As I sit over the water of Lake Ohrid, Macedonia, on the wooden deck of a restaurant where I can order off the menu for hours without breaking the bank, I gaze across the way at Albania. Clouds threaten a storm, but they will produce nothing more than a wildly dramatic sky tonight.
A lone skipper in a single-engined boat slowly makes his way towards town, offering a casual wave and smile to my server, who comes to my table. I pull the blanket on my lap a little tighter and ask him for another bottle of Skopsko Dark, dipping a cucumber in a spicy homemade garlic sauce as he disappears. I practice speaking another sentence of Macedonian, reading straight off the Cyrillic menu, and re-write my name in the foreign alphabet the way I was taught.
Out of the 51 countries I’ve explored, this deck over the water in Ohrid, Macedonia is one of my single most favorite locations in the world. It is among only a handful of places that speaks to my soul. It’s as if I belong here, as if I see part of myself reflected in it, somehow.
I selfishly consider keeping it secret, far from the beaten path, unspoiled by hoards of tourists. At the same time, I know it won’t speak to others as it does to me, because we all seek and reflect different environments across the world.
This is my third visit to Ohrid, and I’d have to count on two hands how many times I’ve sat in this spot on this deck, basking in these surroundings.
Time stops here. Stress washes away with the gentle lapping of the waves beneath me. White swans float nonchalantly by. The lights of the ancient stone church on the cliff above them glow brighter as the sun sets, taking the brilliance of the rainbow to my left with it as it fades.
My entire existence is nourished.
How grateful I am to be in this space, both internally and externally. How grateful I am to explore the beauty of the world, to find places that feel like home to me, even when “home” is thousands of miles away.
If I ever disappear, look for me on the shores of Lake Ohrid.
On second thought… don’t.
