Firstly, sorry for the long silence. There is a reason: I asked in the latest post “What if what’s being thrown at me now, is really me?” As you may notice, the title of the blog has slightly changed. Initially this was meant to be about life in Ljubljana, Slovenia, but as it turns out, it’s now about living on a mountain. In Bosnia.
This is what happened, and it’s been a whirlwind of changes in our family ever since. From living in a flat in the city (albeit the small city of Ljubljana), to a house in the Bosnian mountains. From a dog and a cat, to 5 dogs, 2 cats, a goat and some chicken. From not needing a car on daily basis, to owning an extra 4×4 and driving every day. From shopping food for a family of three and living next door to a supermarket, to stocking up for the needs of a restaurant, and preparing for unexpected guests and bad driving conditions.
We moved out of necessity. After weighing the alternatives, we saw there were no alternatives. There is a mountain lodge without a person to run it, there are animals without caretakers. We didn’t really have a choice, it was simple.
Getting my head around it – anything but simple.
The slow and simple year took a heavy turn to huge changes and complex questions. Seriously, is this what we’ve decided to do? To actually live in Bosnia. Are we really up to relocating, do we have enough strenght to emotionally, socially become a part of another environment? Do we really want to live away from town? What will happen to my career as a producer, how about my husband’s career? Can we just let time pass, or do we need to make these decisions now?
We haven’t made any permanent resolutions. Luckily we don’t need to make longterm plans until about five years from now, when our daughter goes to school. But it’s got me thinking about choices and choosing.
All the more often I feel I don’t get to choose. Things really are thrown at me. I mean, we were extremely happy with the way things were in Ljubljana. But then life happened. As it does.
If we’re to take on the lodge, we ought to do it seriously. Make it our own, let it shine the way we think it can. Let’s give it a good go, we said. It’ll be a great summer, we smiled. Friends and strangers will come, we’re hoping.
So here I am, with all the books and animals and business plans and blog projects, in Bosnia. Still a producer and a journalist, still a wife and a mother. More than ever determined to live green-meets-economical. Slow and simple, on the mountain, with a wide horizon and nothing but clear skies.