A special preamble for the english version of this article. „Vikendica“ comes from „vikend“, i.e. weekend. Likewise, „vikendaš“ is one who's there out for weekends only. I love these two words, as they are the obvious case which breaks the habit of engrbian-lovers who prefer to keep the original spelling - now spell this if you still think it'd make sense - weekendica and weekendaš, c'mon. A weekend-uy-ka?
We aren't the only country where vikendice exist, but sociologically and ethnographicaly we have some specifics, good reasons why they differ from those elsewhere.
By definition, if one ever existed, a vikendica is a small house out of town, where, as it were, one goes for the weekend. Now where out of town - well, usually near a major thoroughfare, because back in the late sixties, when they became a fashion, nobody liked to wade through mud between it and the road. In my end, that'd be on the road to Belgrade or Kikinda, somewhat less in other directions, or on the banks of Begej or even Tisa, that one ain't far either.
It would usually be a small house, with just one room, where they ate, drank, cooked, slept, plus maybe one more for the tools, because the main excuse for the existence of it was to have a garden. We're all more or less peasants, at remove of one or two generations, and love to grow something homemade. So there were fruit trees, some vegetables, and rakija was distilled.
The other main excuse were the interpersonal relations in selfmanagement, the system was far from perfect and those relations were prone to be quite frustrating, specially when a nasty šef [chef, chief, boss, same word] was combined with a radiomileva in the immediate environs. The way out is „to go out to rest my soul a bit, not to keep seeing the same mugs all the time“. Ever since introduction of five day workweek this started making sense... And then not really, because it would occur just like with summer vacatiosn, where Zrenjaninians would mostly go to Vrsar, Promajna and Makarska, and meet same old Zrenjaninians there. Here a peasant (or his descendant who moved to town) would split a plough into lots to sell, and the first buyer would usually tell his friends so they'd buy too - and they anded with the same mugs there as well.
Over time the vikendice grew, got electricity and running water. Gas, phone and internet maybe never, but since the last two can go over mobile network, they aren't needed anyway. And laboring the garden wasn't too important, some do it some don't. Kids grew and started partying there, far from eyes- the two or three neighbors may not even be there, or may just join them.
The ones by the roads and rivers became rather unpopular, being often ransacked - if nobody disturbs the parties, nobody disturbs the thieves either. I know some folks who gave up for exactly that reason.
They still exist to this day, the difference being, at least along this stretch between Stajićevo and Perlez, there are front walled fences, and since about 2020 they even got lights, the solar leds type. The part between the curve at Stara dunja and Trofej is now almost a street, when returning from Belgrade at dusk it feels like driving through a park.
Another thing changed - some never managed to house the kids, or at least not all of them, so in their old age they went to live at their vikendica (e.g. Mire and Zorica). Some under a must (like our old mason when his wife ran him out, and later Bajče for similar reasons), some because they like it nicer that way. Some live there all year, some winter in town.
24-VIII-2026 - 24-VIII-2026