THURSDAY, MAY 30
The Monastery of St. Naum Monastery was crowded when we got there. A tour bus with classes of children and our ferry of tourists arrived at the same time. Almost everyone stopped to observe the peacocks flirting with each other. A few children ventured too close, disturbing the mating dance.
The Monastery, like all the 11th C (and honestly later and earlier Monasteries) was small with an entrance, two side rooms, and one large, domed room with four wings, creating a cross of even lengths. The thick walls, the frescoes covering every inch, the smell of incense, the chanting coming from the main room, all created a mystical feeling. The crowd moved through slowly, in a line, adding to the church’s gravitas. The saints have gouged eyes; the culprits are the Macedonians. Before going to war, they were known to scrape out a saint’s eye to take into battle for protection.
The queue slowly snaked around a center alter. A few Orthodox priests, in full black robes, with black square hats and long hair and beards, were in front of us. One kissed a saint on the wall before rudely pushing Chloe out of his way. A powerful image of a bear, represented in a fresco, was depicted in one room. The bear is integral to St. Naum’s story. The story goes that the bear killed one of two cows that belonged to a farmer. St. Naum talked to the bear and from that time forward, the bear helped the farmer.
After seeing the main room, we entered a side room where children and adults, one by one, knelt, placing an ear against a dirty, red velvet blanket embroidered with a gold cross that covered a stone grave. St. Naum is buried here. The supplicants were listening to his heartbeat. Stranger than imaginable but both Chloe and I heard it when we knelt and listened.
We followed a anthill-dotted path, just down the hill from the monastery, alongside a stream and through the forest. Red poppies and purple and yellow wildflowers bloomed in the lush grasses and ferns. Birds’ songs echoes in the quiet. We could see each stone under the river’s light green sparkling water. A few fields had been cleared and planted with small trees and vegetables, but mostly the land was wild and we pretended we were walking in the 4th Century.
Along the river there are two monasteries; one recently built has the stream’s “holy” water running through a small stone pool in the center where you can dip your hands in. The other, with a foundation from the 4th C., sits high on a hill. It’s seven hundred years older than St. Naum’s Monastery. No one else had ventured down the path to this monastery so we found ourselves alone with the strange, intense monastery keeper.
After making the loop back to the St. Naum’s Monastery, about a kilometre in length, we settled in for lunch in big, cushy couches lakeside at Cuba Libre, a popular restaurant not just for tourists but also for locals. It’s here where locals mark the beginning of summer with their selfies. Groups of kids had crowded into the couches, until being kicked out for paying customers. They went down to the water and skipped rocks on the lake.
The ferry ride takes about one hour and twenty minutes and cost 10 euros roundtrip. Plug your ears…the music is from the 1950s. Most of the riders are grey haired and Chloe said that the combination of the music and the average age, made her feel like she was in an old folks home. Aside from the retirement ambiance, the ride couldn’t be more stunning.
