Djurdjevic - Personal Photos

January 23, 2011

Personal photos, September 2005

Serbia 2005

A Private Tour of Sremska Mitrovica

Sremska Mitrovica, Serbia, Sep 10, 2005 - Sremska Mitrovica, a town of about 50,000 residents

situated on the northern bank of the river Sava, some 40 miles west of Belgrade, is where I attended high school in the early 1960s. About 1,800 years ago, this was the site of one of Roman Empire's regional capitals - a vast Roman city called Sirmium. Several archeological digs throughout the city attest to its ancient history. Attila the Hun also rampaged through the city, as did the Turks in the 16th and 17th centuries, before Mitrovica became a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the 19th century.

This morning, I gave myself a private tour of the town. The caption of what I saw could fit the title of the 1967 Clint Eastwood western, "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

Some parts of the Sremska Mitrovica were enchanting, others dilapidated, while a few sections were downright ugly. Overall, however, there is a sense of revival and restoration. Which means hope is returning after decades of hopelessness under various communist regimes, and following years of U.N. sanctions and regional wars in the 1990s. Nowhere is that more visible than in the city center, where a 19th century Serbian Orthodox Church is being beautifully renovated.

I spoke to some artists who were working on artifacts inside the church. They told me they were aiming to have all the restoration finished by Nov. 7, the St. Dimitrius Day. Dimitrius is a Christian saint whom the Romans executed in Sirmium circa 4 D.C. The modern town of Mitrovica was named after him.

A couple of hundred yards down the main street, I came upon an open air show of antique cars. It was sponsored by an automotive magazine "Oldtajmers" (the Serbian spelling of the English word "Oldtimers"). Here's an old Cadillac, for example, looking quite out of place amid the ornate Austro-Hungarian architecture that dominates downtown Mitrovica.

Here's a World War II American army truck (a Landlease Dodge? - courtesy of Prof. J.P. Maher), bearing the magazine's logo, driven by two old-timers dressed in U.S. Air Force and U.S. Army uniforms. They drew quite a crowd a few minutes after parking the truck - the moment I captured with my camera (above).

The 1940 Citroen (left) and an unidentified beige antique car (right), possibly a 1940 Austin (courtesy of Prof. J.P. Maher), also attracted a lot of attention by passersby.

But the top award in my books should go to this beautifully-restored 1909-vintage motorcycle (above).

This beautiful park forms a part of the town's square. The ornate fountain in its center, which never worked in my youth (i.e., during communist years), is now once again spouting water as it did in Austro-Hungarian time (Mitrovica was a part of the Austro-Hungarian empire before World War I).

A few hundred yards from the city center was another ornate building that dates back to Austro-Hungarian time. This mid-19th century structure is the high school I attended in the early 1960s. It still serves as an active school. In fact, right after I took this photos, students streamed out of the building. "School on Saturday?" I was wondering. Apparently so, my sister explained later. Teachers had been on a strike earlier on and are now trying to make up for lost time. Teachers on strike? Welcome to the "new Serbia."

Sadly, this is the back of that very high school... looking like something out of the ghettos of South Bronx. I was heartbroken to see it as this backyard carries so many of my youthful memories. This is where I took my first basketball shot, and where I captained the school basketball team in my senior year. The dilapidated building on the left was the gym in which I did my first somersault (nearly breaking my neck in the process). :-) It was also the place of our school New Year's dances. This is where I did my first radio news broadcast as a high school freshman, only to be fired shortly thereafter for being "politically incorrect" (per the communist commissars). When an earthquake struck in 1963, the exit door behind that blue car was locked, barring hundreds of students from being able to escape the building. So some of us jumped out of the first floor windows - a height of nearly 10 feet as I now see. Nobody was hurt, to my utter amazement. And so on... memories welled up as I surveyed the graffiti-desecrated walls.

A little ways down the street was the town's main basketball stadium in the 1960s (above). This is where I played ball for the town's club that competed in an amateur league. Once again, I was saddened to see the dilapidation and graffiti all over the place. Even the basketball hoops are now gone, replaced by handball goals. Shifting from sports to politics, right behind that tall building in the back of the picture (the courthouse), is a memorial fountain erected to the Mitrovica victims of the NATO bombing in 1999. I reported on a part of NATO's war on Serbia during a nighttime bombing right from my sister's house in Mitrovica - from the very desk on which I am writing this report.

On my way home (to my sister's place), I passed this neighborhood of communist-style apartment buildings. Do you think the woman who lives in this apartment has enough panties? :-)

My niece's and her husband's new car... a brand new VW minivan that was delivered just last night - another sign of prosperity in post-war Serbia.

After returning from my "tour of Mitrovica," I took my sister (seen above with her granddaughter) and her husband for lunch to a restaurant ("Brioni") at the town beach on the river Sava. Looking at the river from the terrace where we were seated, we observed an interesting competition. Fishermen were lined up about 50 or so yards apart, each casting their lines into the river. So you'd think this was a fishing contest? Think again. This was a culinary competition. The object was not only to catch the best or the most fish, but to prepare the tastiest fish soup (a sort of bouillabaisse). And this had to be done in a boiling pot (kettle) over a hand-set fire right there on the beach, the way fishermen used to do it in the old days. There was, of course, a professional jury that judged the final products and selected the winner. The rest dragged all their gear, including the heavy kettle, across the beach as we were finishing our appetizers.

As I said earlier, I am getting the impression that people are starting to enjoy life once again notwithstanding the grumping of some (elderly) Mitrovica residents whom I've met. Hope springs eternal...