Tourism: Driver, Restorer, Solution.
Tourism is not just travel. Tourism is a movement. The definition says tourism is any travel for rest, work, or leisure. Maybe it once was. Today it is a way of life, a chance for transformation, and a driver of development.
Tourism brings us back to nature, community, and story. It inspires us to look behind the gate of a rural household, to feel the scent of freshly cut grass, the warmth of homemade pie, and the gaze of a host who lives what they offer and do. There is no acting here. It is as it is, and as they know how.
More and more people across the country are investing in exactly what they already have — what until yesterday they did not know what to do with or how to start — and today they have an offer. The most valuable thing is what is authentic.
Cottages are being renovated, village houses become holiday stays, private estates turn into picnic spots and camps, barns into craft workshops. People restore old buildings and connect agriculture with tourism.
Viewpoints are arranged, trails restored, events organized, people learn how to make ajvar and jam — not because it is a trend, but because tourism drives demand, and demand for the authentic drives all of us.
Tourism brings together craftspeople, hosts, and young people returning to their roots. Old crafts return, souvenirs are made, local shops open, apartments and bungalows are rented, tradition is combined with innovation. People plant aromatic herbs, run workshops that teach mushroom foraging, organize horseback riding, hike, run, scout, paddle kayaks and canoes on rivers that until yesterday were "unknown," pick raspberries, immortelle, lavender. That is not by chance — it is a response to the needs of modern people who seek experience, peace, silence, and content that regenerates them.
Luxury is not what is expensive; luxury is what is rare, real, understated. Our regions offer exactly that kind of rest through the warmth of hosts, the story behind every product, the view from a mountain peak, the silence beside a river.
Today's guest wants to see how rakija is distilled, to help around the hearth, to taste both the honey and the meadow it came from. They want to try homemade cheese. But they do not want only to try homemade cheese. They want to see the cow. They want to see milking and cheese-making. They want to do it themselves.
After the pandemic a turnaround happened here: some people set foot on Kozara for the first time, stood before the sand pyramids in Foca, discovered the lakes of Sutjeska, visited the springs in Sipovo and Ribnik. Some were struck by the beauty of their own doorstep. Then awareness awoke that we have wealth that only needs to be offered.
And we offered it — not as an imitation of someone else's, but our own, real, local.
The rural offer is not only our tourism niche; it is an authentic expression of life. It may be dangerous to say, maybe even sad, but in the future children may see farm animals only on agritourism estates. That is why those estates matter — as guardians of identity, tradition, and knowledge.
Our products such as cheese, rakija, wine, jams, honey are not just food. They are emotions taken home. They are cultural identity in a glass, a bottle, a jar. A story in every drop, a memory in every bite. That is tourism. And when we do it authentically, it becomes more than a job. It becomes a movement that connects, develops, and leaves a mark. I often mention trends that work in our favor, and in a world that longs for the real, our stories can become its destination.
And remember.
Tourism is not something that happens to us. I really dislike that often-repeated phrase — what is happening to us?! Come on.
On the contrary, tourism is something we create together. For the person who works, tourism did not just happen — they create it, and the other side of the story is whether they have support in that. They do not.
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Derventa - the town that waited to be noticed
I had never been to Derventa before. I admit, nothing in particular was pulling me there. But over the last year I started noticing something I would call an invisible invitation. A picture, then a video, then another photograph, and all of it suggested that something worth seeing was happening there. When you tell someone you are going to Derventa “as a tourist”, they greet you with mild surprise, and that someone, as a rule, has no idea what the town looks like today. We decided to check for ourselves. One of the roundabouts From Banja Luka the drive takes about an hour. Right at the entrance to town you are met by a handsome, thematically designed roundabout — and not only that one. Almost all of them in the town are conceived in an interesting way: a pan on the scales, scissors… suggestions of the textile industry, because Derventa is primarily an industrial place. Along the way I also noticed a well-kept children’s playground, a sign that urban space is being thought about in more than one dimension, not only the tourist one. I remind myself of something I deeply believe. For a town to be attractive to tourists, it must be a good place to live for the local population. We parked near the main promenade. At weekends parking is free; otherwise a day ticket costs 2 KM. Interestingly, there is also a charger for electric vehicles, a detail that shows the town is following trends. We notice a handsome mural on a nearby building. Mural on a building After breakfast we set off for a walk across the main square. Although it was already 11 in the morning, the town seemed almost empty, just the occasional passer-by. Streets clean, waste bins tidy. You get the impression that this is taken care of with particular attention. Orthodoxy Square Details from the main square At the Church of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos we stopped by an outdoor chessboard. A pensioner came up to us and asked where we were from. I told him my wife is from Banja Luka, I am from Herzegovina. He immediately mentioned that Derventa has quite a few people from Herzegovina, and named a well-known surname: Nozica. Chessboard We continued on and, off to the side, noticed the Posavska kuca shop. An idea that, following the good practice of Hercegovacka kuca in Trebinje, has taken root in several regions. We passed the Catholic Cathedral of St George and the Ali-aga Mosque. There is a fountain too, benches, and in a few places swings fitted in with a pleasant aesthetic. It is not unusual in our parts for the places of worship of all three confessions to stand so close together, and Derventa is one of those towns. That says enough about multicultural wealth, the connectedness of peoples, and, unfortunately, the absurdities of the times and the narrative we live in. Fountain and the Ali-aga Mosque Fountain and a view of the Town Hall At the edges of the square, from the building materials, you can see that the arrangement is still going on. There are also the Homeland Museum and the Town Hall. The whole setting feels European. A little farther on, by the Cultural Centre, a whole family was photographing themselves beside a telephone booth. So did we. We decided that was enough for the morning and went on. We visited the viewpoint above the town, a nicely arranged and well-conceived location. Patkovaca picnic site In the meantime we reached the Patkovaca picnic site. A nice approach, a well-kept picnic area and bathing spot on the Ukrina River. There were people there. We met a family, and the conversation was started, a little symbolically, by the same name of their child and ours. We freshened up a little and went on. On my mind were the Detlak ambarine and Kalenderovac cheese. People I know had warned me I would have a hard time finding the cheese outside the village, and they were right. I passed through Kalenderovac, but I did not meet anyone I could ask, let alone anyone I could buy from. Donja Bisnja Monastery and the Ambarine We stopped at Donja Bisnja Monastery. We found no one; we were alone. We spent some time there and went on, toward Detlak and the Ambarine. We reached the monastery church of the Holy Prophet Elijah, but I did not know how to go on to the ambarine themselves. This is where I have to make a remark: information about sites and tourist signage must be at a considerably higher level. The sites are simply not marked, nor do they offer any additional information to the visitor on the spot. Fortunately, in the churchyard we found a kind lady who gave us all the directions we needed. It turned out she was the abbess’s own sister. We went into the church, then through the yard toward the ambarine. A small gate leads into the unknown — a path of wooden walkways and steps takes you down into a grove; at this time of year it has not been cleared, but it is quite passable. Monastery church of the Holy Prophet Elijah The Detlak ambarine The Ambarine are a phenomenon and probably one of the most mystical sites I have seen in our parts so far. There are 23 pits, up to three metres deep, carved into the stone, presumed to have once been used for storing food. The story says that fossils were also found in those pits, confirming that in the distant past the Pannonian Sea stretched here. When we finished the visit it was already late evening. Tired but satisfied, we agreed we would come back very soon, because there is more to see. Derventa, for example, also has two wineries, and it is known for a fair that, since 1851, has been held at the end of August. A detail from town – the Ciro train What, in the end, to say about Derventa? Absolutely worth the attention and the visit. One argument also comes from geography, because the EU border is only some twenty kilometres away. In the meantime I also received the information that the town will soon get a luxury hotel with conference and spa facilities, which, together with the trend of arranging the urban core and increasingly present investment, supports the thesis that Derventa will slowly but surely become interesting to a growing number of tourists.
Sipovo on the water
This is not my first time in Sipovo, but I have to admit that, unlike the last visit, the place feels much more touristy than before. At every turn there are apartments, bungalows, cottages, eco zones — of this kind and that, to be fair — but it is quite clear that a good part of the locals has started to take on the role of host. That is good for this place, because the situation with the attitude toward nature is critical, and I hope that a strong interest from locals and a significant flow of visitors will protect it — in the sense of seeing nature as a tourism resource from which the whole community can benefit, not only a few individuals. Source of the Pliva River Sipovo has, if one can put it this way, breathed out after corona. It has been discovered. We all discovered it a little, promoted it, saw something unique, important and potent to sell. Walking around, I feel a little important, because I know how many times and in how many places and occasions, recognising the potential, I promoted this place. There is still a great deal to do and to put in order. Some of the things I saw are not dear to me, but this text is not about that. Crowds on the islets At the Janj islets a crowd was waiting for me. Parking is paid, but so many cars parked in every possible way is itself enough to create unease. There is a bus as well, just arrived. As usual, I check in with Dragana first. I wanted to yesterday too, but that was impossible because of the crowds. The Janj islets at Dragana’s… colourful, sweet and packed like a pomegranate. Konoba kod Dragane Unlike some previous visits, it is noticeable that other locals have organised too, so you have a few more options nearby to sit down. It is not at some high level, let’s be clear, but decent in a village way. In the end you come for something like that. Fine, the bench for sitting could be repaired, because you are charging for sitting on it. But those are details. Waterfalls and “compensation” Earlier you could not really reach the waterfalls; now you can, along a nice gravel road. Again it is through private land, and passage is free, although a kind woman at the entrance, and a sign as well, suggest you buy something as compensation. The beer is cold. Prices are symbolic, but you know how the saying goes: grain by grain. My older boy even got a candy. The waterfalls are beautiful. One approach is easy; the other demands great caution because of the height and the terrain. And there too you can see locals selling, mostly refreshments at symbolic prices. Nearby there are houses that rent accommodation. The impression is that everyone is renting accommodation. Demand does its work. I conclude that many people walk, circulate, leave and arrive. Sunday, it seems, is a special day for a weekend visit to the Janj islets. I see that also by comparing it with the trip to the source of the Pliva, where we were the only ones. There were no crowds on the visit to Vagan Cave either, but there was circulation there too. They have done it up nicely. The approach is paved. The explored part of the cave that is allowed for visits and tours is not long, so you can finish relatively quickly. Vagan Cave is worth visiting. Perhaps some basic equipment should be provided, say protective helmets. The cow as an attraction Back to the islets. Cows are all around us. From their milk comes one of the most beautiful cheeses we have — Janjska pletenica. It is interesting how many people photograph them. The impression is that they are an attraction. Carried by that, I photograph them too. And I often talk about this in the media and in workshops: original, simple, everyday situations, under the pressure of great changes in the way of life and its speed, are changing. We have become estranged from what we were. The cow is an attraction. Raj na vodi A few hundred metres from the main parking there is a nicely and tastefully arranged cafe/restaurant, “Raj na vodi”. You can also approach by car. Lord, it is terribly Instagrammable. There are plenty of details that wake your interest. Every guest holds a phone, turns their head and just clicks. I am here for the first time. The trout was tasty. I keep thinking how almost the entire Janj islets are photogenic. A formidable extra motive for coming, in today’s world “on a click”. Time will tell whether Sipovo, with its springs, rivers, caves, old-growth forests and the Janj islets, will manage to make a quality, sustainable story. Whether it will make a recognisable and unobtrusive setting, grounded in natural phenomena and an authentic experience — because it definitely has all the preconditions for that — or whether over time it will go to the completely opposite extreme. The chances, at this moment, are even.
A small case study in authenticity
At the green market in Trebinje, a sign reads "white garlic" next to what has always been called saransak or cesan. The green market has long been a synonym for gathering, a place of local supply and demand, conversation and commentary. For a long time people have stopped by as if by duty and bought home-grown produce. From Trebinje, or from a little farther away, from the neighbors. Why white garlic, and not saransak? Probably so they would not have to explain it to the buyer, so they would not have to repeat the same story to the tenth customer, so they would not waste time on a word half the people do not know. You call it what the customer calls it. You sell faster. But every time we replace a local name with a universal one, we lose something that is hard to bring back later. Saransak carries place, language, and the generations that called it that. White garlic is the same product, of course, but without a local address. When you sell saransak, you have sold a local product with an authentic name. You have gained an experience and new knowledge. When you sell white garlic, you have sold, or bought, white garlic you can find at your own market too. Saransak has an address; white garlic does not. Tourism lives from that address. From what cannot be bought at another market, in another town, at least not under that name. And not with the same value. And when we erase the word, we erase part of that value too. I am not talking about nostalgia. I am talking about a resource that disappears just as quickly as any other when no one protects it or uses it.