César Campoy © Aida Redžepagić
César Campoy, a writer and journalist originally from Valencia, Spain, is one of the leading experts on the Balkan region in his country. We met him in his hometown before he left for the Balkans. His "Balkan Odyssey", published in Spain last April, is already in its second edition
“As far as I can remember, I always wanted to be Yugoslavian” is César Campoy's favourite statement, inspired by the film scripts of his adolescence, tinged with a hint of nostalgia for something that never truly existed but was nurtured throughout his life. This sentiment was drawn from cinema, music, and literature. Cinema marks the beginning of César Campoy’s long journey, a life he has pursued since the late nineties in countries already fragmented, often intersecting with the activities of Spanish cooperation, which was being tested at a state level for the first time on such a scale. This effort, emerging from a broader desire for reconciliation and redemption, both at home and abroad, fuelled his journey.
Campoy's novel, Una odisea balcánica: Between the Steps of 'The Gaze of Ulysses' (Báltica Editorial, 2024), begins in Valencia, with its roots deeply anchored in the Mediterranean Sea. His journey is closely tied to the local film festival “Mostra de València-Cinema del Mediterrani,” which, from a very young age, sparked his passion for cinema. This passion opened a window to the Balkans—a region imagined, desired, and explored on paper maps like a true Orient, an ideal place that eventually became a lived reality.
The book, published in Spanish in April 2024, is already in its second reprint, receiving significant praise from critics and readers.
It traces an intimate journey from Greece to Albania, North Macedonia to Bulgaria, Romania to Bosnia-Herzegovina, passing through Serbia. The narrative is rich with references to the literature and cinema of the last thirty years, faithfully following the path of Ulysses’ Gaze (To vlemma tou Odyssea, 1995) by Theo Angelopoulos. Among the many works detailed by Campoy, this film stands out as the one that ignited his passion and initiated the profound literary and philosophical exploration that forms the backbone of the book.
The odyssey explored in the work parallels the Homeric journey depicted in the film. Campoy himself physically retraces the protagonist’s journey, portrayed by Harvey Keitel, step by step. He confronts the challenges of connecting the present with locations that are often overlooked in tourist itineraries, beginning with what he terms ‘intestinal Greece’. He travels through the peninsula and its extensions, from Florina to Korçë, from Bitola to Plovdiv, and continues through the Eastern Balkans before returning towards Sarajevo.
Bosnia and Herzegovina remains his most personal and undisputed place of choice, marking the ebb and flow of Campoy’s personal history and the new directions he hopes to explore with his readers.
We had the opportunity to meet him in his hometown, Valencia, shortly before he returned to the Balkans and to delve deeper into some aspects of his experience and his work.
In your book, you mention that you “dreamed of being Yugoslavian” since childhood. How do you think your identity would have changed and evolved after the dissolution of Yugoslavia?
I imagine that if I had been born in Yugoslavia in the 1970s, as a child, I would have been deeply fascinated by ‘Titoism’ and likely aspired to become a model pioneer. As a teenager, however, I am certain I would have developed a critical perspective towards the bureaucracy of the time, experiencing the contradictions and suffering that came with them. I believe my ‘Yugoslav identity’ remains intact in some way today. Still, from the time immediately following the dissolution of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, I have felt a stronger connection to the reality, landscape, and culture of Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Do you believe that we can still speak of a distinct and unique Balkan cinema today, as in the period you describe in your book?
Without a doubt, I believe it still exists and is very much alive. Setting aside commercial cinema, bold and daring films are still being made today that vividly portray, with a highly personal approach, the society and collective emotions of the various Yugoslav peoples. If we consider 'the Balkans' in its broader sense, we need only look at the cinematic output from Romania in recent decades, which I believe offers valuable and strongly defining elements.
We have discussed Spain’s role extensively, starting with your experience in international cooperation. Your book frequently addresses the concept of borders. It pays tribute, in a total sense, to Angelopoulos and the idea that more than taking a stance, there is a need to deny borders to return to our origins, rediscover our identity, and conceive a conceptual notion of ‘home’ of return, of a link between past and future. This is beautifully encapsulated in the quote you often recall from Marcello Mastroianni in Theo Angelopoulos’ The Suspended Step of the Stork: ‘How many borders must we cross to get home?’. How is the idea of ever-shifting, millimetric borders perceived from the perspective of Spain, a country whose borders have remained stable for centuries, primarily defined by the Iberian Peninsula and naturally bordered by the sea, which forms over 70% of its boundaries? This situation is so different from that of the Balkans, a region you say you are obsessed with...
Yes, it is all entirely different, and this vast difference in perception is a central part of the challenge I face when communicating with my community of origin. I believe that only those with a genuine interest in the Balkans or who have conducted severe research can analyse this shifting of borders with any degree of objectivity and empathy. In recent decades, external narratives have often misunderstood and, in some cases, manipulated this apparent instability. This is especially true because, without an intimate knowledge of the region, it’s hard to grasp. I admit it. From the outside, it can seem exotic, archaic, or even tribal. But an internal journey reveals the proper dimension of these borders, allowing you to touch them, carry them with you in dreams, and weave them into your stories.
