Out of the Village, and onto the road

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.