When she was young, my daughter Mirjana asked me whether I was Russian, Montenegrin, or Banyan. It seems I embody all of these identities.

This is where the journey of the Russian woman begins. Tatjana Bijelovic, accompanied by her daughter and husband, Zdravko, moved from Kazan, Russia, to Nikšić in 1998.

Initially, she believed her stay in her husband’s hometown would be temporary, but over time it transformed into something more permanent.

“I met Zdravko in Kazan and we tied the knot there. We arrived in Nikšić in 1998 because his mother was gravely ill. Mirjana was already born by then. My mother-in-law was overjoyed by our arrival, and it felt as if we extended her life by a year. Zdravko returned to Kazan for work for two years while I stayed in Nikšić with our two children and two brothers-in-law. I joked that I was looking after four children! My brothers-in-law treated me like family, and I truly consider them my brothers. When Mirjana turned six, we attempted to go back to Kazan and enrolled her in school. However, Mirjana went on a hunger strike, and we returned to Nikšić. Since then, we’ve never considered moving back to Kazan,” says Tatjana, who has called two homelands her own for 27 years, both residing in her heart.

Our Differences

She first arrived in Nikšić six months before the town nestled under Trebjes became her second home, quickly realizing that Russians and Montenegrins were not as alike as she’d been led to believe.

“For seven days, I didn’t step outside. From morning until night, guests flooded our home: neighbors, relatives, friends. It overwhelmed me, and after a week, I told Zdravko I needed some fresh air. To my astonishment, he revealed they never locked their doors! I was taken aback by the lack of privacy. He explained we would offend the neighbors if we did so. Initially, none of the guests announced their arrival because it was assumed we’d always be home.”

While some of her habits felt out of place, she’s proud to have learned from her husband and the people of Montenegro the importance of being a good person, always prepared to aid others.

“From Montenegrins, I learned about nobility and kindness—helping others without expecting something in return. In Russia, while we help, there’s often an expectation of reciprocity. My husband taught me, ‘If you can assist, do so. If not, quietly do no harm.’ Living here, I came to appreciate that people differ from those in Russia; they help each other in ways that inspired me to adopt the same mentality, thanks to my husband’s example of true goodness.”

She acknowledges that the people in Montenegro have “embraced modernity” and, as a result, have begun to mirror Russian traits.

“Here, people are honest, open-hearted, and welcoming. Yet, I notice a distinct shift from when I first arrived; people socialize less now and have distanced themselves from one another.”

To describe Montenegrin men, she uses the word courage, while for women, she chooses dedication.

“Leaving my three sisters and mother in Kazan was difficult; they found it hard to let me go. The hardest part for me was parting from them and my friends, making Zdravko my mother, sister, and friend. He is incredible; always supportive and by my side. I can always count on him.”

Though it’s been 27 years, she still occasionally struggles with translations, but the language is no longer a barrier.

“When I first arrived, I didn’t know a single word. My mother-in-law, Radojk, was wonderful, attempting to help me understand everything. I picked up the language mainly by watching movies and reading; I even tackled Russian classics in Montenegrin.”

Though initially disappointed by the city’s grayness, she fell in love with the surrounding nature, which helped bridge her connection to Nikšić.

“Kazan is a metropolis. When I arrived in Montenegro, it was far less developed. Now, I can barely recognize it. I struggle to find my way around without a navigator. Nikšić is wholly different from Kazan. Although nostalgia lingers, I’m in Nikšić more than in Russia, and it’s become my home. After a month-long visit to Russia, I longed for Nikšić. Now, when I go to Russia, I find myself saying I need to return home—referring to Nikšić as my family and my true home.”

“Banja is beautiful. It’s a place where I love to go to recharge my soul, body, and spirit.”

A Hidden Talent

She graduated from the Faculty of Civil Engineering in Kazan and worked as an occupational safety engineer for two years. Moving to Nikšić shifted her career path, paving the way for her hidden artistic talent to flourish.

“At our school, English wasn’t mandatory, but it became essential for my profession here. I spent five years as a translator at Tehnostil and then ran a graphic studio at Jolly for seven years. Currently, I work at Noblewood. I’ve always had a passion for painting, and for the past ten years, I’ve been a student at the ‘Open Atelier’, an art school led by the esteemed academic painter, Vesna Sušić. I’ve completed two faculties with her and find the atmosphere warm and familial.”

She enjoys painting portraits and landscapes, believing there are no “ugly paintings,” with green being her favorite color.

“I perceive beauty in every painting. Green, particularly, is special to me, representing life. The many shades of green found in nature are captivating. I also love orange and burgundy. I’ve participated in several group exhibitions in Nikšić organized by the Studio. When I’m painting, it’s therapeutic; it serves as my oasis of peace and joy.”

Parting with her first painting was challenging, but she’s thrilled that her artwork decorates others’ homes. Gifting her pieces brings her particular joy.

“Giving a painting as a gift makes me happy. Its true value reflects the soul and effort I poured into it. Knowing I have brightened someone’s day through my art is deeply gratifying.”

For her 50th birthday, she treated herself to a self-portrait and hopes to have her mentor Vesna Sušić create it for her.

“I adore all of Vesna’s artworks. They often capture themes of freedom and revolution. I admire her not only as an artist and mentor but as a remarkable person. Painting embodies beauty, freedom, love, and all that is good, truly saving the world. Reflecting on my journey, I feel more like a painter than an engineer. Perhaps this arises from my brief endeavor in engineering or my quest for fulfillment in art, as I sought validation through painting when I felt limited in my engineering role. That need has filled the void within me.”

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