Tuzla isn't a big city. It is quite easy to get out of the urban sprawl and up into the hills for some lovely walks and amazing views. One of our favourite spots is up behind the Skver (which is confusingly a roundabout, the laws of which will be a topic for a whole post of its own). We follow the road up, past the houses onto the ridge of a hill. Up here there are more houses are to be found, but these are of the weekend variety. A place where those from Tuzla can come to grow orchards and tend to their vegetables. The houses can be amazing, in fact one is so lovely that I am almost consumed with jealousy everytime I see it. Some are more simple, but all have that most important of things, a place to barbeque (or rostilj). The getting together of lots of people to eat large quantities of meat and drink large quanitities of beer and sljivavica (plum brandy to the uninitiated amongst you) before singing songs about true loves that have abandoned you are a major part of the Bosnian culture.
We usually park the car where the paved road finishes and carry on on foot up a path that always looks English to me. Right at the top, on the edge of a ridge someone has put an old table and benches, together with a fire and a pot for brewing coffee. In the summer it is a lovely spot, with 360 views. The owner has recently planted an orchard but no one seems to mind if you stop there for a bit of a picnic.
We were up there the other day, in the snow.
Don't you just love the coffee pot? I'd love to have the confidence to come up here, start a fire and actually brew myself a cuppa, but I'm far too English for that. Instead, we'll just carry on with our impromptu picnics whenever we get up here and just sit back and enjoy the view.
Once upon a time we lived in Bosnia and I wrote about all things Bosnian. But the call of the Great British cup of tea was too strong and we returned in April 2010. Still watching and loving Bosnia, but now more British orientated.
Fraught Mummy: That's me. I'm married to Dave, blessedly unfraught and who is my partner in trying to maintain a modicum of control the three random variables who also live in our house.
Variable X: Adam, 4 1/2 years old. Looks angelic and can be. But not if it involves his brother having fun.
Variable Y: Luke, 3 years. A legend or a liability, you can never tell which it will be.
Variable Z: Jessie, our golden retriever. She loves food, any food, however revolting it may seem, and doesn't feel the need to be invited before helping herself, which can prove difficult around other peoples picnics.
Sometimes I'm successful in getting all three round a walk in the park, but generally I sound like a shrill rugby referee.