Zadar Walkabout

Christianity sits atop Roman Walls and a Roman Forum

Zadar, Croatia, is an old place.  Understatement, that.  It was old when it was first named Zadar, but its history flows back into the Neolithic, or New Stone Age.  The Neolithic Era, as I'm sure you remember from Ancient History class, ranges from around 10,000 BC (or BCE for you revisionists) until the coming of the Bronze Age.  It's all about the tools, Baby!

Zadar as Ladar and the march of sandal-shod feet:  Liburnians, Illyrians, Romans, Oh My!  This region of the Adriatic was peopled with folks of Pre-Indo-European culture.  With the Liburnians it became know as Ladar.  Then Romans conquered the area and the settlement became Ladera, a Roman city and later a Roman Municipium.  As we know, empires come and empires go.  The Romans faded under the weight of their own divisions and strife, aided by the Goths and Visigoths.  For Zadar, there was an almost regular rhythm to the rise and fall of empire.  The Byzantium empire ruled, then the Franks (the barbarians that would become Charlemagne, Holy Roman Empire, France), and, for a bit, Zadar was ruled by Croats.  But tides come in and tides go out.  In 1202 Zadar was conquered and burned by the pesky Venetians who were aided by those God-fearing marauders and murders, the Crusaders.  Then came the Hungarian Kingdom, who ended up selling Zadar back to the Venetians.  Are you dizzy yet?

The flow of merchants and marauders, along with zealots and religions, continued to wash over Zadar.  Turks came banging up the Balkans from the Bosphorus, then the Venetians took over again.  After the fall of Venice due to the opening of Atlantic trade routes by the Portuguese (cause and effect, cause and effect) the Austro-Hungarian Empire took over and stayed more or less in power until the end of World War One.  When one treads upon the stones of Zadar, one is literally walking in, and on, time itself.

New Town from the Wall of Old Town

History does not negate the need for caffeine.  Imagine this:  There was no coffee in Europe before Christopher Columbus brought it back from the New World at the closing of the15th Century.  No coffee!!  And no hot chocolate either.  Bummer for those guys.  

We breakfasted in our cool little studio near the water, a repast of fruit and bread and cheese, washed down with tea.  This was all fine and well for a start, but there would be no walkabout without the proper chemical boost, and that would only come from a cafe' along the water.  I admit that it was somewhat later in the morning before the magic Kava had given me the will to explore that which needed to be explored.  Bodily needs properly attended to, it was time for a walkabout.

Who stacked those stones?

And so we wandered.  The Old City sits atop a small peninsula that is about two kilometers long and one kilometer wide.  There are a few narrow lanes that run the long axis of the town with even smaller passageways crossing the narrow width of the place.  Wander where you will without regard for the map, for you will only strike water or wall.  One of the things that I really like about the Old City is that it is not simply a Tourist Ghetto.  Scattered amongst the monuments and monasteries are modern apartments and even a University.  Local folks actually live and work inside the walls built by Venice.  

The tour groups were already out, oozing across the old forum like disjointed amoebae.  They grouped and regrouped around their leader, following the beacon of the tour guide's hoisted flag.  My Heart thought up the idea for an evil game, one that we will have to put in practice on our next trip.  The idea is simple and mischievous.   We will equip ourselves with small flags of various colors.  When we see a large tour group. we will hoist our own flag, a flag of the same color as theirs, and with it we will see how many of the tour group we can cull from the herd.  Then we will lead them a merry chase through the small passageways, only to furl our flag and scuttle into the shadows, leaving them leaderless and adrift.  Perfect, yes?

The Pillar of Shame, topped by the Lion of Saint Mark

During the Venetian rule, there was a simple method for dealing with folks who were naughty.  They malefactors were chained up to the pillar of shame and left to bake in the sun.  Like everything else in this town, it's one culture atop another, in this case literally.  The Lion of Saint Mark, very faded now, sits atop a surviving Roman column.  

My Zadarian Doppleganger

Stones and streets, lanes and passages, tour groups to dodge, and all was well.  A simple left or right turn down a tiny walkway was enough to secure peace and quiet.  There were crumbling piles of stone to discover, waterfront promenades to stroll, and the fun of the Sea Organ at the tip of the peninsula.  A clever architect built the Sea Organ along the stone walkway at the northwest tip of the city.  Pipes and chambers under the walkway are filled by the pulsing waves.  The force of the waves actually "plays" a giant pipe organ, the sounds of which are transmitted through ports in the walkway.  The resulting music is a cross between a very drunk organist and whales having an orgy.  Mesmerizing, as I am sure it was meant to be. 

There was another organ, the Bee Organ.  Zadar is a city of gardens and flowers.  The folks that live here are nuts for gardens.  Anywhere that people have a small plot of land, be it a walled backyard or a vacant lot, there are tilled gardens surmounted by olive and fig trees.  Verdant doesn't come close, but it's the best word I can call up.  Besides the tilled vegetable plots, the city is awash in roses, jasmine bushes, and flowering trees.  The fragrance of the jasmine is pervasive.  With the flowers come honey bees, droves of them.  We stood under one flowering tree in the old city and were serenaded by the sonorous hum of thousands of honey bees feeding on the overhead flowers.  Magic!

Old Town from New Town

Even a great walkabout requires sustenance from time to time.  We crossed the city harbor from Old Town to New Town via the walking bridge.  A trip to the bakery and a sunny bench was all we needed.  The early afternoon took care of itself as we sat and ate.  A good cigar, more sun, and all was well with the world.

The Tiny Old Harbor beneath the frowning Lion of Saint Mark

Every walkabout must come to an end, and this one did.  Hungry and tired, we ventured along the water under the outer walls, returning to the snug outer harbor and the main gate.  From here our feet turned homeward and our thoughts to real food.

Little Dead Fishes, Giving One the Strength to Carry On

Back at the wee apartment, we cleaned up and turned our tired feet towards dinner.  Our choice was a local place near our digs, a small restaurant outside the Old City.  It turned out to be a super friendly family run joint with great food.  Platters of little grilled sardines, wonderful appetizers, and shiksa were soon burdening the table as we did our best to unburden same.  A wonderful meal to cap off a wonderful day.  But we weren't done yet.

The late evening was spent on the flagstones of our miniature terrace, overlooking the grassy vacant lot next door.  My sharp-eyed Sweetie spotted a hedgehog rooting about in a pile of old vegetation near our wall.  We spent a good bit of time peering over the wall at our new friend, who was oblivious to our presence as it hunted for tasty grubs and slugs amongst the rotting verdure.  

It had been a fine first full day in Zadar, and happy we were to have chosen this for our Dalmatia base of operations.  For tonight we were done.  As always, be strong, be kind, and I bid you Ciao for Now!

Sources:

Wikipedia

and...

My many history teachers.  (wouldn't they be proud?)

From "Z" to "Z"

 Two Cities that begin with "Z" in one day!  How often is that going to happen?

From "Z" to shining "Z", that was our travel plan.  We had purchased bus tickets for our route from the city of Zagreb, Croatia, to the coastal town of Zadar.  Shouldering the backpacks, we walked the wide boulevards from the homey Hotel Fala to the main bus station in Zagreb.

Zadar is situated roughly in the middle of the Dalmatia Coast.  This coastline makes up the eastern side of the Adriatic Sea, and is famous for its dramatic karst islands and azure waters.  Zadar is the oldest inhabited city on the Dalmatia Coast, dating to pre-Roman times.  Throughout the centuries, many ruling powers have lorded it over the city.  Their legacies are marked by the ruins, ancient walls, and stone buildings that make up the old town center.  This tradition of repeated changes of power has continued into recent times.

Consider the difference between "Nation" and "Country".  A nation could be defined as a group of people united by a similar culture, religion, ethnic background, or a combination of these.  A country, on the other hand, is a geographic area ruled by a single government.  The two words may have very different meanings depending on what region of the world one is from.  For a citizen of the United States, for example, Nation and Country may very well be synonymous.  For well over two centuries, the USA has been a single country, continuously ruled by a single governmental system.  Contrast this with a Croatian person born in Zadar in 1900.  By the time this person had lived to be fifty-five years of age, he would have been ruled by five different "Countries" depending on how you slice it.  While he or she would consider themselves a Croat, our friend would have been under the governmental control of the Habsburgs (The Austro-Hungarian Empire), the first Republic of Yugoslavia, the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, the Italian Fascists (during WWII) and, finally, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia under Tito.  "Busy, busy, busy!" whispers the good Bokononist.

Our bus rolled through river valleys and tilled fields, then began edging along the coastal mountains that separate the northern Adriatic Coast from the interior lands of Croatia.  The hills became steeper and the tunnels along the autobahn became longer.  Small patches of snow were visible on the upper crags of the mountains to our right.  After several hours of watching the countryside, our route veered west.  We began climbing and tunneling over and through the mountains.  The Adriatic Sea came into view as we swept down a series of twisting switchbacks protected by avalanche fences.  Winters bring serious snow to these mountains.  Three and a half hours of travel brought us into the city of Zadar.

The Main Gate to the Old City, Guarded by the Venetian Lion of St. Mark

With a bit of help from our electronic devices and saved screenshot maps (traveler's tip there, Mate!) we managed to navigate the twisty labyrinth of tiny lanes to our diminutive studio apartment south of the old city.  Stowing the bags, it was time to find a cafe', recharge the caffeine levels, and head out to explore the walled city. 

As long as one stays along the waterfront promenade, or inside the Old City, Zadar is an easy place to navigate.  Wander away from the water outside the center, however, and the twisting lanes and passageways are bewildering.  We found the first set of Venetian fortifications and let them guide us to the main entrance of the old city.

Love amongst the ruins

The Old Town is a walking paradise.  There are Roman ruins, Venetian fortifications, churches, monuments, and monasteries, all chockablock on top of one another.  The pile of stone is ringed by water on three sides and by walls on the fourth.  One may wander in circles, and very much enjoy the experience, but one cannot get lost.

Church of St. Donatus and the Tower

Walking northwest on any of the narrow streets will bring you to the forum, the ancient plaza of the Romans.  This is the center of the walled city.  Here there are ruins of Roman shop buildings, almost directly alongside modern kiosks that sell souvenirs to the tourists.  Some things never change.  I'm sure the Roman merchants of the day sold the equivalent of refrigerator magnets to the travelers of the time. 

A word of caution about Zadar:  it is the new darling of the Dalmatia Coast.  It has become A Destination.  A recent shining star in many travel journals, Zadar is a busy little place on the tour bus route.  We are here during the shoulder season, as is our wont.  High Season, in whatever locale you care to mention, is not our cup of tea.  At this time of year, the tour buses deposit their load of camera-toting tour members, each frantically following the flag of their guide.  They run about in the confines of the walled city, snapping pictures of all the important sites.  Four hours later, in the late afternoon, they are back on the bus and rolling away from the city.  The lesson is that evenings are much more peaceful here, and the shoulder and off-season are lovely.  If, however, you come to Zadar during the high season, don't say I didn't warn you.

Old.  Really Old.

Exploring is all fine and well, but we were really after a fish dinner.  We found the place we were looking for and had a lovely repast.  This despite My Heart being slightly irked by the "pesky" host, a very (overly?) effusive host who kept up a steady patter of smarmy cheeriness.  For me, I counted it better than surly.  Besides, the fish was a lovely change from the meaty platters of Zagreb.

The Gloaming of the Day

The miles of the day began to take their toll as we topped off the fish dinner with huge ice creams.  While Zagreb and Zadar are not the gelato paradise of Napoli, they are not too far off.  We were fading with the day and began the return walk to our new home.  

Nightfall on the Adriatic

Night on the Promenade

Another great day in Croatia had run its course.  Zadar was going to be our base of operations for the next five days.  We were very excited with what we had seen so far.  There would be day trips to the nearby islands, ferries to ride, and more exploring in Zadar itself.  For this evening, however, we were done.

There will be much more about Zadar to come, including inflicting a bit more history upon you, my long-suffering readers.  It is truly a fascinating place and I hope you will bear with me.  Remember to travel well, be happy, and be kind.  From Zadar, Croatia, Ciao for Now!

Zagreb New Town and Failed Strolling

The real old city in action

There is more to an Oreo cookie than the fatty filling.  Yes, it's true, you can eat the chocolate cookie outside.  Like the very strained metaphor above, (She's givin' ya all she's got Cap'n, I'm not sure she can take stand the strain) visiting the old center of a given European cities is not the same as visiting the city itself.  The danger lies in what I call the "Vienna Syndrome." 

The Vienna Syndrome is a malady that strikes folks who already live in a gorgeous old European city, a place that probably has a picturesque city center full of statues and stone.  People who suffer from this ailment are fairly easy to identify.  You will here them utter certain key phrases, whereby you will recognize them. 

"Prague?  Why should I go to Prague?  I live in Vienna!"

"What?  New York?  Why bother, I live in Paris."

I will grant you that there are some similarities between some of these grand old cities.  Unfortunately, many of the business folks in these historic places have figured out that a goodly portion of tourists love to shop.  Not only do these tourists love to shop, but they love to shop at chain stores that they are very familiar with.  Why take a risk in a local boutique when one can shop at Forever 21, regardless of the fact that one might be well over that age and not really fit enough for that sort of clothing.  Thus is born the 'Shopping Street' disguised as history.

While there is all the material here for a full-scale rant, I promise to restrain myself.  Let me just state the facts of the case.  Wander through an old city center, a place of cobbles and cut stone so old that you feel like you are walking through time.  It's wonderful.  Okay, now you pass, say, the Vienna State Opera.  "Wow, Baby, look at that beautiful old building.  Amazing!  Look at this square, these quaint guys trying to sell us tickets to the opera, and with Italian accents!  This is so wonderful."

You are in the old stadt, the center of one of the most famous cities in Europe.  And where are you heading?  Kärntner Straße.  You just entered Shopping Street.  H&M, Swarovski, Forever 21, Mango, Hugo Boss, Benetton, the gauntlet is laid before you.  It's looks like a shoppers paradise, but it is actually a cookie cutter copy of many other streets just like it, carefully crafted to fit into the old stone buildings.

Cartagena,  Colombia.  Bratislava, Slovakia.  Vienna, Austria.  What does these places have in common?  An historic tourist center through which, somewhere, runs the Shopping Street, complete with the same stores.  You can have a Starbucks coffee and a Big Mac while you shop.  But you don't need to leave home to do that, do you?

Okay, okay, that was pretty close to a rant.  Sorry.  Yes, bad cookie cutter culture.  Bad, bad dog!  Why would I bother to point this out?  Simply to urge you to venture farther afield.  Leave Kärntner Straße behind and take the U-3 up to Neubaugasse and walk north.  This is where the hip and cool Viennese folks shop.  Trust me, Girlfriend, you want to find that oh-so-cool small boutique?  This is your spot.  With that motivation, My Heart and I ventured out into the farther reaches of Zagreb, riding the electric trams. 

(Did you see that segue coming?  Bet you didn't.  Okay, yes, it was a crappy segue.)

Riding that train...

Like Vienna, the Zagreb street cars run the gamut from brand new to vintage 50's and 60's models, all running on the same tracks.  The Zagreb lines are cheap, easy to navigate, and a great way to see the city.  Consider it a poor man's Hop-On-Hop-Off bus.  Four Kuna gets you thirty minutes of rail time and eight Kuna buys you ninety minutes, or $1.30-ish for a 90 minute ride.  For me, one of the keys to getting acquainted with a new city is to master the public transport system.

After another great brekkie at Hotel Fala, we headed off to the bus station to buy our tickers for Zadar (another "Z" town!!).  Our errands for the next travel day done, we looped south and west on the street cars, traveling to the south side of the Sava river.  The plan was to do a street car loop and give our feet a bit of a break.  That was the plan.

 The weird seating layout on the Tram

South of the Sava river lies the Zagreb of Tito-era housing blocks, shopping centers, and small businesses.  We spied a large open-air market tucked into a park and a very seedy looking carnival with amusement rides of debatable soundness.  Along the Sava was the Zagreb Arena, where the city fathers hope to lure the Olympic Games in 2026.  Nothing like planning ahead. 

Our trusty little street car turned north off of Avenija Dubrovnik and re-crossed the Sava, where we disembarked for a stroll to Jarun Lake.  It was supposed to be a stroll.  Really.

Juna Lake is a mecca for bicyclists, walkers, skaters and rowers.  We even saw a few paddle boards.  Here's the thing:  it is a really long lake with sneaky islands.  Not only that, it's not a short walk from the street car stop.  A few kilometers from the tram stop, after a pleasant stroll down the river, we get to the lake.  Okay, easy enough, it's a sunny day at the lake, we just stroll around the lake.  Nope.  Strolling, strolling, more strolling, then I give the map a little closer look.  We are walking on a long island that has no outlet.  The only way off the island is back the way we came.  So, the stroll becomes more like a hike, a very nice hike, but a hike nonetheless.

Fortunately, My Heart is way smarter than I am and had packed a lunch.  While we are munching on the leftover kilo of meat from last night's meat extravaganza, I plotted a new route around the lake.  What do we care?  We have meat, we have bread, and we have water.  Reinvigorated, we set out once more, this time in the right direction, and we discover what the Zagrebians (Zagrebites?) really do at the lake.

 The Real Lake Pastime

Rounding yet another island, we finally "strolled" to the bustling heart of the Jarun Lake hangout.  From where we stood, cafe' after cafe' lined the walkway along the very pretty artificial beach.  And every cafe' was full of happy Croats doing, well, nothing.  We decided it was high time we joined them.  Let the rowers row, let the skaters skate!  We will do as the Croats and simply observe whilst getting thoroughly loaded on cheap coffee.  Sun, coffee, a biptillion people to look at, and a good cigar.  I am here to tell you, Friends and Neighbors, travel don't get much better than this.  

After a fine old time of sitting and doing nothing, we finally roused ourselves and moved on.  With a bit of navigating, we found ourselves on the next tram line, this one giving us a tour of the western part of Zagreb and into the main square of Lower Town in the old city.  Not content, we hopped a new street car and found ourselves whizzing uphill to the north, further and further, to the very edge of the city.  Here the hills rise to the little mountains and ski slopes to the north of the city proper.

The end of the tram line was a quiet spot where the green of the hills rose above us and the very edge Upper Town was laid out below us.  One of us, not the smart or pretty one, suggested that since it was obviously all downhill from here, we might stroll back to the city.  The other of us, that would be the smart and pretty one, rolled her eyes.  We set out on another stroll.

Upper Town really isn't all upper.  Some of it is lower, then upper again, followed by more lower.  It's kind of bumpy.  As such, it is not "all downhill" strictly speaking.  The smart and pretty half of the duo pointed this out as we bumbled along.  We stopped at a hillside church, where a very nice priest tried to put us back on the easy path to town, but I wasn't having any of it.  Dead reckoning in a strange town, that's my motto.  So up and down the bumpy hills we trod, finding small streets and paths that led, once in awhile, in the right direction.

Upper Town beyond the tourist streets

It was actually a lovely hike, albeit a bit longer than our feet were happy with.  We began to see some familiar streets and then signs for the tourist sights.  A few more twists and turns and we passed through Upper Town and began the descent into Lower Town.

 A street named for the last day of World War One, at least in Croatia

Eschewing another meat-fest on the pleading advice of my colon, we opted for huge leafy salads at a little joint south of the square.  Night had come, but our walking was not done.  Forty more minutes of "strolling" brought us, finally, to the welcoming door of Hotel Fala.  No more pavement would our feet pound today.  A fine day, a fun day, and a dog-tired evening well-earned.

Our day of exploration was done, but I have to add this disturbing epilogue:

Travel becomes a vivid history lesson

I took this photo because I thought the graffiti was cool.  After looking up Vukovar, I now think that grim is a much more apt descriptor.   Vukovar is a smaller city in the far eastern portion of Croatia.  During the Yugoslav wars of the 1990's, specifically the Croatian War of Independence, this town was the site of a terrible massacre.  During fighting between the Serbs and Croats,  the Serb forces captured the town.  Despite negotiations to evacuate some 300 people from the local hospital, these folks were instead turned over to Serb paramilitary groups.  Most of these people were executed and buried in several mass graves.  To date, about 200 sets of remains have been recovered, while approximately 60 people remain unaccounted for and are presumed dead.  Thus did I discover one of the dark chapters in the history of this land.

A Special Museum

Let me admit, at the beginning, that I love museums.  It is true.  I must also admit, however, that I go to far fewer museums than I once did.  Why?  I suppose because I enjoy people so much.  I have grown quite fond of human beings, much fonder than I could have imagined.  And while one can certainly observe human beings in a museum, I would rather do it from a comfy seat in a cafe'.

Given the above, why should you listen to anything I have to say about this or that museum?  Very well, let me trot out my bona fides.  I grew up in museums.  As a child, I spent a great deal of time exploring the Museum of Science and Industry and the Field Museum, both located in the city of broad shoulders, Chicago.  My parents would tell you that I spent a great deal of time getting lost in these museums, but that would not be the truth.  It is true that they spent hours looking for me, but that was because they were slow and boring and didn't know where the good exhibits were.  I certainly knew where all the best exhibits were and I did not need adults to slow me down.  I was never lost.

I first came to Europe as a young soldier in the US Army.  Every free moment the army allowed me I spent traveling.  During those travels, I went to a great many museums.  Name some of the famous ones, I can assure you I was there.  The Louvre?  Of course, days at a time, a young man in search of art and lacking discrimination.  I remember perusing each Flemish portrait, expended care and time to discern why this portrait was different from the thousands of other portraits of Dutch and Flemish merchants, something I would never do today.  The Prado?  Check.  The Van Gogh in Amsterdam?  Yes, and spellbound I was.  The Tate?  Oh, most assuredly.  So, I think you get my point.  I have stalked the hallowed halls of marble and gazed at the wonders.  As an aside, my toughest museum day was the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City.

Now, excusing that very long preamble, let us move on to a very small museum in Zagreb, Croatia, The Museum of Broken Relationships.

Through the doorway you will find...

Through an unassuming doorway, one enters this unique museum, a place dedicated to the objects left behind in the wake of broken relationships.  You know that thing, whatever it is, that he or she left behind when they broke your heart, or you broke their heart, or they died?  Those are the things that are on display here.  That cute vintage toy that you gave him, which he loved at the time, but which he left behind along with the shards of your heart?  That belongs here.  That crappy drawing that she did, which you hate but just can't seem to toss in the trash?  Here.  

The museum is scattered through a few small rooms.  Each room is devoted to a certain type of relationship.  One room is for broken hearts, of course, but there is another for lost parents or lost children.  Another room is made of of the detritus of relationships that never were, ships that passed in the night and kept right on sailing.  

The Raison de' Etre

 

 As we began examining the very spare exhibits, I was struck by the human stories these mundane articles represented.  Here was a series of incongruent and unrelated objects that added up to the sum total of loss.  Each piece of a broken relationship was accompanied by a short statement from the person who donated the thing.  The emotions expressed in these statements ran the gamut from hurt and loss to anger and vindictiveness. 

 

 The Hurt of Betrayal

While I found this fascinating, I am sure this in not everyone's cup of tea.  If you have just gone through a terrible breakup, this would either be the worst or best place in the world, depending on the day.  While the display above was a good example of hurt and betrayal, the next one is all about sheer anger.

 

The Lash of Anger

 

And when all else fails, there is the act of getting even, something most of us remember from at least one stop on the trail of broken hearts.

 Good Old-Fashioned Vindictiveness

When we had completed our circuit of the museum, I paused to chat with the young woman working at the ticket counter.  I had several questions to ask, though I doubt that it was the first time she had heard them.  

"I'm sure people ask this question, but have any visitors had a huge fight and broken up while at the museum?"

Large smile.  "I've been working here three years and I have not seen that."

"Do people break down and cry on a regular basis?"

"That does happen, but most often in the Parental Loss Room rather than in the other rooms."

While thanking her and saying out goodbyes, I thought to myself that she had a pretty cool job.  She seemed very happy.  Good for her.   

We wandered back out into the narrow streets of Upper Town, immersing ourselves in the flow of chattering tourists.  There very many museums in Zagreb that might appeal, from the Torture Museum to the Museum of Illusions.  Choose your poison.  This particular little gem, a monument to the leftovers of loss, will remain my current personal favorite and the only one I will write about on this journey.

From Zagreb, Croatia, and very glad to not have anything to donate to the Museum of Broken Relationships, I bid you Ciao for Now!

 

Zagreb Walkabout

Piles of Imperial Stone

Imposing imperial era buildings!  Dead guys with pointy swords astride bronze horses!  Cheap and wonderful coffee!  What else do you need to know?  For me, one of the great pleasures in life (those that require clothing anyway) is the first day of walkabout in a new city.  So, really, what else does a good traveler need to know?  One great way to enhance a journey is to read the history of the land and peoples one is traveling through and with.  To that end, I had equipped myself with an excellent book, Eastern Europe!: Everything You Need to Know About the History (and More) of a Region that Shaped Our World and Still Does by Tomek Jankowski. 

Armed with my history book, a map, and accompanied by my beautiful (and long-suffering) bride, we set out for a day of Zagreb walkabout.  Before we get to the streets, here is an ever-so-brief bit of modern history.  

After the dissolution of the Hapsburg Empire in World War One, Croatia became part of the first Yugoslavia.  At the outbreak of World War Two, Yugoslavia, now the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, remained neutral.  Alas, neutrality meant nothing.  The German and Italian armies invaded in 1941.  The nasty homegrown fascists of Croatia, the Ustaše, created an Axis puppet state.  They then proceeded to enact race laws against Roma, Serbs, Jews, and anyone else they didn't like.  Between executions, shipment to concentration camps, and general deaths to the war, about 26,000 people from Zagreb died during World War Two.  The Allies bombed Zagreb beginning in 1944, but the old city was not a major target.  After World War Two Croatia, and Zagreb, became part of the non-aligned new Yugoslavia under Tito.  Whew, okay, that's enough history for you to get along with.

Dead Guys on Horses!

From Hotel Fala, the old city is a straight shot north on a huge boulevard.  There are fountains and broad greenspaces, and no open area is complete without a dead guy on a horse and waving a pig-sticker.  Croatian history is long and full of conflict.  There are no shortage of local heroes to inspire big bronze statues.  

The boulevard dies at the train tracks which divide the old city from east to west.  Passing under the tracks via an underground shopping mall, we emerged on the next set of park-like boulevards, complete with more dead guys, more piles of stone, and many, many outdoor coffee cafes'. 

 Inspiration for the Masses

We wandered into the narrow streets of the old city, burst into the open stone expanse of the main square, and disappeared into narrow streets once more.  We were climbing to Upper Town, site of the cathedral (there's always a cathedral) and a very scenic and well-preserved trip back into time.  

The cathedral was half-masked in scaffolding as it is being renovated (the cathedral in whatever town in Europe you visit will be partially draped in scaffolding) but no matter.  I have seen enough churches and temples in my travels to last a lifetime.  It is the hidden gems that we were after.

Would you trust this man with your soul?

For example, in a small garden off of the cathedral grounds, we found this statue, a memorial to a long dead cleric.  Seriously, is this the man you would unburden your soul to?

We were in search of a museum, but not just any museum.  This particular museum was The Museum of Broken Relationships.  More on that in another post, as it was so weird and different that it deserves it's own review.  Meanwhile, the walkabout continued.

 

One's a stiff.  The other is a statue.

Clowning like a good tourist is a prerequisite for bench statues.  My Heart says that my blog readers might occasionally want to see a picture of yours truly.  I can't say as I see why.  Please pardon the indulgence.

Passages of Graffiti 

Narrow, twisting passageways?  Zagreb's got 'em.  While not quite the labyrinth of Lisboa or Bangkok, it pays to keep your sense of direction about you, or you will soon be hopelessly lost.  I swear by the Travel Gods, I do love a city that can befuddle me!

Inspiration for the Masses redux,

both Religion and State

If you like churches, you will love Zagreb.  A primarily Roman Catholic region, Zagreb is chock full of churches, chapels, and functioning monasteries.  Franciscan, Capuchin, Cistercian and more, the influence of the church is never far away. 

The Busy Dolac Market and...

...the best way to enjoy a busy market.

Walkabout can be a tiring pleasure.  Zagreb offers respite in the form of a cafe' culture that rivals Italy or France.  These folks are wild about coffee, or Kava.  There are cafes' everywhere, in courtyards, on sidewalks, in parks, and nestled into the busy marketplace.  One interesting aspect of the typical cafe' is that they serve two things:  coffee and booze.  Many serve nothing else.  No food, no snacks, no pastries.  While no Austrian cafe' worth it's Salz could stay open without Kuchen, the Zagreb cafes' do just fine, thank-you-very-much.  You want cake?  Go to a bakery.  The cafe' allows a restful and slow time to get loaded on caffeine, booze, or both while smoking and watching the world go by.  Non-smokers beware, passive-aggressive arm waving and coughing are frowned upon.

Croatia is not a part of the Schengen States of the EU and has not yet adopted the Euro.  The currency here is the Kuna, for which a dollar will get you about six and a half.  Why would you care?  Here is another great bit of information about the cafes':  they are a bargain.  An espresso is about nine Kuna, even in the tourist areas.  It drops to seven in the local cafes'.  That means you can sit in the cafe, slurp espresso until you are out of your mind, smoke a good cigar in peace, and all for less than half the price of an Austrian cafe', or most anywhere else in Europe for that matter.  I'm here to tell you, Sisters and Brothers, we availed ourselves of this handy resource in a big way.

Yes, Zagreb is old.

Back on the lanes of upper town, we traversed tourist streets, but a single turn up any tiny lane led to empty courtyards and quiet passages.  Another wonderful discovery in Zagreb is the courtyards.  In Wien, almost every building has a Hof, or courtyard, but for the most part they are secret places that you will never see.  In Zagreb, on the other hand, many courtyards are open to the public.  These tucked away escapes are everywhere, filled with tiny shops and yet more cafes'.  Every corner and archway seems to yield another hidden surprise.

 Before and after the Earthquake

Zagreb was struck with a large earthquake on November 9th, 1880.  The clock on the cathedral stopped, as did many clocks in the city.  Damage was extensive.  After the earthquake, the main nave (which had collapsed) were replaced, along with the towers.  As we wandered back down from Upper Town, we again passed the cathedral.  In one of the plazas was this example of some of the restoration work that is underway.  The current renovations are for the ongoing stonework damaged by the effects of time and acidic air.  Such is the case with many cathedrals in Europe, including Stephansdom in Wien.

Who doesn't love an old window with flowers?

 

When the old city starts to be too confining

Sore feet have no respect for history.  Finally succumbing to the need for green space and a rest, we took a break at the hotel and then ventured out for dinner.  The goal was to find a local spot far removed from the tourist center of the old city.  This involved another long walkabout, but it also yielded a fantastic stroll along the Sava River.  After years of damage from flooding, the Sava was tamed by large levies on both sides.  The pathways on the levies run far further than we had a chance to explore, but the evening light was magical as the threatening clouds ventured north to torture the Austrians instead of us.

 Be careful what you wish for...

A word to the wise:  when you turn a waiter loose in Zagreb, be hungry.  It's not that the dinner is going to cost you a fortune.  It won't.  But be ready to eat meat.  Lots of meat.  When the waiter says he will fix up a nice selection of traditional Croatian food for two people, he means two people who have just fought off the Ottoman Empire, swum the Sava River at full flow, and then climbed to the top of the cathedral on a whim.  He does not mean two normal people.  Even with a very well defined appetite after serious walkabout, we could not do this meat-fest justice.  Fortunately, folks here are not shy about doggie bags, and we had a whole lot of meaty snacks for later.

It was as good a first day in a new city as one could possibly hope for.  I believe that Zagreb is inching up into my top-five cities list, competing with Barcelona, Lisboa, Napoli, and Bangkok.  A good day, a walking day, a day to be thankful for.  From Zagreb, travel well, be happy, and Ciao for Now!

Sources : 

Wikipedia
Jankowski, Tomek E.. Eastern Europe!: Everything You Need to Know About the History (and More) of a Region that Shaped Our World and Still Does. Steerforth Press.

Dark Dreams

Photo credit:  Mike Oblinski

 

 

Howdy Friends and Neighbors.  The Reverend Squeaky-Eye here, coming at you in a troubled state of mind.  "What is it that is troubling your mind, Rev?"  I thank you for asking good people, I surely do, because I need to share this thing.  You see, last night I had a dream.  Not a positive dream, not a dream of peace and harmony, but a dark and troubling dream.  In my dream, I saw things gone all awry, with the dark clouds of a storm gathering.  It was that kind of a dream.  It brought to mind the lyrics of that old song by Randy Newman:

Last night I had a dream
You were in it, and I was in it with you
And everyone that I know
And everyone that you know was in my dream

 

In this here dream, there was a man.  Now this man, all he wanted was power.  He didn't care how he got it and he wasn't particular about how he used it.  We know about these kinds of folks, don't we Sisters and Brothers?  Well, this fella, he was one of those kinds of men.  He just had to have power, not to do good with, you understand, just to have it over other folks.  He was a Downpressor, through and through.  Anyway, this man, he already had him a pile of money, and a heap of power, and he liked hearing a lot of things said about him on the television and in the newspapers.  He already had him a lot of power, but he wants more, see?  So he figures to get himself elected to a high office so he can lord it over even more folks.  The trouble is, this fella ain't suited for governing folks.  He just doesn't have the temperament or skills for it.  That was the start of the dream, and Brethren, it was frightening to me.

So this greedy fella, he needs a scheme to get himself elected to a high place.  It has to be a clever scheme, and a secret scheme.  This Downpressor Man finally hits on what he figures is a fool-proof idea:  He makes him a deal with the Devil.

Now in my dream, this Devil, it's not Ole Slewfoot himself.  No, Sisters, but for all intents and purposes it might as well be.  In this dream, the Devil is a real-life man, a man that lords it over a different country.  

 

Now, the way this dream unfolds, the Devil says to this greedy fella "Hey, lookey here, I can help you get this high seat your after.  It's not as hard as you think.  What we do, see, is we spread a lot of lies and tall tales around, lies and tall tales that will throw the dirt on the folks running against you.  We spread around a bunch of salty lies at just the right time, and to just the right people.  If we can scare them, sell them some of that good old fear, we might can get them to change their votes, change those votes in your favor, see?"

This greedy fella in my dream, he likes this idea.  So he says to the Devil "That sounds great, that could work.  But say, just a minute now, what do you want in return for helping me?"  

Now the Devil, he just smiles that slow sly smile of his.  "I just want one thing from you.  When the time comes, I want you to say some nice things about me.  Seems like folks in your country have the wrong idea about me.  I just want you to set them straight now and then.  That's all."

Our greedy Downpressor Man, he thinks this is a good deal.  He gets what he wants and all he has to do is say a few nice things about the Devil.  Heck, it's as simple as pie.  But of course, it weren't as simple as that.

As the darkness of the dream swirls about, it happens just the way the fella wants it to.  He gets elected to the highest office in the land, making him one of the most powerful men that there is on the whole planet.  He's just giddy with all that power.  But there's something that he didn't count on.  Sisters and Brothers, we all know how tricky and deceitful the Devil is, and this here dream is no exception to that.  When a man makes a deal with the Devil, the Devil always gets his due and more. 

 

This Devil, he was as smart as a whip and sneaky as a snake, just like the Devil always is.  Whilst he was making this deal, he kept a record of all of the goings on, real careful and secret like.  He even kept it a secret from the fella he was helping.  The Devil, he figured this secret might be leverage that would come in handy later on, might be a way for him to sweeten an already sweet deal. 

 

Storm clouds were gathering in my dream, blackening the sky.  The good people all over the world were in turmoil over this Downpressor grabbing all of this new power.  The greedy fella starts right off saying these folks are bad, those folks are bad, starts making proclamations about how things are going to be from now on.  For him, what's the fun of having a big pile of power unless he gets to use it?  So the good folks in his country are appalled and perplexed.  Like I said, this fella begins to cause consternation around the good green globe.  

 

Well, in the midst of this hill of trouble, what do you think happened next?  I'll tell you, Friends and neighbors, but it is a troubling thing.  Quick as a rabbit comes the time when the newly-elected Downpressor Man gets called on to say something about the Devil who runs the other country.  Now, instead of saying he's the Devil, which has been the traditional response for decades, he starts saying how the Devil is actually his friend, someone he has respect for.  These are just the sort of words the Devil was looking for.  The Downpressor, he's okay with this.  After all, a deal is a deal, that's how this fella sees it.  He has always called himself a deal-maker, and this particular deal is no different than all the other deals he's made.  That's how this Downpressor figures it.

 

Here is where the storm just opens up all over everything.  Thunder is crashing and lightning is flashing.  The Devil, he's mighty pleased with all the mischief that he is causing, but he's not done yet, not by a damn sight.  No Sir, he is not.  The Devil figures now is the time to play the trick that he was planning all along, planning from the first time he set his baleful eyes on this greedy Downpressor.  Now he's going to play his real cards.

 

The Devil lets slip to the world the details of the sordid deal that was made, lets slip the very proofs that tie the Downpressor to the Devil.  Now the storm breaks in earnest.  The good folks band together and throw the greedy Downpressor fella out on his ear, throw him right out of the office he was elected to.  But the Devil, that was surely his plan, because we all know how much the Devil enjoys causing fear and hurt.  The Devil was the enemy all along, of course.  Always is.  That's one leopard that never changes his spots.  He only smiles that oily smile and waits.  

 

As the end of the dream came on, the Devil was sitting back in his chair, laughing his greasy laugh.  He was relishing all of the commotion that he had wrought in the world.  While all of the good folks were busy trying to clean up the mess that the poor foolish greedy Downpressor had made of things, the Devil had lots of time to get about his own business.  Then the storm became darkness and the dream was over.

I don't need to tell you good Brethren and Sistern, I woke in a cold sweat.  It was a profound relief to see the humble walls of my own room round about me.  I wish I could say that the shadow of that dream has passed from me, but that would not be the truth.  Even now, as I'm talking to you, I can feel the dread of it.  But it will pass, won't it?  What I mean to say is, Friends and Neighbors, it was just a dream, wasn't it?

Credits:

Photo -- Mike Oblinski

Song Lyrics -- Randy Newman "Last Night I had a Dream" from Sail Away