The next day was a glorious warm one and my spirits rose again, so I decided to go the original excursion to Jajce, and on. Miss B., who did not like driving and roughing it, decided she would go direct to Budapest, and home by Vienna, leaving me on Tuesday evening. The journeys in these mountainous regions are very long and the trains creep very slowly; each little journey in distance since we left Ragusa has taken seven or eight hours, but the whole way is interesting.
Early, Karabaich and I wandered forth with my camera, and in hopes of finding a place to sketch, which seemed hopeless in the Bazaars, as the streets are very narrow, with crowds of people and ponies laden with wood passing along; those laden with hay require the width of the street to themselves, and woe betide the passer-by if he does not step back into a doorway. After lunch we went out to sketch, and found a quiet street which was also picturesque. Karabaich was busy keeping off the crowd who had “spotted” me. The boys soon discovered something out of the ordinary was going on, and the little girls were made to stand back by the boys, I fancy, but I was too busy to pay much attention, and finally got a most successful sketch with some Turkish ladies flitting by in the picture; these I had to draw in very hurriedly, as they, like all Easterns, consider it bad luck to have a portrait taken, and many of the groups in the market rapidly dispersed when they detected my camera.
[Illustration: The Market Place, Saràjevo.]
The people one sees in these parts are remarkably plain, though many of the men are tall and well made, and of fine physique. The Bosnian costume is very ugly, the women wear enormously wide black trousers down to their feet, these being so voluminous must be much in the way in wet weather, and become very muddy and damp about the ankles. The material used has every appearance of black sateen.
After a journey of seven hours from Saràjevo, Karabaich and I arrived at Jajce. The railway winds in and out, and in and out of the mountains. It was fine all day until I went out to paint the wonderful waterfall. This is a charming old town, full of quaint wood roofed houses and mosques, the minarets are even made of wood. There seem to be many Turks living here, and in these parts I passed many dilapidated graveyards on my way, and every village has a mosque or two. Many of the women are veiled; it must be a horrid bore to have to go about so muffled up, and what must it be in summer!