Continued from the end of my post about Greece:
Downtown Skopje bear many statues. North Macedonia, 2024, Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
I never did receive that call from Vangelis. I have not doubt that he tried, but I knew it would never work, given I had data-only service. Explaining that to him at the time was well out of my capacity; It was really the thought that counted. Had we connected, I would have told him a tale he was all too familiar with: I had made it to my destination, Skopje, through another slow series of delayed trains in a late-night push. After my hired taxi drove me across the border, he was quick to dump me out and get going back to his home country. Sitting in the train station at Bitola to avoid the pouring rain, I realized I had made a potentially large error. I neglected to have him stop at an ATM so that I could get the proper currency, the Macedonian Denar. All I had to my name was $10 Euro cash. There were plenty of signs around noting that they did not accept euros, both in Greek and Macedonian (a Cyrillic language), but obvious enough to me, a traveller.
When I finally inquired about my options at the ticket counter, they must have had enough people in this position over time, because the ticket manager accepted my euros without issue. The ticket cost from Bitola to Skopje? $6 eur. I was very grateful and mostly surprised at the cheap cost. I had a couple hours to kill, which I did by eating and listening to music/podcasts to avoid the rain outside. It was plenty dark anyway. The train arrived, a Chinese import that was actually nicer (and newer) than the trains I had been using in Greece. Almost immediately, the folks around me conveyed (in broken English) embarrassment over this train and how it is aged and slow. They expressed interest (confoundment?) in my choice to travel by train, as if I was choosing pain instead of do something better/different. My choice was deliberate and for good reason. The intimacy of it is important, but really I found it the easiest way to travel with my quantity of luggage to a place where I could rent a car- in this case Skopje.
I arrived at the main downtown Skopje station around midnight, properly famished and tired. The station was clearly very old and had tons of soviet-era influence to it. A brief aside from this unlearned historian, North Macedonia is a really interesting (and highly debated) place, historically speaking. Formerly Soviet-Yugoslavia, then adjusted to the Former Republic of Yugoslavia Skopje after the fall of the Soviet Union, now to North Macedonia, a somewhat naming concession from the Greek Government. Historically speaking, North Macedonia falls outside of what actually used to be Macedonia, in still-Northern Greece. To say that there is some petty tension around this naming convention, and some of the history North Macedonia espouses, would be an understatement. I found out quickly that if you tell a Greek you are going to Macedonia, you better be sure you are going to Thessaloniki and not North Macedonia, or Skopje, as it is widely referred to.
I digress; As I landed in this old-cement, dimly light, broken down station, I had a desire to photograph it. With a completely empty station, I spent a few minutes shooting some film and digital photos. Eventually a security appeared out of nowhere and demanded I delete all of the photos I took. Thankfully, I had been on my Mamiya and the time and explained that I was shooting film and it didn’t really work that way. He cut me loose, and I happily obliged in getting out of there. In hindsight, likely due to myself being a wreck, the photos really weren’t worth it. Outside of the station was a burger shack, where I proceeded to mow down a loaded, fry-filled burger. It was really good, and it, plus fries (and a drink!) was only $4USD. I spent the next two hours knocking on doors of hostels until one finally let me in. I was the only guest, and due to the hour of the night, she let me stay on credit so she could get back to sleep. I was grateful to have a place to lay my head for the night.
VW bug in Skopje, North Macedonia, 2024. Mamiya 67, 65mm, Gold 200.
Fisherman fish from a bridge into the Vardar River, which separates the two halves of Skopje, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji GFX 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
I was feeling a bit overwhelmed the following day. The city was beautiful, decently-sized and I was in debt to the hostel manager. I didn’t have an in-depth plan other than to obtain some cash and start exploring what I could of the surrounding areas. My situation got a little more dire when I arrived at the ATM nearby the hostel only to find that my bank was continuing to decline my card. Being on completely different time zones (and since the bank isn’t very large), there were no reachable numbers to call. Remembering back to the prior story in Greece, the last $100 cash I had was given to my friend Heidi in New York City, just before I took off. To my dismay, I never did replace it, which was pure accident and not a mistake I will make again. Since I could not call my bank’s customer service back in the USA, I did some digging online and found that my bank blocks North Macedonia from transactions, which was pretty awful news at the time. When I travel internationally, I generally bring 2 cards, my ID, and some cash. For reasons unknown to myself, I ended up bringing my whole wallet, which turned out to save me. I had my business debit card with me, from an even smaller bank, that worked at the ATM. A huge pressure relief at the cost of high ATM fees/poor conversion fees, but a real savior otherwise. Shoutout Eastern Sierra Community Bank!
A mosque on the Muslim side of the Vardar River. Skopje, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
A group of men fish in the Vardar River. Skopje, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
With my debts paid, I hit the streets to finally enjoy whatever this city had to offer. It felt very modern, more than any place I had been to in Greece. I think there was specific influence and money placed into Skopje (as the capital city) to achieve this. I had read beforehand that the city was divided into two major sections by a river running through the middle. On one side, you had your traditional Christian and Orthodox cultures and groups, the other side, Muslim and middle-eastern cultures and groups. Of course, this is a largely too simplistic, but holds a high degree of reality. The hostel manager encouraged me to check out the world’s second largest bazaar (outside of Turkey) on the Muslim-side of the river. Just as I arrived, they had entered afternoon prayer and the narrow cobblestone walkways quickly filled with devout Muslims, who rolled out their prayer rugs and followed the call-to-prayer blaring over the loudspeakers peppered throughout. I observed initially, and made a few photographs. With the midday light, I was not too happy with my results, but I was happy to be experiencing it nonetheless. When the midday prayers finally concluded, I had made my way around to a different area of the bazaar. Predictable chaos ensued as the masses resumed daily life, tossing donations onto small prayer rugs outside of various mosques. The photo I made below really represents the energy that I felt after the prayer sessions ended.
An Imam accepts donations after a completion of a call to prayer. Skopje, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
As the sun was setting, I returned back to the hostel, having decided to stay another night there. I spent some time hanging with the hostel manager and booking a rental car for the adventures of the following days, then I turned in early. My primary driving force in coming to North Macedonia was to visit Bigorski Monastery nestled in the canyons of the Western portion of the country. Skopje really captured me initially though, enough to extend my stay before departure to Bigorski. With my rental car secured and my debts paid, I left the city and worked my way through the back roads and down towards Bigorski. Once leaving the city, things predictably got more rural and interesting, in their own ways. The theme of Christian over here, Muslim over there, was prevalent as I drove through small villages and other larger towns. On my drive, I made a detour to one of the 3 ski resorts in the country, just to check it out. Had it been a clear day, I for sure would have rented gear, bought a $15 ticket and cruised about, but it was not. Pure fog— “socked in”, as we call it. The rural countryside of North Macedonia was remarkable, and had a lot of character to it. After my detour, I found myself in a more populous Muslim-zone than I had been in before. I was particularly drawn to some of the mosques, clearly weathered and aged, which large and open cemeteries on the grounds.
A mosque in the village of Vrapchishte, North Macedonia, 2024. Mamiya 67, Ilford HP5+ 400, 127mm.
A cemetery near the village of Gostivar, North Macedonia, 2024. Mamiya 67, 65mm, Tri-X 400
During one particular stop, an older gentlemen was coming out of a stone gate and saw me petting a fresh-litter of small dogs. As we gestured and smiled towards each other, clearly talking about how cute they were, we exchanged some more brief conversation about my name, and where I am from. He shook my hand, and accepted my return gesture of making a photograph. Something that really made an impression on me during this trip (and really all of my trips), is how kind people are, even when you can’t communicate in depth. Sometimes all of need is a smile and a thumbs up.
“Thumbs up” in a village near Gostivar, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
Work trucks near Gostivar, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
A tractor drives up the road from Tetovo, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
I continued my drive towards Bigorski, making occasional stops at interesting sites, or to make a quick photo. The further into the canyon you drive, the steeper it gets. Villages are seen scattered along the hillside, sometimes thousands of feet up. I used Google Maps to find an entrance to one that preceded Bigorski by a few KMs. Driving up the steep, single-lane switchbacks in a stick was very fun and made for a more connected experience. When I topped out, I was met by a group of horses on the hillside. I wasn’t sure if they were wild, given their proximity to the village, but they were certainly beautiful. When I pulled over, they immediately frolicked over and started to lick the rental car. There had been previous fallen snow on the drive as well as expectations for new snow, so the roads were decently salted. I worked to pop off a few images, but found the horses pretty rowdy. One of them was clearly the troublemaker of the group and tried to intimidate, run and nip at me, enough that I decided to bail from photographing them.
A horse near the village of Sence, North Macedonia, 2024. Mamiya 67, Portra 800 (I think)
Cobblestone roads in the village of Sence, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 20-35mm f4 @ 5.6.
Overlooking the Radika River Valley, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII
Vegetation in Sense Village, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
An open pen, road to Sence, North Macedonia, 2024. Mamiya 67, Ilford Hp5+ 400, 65mm.
Clouds break on the way to Rostushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 20-35mm f4.
BIGORSKY
I spent a little while up here, but observed nobody; It was just me and the horses. A gloomy overcast day was finally broken by sun pouring through the heavy clouds on my drive down. I pulled into Bigorski in the late afternoon a bit nervous. I was a bit concerned that the English-Macedonian language barrier may affect my ability to announce my arrival, and given I was expected to stay there (and had not made any other arrangement for the night), I was wishing for things to go smoothly. I had been in communication with of the Fathers on WhatsApp prior, however I wasn’t sure if translation services were utilized or if the same individual would be around at the hour of my arrival. I wandered the Monastery for a bit, seeing many clergy and parishioners rushing to and fro. Shortly thereafter, I met the Father I had been in communication with. He gave me a rough tour of the grounds, including where I would be staying. I got settled in and was told to prepare for a dinner shortly. Dinner was a simplistic mix of unleavened bread, fish stew, pickled vegetables and wine. We were seated in rows at long tables shoulder-to-shoulder and face-to-face with complete strangers. I was thankful to be sat next to workers at the church grounds who were expecting my arrival. They were very useful in aligning me to the local and religious customs expected. We went to full standing attention and silence as the Bishop, Parthenius of Antania, entered the room. After the Bishop was seated at the head of the room (as well as after prayer), all sat and began serving and eating with fervor. Never known to be a slow eater myself, I felt right at home. The dinner service was marked by complete silence from the dining members with only the sounds of one of the Father’s reading a story and/or scripture in Macedonian and the normal noises of forks, clinks, chewing and sipping. After about 12 or 13 minutes, unexpectedly to me, a bell rung from the Bishop’s seat and all stood, whether they were finished eating or not. The Bishop led a procession of the clergy to the outer hall where they returned themselves to face the people to greet them upon their exit. It was a beautiful act of humility. Once that bell rang, my dessert of Baklava was still sitting on the plate uneaten. Over the next few days, I would learn to have my food eaten even a little faster in order to have a clean plate by the time the ding hit. I had also come to learn that it was a moving time target. With only 2 meals a day and full schedules of movement, it was important to get all of the sustenance as possible.
A monk, Father Gregorious, reads from a hymnal, Bigorski Monastir, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
Bigorski Monastir, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
A monk rings metal bars during the start of the celebration of St. Clement. Bigorski Monastir, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
After the dinner service ended, I was overwhelmingly tired from my travels as well as from a full stomach. I had an hour of free time until we would begin an evening service where the church would be honoring St. Clement until the early hours of the morning. I decided to take a small nap with my hour to recharge for the evening ahead. I had made sure to set my alarm very precisely. Some time later, I awoke to a predictable panic, quickly grabbing my phone to check the time. 6:59pm. “Damn it,” I thought as I quickly hurried myself out of bed, down the stairs, around the campus and into the main church for evening service. The divine alarm clock was my savior this night. As I entered, the church bells reverberated out loudly and palpably with a deep thunderous roar. You felt it deep into your soul. Inside, the monks were rushing about, some at their chant/hymn stations, others in prayer booths. I nestled myself into the back unsure of where I was expected to be. Due to the darkness of the room, it took me a while to pull out of my late-to-wake stupor, so a spot in the back was sufficient at that time. It wasn’t too far into the service when I realized, obviously, that Macedonian would be spoken the whole time and I would have a long evening ahead of trying to follow. Eventually I was found by one of the long-time parishioners who had motioned for me to come forward with him to the front area where there was limited seating. As far as I could tell, everything is hierarchical in there and I was grateful for the experience of being brought close. Because I do not speak Macedonian, I took the time to take the experience in mentally and visually. Processions of artifacts, stages of candle lighting, prayers, stand up, sit down, reflect. It was a lot to take in, and I would pick up more and more each following service of the 4 days of time I spent there.
Landscape around Bigorski Monastir, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 5.6.
A horse on a property near Tetovo, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
The following days were filled with roughly the same itinerary of waking up, going to morning service, eating, exploring/working/being in community, returning, eating, and going to evening service. Outside of the clergy, I made friends with two local guys who were at the monastery doing a mix of community projects and traditional orthodox worship. One of those guys, Tome, was one of the fastest friends I have ever made. A similar-aged, spry mountaineer who has spent some time living in the US, Tome made it easy for me to connect with him. He was crucial to merging the gap of culture, language and location. My photography output was decently limited during my stay. Early on I had stated my intentions of photographing while there, and had received early approvals. In reality, especially with more sensitive topics/individuals (pious monks in this case), it was exactly as “shoe-in” as I originally anticipated it to be. Over the days, I was able to shoot more and more, eventually earning the trust of certain monks and specific permissions from the Bishop to photograph what I pleased. I received this blessing a little late in my stay, but I was still grateful to have it as it allowed for the creation of some of my favorite photographs of the trip.
Tome overlooking the Radio River Valley from Bigorski Monastir, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
A monk, Father Paisios, observes the monastery grounds at Bigorsky. North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
BITUSHE PHOTOS
A few photos highlighting the village nestled in the mountainside.
The Village of Bitushe. North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @ f8.
A mosque in Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024.Mamiya 67, Ilford HP5+ 400, 127mm.
Local community of Bitusche, a few kilometers away from Bigorski. North Macedonia, 2024.
WORKSITE
The worksite area I went to during the days was in a village called Bitushe, which was located across across the river valley from Bigorsky. Bigorsky owns and/or is constructing several new churches in various villages throughout the valley, in this particular case, they were constructing a new church with custom cut limestone from a nearby quarry. I drove with my new friend Tome down to the river valley and up through the twisty winding narrow paved streets of the village. It was probably one to two thousand feet of climbing to reach the construction site, which was mid-mountain on the extended range. Through breaks in the clouds you could see snow-laden peaks emerge several thousand feet up higher. The high up village views were incredible and highlighted the speciality of the Balkans. Upon my arrival, I was greeted with a coffee by the keepers of the property, which I photographed below.
Espesso made for me by a local. Bitushe worksite, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
A new church was under construction here at the worksite, with many of the monks as well as parishioners (or those in a rehab program) being the primary workers. It was a beautiful site to behold. I would have loved to put in some manual labor here if I had been afforded more time - it’s something I plan to do in the future. There was a fair amount of unfinished stonework which made for interesting travel as I walked around making photos. I interacted as much as possible with the workers and informed them of my photographic intentions.
Father Methodious (left) and Father Phillip (right) work to clean newly built stone walkways while the stonemasons rest. Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
A monk, Father Methodious, cleans off newly constructed stairs across from the church entry. Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
A ramp built for stone transport on a wheelbarrow. I also made this photographic to highlight the intricate stonework happening at the property. Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
Out front of the church worksite was a huge stone pile of limestone. Each piece was being meticulously chiseled one-by-one by a small group of men. I was told these men were expert stonemasons from nearby Armenia that were alleged to have crossed the border illegally looking for work. I popped off a few supporting images and some were visibly apprehensive. They explained to me through Tome that by being there and doing the work they were doing, they could receive large punishments/ramifications if caught by the government. Only one was amenable to a portrait- I chose not to collect his name to keep his identity as private as possible.
Stone pile. Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
A unnamed stonemason works shape stones one by one for use in construction. Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
Unoccupied engineer’s hammer. Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
After I finished shooting the portrait, a vehicle rolled up to the worksite, and the Bishop emerged. This was an unannounced visit and everybody on the worksite welcomed his arrival. He greeted me and welcomed me to photograph his walk of the property to check on its status.
The Bishop, Father Parthenius, greets workers upon his arrival to the Bitushe worksite. North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
The Bishop and Father Methodious, Bitushe worksite, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
The Bishop stands with Darko, a local worker and monastery resident. Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
The Bishop greets a local woman upon his exit from the Bitushe worksite. Bitushe, North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII, 55mm 1.7 @ 1.7.
FINAL THOUGHTS
The Bishop would soon take off and return back to the monastery, as well all eventually would. We ate our last meal together before I would take off and make my way back to Skopje. I really wanted to avoid night travel, which didn’t happen. I took the tight, slick mountain roads slowly and I worked my way back to the capital city, and eventually, the airport.
As I sat awaiting my flight, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the continued special experiences I am getting around this crazy world with the nicest people. I would love to return to this beautiful land in a greener and less weather-filled time. I was hoping to return for the Easter celebration, but as I finish writing this (end of May 2025), I ended up spending that in Mexico for Santa Semana. I will update this blog when that short post is ready.
Thanks for reading!
A graphic of Saints at Bigorsky Monastery. North Macedonia, 2024. Fuji 100sII 55mm 1.7 @f4.