Čardaklije // Cartwheel of Scratches
© John Bills
Where do you stand on geese? I don’t mean that in a literal sense, I am not asking you in which locations you choose to perch on a goose. That is cruel. No matter your opinion of the exuberant waterfowl, you should not stand on them. Worst opening yet? Worst. Opening. Yet.
I was face to face with a goose, and the goose was not backing down. Okay, again, I don’t mean that in a literal sense. I am short, but I’m not goose short. The bird certainly wasn’t backing down, that part was true. To use a term that Ben would come up with, it was going ‘full honk’. I gave the waterfowl a silent nod of respect and continued my wanderings around Čardaklije.
Wait, where? Čardaklije, buddy, pay attention. What is It? I’m getting to it, bloody hell. It is another of the many charming etno selos in Bosnia and Herzegovina, this one located 20km or so northwest of Bosanski Petrovac, in what remains the least explored area of the country for this handsome man. Čardaklije essentially sits in a village called Vrtoče, although that information is of little use. I know nothing about Vrtoče. It is a ‘one-line Wikipedia page’ sort of place.
Čardaklije? That deserves plenty of attention. There are several etno selos in this part of the country, and they all seem to play to a different rhythm than the glossy ones in other parts of BiH. The quaint beauty remains, but it is altogether more organic. You won’t find the bombast of Stanišići here; you’ll find etno selos growing as villages did, back in the day.
© Seosko domaćinstvo Čardaklije // Facebook
And that is the point, right? These little windows into the past are supposed to give visitors an insight into how things looked all those years ago, to give people an understanding of how people lived. Are they successful? Da li su uspješni?
Research papers will answer that question. It was cold as I wandered around Čardaklije, and our guide was peppering the conversation with history and facts, although they are one and the same here. The story begins centuries ago when the tender pendulum of light, dark, and light was the only meter. The Radošević boys were passing through, led by a blind man and a blind horse down the southern slope of Grmeč mountain. I’m not an expert, but a blind man with a blind horse doesn’t seem like the best of guides. Maybe the Radošević boys were short of cash? Maybe they were cheap?
No, John, you’ve been playing soppy sad boy bollocks for too long. The reason this unsighted fella was leading the Radošević boys? Because he was the best, dammit.
Anyway, they stopped at a stream called Skakavac, and the Radošević boys were home. At least, that is what their hearts told them. But can we listen to our hearts on the subject of habitation? I never felt more at home than when I saw you trying the cap on. The Radošević boys? They were home.
© John Bills
Time passed, and one of the brothers decided to move on. Not too far away, obviously, and he headed off and built himself a tower. His settlement developed around the tower. The tower was given the epithet 'čardak’, and the folks living in the vicinity were called ‘čardaklije’. There we go, end of story.
But, John, that all comes together nicely, but what is it about age that is so appealing in the 21st century? I once read that age is so valued that it is far more often fake than real, and that was clearly the case with these traditional villages. They are caricatures, are they not? After all, those who romanticise Venice collapse a thousand years of history. Venice is a monument to a dynamic process, not to planning. Is that a Jane Jacobs quote? Almost certainly, but the idea stands.
Čardaklije is more committed to the past than most of its contemporaries. All the technology is old here, although, yes, a pinch of salt. Even the storage facilities are modelled on those from the past, and the processes that produce (John, you are better than that) the meat, dairy, jams, teas, booze and the rest are the same that were followed all those years ago. Čardaklije is packed with animals, and I’m not just talking about the aforementioned honker. Goats, chickens, horses; this is a living, working theme park.
The horses play an important role in Čardaklije’s future. The largest concentration of Bosnian mountain horses is here, a whopping 28 at the time of my visit. This awesome military horse is the only indigenous one of its type here, but it makes up for a lack of brethren in splendour and grace. Want to ride a Bosanski brdski konj? Get your buns to Čardaklije, pronto, tonto.
But, still. It is better to preserve than to repair, better to repair than to restore, better to restore than to reconstruct. That was Adolphe Napoléon Didron, by the way, a 19th-century French art historian and certified clever man.
John, do you realise you used that quote in the Počitelj piece? Can you not even keep track of your own references anymore? Might be time to hang it up, no? Lord have mercy on my soul, I’ve had a good run but can’t run anymore. Watch me unravel, I’ll soon be naked. A cartwheel of scratches. Verily, patience is beautiful. Whenever I see someone fail to light a cigarette successfully, my heart breaks. Here comes Garbo, pretending not to be Garbo.
The honker has a point. The authenticity of Čardaklije is only important if that matters to you. The inside-out paradox. It was a gorgeous setting, even if the weather was doing its best to make the whole thing uncomfortable. We nipped into the delightfully named Vesela Kuća (Merry House, essentially) to learn about making šljiva. Geese are the drunkest of all birds.
