Viva Vevcani & the Tutto Interlude

A trek round in circles on only left over bread and a weak coffee and we were at the bus station heading south, only to change our mind for reasons I cant rightly recall now *other than the promise of a monastic interlude* and head north for Vevcani...

Vevcani, a small mountain side village with traditional houses, running streams and a single restaurant declared independence during the breakup of Yugoslavia, although they never attempted succession they did have some fun and games printing their own money, passports and designing their own flag.

On meeting my first Vevcani gentleman, while I was trying to figure out which of the four different currencies in my pocket were Macedonian, he noted my Macedonian Dinars and proudly exclaimed he used Vevcani Dinars, however as everything here shuts down between 1pm and 4pm we didnt get our passports stamped or apply for Vevcani citizenship, although we did meet the rather drunk looking owner of the independent passport office (/gallery) on our way out of town...

...but by this time we had burnt much of the day exploring and it was time to get on the road north where Ben would find his calling and fall for a hairy Macedonian Orthodox Christian called Sveti Jovan Bigosti - Sweaty Jovan.

A brief interlude back to the shore of lake Ohrid to catch the bus north to Debar and we were on the road again.

The road north drove through a national park with scenery reminiscent of North Wales, the Canadian Rockies or Northern Quebec... steep wooded hillsides, ancient tectonic lakes *such as lake Ohrid*, rushing streams, waterfalls, damns and picturesque villages.

We arrived in Debar rather late and the rather unposthumous bus station made us determined to get to our intended destination to stay the night rather than move on in the morning. I think we paid our taxi driver enough to feed his family for a week but the inventive sign language and his faith in our cause had us reach the monastery only to be turned away *I think they sensed that Ben would perform unholy sacrilegious on holy ground* and we were directed to the Hotel Tutto so splendidly built into the side of a mountain overlooking a tiny hillside village that we drove past it in the darkness before we finally found ourselves in reach of a bed to spend the night.

The Hotel Tutto, an approx 15,000 sq ft hotel with only seven rooms! The bar/reception/dining room was the size of a hockey pitch and was built in pine and solid stone, the rock face bearing one wall and a mountain stream making it way through the reception, balconies completed the astonishing addition to this town which I can only compare to the original opulence yet tasteful Chateaus of Lake Louise or Quebec City.

Another night of Backgammon, another night with warm feet (real duvets, heating and new bathrooms) and another chance to do some laundry, what a novelty to wear clean underwear every day.

More instalments of 'boring bald Welsh Canadian on holiday' to come...
Monastic interlude, Baptise the sinner! Gay icons, Oh, and Ben the sex slave to Sweaty Jovan - last I saw of him he had a smile on his face
Debar, oh how we loved Debar
The psychedelic Art Hostel
Quebecois speed junkies in Skopje
Free running socialists
Pickpockets fuck off!
7 o'clock curfew
Viva Kosovo the youngest country in the world- and its very fine Chinese food
BLUE! sofa