Just say yes, and you’ll end up in places you wouldn’t have imagined.
On my first morning in Macedonia I was sneaking around stealing people’s photos. I took a photo of a man through the window of a small coffee shop. I wasn’t as sneaky as I’d thought; he saw me, and called me over. I figured I’d have to make an obvious display of deleting the photo, apologize and move on with my day. I thought about waving enthusiastically, shrugging my shoulders to indicate I didn’t know what he wanted from me, and walking away. Instead, I went to the cafe; where I was welcomed inside, given a sandwich for breakfast, another one for the road and several shots of whiskey. It was 8:30am. They wouldn’t let me pay.
I met Zikica in front of a Turkish restaurant in Stip on my second day in Macedonia. I arrived the same weekend as the annual music festival and there wasn’t a free room in the whole town. I was drinking coffee and contemplating my next move when Zikica walked passed. He saw my bicycle, introduced himself and offered me a place to stay.
I couldn’t say no.
One of a handful of cycle tourists in Macedonia, Zikica and I had a lot to talk about.
Zikica took me into his home, fed me, and asked me if I wanted to go for a run with his track team. I was already tired from cycling 80 km that day, but I couldn’t say no.
After more stretching than running, Zikica asked me if I wanted to go to a Macedonian spa. I said I’d have to go back to his home to get my bathing suit, to which he replied, in Macedonia, we go naked. This was a bit of a challenge for my conservative Canadian sensibilities, but I didn’t say no.
The spa was a steamy, concrete room. Men sat on benches around the edges of the room and splashed hot water from little reservoirs on themselves. Water collected in rivulets on the ceiling and dripped into a pool in the centre.
One man was shaving. With a face full of shaving cream, he would get up and walk over to this tiny mirror on the wall and carefully shave a small part of his face. Then he would sit back down and vigorously splash himself with water before sort of collapsing in what vaguely resembled heat exhaustion.
Other men were engaged in heated conversation. They yelled to be heard over the sound of the splashing resonating off the concrete walls, and they yelled to be heard over the sound of other men yelling to be heard over the sound of the splashing resonating off the concrete walls.
Mid conversation, one man got up and began violently scrubbing his friend’s back. Then his friend’s bald head.
It was relaxing.
Tomorrow I go to Albania, where I will catch a ferry to Italy. I love the Balkans, and would love to stay longer, but the snow line is creeping down the mountains and the temperature is dipping below zero at nights.
Here is my route, and more photos from flickr.
You became a Yes Man! I love the pics Jess! The first two of the river look like paintings; they are breath taking.
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: you are one crazy piece of work Jesse Whitehead. Keep on riding pal, and keep on bathing with those wacky old men. These are the things that put hair on a man’s chest, dontchaknow…