Growing up in rural Bosnia

We began our ski touring last weekend in a tiny hamlet called Luke. It is so isolated that apparently last winter a blizzard blocked road access to the town for 2 whole months.

Only moments after we stopped our van and unloaded our skis, a small crowd of excited villagers had gathered to stare at the odd-looking foreigners. A man in camouflage pants and 3 teeth (I counted) stood sucking on cigarettes, chatting with other old men in knit caps and Adidas sweatshirts, one of whom stepped in to examine my skis and help me put on the skin (a layer of fabric glued to the bottom which provides grip for climbing). A lady in flowing linens and a headshawl tended to a few children, who stood staring unabashadely, looking part fascinated, part afraid -- sort of like how wary, curious cats behave when you hold out your hand to them. I had the impression that this was the most exciting thing to happen to them in months.

I was too shy to ask for a group photo, but I did manage to snap the above picture after I gave the kids some chocolate. I put up a few more pics of the village here.