 |
| Modern street art in Podgorica, Montenegro |
As I mentioned in the last blog post I recently read a marvellous novel by a Montenegrin writer. The novel’s title is Catherine the Great and the Small, written
by Olja Knežević, translated by Paula Gordon and Ellen Elias-Bursać and published by Istros Books, who have brought us so many brilliant writers in translation from south-east Europe, such as Daša Drndić, Alma Lazarevska, Faruk Šehić etc
Catherine the Great and the Small is divided into two parts, both narrated by Katarina (often known as Kaća) in her inimitable voice. In the first part she is a teenager, still at school, growing up in the city of Podgorica (then known at Titograd) the capital of Montenegro. After leaving school she goes on to study economics at the university of Belgrade. There are two other important characters in these turbulent years, a boyfriend Staniša and her closest girlfriend, Milica. But this is no ordinary tale neither of young love and loyal friendship nor of academic success (though these are part of the story). In the 1980s the country then known as Yugoslavia is under great pressure. The leading politicians are sowing deep fractures with nationalistic speeches, stirring antipathies among its different nationalities, ethnicities and religions.
You can read the rest of my review online at Scottish Review.
It was after reading this inspiring book that I had the idea to post something about Montenegro. In the last post I quoted travellers to Montenegro in 1910 (Edith Durham) and 1936 (Harry Hodgkinson). My own first visit was almost 100 years after Edith Durham's.
 |
| Budva bay, Montenegro |
This was not long after the war in Kosova and borders were still regulated by KFOR, the international peacekeeping force. KFOR trucks and military personnel were a common sight in the north of Albania and had a particularly strong presence around all the border crossings. After the break-up of Yugoslavia, all that was left was Montenegro and Serbia (sometimes known as rump Yugoslavia). These two states had not yet separated into individual countries (that would happen 3 years later). And Kosova, (majority ethnic Albanian) at that time was still a part of Serbia so that coming from Albania into what was still Serbia-and-Montenegro just after the Kosova war, was a tense process.
It was a lengthy procedure, as all of our passports, an international mix of Albanian, British, Australian and American, were minutely examined. But once we were through, we watched the scenery become more and more dramatic. We were going to stay at Budva, a coastal town and holiday resort in the summer. The road from the border went up into the mountains and I remember that first glimpse of the coast, seen from high up on the mountain road.
 |
| Looking down on the Montenegrin coast |
The old town of Budva was entrancing. Its narrow stone streets and tall buildings were draped with colourful flowers. Coming from the dust and rubble of Tirana which was in a frenzy of demolition and rebuilding and which then had few trees and green spaces, (it has many more now) Budva was peaceful, beautiful and luxurious.
And best of all, there was the sea to swim in, to cool off from the hot summer sun. (I’m getting severely nostalgic now, in this still-restricted Covid summer, thinking of hot sun and that intensely blue Adriatic Sea.)
 | |||
| Budva bay framed by mountains |
(All of these photographs were taken in the days before digital cameras. But as you can see from the above photo I suffered then, as I still do now, from a disability known as HAD (horizontal adjustment deficiency) resulting in tilted horizons in photographs and squint pictures on my walls. Should you suffer from the same inability to see straight dear reader, fear not, I just made this up.)
Comments