Doboj slava

Ceca's father greeted us at the door of their pretty farm with three kisses and a soda bottle full of homemade rakia. From that first shot until we left six hours later we gorged on traditional slava food, chicken noodle soup, breads, salads, port and sarma with cakes for dessert. All through the day, until Ceca's father doused it with a wad of bread, a candle burned in honor of St. George. And as waves of relatives appeared, each was seated, the table in front of them swept clear and more food served up.

The clouds cleared for a couple of hours, just as we'd wished for and we walked around the farm and pond looking at the goats, piglets and chickens and the hundreds of rose buds. In a week this place is going to look like a post card.

We caught a bus back to Sarajevo, then a taxi back home. A long and filling day.