Hello, I’m David, a storyteller, wanderer, and long-time “in-betweener” living a slower, more thoughtful life here in the heart of the Balkans.
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A Walk That Starts at the Front Door
It’s amazing how an ordinary morning walk can turn into an adventure. This time, Tamara and I decided to tackle a route that begins right from our front door here in the ridge above the town of Laktaši.
“Let’s head up the ridge,” she said, though, truth be told, it’s not my favourite start.
I prefer to warm up gently, not begin with a lung-busting climb. But Bosnia has a way of rewarding effort. Within minutes, the road narrowed, the air freshened, and the view opened toward the Vrbas River valley, green and shimmering below us.
Climbing Toward Pejčinović Brdo
Our plan was to follow the ridge towards Pejčinović Brdo, a place tied to Tamara’s family history.
The GPS refused to behave, which caused a bit of grumbling (mostly from Tamara), but eventually it found its bearings and so did we.
Bosnia’s landscapes are alive and constantly changing. You feel like a guest rather than a conqueror.
A Gate for Beekeepers and a Slice of Living History
Halfway along the ridge we stumbled upon something extraordinary, an old beekeepers’ gate dated 1970, with carved bees and honeycombs on the ironwork.
The man who built it passed away years ago, but the structure still stands, quietly rusting into history.
I couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it would be to restore it, to bring that small piece of rural heritage back to life.
Bosnia is full of these forgotten treasures. Part art, part memory, waiting for someone to care.
The path we took, went through the property of Tamara’s extended family where we could look across the river Vrbas as far as Croatia’s Papuk Mountain, visible on the horizon.
We stopped beside an old rakija still, 1931 stamped on its copper belly.
Then onwards downhill to the river bank where we shared some rakija and a thermos of coffee with a few Plazma biscuits. Small rituals, simple pleasures.
For me, these are the moments that define life here: no rush, no grand destination, just walking, noticing, being present.
Reflections from the Ridge
By the time we looped home, nearly seven kilometres later, my legs ached in that satisfying way that reminds you you’re alive.
I’m 72 now (73 in February), but I’m not slowing down, just choosing my climbs more wisely.
I might joke about aging disgracefully, but perhaps this is what grace really looks like. Staying curious, moving at your own pace, and still finding magic in the familiar.
Bosnia gives me that gift daily, the chance to see the extraordinary in the ordinary. From ridge to river, it’s all here, waiting just outside the front door.
And Finally
Of course, if you’d like to keep up with my own stories of life in Bosnia, from rainy afternoons in Banja Luka to the hidden corners of the Balkans, check out these recent posts.
