Through Bosnia and Herzegovina with a Paint Brush

by Mrs. Edward Robson Whitwell

It is no pleasure to be even out of doors in this damp depressing weather, but unfortunately the morning that was to decide me broke forth into sunshine once more, and I decided to go on. No green was to be seen on any bushes, and the rivers were all in flood; however, as I had a guide on purpose for this trip, I wanted to go if possible.

My bedroom had such a depressing outlook that I asked to change it. A tumbledown Turkish hotel was not elevating to spirits I found, and beside that there seemed to be a general rubbish heap; in fact, I had my doubts as to whether it was healthy, overlooking such a place. Though it is always an effort to change rooms, I made up my mind it must be done, and changed very much for the better, moving into quite a new part of the hotel, which was very sweet and clean after what I had just left.

The next day was a glorious warm one and my spirits rose again, so I decided to go the original excursion to Jajce, and on. Miss B., who did not like driving and roughing it, decided she would go direct to Budapest, and home by Vienna, leaving me on Tuesday evening. The journeys in these mountainous regions are very long and the trains creep very slowly; each little journey in distance since we left Ragusa has taken seven or eight hours, but the whole way is interesting.

Early, Karabaich and I wandered forth with my camera, and in hopes of finding a place to sketch, which seemed hopeless in the Bazaars, as the streets are very narrow, with crowds of people and ponies laden with wood passing along; those laden with hay require the width of the street to themselves, and woe betide the passer-by if he does not step back into a doorway. After lunch we went out to sketch, and found a quiet street which was also picturesque. Karabaich was busy keeping off the crowd who had “spotted” me. The boys soon discovered something out of the ordinary was going on, and the little girls were made to stand back by the boys, I fancy, but I was too busy to pay much attention, and finally got a most successful sketch with some Turkish ladies flitting by in the picture; these I had to draw in very hurriedly, as they, like all Easterns, consider it bad luck to have a portrait taken, and many of the groups in the market rapidly dispersed when they detected my camera.

The Market Place, Saràjevo.

The people one sees in these parts are remarkably plain, though many of the men are tall and well made, and of fine physique. The Bosnian costume is very ugly, the women wear enormously wide black trousers down to their feet, these being so voluminous must be much in the way in wet weather, and become very muddy and damp about the ankles. The material used has every appearance of black sateen.

After a journey of seven hours from Saràjevo, Karabaich and I arrived at Jajce. The railway winds in and out, and in and out of the mountains. It was fine all day until I went out to paint the wonderful waterfall. This is a charming old town, full of quaint wood roofed houses and mosques, the minarets are even made of wood. There seem to be many Turks living here, and in these parts I passed many dilapidated graveyards on my way, and every village has a mosque or two. Many of the women are veiled; it must be a horrid bore to have to go about so muffled up, and what must it be in summer!

At Jajce in the old days, the Kings of Bosnia had their castle, and the town was fortified and surrounded by walls; the ruins of walls and castles still remain. Next morning was again wet and I did not go out, finally we had a short shower, but after lunch it cleared. The landlord asked me if I would like to visit a Turkish lady. Of course I was delighted, and he accompanied me with Karabaich on the box, to a village about seven miles off, where a friend of his would take me into a Turkish house. We drove up to a “Theehütte” and were much refreshed and warmed by some delicious coffee, then I sallied forth with the landlady’s servant girl as interpreter, to call, as of course the landlord from Jajce could not even approach the doorstep! I could only speak German and the Turkish lady Bosnian, so without an interpreter our conversation would have been very limited. It was the proper thing to take presents with you, for the mother and children. I was at a loss to know where the presents were to be got in that tiny village, but the little maid took me to a shop, where we bought sweets for the children and a piece of soap, scented strongly with pachouli, for the lady. Armed with these we arrived on the doorstep. Into the house we walked without knocking—no doubt we were expected—and climbed some very steep stairs, went along a landing and entered a very comfortable sitting-room, with a divan all round it. There were one or two chairs, but the grandmother who came in to show some of her crotchet work, squatted on her heels on the floor. One little girl with hair of a most curious red came into the room. I heard afterwards it was dyed, and certainly the colour was most unnatural and never seen in genuine red hair. The grandmother wore a wig of this colour, and a tiny baby of one year also had it. I asked about this of the tea house landlady, and she told me they will dye a baby’s hair of even a month old. Several little boys peeped at me through a crack in the door, but they would not come in, so I gave the sweets to the girl, which she secreted inside the cupboard bed in the room, and the mother tucked her soap hurriedly away somewhere about her person. The room was very clean and neat, with rugs on the floor, and a quantity of coloured stuffs piled in one corner. A stove pipe came through the floor to warm it, but also I saw a curious stove in the corner, which looked as though it was ornamented with bottle ends in cement of some kind. The mother had been very good-looking; she remarked on my teeth with envious eyes as they were all there, and she had lost a good many of hers. The windows of the house were latticed, except those looking on to the river, where no one could see into the room. Mrs. Turk was very interested in my wedding ring, which she proposed to keep as a souvenir, but I expressed much regret that I could not part with it, as it was the English custom to wear our wedding rings for the rest of our lives, and my husband might be angry if I gave it away. No doubt she wondered what I was doing travelling alone, but she did not ask me. After a cup of Turkish coffee I left. I was really highly entertained by my visit.