Indiana Jones in Western Serbia ‒ In Search of Hidden Treasure

In search of hidden treasure, the Art Press Caravan came upon a great discovery ‒ clay that rejuvenates and prolongs life. What does the Potpeć Cave conceal? Why are the bagpipes important to the Serbian people? Are they a Celtic or a Serbian instrument? How did the Caravan’s crew find out the name of the first Serbian locomotive and where is it located? What is the connection between Arilje and Switzerland? Where was the cult domestic series MORE THAN A GAME filmed? What is the secret of the log church in Seča Reka?

You will learn the answers to these questions in the travel report INDIANA JONES IN WESTERN SERBIA, PART 2.

The caravan’s departure from Belgrade for Kosjerić was accompanied by ceaseless rain. Despite the weather, it was as if the spring sun shone on us. We experienced the cloudburst as a natural cleansing from the accumulated invisible layers of big-city bustle, which makes us heavier and slower. The heavenly drops washed layer by layer of burden and worry from our shoulders, gradually returning us to our natural state. The soul in a person feels lightness. The unexpressed spark of joy that crouches in each of us began to burn freely. It had patiently awaited the long-sought magic match of life’s enthusiasm. A touch was enough for it to kindle in us a little flame of beauty. It illuminated for us once again, in the darkness of our life’s problems, the somewhat forgotten hidden treasure with which every person is gifted from birth. An energy flowed through the atmosphere that promised unforgettable moments of staying in various places in western Serbia.

The first place we visited on our journey through western Serbia was Kosjerić. We entered the Turkish Han. The interior of the space is faithful to the era of Ottoman rule. The impression was that we had come upon people from the 19th century in their everyday activities, and we, their contemporaries, found ourselves in the role of passing travellers. The children who welcomed us in folk costumes with bread and salt somehow quietly, unexpectedly, drew spontaneous smiles to our faces. That traditional act of welcome and hospitality further cheered all the participants of the Caravan. When one of the hosts played the bagpipes, we felt a belonging and an archetypal connection between the sound they produced, that moment which joined the past, present and future, the space in which we found ourselves, and the inspiration of ancestors who in their time were fortified by traditional music. In support of all we experienced came a useful piece of information from the piper ‒ that the bagpipes are a Serbian instrument. This knowledge undoubtedly fit naturally into our minds on the basis of the setting and experience. It is true that the Celts spread the fame of this wonderful instrument. They brought it to perfection, but the fact is that they took the bagpipes from our regions. The primordial gene in a Serb clicks and recognises an interest in bagpipes, as is the case with our host from Kosjerić. When the English are proud of their country as the cradle of football, why should Serbs not take pride in their land as the homeland of the bagpipes? The town was named after Antonije Kosjer, who came to this part of western Serbia from Cetinje. Kosjerić is, by today’s standards, populated ‒ 12,000 inhabitants give hope of a better tomorrow.

The trip to Seča Reka is remembered for the log church. It is dedicated to the Holy Great Martyr George. This spiritual beauty was raised in 1812 by the faithful people of this region. The interior of the log church is unusually beautiful. It exudes spiritual freshness despite its evident age, and this — only seemingly — contradiction gives it an added charm. Our church of wood breathes with its own lungs, merging with the surrounding forest. As if it had sprung up and grown like a natural creation. The wooden structure enriches it and fills it with oxygen, which, in the form of a barely audible breeze, renews every human being who enters it. The monuments around the church are made in an original way, and belong entirely to the visual whole of this unusual spiritual edifice. They were placed in the period from 1912 to 1918, in honour of the people who gave their lives defending the homeland. Because of the variety of colours in which these records of brave ancestors were clad, we felt not a shred of grief, but a kind of joyful melancholy that awakens quiet pride.

The path of the Art Press Caravan that we followed led us to Požega. The railway museum in Požega is more than attractive. Every little piece of this museum has its own stamp and gives it meaning. You have the impression that everything exhibited there could be set in motion at any moment. Today’s person can hardly remain indifferent when their gaze is magnetically arrested by Franz Joseph’s railway carriage from the era of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. You expect the sound of the locomotive, its whistle. When you come to the first Serbian locomotive, which reached speeds of up to 30 km/h, you wish to enter it, which the members of the Caravan, without delay, did. It was named in honour of King Milan. Coming to the waiting room from the twenties of the last century, imagination awakens in a person, giving an image of the murmur of people who left this space, as a legacy, a life-giving stream that bears witness to the pace of everyday life of some bygone time.

A symbiosis of faith, art and village life

Proof of how full our country is of surprises and the seemingly incompatible is the village of Prilipac, 6 km from Požega. The art colony in this village, an unusual symbiosis of faith, art, village life and folk hospitality, was founded by the local parish priest Milan Popović. Since 1995, the International Art Colony in Prilipac has been a trademark of this region. It is located beside the Church of the Nativity of the Most Holy Mother of God from the 14th century, an endowment of Prince Lazar. The church and the village are connected, by a historical and symbolic interweaving of events, with the conflict between the magnate Nikola Altomanović, known in folk tradition as a tyrant, and Lazar Hrebeljanović. Not far from the place where the battle took place, the then prince, later emperor, built a church in gratitude to God for remaining alive and victorious in battle. He named it Prilipac, after his birthplace, and in the mid-19th century, by the decision of the district chief and the inhabitants, the village took the name of the Church. It is especially interesting that the locals, during agricultural work, even today, dig up parts of the wartime equipment of that time. This knowledge gives Prilipac a dose of mysticism and something inexpressibly attractive that we cannot name with any familiar word. In the church courtyard stands a beautiful lodge, a haunt of numerous painters and sculptors, both from Serbia and from eastern and western Europe. There, every year on the Lesser Lady Day, the church feast, the International Painting Colony is held. For the next ten days or so, the surrounding plum orchards, pastures and meadows become the home of artists in a village that has become kindred with painters.

The helm of the Art Press Caravan said ‒ We’re going to Arilje! It is the spiritual centre of the people of this region. The Church of St. Achilles is a medieval shrine and a place of gathering and assembly for all people of goodwill. It is an endowment of King Dragutin from the 13th century. The greatest landmark of this temple is the Blue Angel. Part of the Annunciation composition draws attention, as does the icon of Jesus Christ, which won an award for visual identity in Paris. By its grace it illuminated the city of light and art. An extraordinary legend follows this temple ‒ Namely, on the frescoes where a part of the face and eyes is missing, the paint was scraped off. People believed it was healing dust, especially for the visually impaired. Whoever had faith, for them the dust brought recovery. True testimonies of healing drove many sufferers to Arilje, and they carried the news of the miracle to their villages. The irony that follows Arilje is that, because of its natural beauty and panoramic appearance, it is colloquially called “Little Switzerland,” even though it is at the same time one of the five poorest municipalities in Serbia. Only here can that happen ‒ to live in the poorest ‘Switzerland.’ So, in Serbia all sorts of wonders are possible, to name a place after a rich country while barely surviving in it. Arilje offers a wide range of surprises, which we began to regard as natural. They offered us a drink that was a mystery to us. We tasted the patent of this region ‒ mint brandy, the so-called “nanovača.” The locals of Arilje did not lie to us that the very first sip awakens optimism, transforms all that is bad inside into good outside. And so it was. Why? We have no answer to this question and do not know. In some inconceivable way we enjoy this kind of ignorance. Custom tells us that the effect of these results is not revealed just like that. It is a secret. We respect its strength and power. In it lies a great charm, the essence is hidden. My modest experience with mint was only tea made from it. There, it turned into an experience settled in layers of nanovača.

Near Arilje is also the Klisura monastery, an endowment of St. Sava from the 12th century. It got its name because of its geographical position. The approach to the monastery leaves a person speechless. We were astonished by the natural beauties in which the monastery is nestled. It is located in the very centre of a green belt, extraordinarily preserved by our standards. It seems as if it was sculpted by a divine hand and lowered from above, adorning for a long time the untouched green oasis. At the end of the 19th century, one part of the monastery was a war hospital and a library. The records speak of a turbulent past and of horrors overcome by the tooth of time, which this time gnawed at and removed the layers of difficult events. The spiritual power of the monastery and its founder is almost so palpable that it influences and renews both people and every stone of which Klisura is built.

The Caravan continued on its further forays through western Serbia. Going ever deeper into it, we found ourselves in Ivanjica. At first sight it won us over. It is set near Javor and Golija, wrapped in a rural garb, while within it life is lived in an urban way. The mountain beauties so loom over the town that they represent its natural ramparts, playing the role of eternal guardians of Ivanjica. Golija and Javor symbolise the fortresses by which Ivanjica is girded. The bohemian part of the town is made up of a long street stretching through the centre of Ivanjica. In it are cafés and restaurants leaning against one another in which live music plays in the middle of the day. All of this together gives Ivanjica a bohemian note. Therefore, it is no wonder that the cult series More Than a Game was filmed in this place. Ivanjica is known for the Nušićijada, and the oddity is that during those days the whole town takes on a new look. All the people are dressed in folk costumes and clothing that followed the fashion of the time in which Branislav Nušić lived and worked. Every local has their role in Nušić’s Days ‒ a festival that symbolises and preserves the cultural-historical identity. The Nušićijada is truly a carnival that is more than a game. Whoever has experienced it becomes richer by one newly discovered horizon, by THAT SOMETHING that cannot be conveyed in words.

Upon entering the old hydroelectric power station “Moravica,” built in 1911, one of the members of our art caravan had an interesting blunder. Out of frequent entries into spiritual edifices, guided by a newly acquired habit, she automatically crossed herself upon entering the power station. That move cheered the rest of the travelling crew, and somewhat confused the guides who welcomed us. It infused additional positive energy and created material for a joke from which inspiration arose for further teasing ‒ which did not cease until our return to Belgrade.

In the centre of Ivanjica, just 50 metres from one another, stand two symbols of two opposed ideologies. A painting of partisans in the National Liberation War, masterfully painted by the famous Tito’s painter Đorđe Andrejević Kun, and a monument to General Dragoljub Draža Mihajlović, who is a native of Ivanjica. Neither of the symbols is desecrated, which is a success given the traditional Serbian discord and passion. The people of Ivanjica gave us hope that wonders are possible, and that Serbs too can wrestle with their weaknesses. Who knows, perhaps this people will one day rise above base motives. Ivanjica showed it in deed. In support of the above is the fact that here everything flows in peace and in an atmosphere of accepting both sides of historical reality. The Ivanjica recipe goes ‒ revival of folk tradition, a return to the original spirituality, honour to the victors with respect for the defeated, the nurturing of the knightly characteristics that are in the being of this people, and the skill of listening to the well-meaning and wise folk people forged of natural authority. It sounds simple and easily applicable, on first hearing, this healing Ivanjica folk remedy. However, in reality the picture on the ground is quite different. We notice its shortage, both in pharmacies and on the streets and markets.

The approach to the Potpeć Cave promised something new. We could not grasp what it was. We only knew that we were going to meet the unknown. We cautiously stepped into the cave’s vestibule. With a slow gait and an open mind we more clearly felt the cave climate ‒ a cold that does not bite, but possesses a breeze of freshness that soothes. The cave is like a living being; the more you move through it and the more well-meaning you are toward it, the more it reveals itself to you and tells you about itself with the image it offers, rewarding you with magnificent sights. Our host and cave guide sealed those images of cave masterpieces with words, completing the visual whole for us. We saw the largest cave hall, full of cave jewellery of stalactites and stalagmites. We came to a hall called “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” which strengthened our impression that we had entered a fairy tale with open eyes. It got its name from the shape of eight stalactites that resemble a maiden and the little men around her. The cave also has its own ghost, Casper, since one part of the rock is shaped as if drawn by hand. Small everyday wonders continued upon entering the Dragon Hall. When we listened about the dragon heads before entering this hall, it seemed as if we were under the influence of a momentary rapture from previous sights. Perhaps a longer stay in the cave’s bowels left some consequence as a pledge, a trace of which we are not aware. We thought that cave apparitions had not possessed us, but upon entering the Dragon Room, somehow at first sight reality mingled into imagination. The temptation that had previously shaken us vanished as if swept away by hand. The Potpeć Cave sculpted dragon heads in its rocks. According to a legend passed down from generation to generation, dragons dwelt in this hall because a spring was located there.

In this adventurous campaign there came phases when some content was incomprehensible to our eyes, unacceptable to our minds. In those moments of idling, the Cave came to the rescue. Namely, it continued to reveal its secrets to us through the words of the guide. We learned that by staying in the part enriched with clay, a person prolongs their life by a whole day. With each new entry, we add another day of life to ourselves. That there is truth in this story, we became convinced in practice, given that we all entered the cave already somewhat tired and came out of it completely renewed. We came upon a great discovery that we called “cave wellness.” Namely, the clay from the cave that you apply directly to your face, after a short time tightens the skin, cleanses the face and removes wrinkles, better than in any city beauty salon or spa centre. The whole group smeared their faces with the clay of youth, so in the cave atmosphere we resembled cave people to one another, like in the cartoon about Fred Flintstone. The cave wellness completely refreshed us, and on what was once the Day of Youth, which is proof that there are no coincidences, that everything does happen with some meaning, even in cases when something seems quite trivial on the surface. The beauty of the coincidence lies in the fact that on the very Day of Youth we came to the knowledge of prolonging youthful appearance with cave clay, as well as to the recipe of gradual longevity, the so-called “day by day,” which the cave revealed to us by prolonging our life by one day with each new stay in it.

When a person sets in motion their exploratory spirit, they simultaneously free their captive seeking gift. The path of life can then, like the flow of a river to which they have surrendered, lead them to unexpected finds, unexpected solutions and answers to certain life questions they had long ago posed to themselves, from which their reason had in the meantime given up. It is difficult to describe the feeling of finding the until recently unexplored, that joy of discovery in a person finally surrendered to their own intuition, in which reason only processes the impressions of the newly discovered and experienced. The crew of the Art Press Caravan returned to Belgrade richer by one cargo of insight that the Potpeć Cave gifted us.