The village in Cerkno is over, and I have
jumped on the bus with Klaus and Tina. We are slowly making our way to Romania
via Croatia and then Serbia, and will be exhibiting the work in the Galleria
Nowhere along the way. We will part ways in Timisoara, where they will take on
Romania and I will be jumping on a plane back home.
Because we are not in the middle of a
village anymore, harvesting stories is becoming a little more difficult. The
blog will carry on, hopefully there will be a few interesting characters along
the way. In the meantime, I am busy making postcard-sized mementos of our
stopping points, and conveniently forgetting some along the way. Every place
where we open the Galleria will be the spot for leaving one of these mementos
behind, either for someone to find and keep, or dump in the nearest bin, or for
the rain to wash away. The images of places where we stop, but do not set up
the gallery will be added into my travelling suitcase display.
So far we have stopped in Metelkova (an
artists’ squat in Ljubljana), a nice hilltop along the road, and now we have
gone completely off the grid (no internet) in a nice meadow somewhere in
Croatia, we have stopped here to rest and recharge for a little, and then head
on to Novi Sad. This is also where we encountered Ivan.
Ivan
The plan was to leave Ljublana, find a nice
spot beside a river, and cool down and rest for a couple of days. On day one we
did not find such a spot, and it wasn’t happening on day two either. I should
add that this was not for lack of trying. Klaus has earned my lifelong respect
when it comes to driving skills. Anyways, we had been on the road for a quite a
while and it had become clear that the ideal spot was nowhere within our reach
–or on our way. So we (and by we I mean Klaus) finally spotted a somewhat
secluded meadow with enough space for our entire setup. He drove in, and we set
up camp.
Despite the lack of any water source (the
only excuse for my disgusting, greasy hair), the plan was (and still is) to
stay here for a couple of days. Enough wandering. We are more that half way to
Novi Sad anyways. So we set up camp, have a beer –Micheladas are becoming a
tradition upon arrival- and start cooking dinner. All of a sudden, a Jeep
drives into our meadow. This can only go two ways; either they kick us out, or give
us permission to stay. Our strategy: Smile, wave and be welcoming. Act like
there’s nothing wrong with us being here, and people will believe the same. And
it works.
I am standing outside, smile and wave. And
out of the car steps Ivan. He is smiling. Klaus comes out, and greets him as
well. Ivan is a nice, middle-aged man, and it seems that this land is his.
Apparently, most of the land around us is. He does not speak a word of English,
but is quite happy to exercise his German skills with Klaus and Tina. We
introduce ourselves. –Hi, Im Francisca-. –Uhhh Francisca!- and he stared me up
and down. Lets just say he took a shine to me. Its good that I have no idea
what they talked about for the rest of the evening. Here is as much as I could
make out.
Ivan used to be a truck driver. He has
travelled all over Europe and is rather impressed with the bus. Im not sure if
he is still driving. I don’t think so, as he seems to be rather busy with his
other activities, but he has many stories from the road. He tells us that we
are quite lucky to be in Croatia. Here no one is going to kick us off their
land. Croatians are nice people, not like Slovenians (according to him, I
certainly have not had one bad Slovenian experience). Especially the Croatian
police. If you do something wrong here, the police apparently are your friends.
In Slovenia, they just give you a ticket. Im not too sure what he means by
that. That they don’t care if you speed? Or that if you are nice to them, they
won’t fine you? If this is the case, they are the friendliest police on the
planet. So friendly that I am a bit sceptical about this.
He asks us how we got here. Was the
Slovenian police nice to us? -No police for us-, Klaus tells him, -we stay off
the Autobahn, so we avoid the police.-
-Oh, yes! Of Course! No Autobahn! Just a
bunch of thieves!- Finally something we agree on. We offer him a beer, and he
accepts, but refuses to drink alone, Tina is fine, her sparkling apple juice
already looks like beer, but Klaus and I are forced to share another beer out
of politeness. Yes, these social conventions are truly tough to live with...
He’s still not happy that we share a beer instead of having one each. We
explain we still have work to do? Or apparently I do. -Work? What sort of
work?- Asks Ivan. Klaus explains to him the project, and that they are
itinerating the gallery while I’m doing a travelling residency. Thank the
universe he’s happy with that and me smiling and nodding. Otherwise I would
have had to explain the whole project to him, and in German, I literally have
no words.
He goes on to tell us something about
vinograd. Now, this goes more like a pantomime than a conversation. Even Klaus and
Tina struggle to understand what he’s going on about. Vino… that means wine!
Again one of those international words, but then Vinograd? He’s making shapes
with his arms, describing some expanse. Could he be talking about a winery? No…
we are literally in the middle of a forest. Clearly no wineries around here.
But maybe… And then comes the second part of the miming: Grad. That sounds more
like a village than anything else. Well, maybe he’s from a village around here
called Vinograd. Disappointment sinks in. Tina and Klaus have already
understood what’s going on. So the miming carries on for a bit and then I’m
clued in. He really owns a winery, and it’s just a little down the road. As far
as I’m concerned, we have arrived in heaven. The conversation carries on for a
bit, and then he invites Klaus to see the winery. We are not hungry enough for
eating, so away they go. I have a feeling this might take a while.
They return a couple of hours later. Klaus
is very happy. The vineyard is organic, and he’s already had three glasses and
no bad reaction. They bring a bottle of coke filled with wine, and cheers! (in
truth it was the Serbo-croat equivalent of the word, but I can’t remember it.
Slivovitz or something that sounds like that). It was a lovely glass of almost
grape juice. Some young, sweet wine. It tasted almost like Chicha (just google
it), but a little thicker. We ask him about the tree house at the end of the
meadow. It’s for boar hunting… lovely. People come and hunt boar here, and
because it’s his land, he takes care that they don’t over do it. He’s a hunter
himself. In fact, he’s going hunting tonight. The night carries on, and as Ivan
sips glass after glass of wine, I get the occasional –Francisca!- and then a
lot of gibberish that Tina and Klaus are graceful enough not to translate. I’m
starting to think he might be trying to trade me for a few litres of diesel and
a goat.
All of a sudden he is asking us to set up
the gallery on Saturday and he’ll prepare a barbecue for us and bring his band
(yes, he is a musician too) and they’ll play. Nice, weekend garden party. He
asks what meat we like and we tell him we don’t eat meat. What, not even
chicken? I am very clear about that. Certainly not –insert image of me flapping
arms like a chicken. He is not pleased. I think he might be one of those people
who don’t trust vegetarians. We agree on fish.
It’s getting late. Ivan does not look
inclined to leave. Tina is really tired and goes to bed. All of a sudden Klaus
and Ivan start talking about tractors. Apparently Ivan wants a new Austrian or
German (I’m not sure which) tractor for the winery. Klaus, of course, has a
tractor guy, because who doesn’t have a tractor guy? So he tells Ivan that
Gunther –the tractor guy- can sort him out. They exchange Gunther’s number… we
are getting tired. I retire to the caravan and pretend I’m going to bed so that
Ivan gets the hint. It does not work. I’m sitting in the caravan sorting
through some photos and can still hear them going on about tractors. And an
occasional –Francisca!-.
Oh dear, now he’s trading me for a few
litres of diesel and a tractor! Eventually Ivan does leave. I still don’t know
if he left of his own accord or if Klaus just went to bed and he was forced to
follow. I guess he must be happy to have us around. I have a feeling not many
strangers make the journey here.
Ivan is a genuinely nice, harmless man. The
only thing that makes me uneasy is that he is going hunting after drinking with
us, tipsy, alone, and at night. I go to bed a little later and I wake up at 3
A.M., in desperate need of a wee. I get out of my tent and the almost full moon
is lighting up the meadow like a sea of silver grass. There is a distinct loud
grunting coming form the woods. Those are the boars. And then another thought comes
into my head: What if the sound is a decoy and Ivan is in his tower, calling
boars to hunt? I don’t know what makes me more uncomfortable, weeing under
Ivan’s plain view on the meadow or going into the boar’s woods. So I quickly go
behind the caravan and sneak back into my tent. It takes me a while to fall
back asleep. The boars are grunting really loudly. Luckily, no shots are fired.
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