Leaving it all Behind at Nimnik Monastery.

Leaving it all Behind at Nimnik Monastery in Serbia.

July 2021.

It was a 25-minute drive from Ram Fortress to the secluded Nimnik Monastery. For the first time during our stay in Veliko Gradište we left the glorious blue of the Danube behind and headed inland towards the village of Kurjače, population 964. 

Not that we’d actually be stopping in the village. Rather we drove straight through, continuing northeast for another kilometre. As we progressed, our surrounds became greener and woodier until we reached a wide gravelly road that led to the monastery’s stone arched entrance.

Mr. Taxi parked right outside the arch before getting out with us and lighting up a cigarette. I guess he’d been through this drill a thousand times over. Much like our experience at Ram Fortress we were immediately struck by the absolute quietness as we entered the complex.

Established in around 1376, the monastery’s backstory is shrouded in mystery and legends. In fact, the very word nimnik is an ancient Vlach term meaning something along the lines of unknown or unfamiliar.

It references the fact that the guy who built the monastery (a dude called Duke Bogosav, absolutely no online footprint), dedicated the place to “an unknown saint” of the times. Apparently his/her grave sits in the small cemetery located to the side of the main chapel.

Leaving it all Behind at Nimnik Monastery.

Moreover, another unmarked grave speaks to a separate legend. As the story goes Ottoman troops were searching the local area having heard about a despicable Orthodox monastery. When they came upon a local peasant girl, the troops asked her if she could direct them to the site.

“I don’t know anything!” she told them defiantly, over and over. As a result the Turks killed her, though it isn’t clear whether or not they subsequently found the monastery. Or indeed what manner of mayhem they unleashed on arrival. Ah, you gotta love vague legends.

Happily there are at least some solid historic records relating to the monastery. One account states that fighting in and around the village during The First Serbian Uprising saw the complex heavily damaged. Restorations took place in the 1820s and 1890s, including the rebuild of the main chapel.

With seemingly nobody around, Sladja and I trotted down the steps and entered the chapel through the open door. The space is tiny but exquisite in design, particularly the floor-to-ceiling paintings by the artist Milisav Marković, famed for his monastery art across eastern Serbia in the late 19th century.

Inside the Main Chapel.

The iconostasis meanwhile is unusual, according to several online articles, because it is a rare example of Romanian style iconography in eastern Serbia.

On one of the wooden chairs I spied no less than nine jars of honey. It is made onsite by the nuns who run the monastery and is apparently so good people often travel from across the region to purchase some.

The second chapel, located right next door, is even smaller and stands dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary. But before we could enter the sound of a soft lilting male voice stopped us in our tracks.

Peeking through the door, I saw a priest solemnly reading out a sermon. Or was it in fact a blessing of some kind? To his right stood a young couple, their serious faces lifted to the ceiling in concentration.

For centuries people have believed that the monastery and its surrounds have healing powers. And that a visit here might cure a chronic sickness. Or maybe even help a couple to conceive. I’m not sure if that’s what was happening that day but it certainly fits.

Nimnik Monastery.

Not wanting to disturb them, we decided to take a stroll through the monastery grounds. There is no doubting how much love and care goes into keeping the compound looking so beautiful. Like the immaculate main building (dormitory), which includes the nuns’ living quarters in addition to offices, a library, guest rooms and a private chapel.

Back in the 1850s a school operated out of here that helped hundreds of locals achieve literacy. As we were admiring the building’s potted plants I spotted a nun on a balcony. She was washing a window with slow deliberate circular movements. Somehow, I felt that these must be among Serbia’s best-kept windows.

Behind the dormitory goats grazed peacefully on the slopes that overlook the grounds.

Further on we realised that the monastery actually includes a working farm! And that as well as honey they produce their own fruit, vegetables, milk, cheese and one can only presume a variety of meats.

On the other side of the central lawn there is an idyllic gazebo set into the compound’s stone wall. The kind of spot one could really leave it all behind for an afternoon of reading, writing, painting… heck even napping.

Take a Seat…

Behind the gazebo meanwhile a discreet trail leads into an oak forest. This is where visitors come to fill up their bottles with so-called healing water from a spring fountain.

Whether or not one believes in the magic water, this is an incredible spot to come for a walk. To listen to the birds and watch the tiny insect-propelled ripples across the otherwise perfectly still stream.

Best of all, the forest provides wonderful angles of the monastery through the branches. From here the dormitory felt elevated to the status of mythical castle, a place where perhaps a princess of some sort would throw her hair down from the top balcony.

Eventually, we shook ourselves from this daydream and reluctantly set off for the taxi. Unfortunately, our stay in Veliko Gradište was at an end. But our next base, and indeed adventure, lay in wait just a short way down The Danube.

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