Orthodox Disney Vibes at Tuman Monastery.

Orthodox Disney Vibes at Tuman Monastery in Serbia.

July 2021.

It was our last day in Golubac and after all the excitement of our adventures in and around the fortress we found ourselves at a loose end with a spare afternoon to kill. Reading through the choice of sights near the village, a clear contender emerged as queen of the must-sees: Tuman Monastery.

If truth be told I wondered if we needed to see another monastery. On the other hand we’d had such a peaceful time at the charming Nimnik Monastery that we thought what the heck, let’s go take a look. Especially as it would be just a 13-minute taxi ride.

There are comparisons to be made between the monasteries of Nimnik and Tuman. They both lie in forested areas outside a small village. In Tuman’s case it’s the huddled community of Snegotin, population 201. Moreover, both monasteries sprang up in the late 1300s though historians reckon Tuman Monastery was completed 13 years later than Nimnik in about 1389.

Before pulling up outside the gates I’d been envisioning a similar vibe to Nimnik Monastery. Perhaps there would be another gazebo where we could settle down, drink in the quiet and watch the birds flit between the trees. However, from the moment we passed through the gates it became abundantly clear that this was going to be a whole other experience.

Tuman Monastery.

At Nimnik monastery we had seen a grand total of four people. A priest reading a sermon to a young couple and a nun washing a window. But here there were streams of visitors buzzing around in all directions. Some were pouring in and out of the main church. Others were frantically taking photos and buying candles.

Across from the main church visitors formed a line so that they could light and place their freshly purchased candles into a long metal basin. Some set their candles down in memory of departed loved ones. Or for the health and good fortune of their living family members. Others flames burn in tribute to the Saint Archangel Gabriel to whom the church is dedicated.

Nearby, the cash register in the gift shop clinged and clanged as folk stocked up on Jesus fridge magnets, Tuman Monastery postcards and painted icons of the Virgin Mary.

There was also a fridge with bulky wedges of homemade monastery cheese. Like Nimnik Monastery the grounds include a sizeable farm that ensures those who reside here can produce their own milk, eggs, cheese, meat and honey.

Disney Orthodox Vibes.

Not tempted by key rings, bracelets, t-shirts, tea towels and snow globes? Fear not, you can always drop some coins or notes (notes preferred) into one of several donation boxes set into the walls.

Picking our way between the throng of bodies, we wandered through the compound with an increasing sense of bemusement. Throughout our travels together we have seen countless orthodox churches and monasteries but this was the first one that felt like a distorted version of Disneyland.

Here and there, I spotted several of Tuman’s monks and priests striding across the main quadrangle. Determined to reach their destination as efficiently as possible, they were about as stone-faced and disconnected from the commotion around them as you could imagine.

At the far end of the grounds meanwhile, at the very opposite side of the church, another stern priest droned out an expressionless sermon into a microphone inside a large gazebo. His silent audience, heads bowed, numbered somewhere between fifty and sixty. I asked Sladja if she could translate any of it but even she struggled to make sense of the narrative.

And yet, placing all the distaste to one side, there was plenty of beauty to witness amid the hubbub. Another similarity with Nimnik Monastery is that Tuman’s grounds are impeccably kept from corner to corner. Indeed it is wonderfully green with a bounty of well-kept trees, bushes and plants in addition to half a dozen beds of bonny, blood-red roses.

Tuman Monastery.

Elsewhere it was impossible not to be impressed by the craftsmanship of the various oak doors.

Or to feel the palpable sadness of a local woman, Lalica Popović, whose discreet plaque honours the life and faith of her devout mother.

And then there’s the main residence for the priests, monks and nun (just one of the latter these days). With its wooden flower-laden balconies and stunning garden, it seems an incredibly idyllic place to live.

Although admittedly not so idyllic for the community of caged birds who also live onsite.

At Nimnik monastery it is possible (not that we did) to walk right up to the main building. That definitely isn’t the case at Tuman as they have cut off the entire area to the riffraff who come here daily. You can never be too careful.

Keep Out!

Eventually the crowds filing in and out of the church simmered and we felt able to head inside without getting in anyone’s way.

It was still busy though, with a line of worshippers patiently awaiting their turn in front of the altar. Thus we edged ourselves into a corner so that we could observe and read about the church’s history.

A legend that is kookier than most accompanies the founding of the church. As the story goes, a fearsome Serbian knight by the name of Miloš Obilić established the monastery in bizarre circumstances.

You see, one sunny afternoon ol’ Miloš was out in the forest hunting when a stray arrow struck a revered holy man by the name of Saint Zosimus. The saint lived a hermit’s life within the forest in a tiny cave where he prayed from dusk to dawn and subjected himself to long spells of fasting.

Panicked that he might be responsible for the death of a saint, Miloš threw the wounded man onto the back of his horse and rushed him off to his court for medical treatment.

But Zosimus refused all assistance and passed away that evening. Distraught, Miloš subsequently built the church as an act of repentance. Fittingly, one of the church’s paintings depicts the saint’s final moments. 

Tuman Monastery.

Another of the church’s paintings honours a man called Radoje Arsović who became canonised as Saint Jacob. An educated diplomat, he abandoned his career in the mid 1920s to become a monk.

Having become one of Serbia’s most respected preachers, he lost his life in 1946 when Communist authorities tortured and murdered him in the village of Rabrovo near Tuman. He was laid to rest in Tuman Monastery and now has his own saint day celebrations every year.

Exiting the church into the July sunshine, Sladja and I felt like we had seen enough of the monastery. However, we were not done with its history just yet. Leaving the compound, we crossed the road and headed towards the adjacent forest where (so they claim) you can visit the actual cave that Saint Zosimus lived in.

Before getting onto the woodland trail we were somewhat bewildered to discover a sad-looking mini zoo. Disheartened, we took a brief walk past the dozen or so enclosures. Truly, just as I thought the experience couldn’t get more disappointing…

Not a single visitor other than ourselves had come to look at the animals. Nor did we see a zookeeper, caretaker or any sort of staff member.

“We gotta get out of this place,
if it’s the last thing we ever do.
We gotta get out of this place,
cause girl, there’s a better life for me and you”. 

The Animals.

We saw emus, ostriches, llamas, pygmy goats, ponies and black-headed sheep. In just about every section the beasts came trotting over to us right up to the bars. Later, in another baffling twist, we learned that Belgrade Zoo had donated some of the animals to the monks. Why on earth did they do that? I’m still trying to figure it out. 

It took just a few minutes for us to move on and let out a deep sigh of relief as we left everything behind. The monastery… the sermon… the people… the imprisoned animals. Peace at last.

It took barely ten minutes to reach Zosimus’ Cave. Again, there was nobody around as I climbed the short set of stone steps to enter the alleged home of the great hermit.

Inside the tiny cool space there is just a simple altar from which to pay your respects.

Here and there, in the jagged crevices of the walls, people had left coins, notes, beads and little icons.

In a damp corner sat a visitor’s book of sorts. A place where you can add your name onto a sheet of paper to mark your stay. Some people also make a wish or ask for a blessing. Leafing through some of the entries felt like familiar territory. “Please make my sick mother better” begged one. “Help us to have a child, we have so much to give!” exclaimed another.

Saint Zosimus’ Cave.

What we didn’t realise was that there are two caves. According to the legend Zosimus lived in one and prayed in the other. The second cave is even smaller, only big enough for someone to sit down in and um… pray.

There is a charming forest lodge right next to the caves. I’m not sure if it’s for the park ranger or just a holiday rental but what an amazing place to live!

Last but not least there is a gorgeous little waterfall set into the hill behind the caves.

The waterfall runs into a spring that has a plaque commemorating the life of Saint Zosimus. Many Serbians who come here believe that it produces miracle water, so it’s not unusual for folk who visit the monastery to come and fill up a water bottle or two before heading home.

Sure enough, just as we were starting to head back to our waiting taxi, two guys appeared armed with empty plastic bottles. Without wanting to appear too nosy we stole some glances as we passed. What’s more… and you know me by now dear readers… I even managed to grab a sneaky shot.

Miracle Water.

Back through the forest we went… insects a buzzing, birds a chirping. Tomorrow it would be time to leave Golubac and head to a third Danube town. It had been a fantastic trip so far. And yet, in terms of natural beauty, we had definitely saved the best for last.

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