The Black Mountain: A Balkan Adventure (Part 1)

Earlier this month, I took my first trip abroad in four years. I used to travel a lot. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I used to have at least one trip abroad almost every year – sometimes two. But the pandemic put a stop to that. Even after foreign travel was permitted once more, various restrictions – either here in Israel, or in one’s desired destination – made the idea impractical. But now that the hysteria has died down – even though it seems that COVID is with us to stay, much like flu – it seemed opportune to get out and see some more of the world again.

I have wanted to visit the Balkans for years, and specifically, Montenegro, which is associated in my imagination with tales of adventure set in imaginary kingdoms such as Ruritania – not to mention Franz Lehar’s “Merry Widow”. Lehar did, apparently, have Montenegro in mind when he named his heroine Hanna Glawari’s homeland Pontevedro (which has the same metrical value as Montenegro) and gave his Pontevedrin characters traditional Montenegrin names, such as Count Danilo, Baron Mirko Zeta and Njegus (Danilo I Petrović-Njegoš was the ruling Prince of Montenegro from 1851 – 1860, during whose reign, Montenegro won its de facto independence from Ottoman Turkey, after Danilo’s brother Mirko defeated the latter at the Battle of Grahovac. Zeta was the name of a mediaeval polity that encompassed parts of what are now Montenegro and Albania).

Accordingly, I booked a 7-day trip through Arkia International Tourism and Travel and at 3 am one morning at the end of August, found myself at Ben Gurion Airport, waiting for the 6:10 am flight with Air Montenegro to Podgorica, the Montenegrin capital formerly known as Titograd, after Marshal Tito, the ruler of Yugoslavia, of which Montenegro was once a part.
It’s a short flight, only about 2 hours and 40 minutes, and, taking into account the time difference between Israel and Montenegro, by 8 am, we had already landed.

One of the things that had rather worried me was the fact that we were to meet the Arkia tour guide at the airport in Podgorica and that there had not been a representative of Arkia to see us off at Ben Gurion Airport. I was lucky to find an elderly couple who were also booked on the tour, at Ben Gurion – but that was only because the Arkia guide, Haim, had created a WhatsApp group and some of the group members had arranged to meet before the flight (in the event, apart from myself and this couple, nobody turned up). However, we all managed to find each other and now, Haim and the local guide who was to accompany us throughout the 7 days of our tour, Vuk, led us outside to where our bus was waiting.

It was pouring. In fact, the Weather Channel, a useful little app which I had been consulting since booking the tour, informed us that we were in for heavy rain and thunderstorms throughout the first two days of our trip.

And so it was.

As we drove out into the countryside, it seemed as if the clouds were encircling even the lower levels of the dark, pine-covered mountains for which Montenegro (the Black Mountain) is named.

According to the official itinerary, we were supposed to visit some salt lakes. Haim denied all knowledge of this and said it wasn’t on the itinerary he had received. It would not be the first time we received this answer when we pointed out that “the Itinerary” promised that we would visit or see this or that place. Indeed, we discovered more than once that “seeing” a place, often meant no more than driving through it or round it and seeing it from the bus.

At all events, we set out now for Cetinje, the former royal capital of Montenegro. On the way, we drove through Njeguši, a village we were actually supposed to visit on the last day of the tour, which is famous for its smoked ham, cheeses and natural mountain honey, all of which can be purchased from one of the many roadside stalls which lined our route. I did purchase some honey. The locals add dried fruits and nuts or seeds to it and sell it for 5 euros a jar. I haven’t yet opened it but it should go well with yoghurt.

In Cetinje, we saw (but did not enter) the Court Church, built on the ruins of the original Cetinje Monastery and containing the remains of the last monarch (and only King) of Montenegro, Nicholas (Nikola) I, nephew of the aforementioned Danilo I, and his wife Queen Milena.

There are, apparently, many famous and beautiful icons in the church, but, as I said, we did not enter and so did not see them. We did enter the Serbian Orthodox Cetinje Monastery. Photography is forbidden inside so I have only pictures of the exterior.

Founded in 1484 by Ivan Crnojević, the monastery was destroyed and rebuilt several times, most recently in 1927.

A modern statue of Ivan is prominently displayed nearby:

And then there was this – but what “this” is, I have no idea.

Haim pointed out various other sights such as the Biljarda, formerly a royal residence famous for its billiard room (before Ping Pong diplomacy, there was Billiards diplomacy, it seems), various museums housed in former embassies and so on, before we were set loose upon the town for “free time” which most of us used to have a very late lunch, after having been warned that service in Montenegrin restaurants is very slow indeed and that the concept of “fast food” scarcely exists there.

After that, it was time to head back to Podgorica, where we would be staying for the remaining days of our trip.

Here is the view from the bus on the way back.

We were supposed to be getting a guided tour of the Montenegrin capital, which is crossed by two rivers, on Day 6 of the tour, but Haim decided instead to show us the highlights (from the bus) on the way to the hotel. The blurb in the Itinerary (the one we received but Haim apparently did not) stated: “The building style mirrors the upheavals the city endured. We shall see the Turkish Ottoman style with mosques and narrow alleys, combined with wide boulevards and buildings in the European style.”
Actually, what we saw was mostly traffic and people making their way home from work. The local guide, Vuk, pointed out the building where he lived. I do not recall seeing any mosques or narrow alleyways.

Our hotel – the Ramada – was situated on a wide road, with a supermarket and shopping centre conveniently around the corner. My room was very comfortable and was more like a suite. It was spacious, with a sitting area and even a kitchenette. It didn’t have much of a view but as we spent very little time there, that wasn’t important. The room from the fifth floor Panorama Restaurant was spectacular but I can’t say the same for supper. There was, indeed, a fairly wide selection, but the fish was overdone and nothing was more than lukewarm.

Breakfast the following day was somewhat better, but as it was still pouring with rain, I couldn’t really enjoy the view, much less dine outdoors on the terrace.

The second day, according to the Itinerary, was supposed to be devoted to Lake Skadar, one of Montenegro’s five National Parks, and to the Old Town of Bar, but Haim decided to switch the programmes for Day 2 and Day 3 (possibly because of the weather). Accordingly, we headed instead for the Durmitor National Park, up in the mountains, where there are lakes formed by glaciers, rivers, and mountain gorges, surrounded by Alpine vegetation and forests.

On the way, we visited the famous Tara River Gorge, or Tara Canyon as it is also known.

And now comes the inevitable “Jewish Connection”.

The Tara Canyon is the deepest in Europe and the second deepest in the world, after the Grand Canyon in the US and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. During World War II, this area was occupied by the invading Italian army and became the scene of fierce fighting with the partisans (the most famous of whom was Josip Broz Tito). In 1942, there was an Italian offensive which took control of the Tara Bridge – the only place where a large-scale crossing of the gorge by troops was feasible and the construction of which had only been completed a couple of years earlier. The partisans decided to blow up the bridge. To achieve this, they needed the specialised knowledge of one of the bridge’s designers. With the help of one of the bridge engineers, Lazar Jauković, (a Jew), they succeeded in blowing up one of the bridge’s five arches, thus halting the Italian advance. Unfortunately, Lazar Jauković was later captured by the Italians, and executed by firing squad on the Bridge which he had helped to build and then partially destroy. The bridge was restored after the War and a monument erected in Jauković’s memory. A translation of the dedication reads:

 “Lazar Jauković – Engineer – During the Third enemy offensive (Operation Trio) in 1942 he demolished the bridge by order of the Supreme Staff (later General Staff) of the People’s Liberation Army (NOV) and Partisan Detachments (PO) of Yugoslavia. For this, on the bridge itself, he was executed by a firing squad by the occupiers and domestic traitors – Chetniks, on August 2 1942.
During the bridge’s renovation the People erected this monument in recognition of his deeds.“

And here is the bridge itself.

And yours truly on the Bridge. As you can see, the sun had come out by then:

And now for the magnificent views from the Bridge:

If you are wondering what that is in the very centre of the picture – wonder no more. One of the most popular activities in the Tara Gorge, along with kayaking, is ziplining. No, I wasn’t brave enough – or foolhardy enough – to attempt it, but a couple of women from our group did!

That noise you can hear in the background is the rush of the wind.

And here is the view a zipliner – or a bird – might enjoy:

I also saw bunches of flowers tied to the balustrades of the bridge. According to Vuk, our local guide, these commemorated people killed in accidents or (as I had suspected) suicides. Vuk said that during the lockdown engendered by the COVID-19 pandemic, quite a few people, especially young people, had taken their own lives.

Leaving the bridge, we headed for Durmitor, passing through the ski resort of Zabljak. It was mid-afternoon already, and the sky, which had miraculously cleared up for our visit to the Tara Bridge, was now clouding over again.

When we arrived, Haim said we could walk around one of the lakes but didn’t really recommend it and, in any case, it seemed most people were more interested in having a late lunch.

I was really rather disappointed by this kind of whistle-stop touring, because the place looked beautiful and there were many visitors there, walking with their children on their shoulders, or with dogs.

At any rate, here is the Black Lake, considered the most beautiful of the many glacial lakes in the National Park – and also the largest – so called because of the dark shadow caused by the trees surrounding it.

It is actually made up of two lakes, a large one and a smaller one. When the autumn rains raise the water level, the two lakes become one. But in the drier summer months, you can walk the path between the lakes.

Lakes like this are known locally as “mountain eyes”.

As I said, most of us were rather hungry by now so we repaired to the restaurant overlooking the Black Lake where, on the recommendation of our local guide, Vuk, I ordered a traditional Montenegrin dish called Kačamak, a very filling dish made of potatoes, flour and cheese, which is served in HUGE helpings.

After that, it was time to head back to Podgorica and our hotel. On the longish walk back to the bus, we could enjoy quirky art work representing some of the flora and fauna to be found in the Park:

Back in Podgorica, it was time for a shower and supper – lukewarm and mostly overcooked as before.
Thus ended the second day of our tour and here ends this post. But fear not – there is more to come.

To be continued…..