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lagilmanExcerpts from the Parental Trip to Croatia, via Mom
Our journey to Croatia began with drama. We arrived at the airport three hours early as we had been instructed, for the first part of our trip—the Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt. We had put all our little bottles and tubes into the appropriate-size plastic bag for the security check, and packed our luggage according to instruction with some of each other’s clothes, for when one of the bags went astray. We were ready for Croatia.
But Croatia was not ready for us. When we checked in, the computer would not allow our luggage to continue through to Croatia. There was a “slight problem.” For some unknown reason, we had been put on “standby” basis for the two (yes, two!) additional short flights we had to take from Frankfurt to Dubrovnik. This in spite of the fact we were holding confirmed reservations for all three flights! The Lufthansa people could not seem to deal with this problem, bringing in all kinds of experts to try to figure out what to do with us. We stood around for an hour while they consulted. Finally we called the emergency number for Grand Circle, our travel agency. After much delay in getting through to them, they told us “don’t worry, just go.” Around the same time, the Lufthansa people made the same decision, so they put our bags through somehow, gave us tickets as far as Frankfurt, and said goodbye (meaning, “good luck.”)
DUBROVNIK, CROATIA
The first thing we learned about Croatia, our new temporary home, is that it is one of 6 “ex-Yugo’s,” which would become a constant reference for the next two weeks (along with “ex-system,” which refers to the workings --or non-workings--of same). Ex-Yugo’s (or ex-system) referenced all the Balkan states we would visit—Croatia, Bosnia/ Herzegovina, and Slovenia, three of the six republics that made up part of Yugoslavia under Tito until 1991, when Croatia declared its independence, prompting Serbian invasion, and resulting in the bloody massacres that took place throughout the 90s in these areas.
The second thing we learned was that temperatures in May are pleasant and in the 70s—except this week, when the readings would soon climb into the high 90s, just in our honor.
The third thing we learned was that the elevator in our modern, attractive hotel (The President) had a mind of its own. No matter how early we left our rooms, we were never on time for anything because the Up button took us down, and the Down button took us up, and sometimes, if there were too many people on the elevator or too much luggage, or it just felt like it, it simply went Up and Down without stopping at all. We realized the hotel had been built in the Tito (Communist, or “system”) era, and we better get used to it.
Croatia has 3500 miles of coastline lined with charming medieval cities; Dubrovnik, on the Adriatic, is small but one of the best preserved (and much restored with international donations after the 90s) -- a perfect little medieval walled city (some parts of the wall are 80 feet high, rising from the water) with terracotta-tiled roofs, old stone buildings and narrow, winding alleyways. Walking around the marble streets, it was hard to imagine the gruesome events that took place in this part of the country only 15 years ago—until we saw the “framed” hole in the wall of an ancient monastery where a missile had gone through in December of 1991.
After some initial exploration of the medieval buildings, we soon found a wonderful outdoor restaurant right on the old wharf behind the main street, next to the fish market, called Lokanda Peskarija, where the 6 of us ate huge bowls of grilled shrimp, calamari, oysters and other local catches, and drank much local wine. (At our second visit, when the restaurant was full, the waitress recognized us and got some of the regulars to get up and move on, and then just set the table for us. Such is small-town life.)
One afternoon we took a boat ride around the magnificent walls of the city, then strolled through the stone alleyways, stopping to see a tiny 15th century synagogue (the second oldest synagogue in all of Europe, and oldest Sephardic synagogue which had been built by Jews expelled from Italy and Spain in the medieval period).
Later we stopped to watch a local celebration of something or other that involved parades, musicians, dancers, and much merriment (fueled by much wine). Wine, we were soon to discover, plays a central role in all Croatian events.
MOSTAR: BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA
Our visit to the Muslin town of Mostar, in neighboring Bosnia and Herzegovina, was a very different experience. Here there was no way to escape the memories of the turbulent years in the 90s when the area erupted into deadly warfare. From the time we passed through the various borders—out of Croatia into Bosnia, then through a small area of Bosnia back into Croatia, then back into Bosnia again—we felt the tensions still there, obvious just in the ways our bus and passports were inspected and re-inspected at every crossing.
As we entered the town, we saw that on one side of the road was a very narrow cemetery consisting of thousands of plain white markers. The cemetery seemed to go on and on and on, for miles. Later we learned what it meant: the Serbs had massacred 8000 Muslin men, women and children in this town in 1993 over a two-day period, and there was nowhere to bury the bodies quickly except along the road. While other religions moved their dead from these conflicts to their own cemeteries later, the Muslims, forbidden to move a dead body, could not—so the graves of the 8000 still line the side of the main road into town, an eerie and terrible reminder of what had happened not so long ago....
Later, walking back to where our bus would pick us up, we saw a vacant lot on the road that separated the Muslim from Christian sides of town, with a strange sign in the middle of the lot—it was the future site of a synagogue! Our guide told us there had been a synagogue there for centuries, and even now there were 12 Jewish families left—and they had plans to rebuild the synagogue there—some day. The optimism of our people is amazing!
But it was the sight of those 8000 simple white markers that stayed with us long after we returned to the beautiful seaside town of Dubrovnik.
SPLIT
We were sorry to leave Dubrovnik, but ready for our next adventure as we went on to Split, an ancient town on the Dalmatian coast of Croatia. We spent an afternoon exploring the famous (and quite wonderful) Diocletian Palace there, a UNESCO World Heritage Site considered one of the greatest Roman ruins in Central Europe. The city of Split was literally built within the palace walls.
Later, on the bus, we came across the worst reminder of the wars of the 90s—the remains of several deserted villages that were now merely bombed-out shells of buildings, miles of fields with white crosses, and big signs in other fields displaying a skull and cross-bone, indicating that there were active land mines in the field. Every year, we were told, in spite of the signs, several people—usually children—are blown up by these land mines, planted in the fields by the Serbs as their armies left the area. It is just too costly for the country to remove these landmines, even now.
OPATIJA
We left Split and traveled a very looooong way by bus to Opatija, driving along the Adriatic coast with the most incredible scenery along the way.
On the way we stopped for lunch at the site of the 45th Parallel—the exact spot that is 5000 meters from the North Pole and 5000 meters from the Equator. There is even a sculpture to commemorate the spot. Tourists love standing there, so we all stood there and took pictures of each other standing there.
Opatija itself is in a stunning location overlooking some of the 1000 islands in Croatia, and since the 19th century has been an elite resort town with a mild Mediterranean climate. The Austrian Empress Maria Anna often stayed here, and Emperor Franz Joseph built a villa here. Along the main street there are amazingly decorated late 19th century hotels and villas in wonderful colors—bright canary yellow and orange and green and pink-- that now house offices and upscale shops. A 7 ½ mile Lungomare, or seaside promenade, runs along the waterfront that our hotel is situated on.
The long bus ride seemed worth it when we saw our room at the Grand Hotel Four Flowers in Opatija. We were on the top floor of the hotel, a corner room with two balcony views—one looking out over the ocean which was just below, the other around the corner looking out over the city. Our rooms were so large, we had a king size bed in one part and a sofa and chairs in another. This was luxury!
(she then goes on to talk about the retaurants they visited and the new and different foods they ate -- yep, my family, what can I say?)
A note about wine in Croatia (and Slovenia too.) They make a lot of it, and make a lot of fuss about it. We got much information about the best reds, whites, and in-betweens, and wherever we went, it flowed freely. (Best Croatian whites: Istrian malmsey (Malvazija); Zlahtina from Vrbnik on Island of Krk; Posip from island of Korcula); best reds: Dingac from Peljesac Peninsula, Postup from Donja banda area.) I don’t think Italy or France has too much to worry about, but it was fun finding out about them all anyway.
RIJEKA AND THE ISTRIAN PENINSULA
We took a day-trip to Rijeka, a nearby port city set on Rijeka Bay to the east of Opatija-- a transportation “hub” that was a link to Italy, Hungary and Austria throughout Croatia’s history. (This was actually Italian territory from 1924-43, and throughout WW II, after which it became part of Yugoslavia, and since 1991, part of independent Croatia.)
The most important discovery here was finding Burek at a street market, which became our lunch, and my favorite street food. And Dorothy and I both found an olive oil container here to buy, which made us very happy. We also saw a plaque honoring Fiorella La Guardia, who worked at the embassy there from 1904-06.
Earlier in the day we got to visit a local school that included grades up to 9. This week the entire school was working on projects celebrating their town’s most important contribution to civilization—the Torpedo Factory. (It was not only the most important industry in town—it was the only one.) Needless to say, we were less than fascinated by the displays the children proudly showed us in each classroom about the history of this century-old factory. Still, it was fun to meet the youngsters, many of whom spoke good English. One 9th grader used his excellent English to tell us how all the teachers in the school sucked. I hope they don’t give him access to the Torpedo factory.
Another day we explored further into the Istrian Peninsula, the biggest Croatian Peninsula shared with Italy and Slovenia. One town, Rininj, is called “Small Venice,” and is the home of many artists. The architecture here is described as “Venetian Flower Gothic.” There we climbed a hill to see the Church of St. Euyphemia which houses the sarcophagus of St. Euyphemia from the 6th century....
Then we went on to the town of Pula to see the imposing ruins of the sixth biggest Roman Amphitheatre in the world. It was quite a wonderful sight, with the shadows of the columns making designs on the pathways all about us, and a man dangling from a rope high above, cleaning the columns. Below, in the cellars where the lions and the gladiators had been kept, there were several large ancient wooden oil presses, and stacks and stacks of amphorae—huge ancient Roman jugs that had been dug up all over the town, but which they had no room in their museum to store. I really wanted to take one home but figured it would never fit in my suitcase—or pass customs.
A tour one day to the Island of Krk sounded interesting, but we were exhausted by then, and while the others went, we chose instead to spend the day lazily wandering around town.
REPUBLIC OF SLOVENIA
We were up at the crack of dawn, had an early breakfast, and got on the bus for the long ride to the Republic of Slovenia, where the sun shines approximately 2000 hours a year and the Euro is the only currency accepted (we scrambled to get rid of our Croatian Kuna the night before, since they are not exchangeable for anything else and definitely not acceptable for anything in Slovenia. So much for being good neighbors.)
Slovenia advertises itself as the only country with LOVE in its name, though I’m not sure what that means. They do love themselves, since no one would admit that there were any problems in this tiny country. We heard none of the longing for the old Tito era that seemed to be prevalent in Croatia (things worked then, we were told—everyone had everything. The only thing missing was freedom, but they did have jobs, health care, etc. Our guide told us several times about her poor elderly grandma who has been in bed for months waiting her turn to get a hip replacement, and cannot go outside because she lives in the 5th floor of a building—and you cannot have an elevator unless you live at least on the 6th floor! This wait, she implied, would never have happened in the Tito era!)
We knew we had left Croatia and arrived in Slovenia when the terra-cotta-tiled roofs abruptly disappeared and instead we saw Swiss mountain chalets everywhere. This tiny country the size of New Jersey, with a population of two million, situated between the Alps and the Mediterranean, was originally part of the Holy Roman Empire and Austria until 1918, when it became part of Yugoslavia. They established their independence in 1991 after a short 10-day war, but their geography saved them from the bloodshed that tore up most of the Balkan countries in the 90s. It is a “closed” country—immigration is not encouraged; in fact, it is almost impossible to be a citizen unless you are born Slovenian. Except for the brief time in the 90s, there has been no fighting, no war, and no terrorism in Slovenia. If there are any problems in Slovenia, they don’t admit to them.
Along the way to Slovenia we stopped to take a tour of the Postojna Caves, a 4-mile adventure through dripstone sculpture and stalactites and stalagmites. The first part of the tour is in a little train, and after that you get out and walk for the next several miles, deep into the caves. Being reasonable people, many of us stayed on the train and went right back up to the surface.
LAKE BLED
Lake Bled in Slovenia is surrounded by the Alps, with a lake and an island in the middle of the lake and a castle on a high mountain rock above--a living picture post card. Church bells ring the hour, and then, in case no one heard, other church bells ring it again. They have found traces of prehistoric and Slavic settlements on the island in the lake, where only a church now remains, which also has a bell that rings the hour.
Bled is famous for its beauty, its lake, and Cream Cakes. These are quite wonderful. Even nicer is that they originated in the Park Hotel, which is where we were staying, and can only be bought there. Every morning we walked by the cases in the lobby and saw trays of Cream Cakes. The problem was that by the time we got home at night from our touring and dinner, the Cream Cakes were gone. So we only got to eat them once, and then only half of one—there were only 3 left for the 6 of us. Still, we did get the recipe. I’m not sure it will be the same.
The Park Hotel is located right on the lake, and each of our rooms had a vine-covered balcony on the lake, facing the castle. It was the perfect spot to meet every night to sample whatever local wine we had picked up during our travels. We’d started the nightly wine sampling back in Croatia, where they were particularly proud of their wines. Croatia has more than 300 geographically-defined wine producing areas, on 140 square miles of vineyards. The small country produces over 50 million bottles a year. We tried to help the local economy along, and I think we did our share of wine drinking, as well as sampling the local beer whenever appropriate. We decided to do the same for Slovenia. Which is probably why Aaron (my dad)limped home with gout (as he had after our sojourn France) and is off wine and beer for a long while now.
this, as you might imagine, is cruel and unusual punishment in my family...)
SKOFJA LOKA
We took a day trip to this thousand-year-old city at the confluence of the Poljanska Sora and Selska Sora rivers; the unspoiled nature and rich cultural heritage of the city has earned it the nickname Gallery in Nature. There we visited a 14th century cottage, and then had dinner in a former granary. The restaurant was once a part of the city wall.
LJUBIJANA
The next day we were off to tour Ljubijana, Slovenia’s capital (yes, we did learn how to pronounce it.)
KROPA, THE NAIL- MAKING TOWN
A final treat on our last day was a morning visit to a town where they had made nails since medieval days. We thought it would be terribly boring, but it turned out to be very interesting, and lots of fun. We went through a kind of museum of early nail-making, and then walked around the town where, as the market for nails diminished, they started to make very decorative wrought iron fences and lamps and whatever-they-could-think-of. We actually considered taking home a whatever-they-could-think-of, but weren’t quite sure how it would fit in our suitcase (it was actually a hanging lamp) so gave up on that idea.
drat, and I would have liked to own a whatever-they-could-think-of!. I did, however, get olive oil and spices and dried lavender, and turkish candy....
And you wonder why I keep telling my mom to write her travels up for publication, already? Can you IMAGINE how well this would sell to an over-55 market?
[my folks are both in their 70's, for the record. I wanna be them when I grow up]
Our journey to Croatia began with drama. We arrived at the airport three hours early as we had been instructed, for the first part of our trip—the Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt. We had put all our little bottles and tubes into the appropriate-size plastic bag for the security check, and packed our luggage according to instruction with some of each other’s clothes, for when one of the bags went astray. We were ready for Croatia.
But Croatia was not ready for us. When we checked in, the computer would not allow our luggage to continue through to Croatia. There was a “slight problem.” For some unknown reason, we had been put on “standby” basis for the two (yes, two!) additional short flights we had to take from Frankfurt to Dubrovnik. This in spite of the fact we were holding confirmed reservations for all three flights! The Lufthansa people could not seem to deal with this problem, bringing in all kinds of experts to try to figure out what to do with us. We stood around for an hour while they consulted. Finally we called the emergency number for Grand Circle, our travel agency. After much delay in getting through to them, they told us “don’t worry, just go.” Around the same time, the Lufthansa people made the same decision, so they put our bags through somehow, gave us tickets as far as Frankfurt, and said goodbye (meaning, “good luck.”)
DUBROVNIK, CROATIA
The first thing we learned about Croatia, our new temporary home, is that it is one of 6 “ex-Yugo’s,” which would become a constant reference for the next two weeks (along with “ex-system,” which refers to the workings --or non-workings--of same). Ex-Yugo’s (or ex-system) referenced all the Balkan states we would visit—Croatia, Bosnia/ Herzegovina, and Slovenia, three of the six republics that made up part of Yugoslavia under Tito until 1991, when Croatia declared its independence, prompting Serbian invasion, and resulting in the bloody massacres that took place throughout the 90s in these areas.
The second thing we learned was that temperatures in May are pleasant and in the 70s—except this week, when the readings would soon climb into the high 90s, just in our honor.
The third thing we learned was that the elevator in our modern, attractive hotel (The President) had a mind of its own. No matter how early we left our rooms, we were never on time for anything because the Up button took us down, and the Down button took us up, and sometimes, if there were too many people on the elevator or too much luggage, or it just felt like it, it simply went Up and Down without stopping at all. We realized the hotel had been built in the Tito (Communist, or “system”) era, and we better get used to it.
Croatia has 3500 miles of coastline lined with charming medieval cities; Dubrovnik, on the Adriatic, is small but one of the best preserved (and much restored with international donations after the 90s) -- a perfect little medieval walled city (some parts of the wall are 80 feet high, rising from the water) with terracotta-tiled roofs, old stone buildings and narrow, winding alleyways. Walking around the marble streets, it was hard to imagine the gruesome events that took place in this part of the country only 15 years ago—until we saw the “framed” hole in the wall of an ancient monastery where a missile had gone through in December of 1991.
After some initial exploration of the medieval buildings, we soon found a wonderful outdoor restaurant right on the old wharf behind the main street, next to the fish market, called Lokanda Peskarija, where the 6 of us ate huge bowls of grilled shrimp, calamari, oysters and other local catches, and drank much local wine. (At our second visit, when the restaurant was full, the waitress recognized us and got some of the regulars to get up and move on, and then just set the table for us. Such is small-town life.)
One afternoon we took a boat ride around the magnificent walls of the city, then strolled through the stone alleyways, stopping to see a tiny 15th century synagogue (the second oldest synagogue in all of Europe, and oldest Sephardic synagogue which had been built by Jews expelled from Italy and Spain in the medieval period).
Later we stopped to watch a local celebration of something or other that involved parades, musicians, dancers, and much merriment (fueled by much wine). Wine, we were soon to discover, plays a central role in all Croatian events.
MOSTAR: BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA
Our visit to the Muslin town of Mostar, in neighboring Bosnia and Herzegovina, was a very different experience. Here there was no way to escape the memories of the turbulent years in the 90s when the area erupted into deadly warfare. From the time we passed through the various borders—out of Croatia into Bosnia, then through a small area of Bosnia back into Croatia, then back into Bosnia again—we felt the tensions still there, obvious just in the ways our bus and passports were inspected and re-inspected at every crossing.
As we entered the town, we saw that on one side of the road was a very narrow cemetery consisting of thousands of plain white markers. The cemetery seemed to go on and on and on, for miles. Later we learned what it meant: the Serbs had massacred 8000 Muslin men, women and children in this town in 1993 over a two-day period, and there was nowhere to bury the bodies quickly except along the road. While other religions moved their dead from these conflicts to their own cemeteries later, the Muslims, forbidden to move a dead body, could not—so the graves of the 8000 still line the side of the main road into town, an eerie and terrible reminder of what had happened not so long ago....
Later, walking back to where our bus would pick us up, we saw a vacant lot on the road that separated the Muslim from Christian sides of town, with a strange sign in the middle of the lot—it was the future site of a synagogue! Our guide told us there had been a synagogue there for centuries, and even now there were 12 Jewish families left—and they had plans to rebuild the synagogue there—some day. The optimism of our people is amazing!
But it was the sight of those 8000 simple white markers that stayed with us long after we returned to the beautiful seaside town of Dubrovnik.
SPLIT
We were sorry to leave Dubrovnik, but ready for our next adventure as we went on to Split, an ancient town on the Dalmatian coast of Croatia. We spent an afternoon exploring the famous (and quite wonderful) Diocletian Palace there, a UNESCO World Heritage Site considered one of the greatest Roman ruins in Central Europe. The city of Split was literally built within the palace walls.
Later, on the bus, we came across the worst reminder of the wars of the 90s—the remains of several deserted villages that were now merely bombed-out shells of buildings, miles of fields with white crosses, and big signs in other fields displaying a skull and cross-bone, indicating that there were active land mines in the field. Every year, we were told, in spite of the signs, several people—usually children—are blown up by these land mines, planted in the fields by the Serbs as their armies left the area. It is just too costly for the country to remove these landmines, even now.
OPATIJA
We left Split and traveled a very looooong way by bus to Opatija, driving along the Adriatic coast with the most incredible scenery along the way.
On the way we stopped for lunch at the site of the 45th Parallel—the exact spot that is 5000 meters from the North Pole and 5000 meters from the Equator. There is even a sculpture to commemorate the spot. Tourists love standing there, so we all stood there and took pictures of each other standing there.
Opatija itself is in a stunning location overlooking some of the 1000 islands in Croatia, and since the 19th century has been an elite resort town with a mild Mediterranean climate. The Austrian Empress Maria Anna often stayed here, and Emperor Franz Joseph built a villa here. Along the main street there are amazingly decorated late 19th century hotels and villas in wonderful colors—bright canary yellow and orange and green and pink-- that now house offices and upscale shops. A 7 ½ mile Lungomare, or seaside promenade, runs along the waterfront that our hotel is situated on.
The long bus ride seemed worth it when we saw our room at the Grand Hotel Four Flowers in Opatija. We were on the top floor of the hotel, a corner room with two balcony views—one looking out over the ocean which was just below, the other around the corner looking out over the city. Our rooms were so large, we had a king size bed in one part and a sofa and chairs in another. This was luxury!
(she then goes on to talk about the retaurants they visited and the new and different foods they ate -- yep, my family, what can I say?)
A note about wine in Croatia (and Slovenia too.) They make a lot of it, and make a lot of fuss about it. We got much information about the best reds, whites, and in-betweens, and wherever we went, it flowed freely. (Best Croatian whites: Istrian malmsey (Malvazija); Zlahtina from Vrbnik on Island of Krk; Posip from island of Korcula); best reds: Dingac from Peljesac Peninsula, Postup from Donja banda area.) I don’t think Italy or France has too much to worry about, but it was fun finding out about them all anyway.
RIJEKA AND THE ISTRIAN PENINSULA
We took a day-trip to Rijeka, a nearby port city set on Rijeka Bay to the east of Opatija-- a transportation “hub” that was a link to Italy, Hungary and Austria throughout Croatia’s history. (This was actually Italian territory from 1924-43, and throughout WW II, after which it became part of Yugoslavia, and since 1991, part of independent Croatia.)
The most important discovery here was finding Burek at a street market, which became our lunch, and my favorite street food. And Dorothy and I both found an olive oil container here to buy, which made us very happy. We also saw a plaque honoring Fiorella La Guardia, who worked at the embassy there from 1904-06.
Earlier in the day we got to visit a local school that included grades up to 9. This week the entire school was working on projects celebrating their town’s most important contribution to civilization—the Torpedo Factory. (It was not only the most important industry in town—it was the only one.) Needless to say, we were less than fascinated by the displays the children proudly showed us in each classroom about the history of this century-old factory. Still, it was fun to meet the youngsters, many of whom spoke good English. One 9th grader used his excellent English to tell us how all the teachers in the school sucked. I hope they don’t give him access to the Torpedo factory.
Another day we explored further into the Istrian Peninsula, the biggest Croatian Peninsula shared with Italy and Slovenia. One town, Rininj, is called “Small Venice,” and is the home of many artists. The architecture here is described as “Venetian Flower Gothic.” There we climbed a hill to see the Church of St. Euyphemia which houses the sarcophagus of St. Euyphemia from the 6th century....
Then we went on to the town of Pula to see the imposing ruins of the sixth biggest Roman Amphitheatre in the world. It was quite a wonderful sight, with the shadows of the columns making designs on the pathways all about us, and a man dangling from a rope high above, cleaning the columns. Below, in the cellars where the lions and the gladiators had been kept, there were several large ancient wooden oil presses, and stacks and stacks of amphorae—huge ancient Roman jugs that had been dug up all over the town, but which they had no room in their museum to store. I really wanted to take one home but figured it would never fit in my suitcase—or pass customs.
A tour one day to the Island of Krk sounded interesting, but we were exhausted by then, and while the others went, we chose instead to spend the day lazily wandering around town.
REPUBLIC OF SLOVENIA
We were up at the crack of dawn, had an early breakfast, and got on the bus for the long ride to the Republic of Slovenia, where the sun shines approximately 2000 hours a year and the Euro is the only currency accepted (we scrambled to get rid of our Croatian Kuna the night before, since they are not exchangeable for anything else and definitely not acceptable for anything in Slovenia. So much for being good neighbors.)
Slovenia advertises itself as the only country with LOVE in its name, though I’m not sure what that means. They do love themselves, since no one would admit that there were any problems in this tiny country. We heard none of the longing for the old Tito era that seemed to be prevalent in Croatia (things worked then, we were told—everyone had everything. The only thing missing was freedom, but they did have jobs, health care, etc. Our guide told us several times about her poor elderly grandma who has been in bed for months waiting her turn to get a hip replacement, and cannot go outside because she lives in the 5th floor of a building—and you cannot have an elevator unless you live at least on the 6th floor! This wait, she implied, would never have happened in the Tito era!)
We knew we had left Croatia and arrived in Slovenia when the terra-cotta-tiled roofs abruptly disappeared and instead we saw Swiss mountain chalets everywhere. This tiny country the size of New Jersey, with a population of two million, situated between the Alps and the Mediterranean, was originally part of the Holy Roman Empire and Austria until 1918, when it became part of Yugoslavia. They established their independence in 1991 after a short 10-day war, but their geography saved them from the bloodshed that tore up most of the Balkan countries in the 90s. It is a “closed” country—immigration is not encouraged; in fact, it is almost impossible to be a citizen unless you are born Slovenian. Except for the brief time in the 90s, there has been no fighting, no war, and no terrorism in Slovenia. If there are any problems in Slovenia, they don’t admit to them.
Along the way to Slovenia we stopped to take a tour of the Postojna Caves, a 4-mile adventure through dripstone sculpture and stalactites and stalagmites. The first part of the tour is in a little train, and after that you get out and walk for the next several miles, deep into the caves. Being reasonable people, many of us stayed on the train and went right back up to the surface.
LAKE BLED
Lake Bled in Slovenia is surrounded by the Alps, with a lake and an island in the middle of the lake and a castle on a high mountain rock above--a living picture post card. Church bells ring the hour, and then, in case no one heard, other church bells ring it again. They have found traces of prehistoric and Slavic settlements on the island in the lake, where only a church now remains, which also has a bell that rings the hour.
Bled is famous for its beauty, its lake, and Cream Cakes. These are quite wonderful. Even nicer is that they originated in the Park Hotel, which is where we were staying, and can only be bought there. Every morning we walked by the cases in the lobby and saw trays of Cream Cakes. The problem was that by the time we got home at night from our touring and dinner, the Cream Cakes were gone. So we only got to eat them once, and then only half of one—there were only 3 left for the 6 of us. Still, we did get the recipe. I’m not sure it will be the same.
The Park Hotel is located right on the lake, and each of our rooms had a vine-covered balcony on the lake, facing the castle. It was the perfect spot to meet every night to sample whatever local wine we had picked up during our travels. We’d started the nightly wine sampling back in Croatia, where they were particularly proud of their wines. Croatia has more than 300 geographically-defined wine producing areas, on 140 square miles of vineyards. The small country produces over 50 million bottles a year. We tried to help the local economy along, and I think we did our share of wine drinking, as well as sampling the local beer whenever appropriate. We decided to do the same for Slovenia. Which is probably why Aaron (my dad)limped home with gout (as he had after our sojourn France) and is off wine and beer for a long while now.
this, as you might imagine, is cruel and unusual punishment in my family...)
SKOFJA LOKA
We took a day trip to this thousand-year-old city at the confluence of the Poljanska Sora and Selska Sora rivers; the unspoiled nature and rich cultural heritage of the city has earned it the nickname Gallery in Nature. There we visited a 14th century cottage, and then had dinner in a former granary. The restaurant was once a part of the city wall.
LJUBIJANA
The next day we were off to tour Ljubijana, Slovenia’s capital (yes, we did learn how to pronounce it.)
KROPA, THE NAIL- MAKING TOWN
A final treat on our last day was a morning visit to a town where they had made nails since medieval days. We thought it would be terribly boring, but it turned out to be very interesting, and lots of fun. We went through a kind of museum of early nail-making, and then walked around the town where, as the market for nails diminished, they started to make very decorative wrought iron fences and lamps and whatever-they-could-think-of. We actually considered taking home a whatever-they-could-think-of, but weren’t quite sure how it would fit in our suitcase (it was actually a hanging lamp) so gave up on that idea.
drat, and I would have liked to own a whatever-they-could-think-of!. I did, however, get olive oil and spices and dried lavender, and turkish candy....
And you wonder why I keep telling my mom to write her travels up for publication, already? Can you IMAGINE how well this would sell to an over-55 market?
[my folks are both in their 70's, for the record. I wanna be them when I grow up]
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Date: 2007-06-11 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 06:39 pm (UTC)Had a lot of fun. This was before all of the killings, etc. The antique bridge in Mostar was still there.
I would love to read a travel book for the over 55s. I am over 70n now.
Um, you could collect the stories and edit them...
no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-12 01:33 am (UTC)BTW, to illustrate just how far north Europe really is, the 45th Parallel (which your parents crossed on the way to Opatija -- very southern Europe) also goes through the Leelenaw Peninsula just a tick north of Traverse City, Michigan. If you hold your right hand up, palm toward you, Traverse City is roughly on the outside (left) edge of the tip of your ring finger. (Try THAT with New Jersey! :))
no subject
Date: 2007-06-12 03:11 pm (UTC)