Solitude for Now in Ohrid, Macedonia

In the flurry of spontaneous excitement that comprised planning our first Bitchin’ Balkans adventure in October of last year, we added a night in Ohrid, thinking that three nights in Skopje might be a little excessive.  We’re fans of nature, and thought that a night on one of Europe’s oldest lakes would be a good counterbalance to the concrete architecture peeping we’d be doing in Pristina, Kosovo, Skopje, Macedonia and Sofia, Bulgaria.

It was one of those rare moments in our travels when we arrived in a place with very few expectations.  David had spent much of our previous bus rides on the trip crippled by motion sickness, and I had yet to get completely acclimated to Balkan time.  The few images of Ohrid that I had seen had been very captivating, but I hadn’t developed a solid feel about what to expect from the place.  For those of us able to look outside on the bus ride, the main line between the two cities afforded some impressive views, and a rest stop about halfway between the cities provided some much needed cheese filled burek – a Balkan staple.

We had taken an early bus from Skopje, and pulled into the outskirts of the city at around 11 in the morning.  On the way into town we passed the small airport, defunct in the off season, and some not so noteworthy block architecture.  I wasn’t impressed as we pulled into the bus station.  It appeared similar to every other Balkan bus stop we’d encountered between Pristina, Prizren, and Skopje.  I didn’t understand what made Ohrid so special to make folks scream its praises across the blogosphere.  We unloaded our bags from the rickety bus, hopped into an overpriced cab, and made our way to our pension (the Apartments Via Sakra) in the heart of Old Town Ohrid.

Ohrid, as it turns out, was our real first glimpse into old school Balkan charm, and it didn’t take much to turn our opinions around of the old town.  We were greeted by the owner of our pension, and between his little English and my pathetic four word Macedonian vocabulary, we managed to sort things out remarkably easily.  We dropped our bags off in our incredibly cheap and well appointed room (like the rest of our first trip in the Balkans, we were the only people in our entire hotel, despite the weather being in the balmy 60s and sunny), and made our way to the lobby for some coffee before heading out.

As luck would have it, Ohrid would be the only place we would run into other Americans on our entire trip.  We met a couple, names not exchanged, who had retired to Ohrid from Texas.  Now, these weren’t your Texas stereotypes, think less guns, and more white people dreadlocks.  True blue hippies – a type very close to David and my hearts.  They were of modest means back in the states, which of course meant they were very well off by Macedonian standards.  They lived a laid back life in the lakeside town, with visitors dropping in from various parts of the world from time to time.  They’d adopted a street cat and had made friends around the town.  I get the idea that they were fixtures of the town – seen as eccentrics by the locals, many of whom leave Ohrid for opportunities in larger cities in the region.

Per the Texan hippies’ recommendations, we headed to the main green market to pick up some honey, and look for a cheap bag to store our various trinkets purchased.  The walk to the market took us through the Old Town, parallel to the lake, then up a large pedestrian promenade  that was largely empty.  While the business serving tourists were open, most appeared surprised to see us.  No worry though, we meandered through the half empty market, found the stall selling the most local, dark, organic honey we could find, then headed back to the promenade for lunch.

Also per the Texas hippie recommendations, we stopped at a small, unassuming restaurant called Kaj Tanya’s (no signs in English – only Cyrillic) and made a reservation for that evening.  We told the proprietress that we’d be back around 7 for dinner, and to make us whatever was she thought would be best.  She smiled and shooed us off with a smile full of gold teeth.  Ohrid, it seemed, was worth the hype.

Our love affair only intensified when we took a stroll toward the Western extremity of the town – toward the oft-photographed Church of St. John at Kaneo.  It was at the church where we found the tourists – a smattering of folks speaking Spanish, Russian, Chinese, and German, all looking to get that perfect National Geographic worthy shot.  As much as I love having that perfect shot, our lack of patience won the war, and we were soon looking for another source of stimulation.  We met a man touting boat tours around the lake for 5 Euro, and his dog, Captain Max.  A boat tour that comes with a puppy?  Sold.  

The boat tour itself wasn’t remarkable – the views were incredible, as were expected.  It was quiet aside from the constant putter of the 5 horsepower Evinrude motor propelling the boat forward.  I wasn’t paying too much attention to his shpiel – I was more soaking in the surroundings, pondering why Ohrid hadn’t yet made its way onto the mainstream tourist radar.  Maybe its that there are, within relatively close proximity, so many other centers of tourism offering similar sights – beaches to the South and West in Greece and Croatia, religious architecture to the East in Istanbul.  What those places don’t offer may be what Ohrid stands to lose as more people visit – obscurity and remoteness.

We ended the day by returning to Kaj Tanya’s for what was to become the most memorable meal of the trip.  And assortment of fresh cheeses, breads, and dips for David, and stuffed peppers for me.  

There were vintage VH1 music videos playing on the TV (I’m a sucker for late-era BSB), and sparkling water from nearby springs was flowing freely.  Though we were continuing on to Sofia the next day, Ohrid had made a clear and lasting impression on us, mostly due to our VIP status as the only tourists in town.  And while I know we’ll someday return to Ohrid, hopefully for a more extended sojourn, I can’t imagine we’ll be able to experience it in the same solitude and silence as we did that day last October.

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There are several buses a day leaving Skopje for Ohrid, as well as vice versa.  We purchased round trip bus tickets for around 1100 Macedonian Dinar – these tickets will require you to ride on buses of the same company both ways, which will limit your options on return.  When you arrive to Ohrid, make sure to schedule your return ticket (if you’re leaving within the next couple of days) to ensure your seat going back to Skopje.  One way tickets will run you about 700 MKD each way.  It appears that there are also direct buses to Tirana and Sofia in neighboring Albania and Sofia, but these may only run in busier tourist times of the year.

The bus station is located a bit of a ways from the old town – taxi is the easiest way to get to the center.  You’ll be charged between 100 and 200 MKD for the trip, depending on how much your driver wants to fleece you.  The Old Town and area around the market are very walkable.  If you’re into taking a boat ride around the lake, you can find folks to take you hanging around the main pier or at the Church of St. John at Kaneo.  I’m sure the numerous travel agencies can also arrange such tours, but I cannot vouch for them specifically.  

High season is June through September.  When we were there, Old Town was empty, aside from the tourists we saw at the main church and a very random Chinese tour bus we saw at the Roman Amphitheater.

For more perspectives on Ohrid, read these posts by Megan at MeganStarr.com and Nate at Yomadic.

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