It happened quite by chance after my father-in-law informed me that someone was selling his cottage in a beautiful location at the top of the village of Sestrže. "Go and have a look!" he encouraged my curiosity.
Soon after, I was standing at the door of a small house, almost touching the top of a huge apple tree, who knows how old. I knocked, unable to ignore the lush hydrangea bushes that grew right next to the house, blooming in shades of pink and blue. I knocked again, and just when it seemed that my knocking was in vain, the door opened. An elderly woman in working peasant clothes - I must have distracted her while I was working - looked at me questioningly.
"Good day! I thought you were selling a weekend," I explained the reason for my arrival. "It's true!" she said, inviting me in, and the conversation flowed naturally. Angela first showed me around the premises and then took me around the house. She showed me around, explaining how happy she and her late husband were to build the house, plant the vineyard and work in the garden, but now the years have come and she can't do it all anymore, so she's selling ...
We arrived at the west side of the house, where Angela showed me her garden - a profusion of salads and other vegetables, with colourful beds of brightly coloured ornamental flowers around the edges. Just beyond the garden, on a gently sloping hillside, was a vineyard; some 500 saplings, a few livada trees further down, and then a forest.
"It's nice, it's really nice here!", I exclaimed admiringly. The afternoon was turning into evening and the sun, setting over Pohorje, gilded the house, the vineyard and the trees with its rays. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, but ... The price the lady wanted for the weekend was far beyond my financial means at the time. I told her so and decided to leave slowly.
"Come on, stay a little longer!" said the lady. "I'll come in for a coffee." How could I refuse such a kind invitation? I stayed and accepted the offered chair in the kitchen. We sat down at the table and slowly sipped the coffee we both loved. I found out that Angela actually lives in Maribor and comes to the weekend by public transport. This takes up a lot of her time, but at the same time, she is increasingly burdened with the responsibility of organising the weekend and the surrounding area. I understood her, but I also tried to comfort her, saying that she would surely find a suitable buyer for such a nice weekend. I advised her to place an advertisement in the local newspaper.
We parted in the darkness and the story - for me at least - was over. But it wasn't! A good two years later, the phone rings: "Good afternoon, Angela here! You know, I still haven't sold the weekend. What if you came round and we could talk again?" And I went. Circumstances had changed and when we met again, to our mutual satisfaction, we agreed to buy.
I was looking forward to this new acquisition. In the months that followed, together with my family, I slowly rebuilt the cottage and its surroundings according to my own ideas and wishes. I have not forgotten Mrs Angela, even though she no longer comes to her former cottage. But I decided to visit her at her home in Maribor. It was a meeting in the style of old friends who, after a long time, have a lot to say to each other.
"How are you, Miss Angela?" I said, "Do you miss your weekend?"
"Not at all!" she replied with a smile. "I'm not worried now. You see, I bought a new colour TV and now I can watch my favourite series in peace. I also have a few friends with whom I like to chat. I am not alone. It's nice ..."
When I left, Angela escorted me to the door, but before I could leave, she called after me, "Mr Bojan, thank you! I cannot tell you how grateful I am. You have saved me from a great burden."
"Come on!", I said, a little embarrassed. "Stay well, Miss Angela! Goodbye!"
Bojan Rus, 31. 7. 2025
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