locals eat both sweet and savoury pastries; slices of pizza can occasionally be found in pekaras too. It is very appropriate to accompany your savoury pastries with a glass of salted liquid yogurt.

And then, of course, you should have no problem finding plenty of occasions to have a shot of rakija. If you cannot, the locals will find the occasions for you.

This text, of course, offered only a very quick insight into the riches of the Serbian cuisine.

Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013.

Ghosts of the outskirts of Niš, Serbia

One sunny day, Niš.

Niš, a spacious town of 200 thousand by the river in southern Serbia, nowadays looks rather chilled - at least so in the centre. True, it is Serbia's third largest city and an important industrial hub - but downtown the life appears peaceful, with street cafes & shops and an old fortress.

The relaxed downtown, however, is surrounded from three sides by gloomy reminders of death and otherwise bloody history. On arrival to Niš I feel like a child talking to a pleasant, cultured lady. Polite and nicely dressed, she chats to me about pretty things and gives me sweet little presents but I can sense the deep fjord of cold between us; I know she hides something from me that is behind my capacity to understand. Then I discover some frightening things in her closets.

Serbian history, like the history of the Balkans in general, has witnessed no shortage of blood and head chopping, literally.

GHOST OF THE NORTH is the Nazi concentration camp of the Red Cross, a.k.a the camp of 12 February. The latter name was given to the camp not by the Nazis - on 12 February 1942 over a hundred of the camp's prisoners managed to escape behind the guarded double-wire fence. It was the biggest to date escape from a Nazi camp. After the escape the Red Cross was reinforced with concrete walls, and the subsequent escape at the end of the same year was much less successful.

Red Cross is rather compact in scale (when you compare it to e.g. Auschwitz) but it could hold a few hundred people at a time on the two floors of the large barn style building - ground floor for men, first floor for women and children. It remains today as one of the best preserved Nazi camps in Europe.

The Red Cross was built as a detention camp for the local Jews, Roma, Serbians. Mass killings did not happen there, instead, the victims were either brought by trains to other, larger, concentration camps, or mass-shot at the local Bubanj area which is the city's GHOST OF THE SOUTHWEST.

Nowadays Bubanj park is a recreational area but the massive sculptures of three clenched fists symbolysing men, women and children shot here remind everyone about the area's past.

GHOST OF THE EAST, Chele Kula, is where the major road to Istanbul during the Ottoman times used to be. Big part of Serbia was conquered by the Ottomans. In 1809 a battle between Serbian rebels and the Ottoman army took place in the neighbourhood - it was part of the broader uprising against the empire. The battle ended tragically for the Serbs, and, in order to demonstrate their power and to give fear to any potential future resistants, the Ottomans built on the said major road a tall tower, studded from all its sides, floor to top, with the defeated Serbians' skulls.

It has been calculated that nearly a thousand of skulls were used for the construction. Nowadays are remaining only 58 of them - the rest were burried or stolen by souvenir hunters and otherwise disappeared during the time. The tower, now locked inside a chapel, for over eighty years stood completely uncovered.

The skull tower was not the only such type of construction made by the Ottomans but it is certainly one of the best known and one of the most symbolic. Many Serbians will point it out to you as a must see during your visit; it means much to them.



Some of the remaining skulls, Chele Kula.

Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013.

Autumn outfits of Lake Pancharevo

This post is a few weeks overdue.

One mid-November day I was walking around Lake Pancharevo with my camera on and I captured some of its autumn specialities.

Now Sofia is leaf-less and parts of it are covered with snow. Let us go back to the recent colourful times for a few minutes.

The rowers are still there.

Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013.

Harry Benson in Sofia - your chance to see the contemporary photography classics

Harry Benson giving a speech during the opening of his '60 Years in Photographs' exhibition, 5 December 2013, Sofia. 

An exhibition of over forty works by the legendary Scottish American photographer Harry Benson can now be seen at the Vivacom Art Hall in Sofia. The show marks the 60 years' anniversary of Benson as a professional photographer.    

Mr Benson himself attended the opening event of the exhibition on 5 December. The next day he gave a public lecture during which he demonstrated yet more photographs and told the stories behind them. The lecture room was completely packed. Queues of people were waiting to get his autographs after the talk.

Now in his 80s, Harry Benson retains a noticeably youthful aura around him, along with sharp wit and wisdom - without too many unnecessary words. His sentences are elegant and a delight to follow, and, despite all the years spent living in the USA, mild Glaswegian accent can still be heard in his voice.

Benson is often mentioned as a long-term photographer for the Life magazine. His career has been very diverse. After publishing his very first photo of a deer from his father's zoo in Glasgow, Benson went on to photograph weddings, then he was hired as a reporter to cover all Scotland, then got an assignment to follow The Beatles on tour, then he followed them to America and decided to stay. A career at Life followed.

Benson has photographed many famous people including all American presidents, starting with Eisenhower, as well as many actors, musicians & other stars. However, his portfolio also includes a significant share of photographs from the rougher side of life: the racial clashes of the 1960s, the Ku Klux Klan, the IRA, the war in the Dominican Republic. He has captured the assasination of Robert F. Kennedy in 1968. Benson is often informally titled as the chronicler of the 1960s.    

It's great to be able to see works of such a legend in Sofia - you have time until 15 January 2014.



Crowded room during the lecture, 6 December.

Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013.

Bulgarian anti-government demonstrations: revolution, evolution, or just a street party

Bulgarian demonstrators asking for the EU help in getting rid of their government. November 2013.

From a distance it sounds like a football match: the pulsating noise of chants, vuvuzelas and whistles. Approaching closer, you start to register separate phrases being shouted out by the crowds: Ma-fi-ja! - Os-tav-ka! - Cher-ve-ni pod-klu-tzi! Then you see them.

Hundreds, on some days thousands of demonstrators: carrying Bulgarian flags or wrapped in them; walking, marching and cycling; people with small children in prams and the elderly; dog walkers and those straight from the office; serious-looking citizens and guys with plastic two-litre beer bottles.

Every day they meet at the Largo, demonstrate there, then march along the Tsar Osvoboditel Boulevard, stop at the Parliament, then continue towards the Sofia University and beyond. Some live in tents in the proximity of the Parliament building. The monument of the Osvoboditel (Liberator) himself, sitting tall on a horse opposite the Parliament entrance, is covered up to the hooves with banners, slogans and perching demonstrators.

For some the demonstrations are a type of social gathering, a street party where new friends are made and romances start; for others it is a very serious business. Some of my colleagues dilligently go there every day after work. I have seen groups demonstrating in front of the German embassy - asking for the Germans' help in removing the corrupted Bulgarian government.

The police fence the access to the main government buildings and close certain streets every afternoon in preparations; TV crews park their vans and wait for that night's spectacle. For journalists, being and working there does not necessarilly mean that their reports will be broadcasted, as much of the media is said to be ruled by the same governing clan.

My relatives abroad find out about the demonstrations months after they have actually started - and I have been witnessing them every single day since the early June. Only in August, the holliday month, the parades had diminished for a couple of weeks in Sofia - but even then there had been some outbursts on the Bulgarian seaside, including one at a beach campsitte. In September Sofian troops were firmly back in the streets of the capital once again.

I have seen masses of people chanting while riding the metro; quiet commuting pensioners with their Bulgarian flags carefully rolled away, dogs dressed in slogan-bearing dog vests. I have felt an air of upheaval and solidarity. The sheer amounts of the demonstrators, especially during the early summer days, were those comparable to only what I had seen as a child back in Vilnius during the Lithuanian 'Singing Revolution'. 

The Bulgarian 'singing revolution', however, was not meant to take over. People are still demonstrating and the same government is still on. Nothing has changed.

When asked who might be a better replacement for the government still in power a few Bulgarians simply do not seem to know any alternatives. 'No political culture here, everyone is corrupted', one of them says.

Then a watching youngish foreigner from Wester Europe thoughtfully suggests the demonstrators set up a party and pick the new leaders from among themselves. 

Below are some images from various days of the demonstration.

 Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013.