Balkan Peninsula -- History; Eastern question (Balkan)
A few travellers bolder than the ordinary search out nowadays the shores
of the Adriatic, the beautiful coast of Greece, and even the margin of
the Sea of Marmora in quest of beauty and relief from the tedium of
civilisation. But they must face poor means of communication (though to
Constantinople and to Trieste there is an excellent train service) and
scanty accommodation of any kind--almost none of good quality. Within a
very few years, if the Balkans could settle down to peace and the
legalised plunder of foreign visitors--a pursuit which is as profitable
as brigandage and far more comfortable,--the seaside resorts that would
spring up within Balkan territories would of themselves provide a
handsome revenue. The shores of the Aegean and of the Sea of Marmora in
particular would attract tourists wearied of the air of hackneyed
sameness which comes after a while to pervade seaside haunts in Italy
and France.
From another attraction the Balkan States could hope for a great tourist
traffic. I have caught but fleeting glimpses of the Balkan range and of
the Rhodopes and the Serbian mountains, but have seen enough to know
that they offer boundless delights to the climber, to the seeker after
winter sports, and to the lover of the picturesque; and the Swiss Alps
in these days are overcrowded, and the Tyrolean mountains and the
Carpathians begin to receive a big overflow of people who have a taste
for heights that are not covered with hotels and funicular railways. But
the mountains of the Balkan Peninsula offer prospects, I believe, of
greater beauty, certainly of greater wildness, than any other ranges of
Europe. Of the Rhodope mountains, in particular, one gets the most
alluring accounts from the rare travellers who have explored them. Seen
by the passing voyager as they stand guard with their farthest spurs
over Philippopolis, they suggest that no account of their charm could be
too glowing. I have promised myself one autumn or summer a month in this
range, exploring its flower-filled valleys and its wild cliffs, shining
through an air which seems now of rose and now of violet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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