Stories

If there is a country anywhere in the world where one should seek the recipe for happiness, it is certainly in Bhutan. This little kingdom in the Himalayas has made happiness a part of its Constitution, the supreme value and the main goal of development. I travel by jeep along the only road meandering at the foot of the Himalayas, where the entirety of urban Bhutan is located, and then by foot for weeks to the furthest valleys of the Himalayas where people live. With the help of my companion and translator, I ask them clearly and bluntly about the recipe for happiness.

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Rain had been falling incessantly the day she was born. For this reason her parents named her Nalotesha – She-Who-Comes-With-The-Rain. It has been raining since morning on this day as well – the day they will come for her. Today is the last day of her life as she knows it, the last day of her life with her parents; with the family that she has lived with for the past sixteen years.

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Reaching the edge of the Cliffs of Bandiagara is an experience words and photographs can hardly convey. After traveling two thousand kilometers through the stubbornly flat savanna of West Africa, from the Atlantic coast to the heart of Mali, reaching the cliffs is like reaching a great turning point. The cliffs stretch 200 kilometers in length and the walls plummet 200, 300, occasionally even 500 meters down. Then from the escarpment’s base, once again the desert plains spread into infinity. A few kilometers ago, we had left the road, electricity, and other comforts of civilization behind and now continue by foot up a path that takes us through a narrow canyon, steeply downhill, to the base of the cliffs where we come across a new breathtaking landscape. Leaning against the foot of the cliffs and perfectly camouflaged in the landscape, are clusters of hundreds, thousands of huts made from mud and straw. We have entered the land of the Dogon, returned to the Africa as it once was.

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Biševo is our furthest officially settled island. It is also an island where all the wonders and horrors of life on the open seas of the Adriatic can be best felt. In the summer, about two hundred people live here, while the Blue Cave attracts tourists in the tens of thousands. In the winter, however, tourists are nowhere to be found, and even the locals are difficult to encounter. Only about fifteen inhabitants – the true, genuine, unyielding islanders – remain on the island, almost cut off from the rest of the world. It is through their stories that we will attempt to depict life on this remote island.

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The evening of a long summer’s day. The island and its town Sali. The Riva promenade along the bay. The village has the sea at its lap, but today this sea is hardly visible from so many boats. Seventy berths aren’t enough, so as the boats arrive, they are tied to one another, until they completely cover the harbor. It could be said that Sali is a quiet place, but tonight the hum of the crowd prevails. There are a lot more people on the seaside promenade than could fit in the homes of this little village. They walk up-down, stopping occasionally for a drink or ice-cream, then they continue walking up-down along the promenade. With so many boats squeezed into the harbor, people could easily cross the bay just by stepping from one boat to the next. Behind the bay, atop the hill, is the parish church and old town center. An unusual sound is heard from there…

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The day began early, much before sunrise, but that’s how the days start atop Mount Koya, or Koyasan, not far from Kyoto in Japan. Neatly combed and well kempt yet drowsy people walked in a deadly silence down the wooden halls of the shrine Muryoko-in, one of the 117 shrines atop Koyasan. Among these people were Buddhist monks in grey robes and laymen from all over the world. They kneeled in the shrine’s prayer room where for generations people have been coming to keep and worship the holy fire. For half an hour they sat motionless in a state of serenity, between meditation and dozing. Then the monks around the fire began mumbling mantras…

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For quite a while now, the fertile soil has been frozen under the snow. The days are getting longer, however, and the sun shines in an increasingly higher arc, radiating the white plains with an optimism of its new awakening. Peasants of the village Turčišće in Međimurje spend their winter days in leisure after having spent the long days of spring and fall working in their fields. Now, while it is still cold outside, they do not socialize much. But towards the end of winter and arrival of spring, Carnival takes place. It is the time when the natural order of things is turned upside down, only to be restored once again…

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