RETURNING HOME TO MACEDONIA
Mid July 2007 we arrived at the Athens airport and went through the EU gate. As we were arriving from another EU country, there was no passport check. We caught a bus into Athens and went to our hotel. It was about 40 degrees Celsius. Athens was very hot, crowded, dirty with piles of garbage on streets and very busy. My partner and I did the usual tourist things: Tour of the city, went to the museum, out for meals and went to the Acropolis. One evening we went to the Dora Stratou theatre. The open air theatre is Greece’s pride and joy and attracts a lot of tourists. We had missed the first few minutes, but as we sat down the presenter was discussing, I assumed, dances and customs in Alexander the Greats’ time. Prior to the first of the (Greek?) dances with accompanying music being presented, from we were told Florina (Lerin). I certainly knew from where these dances were, as I could not keep my feet still. They were not Greek but Macedonian. However the vast majority of the theatre goers would have been completely oblivious to this. I do not remember the word Macedonian or Macedonia being mentioned on the night. The night of proud depiction of traditional Greek folk dances, comprised almost entirely of predominantly Macedonian and some Turkish (Pontian) dances. We spent 3 days in Athens. The weather and atmosphere was quite suffocating and hard to get used to.
From there we took a six hour bus trip to Thessaloniki (Solun). This city was quiet and calm in comparison to Athens. Aristotle Square was very impressive, as were the wide streets and the nearby sea. I immediately felt more at home and remember thinking, did we (Macedonians) really give this up, before reminding myself, no we did not give this city and Macedonia up. They were taken from us.
We did tourist things and went to the tourist bureau. They were quite helpful and gave us a list of “domatia”, rooms to let, for some of the villages that we planned to visit. My plan was to stay in Macedonian people’s homes, in the Kostur and Lerin areas, but this did not work out too well, as any rooms for accommodation had to be registered and had to meet a certain criteria. Further without having our own transport, it was easier to stay in hotels in places like Lerin and Kostur and then travel to the villages.
During our walks around the city of Solun, we asked a man for directions, after which he attached himself to us for a while. He considered himself very intelligent and knowledgeable and told us that Alexander the Great was Greek, because he spoke Greek. We did not bother to argue with this very self opinionated man. Obviously he did not see any faults with this argument. We just detached ourselves from his company and continued to explore the city.
There were many hawkers and people competing for business. We went to the Macedonian Struggle Museum. It was certainly interesting. There were several maps in the museum of Macedonia. Of particular interest was a map depicting Greece before 1912 and after. I find it interesting that Greece claims that Macedonia is Greek, yet in their museum on the wall there is clearly a map showing when Greece took Macedonia over. I do not know how the Greeks justify this to themselves.
I did not hear any Macedonian spoken anywhere in Solun. The Greek propaganda seems to have succeeded. On one occasion I was in a store purchasing an outfit. In my not so good Greek, I was carrying out the transaction. As it often happened in such cases I was asked where I was from and about speaking some Greek. I answered that my first language is Macedonian, which I speak much better than Greek. The manager was there and I believe the man present was her husband. The man said to the woman in Greek: “What is this Macedonian, I have never heard of Macedonian” referring to the Macedonian language. The lady said: “Eine Vulgari more, afti eine Vulgari” (she is Bulgarian); perhaps not realizing that I understood. Again there was no point getting into an argument with these people. Either they were completely ignorant or had convinced themselves to believe the Greek lies. By their appearance I suspected that they may have been Pontians from Asia Minor.
After a few days in Solun we traveled by bus to Ooranopolis. I stayed there over night and my partner went to Mt Athos. Women are not allowed to go to the monasteries. All the peninsula and the area around Ooranopoulos, (I do not know its Macedonian name), is a major, major tourist area. I could not help thinking that a good way to get to the Greeks is through their tourism, which is a major money earner for them. If they are completely exposed for how they treated Macedonians and what they stole from us, including our history and attempts to steal our identity, won’t the tourists protest by boycotting Greece as a holiday destination? Therefore forcing the Greeks to own up to their many bad deeds? Yes I know it is a fantasy, but anything can happen in life. I was amazed to see how popular this area was for vacations. There were many hotels in the area and the outdoor markets sold many icons, maps and books on Mount Athos and other topics.
We returned to Solun and went to Pella, we visited the excavations and the statue of Alexander the Great on his horse. Then we went to Veria and Vergina. I was surprised to see the royal tombs turned into a museum. I do not remember this being the case on my last trip here over 25 years ago. There was a tourist shop for purchases. The royal palace was closed for excavations as were the theatre and cemetery. It was a strange feeling, to know that all this is part of my land and history, yet others are taking credit for it and I am the one who is left to feel like an outsider.
We returned to Solun and had dinner in a taverna across from the sea. This was very pleasant and cool in comparison to the heat of the day. The sea in Solun is the first that I had ever laid my eyes on, at age seven, before migrating to Australia.
After almost a week’s stay in Solun we caught a bus to Bulgaria, as my intention was to visit all four parts of Macedonia. The bus depot was quite good. I was excited at visiting Pirin Macedonia, as it was to be my first trip there. We had to present our passports at both the Greek and Bulgarian borders, which we found interesting as they are both EU countries. I was a bit apprehensive at the Greek border, due to my place of birth on the passport indicating Bapchor. After long waits to get our passports back, everything was OK.
We got off the bus in Sandanski and walked about a kilometer with our luggage, into town. I approached a lady on the street in respect to accommodation. She did not understand Macedonian or English but did know Greek, as she had worked in Greece for some time. She directed us to excellent accommodation at very reasonable cost.
We were only three days in this area, but it was very memorable. We walked in the city square, visited an interesting museum, shopped, talked to the locals and went to interesting places to eat. The city square area was reasonably quiet during the day, but at night it came alive. We walked through the park and discovered a Macedonian wedding with traditional Macedonian songs. Generally this area was a lot poorer than Greece. The market and other businesses seemed to be just waiting for clientele. They did not appear to be making a great living. I experienced some difficulty with the language. I was told that I had forgotten my Macedonian, which I have, to a considerable extent. But I suspect that the Macedonians here, mixed a lot of Bulgarian in with their Macedonian and that was why I had difficulties communicating. Most of our travel comprised of using taxis. We went to Petrich and Melnik on a day visit.
On the way to Petrich we visited the Shrine of Fadea and the hot springs. A lot of time was not spent in Petrich, as it is a very small township. We spent longer in Melnik and visited a winery in a cave which was pleasantly cool in comparison to the summer heat outside. The main street is very much on a slope, with quaint interesting houses. I am not sure as to how the majority of the people earned a living. I was informed that Greece had built a factory in Pirin Macedonia near the border and employs the locals. However I did not meet anyone who actually worked there. I expect labour would be cheaper here than in Greece. This could be the reason for the factory. I did not observe much growth in the fields in this area. There were always a lot of cab drivers around. Having tourists like us was good for business. However I was told by one Macedonian driver it was difficult for them to earn a reasonable living. His dream was to improve his English skills to such an extent that he could go and work somewhere else, such as in England. Returning back to Solun by bus was not problematic as far as my passport was concerned. I was apprehensive about this until I got through the “Greek” borders.
From Solun we traveled to Lerin. I tried to locate a house near one of the bridges along the river, where my mother and I stayed overnight when we were destitute after our village was destroyed in the Greek Civil War. I would have been well under 4 at the time. I believe I found the house and took a photo of it, but I am not sure it was the right one. Distant relatives lived there at the time. I believe they later migrated to Australia.
We did touristy things and wanted to rent a car so we could visit Macedonian villages, but it was impossible to do so, as there were insufficient cars for rental. Therefore we depended on walking, taxis and busses. However, I read that Greece has the highest car accident rate in the world. Considering this, we were not too disappointed at not driving around. We used Lerin as a base while we traveled to the villages. It appeared that there were a lot fewer busses going to the villages now, than what I remembered on my previous trip, about 25 years ago.
One transport information office was staffed by very arrogant Greeks, giving conflicting information, very loudly. With obvious disdain for anyone who did not speak fluent Greek. We did tourist things in Lerin. On very rare occasions we heard Macedonian being spoken there and certainly not once in Solun or later in Kostur. This was a disappointing.
I noticed street and road name signs in Lerin indicated “The Hellenic City” on them. Total time spent here was one week. We caught a taxi to Krpeshina, a place I lived in from around perhaps age 3 to 7. We visited two houses that my mother and I lived in, with relatives. Both houses are now abandoned and falling. Amazingly several villagers recognized me, even though I was very young when I left. We reminisced. I felt sad as they did for our tragic history and our losses and suffering. I felt especially sad to have been deprived of my father due to him being killed during the Greek Civil War. They were very difficult times.
I visited my first school. I had memories of starting school and from the very first day being expected to speak Greek. Greek teachers were sent to the villages to teach Macedonian children Greek. I learnt quite quickly but I understand children who did not were punished by the teachers, especially the boys.
To my great pleasure there was to be a dance on one of the evenings, which was to be held in the school yard. I love dancing and it reminded me of when as a small child I danced in the school yard. On a couple of occasions I remember as a child being propelled from the “pashka’ (tail) end of the dance, to lead the dances, because I danced so wholeheartedly and with such passion. What was amazing about the dance on this day was that Macedonian songs were sung in “Macedonian”. I was told that in the past, this was not allowed by the Greeks. Now I understand that the villagers no longer cared about what the Greeks wanted. They had been intimidated enough. I sensed contempt for the Greeks. Many of the lyrics of the songs were quite political. I wish that I had tapes of some of the songs that the band were playing and singing. About 1,000 people were present from surrounding regions. It was interesting to see so many cars in a place where I only remember donkeys used as transport.
I visited Krpeshina on two occasions and met many people there. They said that, not many of the people who left to migrate overseas returned for visits. I got the impression that they felt like the forgotten people. Some were perplexed as to why I chose to visit. Especially as I no longer had living relatives there. My Macedonian was adequate enough in this area to be able to communicate reasonably well. Not so however later in Skopje.
From Krpeshina we walked to Neret, it was extremely hot. It was about a 45 minute walk. Later I learned that not long ago a bear was seen standing in the middle of the very road that we walked on. At a later stage on our way to Zhelevo, we saw a sign saying “Beware of Bears”. I tried to locate some relatives who I visited on my previous trip to Neret, 25 years ago. I was informed that the remaining living relatives had moved to Lerin. I caught up with them later. I talked to some locals and met a man who knew not only my father, but his father (my grandfather). He organized for someone to take us to Bapchor.
As I was too young to remember Bapchor when I lived there as a small child, this was a very interesting experience for me. The church was rebuilt, I believe, by Stace Zaikov, a Bapchorian. Unfortunately the church was closed for fear of damage to it. I thank Mr Zaikov for rebuilding the church. No one has lived in Bapchor since its total destruction. Babchor is built on a mountain side. The ruins of the school are still visible, but the remains of the houses are almost covered by vegetation, as the area is completely overgrown. All 180 plus houses and a population of 1,000 or more no longer exist in the village. Many were killed during the war and those still living are scattered around the world. The houses in Bapchor were three storey with the animals housed on the ground floor, especially for their survival during the cold winters. On the front of the now rebuilt church there is plaque, with the names of the people who lost their lives in the civil war, including that of my father.
The gravestones and cross markers with people’s names in the cemetery behind the church, I was informed, were purposely broken up by the Greeks, so that they could not be read and identified. Due to the damage to the graves and the overgrowth, it was impossible to find any graves of my ancestors. I feared venturing too far due to the possibility of there being snakes in the long grass. What a sad thing it was for people to lose their homes, orchards, animals and family members.
Getting to Bapchor was quite difficult, and took perhaps an hour or more by car. I also visited Lagen briefly. I was informed that only 6 families live in this village now. Villages being emptied of their inhabitants was unfortunately common. I certainly felt a connection to Bapchor, Krpeshina and Macedonia generally. We had a picnic in Bapchor on top of the destroyed village and outside the church. I tried to absorb everything about the trip and my experiences. But generally visiting this part of Macedonia was quite emotional and overwhelming. I visited several other villages in this region including that of an uncle that I did not know that I had. There was much discussion about relatives and our history. It does not seem that life in the villages has changed much. Life is basic, the older people are still with donkeys, goats etc. Many younger people have moved to the cities like Lerin for work.
I was told that though Macedonians in this region have a few more rights now than in the past, the Greeks still pedal their propaganda, especially through the very young in schools. The assumption is that the Greeks are waiting for the present older generations of Macedonians, those who know the real history and have lived through it and experienced the difficult periods, to die out. Then they believe the Greek mentality will pervade. They would have convinced all Macedonians that they are Greek. But I wonder if they have convinced God of this. He knows the truth about our history. How do the lies about Macedonia sit with their consciences? I wonder do the lies that they tell about Macedonia ever cross their minds while they are in church, supposedly being good honest Christians?
As far as Grkomani are concerned, some no doubt are. Others while still staunch Macedonians, compromise to some extent, to ensure that their children are not mistreated and can secure decent jobs.
Prior to leaving Lerin I visited Vinozhito. I had the pleasure of meeting Mariana and Pavle. We discussed my trip and matters relating to the struggle of the Macedonians of this area. I also collected two books on their work and the ABECEDAR in Macedonian Cyrillic. This was a pleasant visit. They are doing a great job.
After leaving Lerin we headed towards Zhelevo by taxi. Our accommodation here was a bit out of the town. That evening we walked to the township. We met a lady who told us that in the past there were 1,700 people in Zhelevo, now only about 70. She also told us not to walk too close to the buildings, as they are crumbling and stones are falling down. There was certainly evidence of this and we were more careful for the rest of our walk. There was not very much to do where we were staying. There did not seem to be other guests in the cabins. I believe it is busier in winter as people stay here to go skiing. I was impressed by the elderly Macedonians in the villages, as they were very friendly and open about sharing their histories. Of course their histories are very much like mine and others of that time. With the exception that they are older and had a lot of first hand experiences, as well as their memories to share.
On another day we decided to go to Prespa, which is beautiful. The taxi left us at Agios Germanos. I do not know how this area got its name or its Macedonian name. This area seemed very fertile with beans and eggplants growing. Generally we walked between the villages, found a place to have lunch and visited the Prespa Information Centre, which had information on the preservation of the lakes and wildlife in the area. We spent a day here and on the way back, I asked the taxi driver to drop us in Oshchima for a while. This driver was Greek and tried to discourage us from seeing the village, as he said there was nothing there. However I insisted. We got off in the middle of the township near the post office, had a walk around and talked to a villager who came out.
I explained that there was a book on Oshchima and I have read information on the village, that was why I was interested in visiting. He said others have stopped to see the village for the same reason. I took some photos and had a look around. Because of the heat there were not many people around. I was told that in the past the population would have been about 1,300, now only 30. The village was like many other sad Macedonian villages. I would have liked to have spent more time here without the taxi driver waiting for us, especially in the coolness of the evening.
My initial plan was to walk from where we were staying, to Zhelevo and then to Oshchima. But I was told that this was dangerous, as there are a lot of wild dogs around. I am particularly scared of dogs, as I was severely bitten at about age 6 in Krpeshina. That is why we relied on a taxi for transport to Oshchima.
We left Zhelevo sooner than we planned and got a taxi to Kostur. The road was good without too much traffic. We settled into the hotel then decided to explore the city. We also found two tourist offices within close proximity to each other. We were given directions, maps and pamphlets, all in English. We walked around the lake, which was green with possibly algae, had lunch and explored the city. We went to a church and lit candles. I could not help thinking of the importance of Kostur to my origins. As possibly this would be where there would be records of not only my birth, but if not destroyed, all the records of my forebearers. Nevertheless with only a few days here, it was not the right time to seek such information. I did not hear the Macedonian language spoken anywhere in Kostur. People asked me frequently as to where I was from. I said that I was from a village close by, which is now destroyed and uninhabited, as I did not want to use the Greek name.
One lady insisted on the name of it, not thinking that she would know the village by its original “Bapchor” name I said that the Greeks now call the village ……, giving the new name. She did not know it by the “new” Greek name, but certainly knew the original name. But instead of calling it Bapchor she called it Bapchori. Which I know in the past, was the Greek modification of the original name. This incident stayed in my mind, in particular because of my later experiences at the Greek border control, on my way to the Republic of Macedonia.
We got on the ferry on the Kostur lake and saw the mountain Vicho, from many directions. The temperature was pleasant unlike the heat we experienced previously. The city seemed nice and clean, especially in comparison to Athens. The people seemed to have a different character here, especially in comparison to those living in Athens. Generally the further north of Athens the more people seemed to be calmer, less loud and frantic and more dignified.
We saw an interesting fortress wall and a lot of old churches. There were many restaurants around the lake and a lot of furs in shop windows. We visited museums and talked to the locals. I wanted to meet some Macedonians, to discuss the area and what life was like here, but the opportunity did not arise. We caught a local bus to see the local villages, stopped in one called Mavrohori, in Greek. We were only 3 days in this area. This did not seem enough time for what the city has to offer. Generally it appeared that Greece has done a reasonable job of Hellenizing the city. No doubt there are pockets of staunch Macedonians here but I did not find any in my short visit. We caught a bus and then changed busses to return to Lerin. It was nice going through the villages by bus. However it felt very hot in the bus, it did not seem to have any air conditioning and we were concerned about some of the unsafe practices. Such as the driver driving too close to other vehicles and talking on the mobile phone while carrying a bus full of passengers.
We arrived in Lerin and met with our prearranged taxi driver to take us through the border into the Republic of Macedonia. Not all taxi drivers can do this, as they require an up to date passport to go through the borders. I was told that the Greeks try to frustrate people from these regions in their attempts to get passports, by delays and expenses. I was informed that many people would like to visit the Republic of Macedonia for many reasons, including shopping, but this was not easy from the Greek side.
I was hot and tired after my long bus trip from Kostur to Lerin and apprehensive about going through the “Greek” border control. At the Greek border, our taxi driver (a Macedonian) took my and my partner’s passports, while we stayed in the taxi, to take to the border control guards/officers. The return of the passports was taking a very long time. I of course knew that it was my passport that was problematic. I can see the taxi driver animatedly talking to the border control officers. Later I learnt that he was trying to get them to let me through. I was told that they wanted to know how I got in the country. After an uncomfortable long period I saw the driver come to my side of the taxi. He told me that he tried to convince them to let me go through but was not able to do so, despite the currant state of Bapchor. They insisted that they wanted to see me and directed him to bring me to them. They asked the taxi driver if I knew any Greek. He said “No” but he will translate for me in English.
Generally they told me that they were not happy with my passport, that it was incorrect. They directed me to change the name of the village of my birth, on it. That unless I do so, I will not be allowed back into Greece again. Stressing this point. There were two officers, the elder looked at my eyes and face intently. I do not know what he made of my blue eyes and fair skin. I just looked blankly at them. Too tired to argue, knowing that no good will come of it. In my mind I had visions of the sorry state of my village, where once it was full of life and beauty. Especially known for being progressive for its time, and the beauty of the young women, many who later died as partisans.
At the border control there were posters of what I assume were wanted and dangerous people. I could see the stupidity of stopping a mature aged woman, a professional with no police record like myself, as if indeed I was a criminal. Wanting me to falsify my Australian passport. Trying to intimidate me into putting “their” new imposed Greek name on my passport. All this fuss about a village that they destroyed. Robbing me of a home and birthplace and especially of a father. With his remains and that of other young Macedonians scattered in the mountains where they died. What utter nonsense about the name of my birthplace on my passport. When even some of their own Greek people do not know the village by the Greek name. Instead many know it as Bapchor or Bapchori. I wonder for how much longer will this nonsense continue? When will the world wake up to the truth of what we Macedonians have experienced and are still experiencing. When will the truth of our history be acknowledged?
On my original Greek passport the name of the village of my birth is indicated as “Bapchori”. I and others from Bapchor have always known the village as Bapchor. With the change of the names of the villages to Greek names, Greece is trying to hide the truth. The fact that the village is now destroyed by the Greeks and emptied of its people, makes the insistence on the Greek name particularly cruel. Having taken everything from us, now they are trying to misconstrue and rob us of our memories.
In the past many people from Aegean Macedonia would have traveled to new countries bearing the original Macedonian names of their villages, as their place of birth on their passports. These people when returning to their homeland, if like me, do not want to accept the new Greek name on their current passports, can if they wish have a copy of their original passport with them. To show at the border, should they experience difficulties. After all the Greeks cannot deny the passports that they themselves issued. However please note I said copies not the original, to avoid the passport being defaced or destroyed. I am told that the border control guards are not above doing this, if they do not like what is written.
The border control officer of the Republic of Macedonia was perhaps wondering as to what was happening at the Greek border. No doubt he could see our vehicle stationary there for a long period. What “criminal’ did the Greek police manage to catch? The taxi driver, when we approached the border, as he handed over our passports must have mentioned to him what happened at the Greek border. Here our passports were quickly stamped and returned to us. I waved to the border guard from the taxi. He returned my wave. I felt immediately safer. Then I saw the current Macedonian flag. At last I felt that I could relax. We proceeded to Bitola.
By LG
Mid July 2007 we arrived at the Athens airport and went through the EU gate. As we were arriving from another EU country, there was no passport check. We caught a bus into Athens and went to our hotel. It was about 40 degrees Celsius. Athens was very hot, crowded, dirty with piles of garbage on streets and very busy. My partner and I did the usual tourist things: Tour of the city, went to the museum, out for meals and went to the Acropolis. One evening we went to the Dora Stratou theatre. The open air theatre is Greece’s pride and joy and attracts a lot of tourists. We had missed the first few minutes, but as we sat down the presenter was discussing, I assumed, dances and customs in Alexander the Greats’ time. Prior to the first of the (Greek?) dances with accompanying music being presented, from we were told Florina (Lerin). I certainly knew from where these dances were, as I could not keep my feet still. They were not Greek but Macedonian. However the vast majority of the theatre goers would have been completely oblivious to this. I do not remember the word Macedonian or Macedonia being mentioned on the night. The night of proud depiction of traditional Greek folk dances, comprised almost entirely of predominantly Macedonian and some Turkish (Pontian) dances. We spent 3 days in Athens. The weather and atmosphere was quite suffocating and hard to get used to.
From there we took a six hour bus trip to Thessaloniki (Solun). This city was quiet and calm in comparison to Athens. Aristotle Square was very impressive, as were the wide streets and the nearby sea. I immediately felt more at home and remember thinking, did we (Macedonians) really give this up, before reminding myself, no we did not give this city and Macedonia up. They were taken from us.
We did tourist things and went to the tourist bureau. They were quite helpful and gave us a list of “domatia”, rooms to let, for some of the villages that we planned to visit. My plan was to stay in Macedonian people’s homes, in the Kostur and Lerin areas, but this did not work out too well, as any rooms for accommodation had to be registered and had to meet a certain criteria. Further without having our own transport, it was easier to stay in hotels in places like Lerin and Kostur and then travel to the villages.
During our walks around the city of Solun, we asked a man for directions, after which he attached himself to us for a while. He considered himself very intelligent and knowledgeable and told us that Alexander the Great was Greek, because he spoke Greek. We did not bother to argue with this very self opinionated man. Obviously he did not see any faults with this argument. We just detached ourselves from his company and continued to explore the city.
There were many hawkers and people competing for business. We went to the Macedonian Struggle Museum. It was certainly interesting. There were several maps in the museum of Macedonia. Of particular interest was a map depicting Greece before 1912 and after. I find it interesting that Greece claims that Macedonia is Greek, yet in their museum on the wall there is clearly a map showing when Greece took Macedonia over. I do not know how the Greeks justify this to themselves.
I did not hear any Macedonian spoken anywhere in Solun. The Greek propaganda seems to have succeeded. On one occasion I was in a store purchasing an outfit. In my not so good Greek, I was carrying out the transaction. As it often happened in such cases I was asked where I was from and about speaking some Greek. I answered that my first language is Macedonian, which I speak much better than Greek. The manager was there and I believe the man present was her husband. The man said to the woman in Greek: “What is this Macedonian, I have never heard of Macedonian” referring to the Macedonian language. The lady said: “Eine Vulgari more, afti eine Vulgari” (she is Bulgarian); perhaps not realizing that I understood. Again there was no point getting into an argument with these people. Either they were completely ignorant or had convinced themselves to believe the Greek lies. By their appearance I suspected that they may have been Pontians from Asia Minor.
After a few days in Solun we traveled by bus to Ooranopolis. I stayed there over night and my partner went to Mt Athos. Women are not allowed to go to the monasteries. All the peninsula and the area around Ooranopoulos, (I do not know its Macedonian name), is a major, major tourist area. I could not help thinking that a good way to get to the Greeks is through their tourism, which is a major money earner for them. If they are completely exposed for how they treated Macedonians and what they stole from us, including our history and attempts to steal our identity, won’t the tourists protest by boycotting Greece as a holiday destination? Therefore forcing the Greeks to own up to their many bad deeds? Yes I know it is a fantasy, but anything can happen in life. I was amazed to see how popular this area was for vacations. There were many hotels in the area and the outdoor markets sold many icons, maps and books on Mount Athos and other topics.
We returned to Solun and went to Pella, we visited the excavations and the statue of Alexander the Great on his horse. Then we went to Veria and Vergina. I was surprised to see the royal tombs turned into a museum. I do not remember this being the case on my last trip here over 25 years ago. There was a tourist shop for purchases. The royal palace was closed for excavations as were the theatre and cemetery. It was a strange feeling, to know that all this is part of my land and history, yet others are taking credit for it and I am the one who is left to feel like an outsider.
We returned to Solun and had dinner in a taverna across from the sea. This was very pleasant and cool in comparison to the heat of the day. The sea in Solun is the first that I had ever laid my eyes on, at age seven, before migrating to Australia.
After almost a week’s stay in Solun we caught a bus to Bulgaria, as my intention was to visit all four parts of Macedonia. The bus depot was quite good. I was excited at visiting Pirin Macedonia, as it was to be my first trip there. We had to present our passports at both the Greek and Bulgarian borders, which we found interesting as they are both EU countries. I was a bit apprehensive at the Greek border, due to my place of birth on the passport indicating Bapchor. After long waits to get our passports back, everything was OK.
We got off the bus in Sandanski and walked about a kilometer with our luggage, into town. I approached a lady on the street in respect to accommodation. She did not understand Macedonian or English but did know Greek, as she had worked in Greece for some time. She directed us to excellent accommodation at very reasonable cost.
We were only three days in this area, but it was very memorable. We walked in the city square, visited an interesting museum, shopped, talked to the locals and went to interesting places to eat. The city square area was reasonably quiet during the day, but at night it came alive. We walked through the park and discovered a Macedonian wedding with traditional Macedonian songs. Generally this area was a lot poorer than Greece. The market and other businesses seemed to be just waiting for clientele. They did not appear to be making a great living. I experienced some difficulty with the language. I was told that I had forgotten my Macedonian, which I have, to a considerable extent. But I suspect that the Macedonians here, mixed a lot of Bulgarian in with their Macedonian and that was why I had difficulties communicating. Most of our travel comprised of using taxis. We went to Petrich and Melnik on a day visit.
On the way to Petrich we visited the Shrine of Fadea and the hot springs. A lot of time was not spent in Petrich, as it is a very small township. We spent longer in Melnik and visited a winery in a cave which was pleasantly cool in comparison to the summer heat outside. The main street is very much on a slope, with quaint interesting houses. I am not sure as to how the majority of the people earned a living. I was informed that Greece had built a factory in Pirin Macedonia near the border and employs the locals. However I did not meet anyone who actually worked there. I expect labour would be cheaper here than in Greece. This could be the reason for the factory. I did not observe much growth in the fields in this area. There were always a lot of cab drivers around. Having tourists like us was good for business. However I was told by one Macedonian driver it was difficult for them to earn a reasonable living. His dream was to improve his English skills to such an extent that he could go and work somewhere else, such as in England. Returning back to Solun by bus was not problematic as far as my passport was concerned. I was apprehensive about this until I got through the “Greek” borders.
From Solun we traveled to Lerin. I tried to locate a house near one of the bridges along the river, where my mother and I stayed overnight when we were destitute after our village was destroyed in the Greek Civil War. I would have been well under 4 at the time. I believe I found the house and took a photo of it, but I am not sure it was the right one. Distant relatives lived there at the time. I believe they later migrated to Australia.
We did touristy things and wanted to rent a car so we could visit Macedonian villages, but it was impossible to do so, as there were insufficient cars for rental. Therefore we depended on walking, taxis and busses. However, I read that Greece has the highest car accident rate in the world. Considering this, we were not too disappointed at not driving around. We used Lerin as a base while we traveled to the villages. It appeared that there were a lot fewer busses going to the villages now, than what I remembered on my previous trip, about 25 years ago.
One transport information office was staffed by very arrogant Greeks, giving conflicting information, very loudly. With obvious disdain for anyone who did not speak fluent Greek. We did tourist things in Lerin. On very rare occasions we heard Macedonian being spoken there and certainly not once in Solun or later in Kostur. This was a disappointing.
I noticed street and road name signs in Lerin indicated “The Hellenic City” on them. Total time spent here was one week. We caught a taxi to Krpeshina, a place I lived in from around perhaps age 3 to 7. We visited two houses that my mother and I lived in, with relatives. Both houses are now abandoned and falling. Amazingly several villagers recognized me, even though I was very young when I left. We reminisced. I felt sad as they did for our tragic history and our losses and suffering. I felt especially sad to have been deprived of my father due to him being killed during the Greek Civil War. They were very difficult times.
I visited my first school. I had memories of starting school and from the very first day being expected to speak Greek. Greek teachers were sent to the villages to teach Macedonian children Greek. I learnt quite quickly but I understand children who did not were punished by the teachers, especially the boys.
To my great pleasure there was to be a dance on one of the evenings, which was to be held in the school yard. I love dancing and it reminded me of when as a small child I danced in the school yard. On a couple of occasions I remember as a child being propelled from the “pashka’ (tail) end of the dance, to lead the dances, because I danced so wholeheartedly and with such passion. What was amazing about the dance on this day was that Macedonian songs were sung in “Macedonian”. I was told that in the past, this was not allowed by the Greeks. Now I understand that the villagers no longer cared about what the Greeks wanted. They had been intimidated enough. I sensed contempt for the Greeks. Many of the lyrics of the songs were quite political. I wish that I had tapes of some of the songs that the band were playing and singing. About 1,000 people were present from surrounding regions. It was interesting to see so many cars in a place where I only remember donkeys used as transport.
I visited Krpeshina on two occasions and met many people there. They said that, not many of the people who left to migrate overseas returned for visits. I got the impression that they felt like the forgotten people. Some were perplexed as to why I chose to visit. Especially as I no longer had living relatives there. My Macedonian was adequate enough in this area to be able to communicate reasonably well. Not so however later in Skopje.
From Krpeshina we walked to Neret, it was extremely hot. It was about a 45 minute walk. Later I learned that not long ago a bear was seen standing in the middle of the very road that we walked on. At a later stage on our way to Zhelevo, we saw a sign saying “Beware of Bears”. I tried to locate some relatives who I visited on my previous trip to Neret, 25 years ago. I was informed that the remaining living relatives had moved to Lerin. I caught up with them later. I talked to some locals and met a man who knew not only my father, but his father (my grandfather). He organized for someone to take us to Bapchor.
As I was too young to remember Bapchor when I lived there as a small child, this was a very interesting experience for me. The church was rebuilt, I believe, by Stace Zaikov, a Bapchorian. Unfortunately the church was closed for fear of damage to it. I thank Mr Zaikov for rebuilding the church. No one has lived in Bapchor since its total destruction. Babchor is built on a mountain side. The ruins of the school are still visible, but the remains of the houses are almost covered by vegetation, as the area is completely overgrown. All 180 plus houses and a population of 1,000 or more no longer exist in the village. Many were killed during the war and those still living are scattered around the world. The houses in Bapchor were three storey with the animals housed on the ground floor, especially for their survival during the cold winters. On the front of the now rebuilt church there is plaque, with the names of the people who lost their lives in the civil war, including that of my father.
The gravestones and cross markers with people’s names in the cemetery behind the church, I was informed, were purposely broken up by the Greeks, so that they could not be read and identified. Due to the damage to the graves and the overgrowth, it was impossible to find any graves of my ancestors. I feared venturing too far due to the possibility of there being snakes in the long grass. What a sad thing it was for people to lose their homes, orchards, animals and family members.
Getting to Bapchor was quite difficult, and took perhaps an hour or more by car. I also visited Lagen briefly. I was informed that only 6 families live in this village now. Villages being emptied of their inhabitants was unfortunately common. I certainly felt a connection to Bapchor, Krpeshina and Macedonia generally. We had a picnic in Bapchor on top of the destroyed village and outside the church. I tried to absorb everything about the trip and my experiences. But generally visiting this part of Macedonia was quite emotional and overwhelming. I visited several other villages in this region including that of an uncle that I did not know that I had. There was much discussion about relatives and our history. It does not seem that life in the villages has changed much. Life is basic, the older people are still with donkeys, goats etc. Many younger people have moved to the cities like Lerin for work.
I was told that though Macedonians in this region have a few more rights now than in the past, the Greeks still pedal their propaganda, especially through the very young in schools. The assumption is that the Greeks are waiting for the present older generations of Macedonians, those who know the real history and have lived through it and experienced the difficult periods, to die out. Then they believe the Greek mentality will pervade. They would have convinced all Macedonians that they are Greek. But I wonder if they have convinced God of this. He knows the truth about our history. How do the lies about Macedonia sit with their consciences? I wonder do the lies that they tell about Macedonia ever cross their minds while they are in church, supposedly being good honest Christians?
As far as Grkomani are concerned, some no doubt are. Others while still staunch Macedonians, compromise to some extent, to ensure that their children are not mistreated and can secure decent jobs.
Prior to leaving Lerin I visited Vinozhito. I had the pleasure of meeting Mariana and Pavle. We discussed my trip and matters relating to the struggle of the Macedonians of this area. I also collected two books on their work and the ABECEDAR in Macedonian Cyrillic. This was a pleasant visit. They are doing a great job.
After leaving Lerin we headed towards Zhelevo by taxi. Our accommodation here was a bit out of the town. That evening we walked to the township. We met a lady who told us that in the past there were 1,700 people in Zhelevo, now only about 70. She also told us not to walk too close to the buildings, as they are crumbling and stones are falling down. There was certainly evidence of this and we were more careful for the rest of our walk. There was not very much to do where we were staying. There did not seem to be other guests in the cabins. I believe it is busier in winter as people stay here to go skiing. I was impressed by the elderly Macedonians in the villages, as they were very friendly and open about sharing their histories. Of course their histories are very much like mine and others of that time. With the exception that they are older and had a lot of first hand experiences, as well as their memories to share.
On another day we decided to go to Prespa, which is beautiful. The taxi left us at Agios Germanos. I do not know how this area got its name or its Macedonian name. This area seemed very fertile with beans and eggplants growing. Generally we walked between the villages, found a place to have lunch and visited the Prespa Information Centre, which had information on the preservation of the lakes and wildlife in the area. We spent a day here and on the way back, I asked the taxi driver to drop us in Oshchima for a while. This driver was Greek and tried to discourage us from seeing the village, as he said there was nothing there. However I insisted. We got off in the middle of the township near the post office, had a walk around and talked to a villager who came out.
I explained that there was a book on Oshchima and I have read information on the village, that was why I was interested in visiting. He said others have stopped to see the village for the same reason. I took some photos and had a look around. Because of the heat there were not many people around. I was told that in the past the population would have been about 1,300, now only 30. The village was like many other sad Macedonian villages. I would have liked to have spent more time here without the taxi driver waiting for us, especially in the coolness of the evening.
My initial plan was to walk from where we were staying, to Zhelevo and then to Oshchima. But I was told that this was dangerous, as there are a lot of wild dogs around. I am particularly scared of dogs, as I was severely bitten at about age 6 in Krpeshina. That is why we relied on a taxi for transport to Oshchima.
We left Zhelevo sooner than we planned and got a taxi to Kostur. The road was good without too much traffic. We settled into the hotel then decided to explore the city. We also found two tourist offices within close proximity to each other. We were given directions, maps and pamphlets, all in English. We walked around the lake, which was green with possibly algae, had lunch and explored the city. We went to a church and lit candles. I could not help thinking of the importance of Kostur to my origins. As possibly this would be where there would be records of not only my birth, but if not destroyed, all the records of my forebearers. Nevertheless with only a few days here, it was not the right time to seek such information. I did not hear the Macedonian language spoken anywhere in Kostur. People asked me frequently as to where I was from. I said that I was from a village close by, which is now destroyed and uninhabited, as I did not want to use the Greek name.
One lady insisted on the name of it, not thinking that she would know the village by its original “Bapchor” name I said that the Greeks now call the village ……, giving the new name. She did not know it by the “new” Greek name, but certainly knew the original name. But instead of calling it Bapchor she called it Bapchori. Which I know in the past, was the Greek modification of the original name. This incident stayed in my mind, in particular because of my later experiences at the Greek border control, on my way to the Republic of Macedonia.
We got on the ferry on the Kostur lake and saw the mountain Vicho, from many directions. The temperature was pleasant unlike the heat we experienced previously. The city seemed nice and clean, especially in comparison to Athens. The people seemed to have a different character here, especially in comparison to those living in Athens. Generally the further north of Athens the more people seemed to be calmer, less loud and frantic and more dignified.
We saw an interesting fortress wall and a lot of old churches. There were many restaurants around the lake and a lot of furs in shop windows. We visited museums and talked to the locals. I wanted to meet some Macedonians, to discuss the area and what life was like here, but the opportunity did not arise. We caught a local bus to see the local villages, stopped in one called Mavrohori, in Greek. We were only 3 days in this area. This did not seem enough time for what the city has to offer. Generally it appeared that Greece has done a reasonable job of Hellenizing the city. No doubt there are pockets of staunch Macedonians here but I did not find any in my short visit. We caught a bus and then changed busses to return to Lerin. It was nice going through the villages by bus. However it felt very hot in the bus, it did not seem to have any air conditioning and we were concerned about some of the unsafe practices. Such as the driver driving too close to other vehicles and talking on the mobile phone while carrying a bus full of passengers.
We arrived in Lerin and met with our prearranged taxi driver to take us through the border into the Republic of Macedonia. Not all taxi drivers can do this, as they require an up to date passport to go through the borders. I was told that the Greeks try to frustrate people from these regions in their attempts to get passports, by delays and expenses. I was informed that many people would like to visit the Republic of Macedonia for many reasons, including shopping, but this was not easy from the Greek side.
I was hot and tired after my long bus trip from Kostur to Lerin and apprehensive about going through the “Greek” border control. At the Greek border, our taxi driver (a Macedonian) took my and my partner’s passports, while we stayed in the taxi, to take to the border control guards/officers. The return of the passports was taking a very long time. I of course knew that it was my passport that was problematic. I can see the taxi driver animatedly talking to the border control officers. Later I learnt that he was trying to get them to let me through. I was told that they wanted to know how I got in the country. After an uncomfortable long period I saw the driver come to my side of the taxi. He told me that he tried to convince them to let me go through but was not able to do so, despite the currant state of Bapchor. They insisted that they wanted to see me and directed him to bring me to them. They asked the taxi driver if I knew any Greek. He said “No” but he will translate for me in English.
Generally they told me that they were not happy with my passport, that it was incorrect. They directed me to change the name of the village of my birth, on it. That unless I do so, I will not be allowed back into Greece again. Stressing this point. There were two officers, the elder looked at my eyes and face intently. I do not know what he made of my blue eyes and fair skin. I just looked blankly at them. Too tired to argue, knowing that no good will come of it. In my mind I had visions of the sorry state of my village, where once it was full of life and beauty. Especially known for being progressive for its time, and the beauty of the young women, many who later died as partisans.
At the border control there were posters of what I assume were wanted and dangerous people. I could see the stupidity of stopping a mature aged woman, a professional with no police record like myself, as if indeed I was a criminal. Wanting me to falsify my Australian passport. Trying to intimidate me into putting “their” new imposed Greek name on my passport. All this fuss about a village that they destroyed. Robbing me of a home and birthplace and especially of a father. With his remains and that of other young Macedonians scattered in the mountains where they died. What utter nonsense about the name of my birthplace on my passport. When even some of their own Greek people do not know the village by the Greek name. Instead many know it as Bapchor or Bapchori. I wonder for how much longer will this nonsense continue? When will the world wake up to the truth of what we Macedonians have experienced and are still experiencing. When will the truth of our history be acknowledged?
On my original Greek passport the name of the village of my birth is indicated as “Bapchori”. I and others from Bapchor have always known the village as Bapchor. With the change of the names of the villages to Greek names, Greece is trying to hide the truth. The fact that the village is now destroyed by the Greeks and emptied of its people, makes the insistence on the Greek name particularly cruel. Having taken everything from us, now they are trying to misconstrue and rob us of our memories.
In the past many people from Aegean Macedonia would have traveled to new countries bearing the original Macedonian names of their villages, as their place of birth on their passports. These people when returning to their homeland, if like me, do not want to accept the new Greek name on their current passports, can if they wish have a copy of their original passport with them. To show at the border, should they experience difficulties. After all the Greeks cannot deny the passports that they themselves issued. However please note I said copies not the original, to avoid the passport being defaced or destroyed. I am told that the border control guards are not above doing this, if they do not like what is written.
The border control officer of the Republic of Macedonia was perhaps wondering as to what was happening at the Greek border. No doubt he could see our vehicle stationary there for a long period. What “criminal’ did the Greek police manage to catch? The taxi driver, when we approached the border, as he handed over our passports must have mentioned to him what happened at the Greek border. Here our passports were quickly stamped and returned to us. I waved to the border guard from the taxi. He returned my wave. I felt immediately safer. Then I saw the current Macedonian flag. At last I felt that I could relax. We proceeded to Bitola.
By LG
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