Rijeka and Pula

Halfway between the land of dreams and reality, when I sensed that the bus had stopped, through bleary eyes I looked at my watch, saw that it was 0400, that it was drizzling outside, and that we were at some kind of terminal. We had paused for a few minutes in Rijeka (doesn't rhyme with Rebecca, as I heard another hosteler pronounce it later). When we got under way again, I understood why even though it's only around 70 km as the crow flies to Pula, the bus took another two hours. The terrain is hilly and the roads are winding in this Croatian province of Istria.

We reached Pula at daybreak. I found a bakery and had some strudel. There was no hurry, the hostel would not be open for a while. The driver of the 2e bus to Verudela (some names here sound a bit Spanish) very kindly indicated where to get off. I met another backpacker while walking towards the hostel. This was Kristin, an American who looked like she had Hispanic roots. I dozed on a bench until the reception opened. Then I dozed some more after being allocated to a bed. I was that tired. Cold weather and a long bus journey will do that to you.

The hostel has half of a little bay (with a pebbly beach again). The other half appeared to belong to some kind of holiday camp. In the picture to the right you are looking back at the hostel. Very nice location. I did very little that day, having lunch, trying out the water and finding it a little too cool, and napping in between.

There was a group of Austrian schoolchildren here on a study tour. Makes sense, Austria is within easy driving distance. I chatted a bit with one of their teachers.

In the evening while I was chatting with Kristin, Fergus joined in. He's a Brit about to take up a management post in Dubai and having a short break with his good mate Dan. They came in on a cheap Ryanair flight. Fergus is intelligent and articulate. Dan was too, but he also had an impish glint and grinned a lot. A people pleaser. Both were examples of the new generation of young Brits, not insular like the old stereotype, going out to conquer the world.

There was a trampoline court in the hostel grounds. One of the local girls practising was very agile, probably a gymnast. Dan had a go and did well too.

Fergus and Dan had a car that they had rented from the airport, thereby getting around the lack of public transport at Pula airport. Kristin and I were invited to dine with them at Punta Verudela, which is surrounded by resorts. We found a restaurant with a great view of a bay.

Towards the end of the evening, Dan got us into trouble in a couple of ways. Dan gave Fergus' mobile number to Kristin, while he was in the toilet, because she had mentioned that she might be passing through the Middle East later. Kristin called the number so that Fergus would also have hers. When Fergus got back he moaned and exclaimed oh no. He explained that back in London he had exchanged SIMs with his Mexican wife because he had too much allowance on his SIM. His wife was extremely possessive and would be very suspicious of a missed call from a US number. Whatever you do, don't answer your mobile if it's from her, he instructed Kristin. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the wife called Fergus, asking for his whereabouts. He explained as nonchalantly as possible that he was having after dinner drinks in Pula with Dan and a couple of travel acquaintances. No, he had not given his number to any Americans (which was technically true, Dan had, he had not). He could behave innocent, because he really was. After that we joked a bit about ruses to use if the wife really did call later, like Kristin answering the call with a prominent Southern drawl, asking for a non-existent person, and exclaiming daym, musta got the wrong number, sheyat!, but a shadow had been cast over the evening. In the event, it never happened.

Dan kept ordering rounds of liqueurs, finishing with a sickly sweet sambucca which was concentrated even more by being set alight while being poured between glasses. Very spectacular, but it was like drinking cough syrup. When it came time to pay, we discovered that the restaurant didn't take plastic. So Fergus and Dan pooled all the cash they had, including some foreign currencies, Kristin and I chipped in with a bit more and we scraped through. The maitre d' was quite accommodating. I fumbled my way back to the dorm, trying to be as quiet as possible, and crashed out.

Zadar

It was still drippy when I awoke. My bus would leave at 2330. I have decided to skip the section of the Croatian coast between Zadar and Rijeka as there isn't much to see unless I go to an island, and I've had quite a few of those already. However, Croatia is not a large country and if I were to alight at Rijeka I would only catch a few hours of sleep, so I've decided to go all the way to Pula, on the west side of the Istrian peninsula and arrive around dawn, then work my way back to Rijeka. I'll sightsee Zadar during the day and pick up my backpack in the evening, and have dinner before going to the bus station.

At the markets I bought some cherries and apricots, using German. Zadar was modernised in the Tito years, however it suffered during the War of Independence and has not quite recovered its former relative prosperity. But it still attracts tourists; I saw quite a few Germans, Americans and French. Direct budget flights into its airport might also help. Perhaps I wasn't seeing it in the best light, during a rainy day, but it seemed to me that Zadar was looking for better days. Like in Šibenik, there were pro-Ante graffiti on walls.

The St. Donatus' church from the 9th century is the most prominent landmark. The old city has many narrow streets. Notice the tourists toting umbrellas.

I came across a laundromat but unfortunately they would close at 1800, which was too early for me, as I would have to spend several hours in the city before departure. But I used the Internet terminals there. An email from the niece said that she had reached Split airport ok, returned to London pfft, and missed the warm weather. Well at that moment it wasn't so great in Zadar either. A strong storm front was sweeping across Europe and was crossing Croatia. While I was sitting at the terminal it started hailing, showering the pavement with ice pellets.

At the botanic gardens I met a fellow Australian but I couldn't have a conversation. That was because it was a Wollemia (Wollemi Pine). A sign explained that this was one of several gardens around the world to receive a specimen to raise, to reduce the risk of the species going extinct should some disaster befall its home.

By mid-afternoon I had seen all I wanted of Zadar, and the cold was sapping my energy so I returned to the hostel. I napped for a while in an armchair in the reception area. 

Towards sunset I took a walk around Puntamika. There is a nice view back towards Zadar across the channel. I was also looking for a likely restaurant. Unfortunately Borik, the large tourist complex in Puntamika, seemed to cater for most visitor needs inside, and the few restaurants outside of the complex got only scraps of business, so there wasn't much choice.

At 2000 I caught the bus back to the city. The self-service place mentioned in the guide didn't exist anymore. Eventually I found a grill restaurant that I liked. The waiter was quite accommodating to a single diner with a backpack. The decor was nice. There are photos on the wall from the days when the city was called Zara, under Italian rule.

I finished dinner around 2200 and caught another bus to the station rather than walk along deserted streets to save 1€. A hour of waiting, we were off and then I tried catch as much sleep as a bus seat would allow.

The Elephant

Every visitor who comes to the Balkans invariably asks the question: what happened here? It's the elephant in the room. Since Plitvice was the scene of the first conflict with fatalities between Croatians and Krajina Serbs, it's a good place to start. Sorry no pictures for this post, it's all text. You've had too many pictures in yesterday's post anyway. I feel very inadequate to condense Balkan history to one post, not having any particular expertise, so please regard this as one person's attempt to make sense of a complex story.


At one of the entrances to Plitvice NP is a shrine to Josip Jović, the Croatian policeman who was the first casualty of what Croatians call the Homeland War or the War of Independence. On Easter weekend 1991, when a bus of Croatian police went to expel Serb paramilitaries from the park which is in the Krajina, a sparsely settled but majority Serb area, they were ambushed. The Serbs also lost one man in the gunfight. One each, very nice symbolic propaganda for both sides. (At that time, the Croatian Army was small and the police took much of the brunt of the fighting.) After that the war dragged on for 4 years until Croatia was able to muster enough firepower to retake the occupied territories and expel the rebel Serbs, and exact revenge on them. That Serbia withdrew its support for the Krajina Serbs was also a factor.


The War was sparked by the splintering of the states of the former Yugoslavia with the desire of the nations to leave the Yugoslav union, but there is a long checkered history preceding. Here are some contributing factors:


Yugoslavia had fault lines running along religious boundaries. The Slovenes are mostly Catholic though the percentage is dropping, the Croatians are mostly Catholic, the Serbs are mostly Serbian Orthodox, and Bosnia has a mix, of which a non-absolute majority are Muslim. Further south, there are more Muslims. The state of Yugoslavia tried keep the state secular, but the old divisions were latent, to be exploited by demagogues.


While the constituent peoples may claim they are different, in fact they are related. Serbo-Croat is regarded as one language, though written in different scripts (Cyrillic and Latin). Yugoslav means southern Slav, which indicates where the tribes came from.


This region has been the scene of tussles between powers over the centuries and sides have been played off against each other. The Roman, Venetian, Ottoman and Austrian empires, as well as Italy, have governed over parts at one time or other. Recall that WWI was sparked in Sarajevo by the assassination of Austrian royalty. WWII brought more division when fascist elements sided with the Nazi occupiers while others fought with the partisans. Some of the mass murders committed by both fascists and partisans are no doubt were within living memory of people in 1991. There was a relative calm for decades after Tito, who had led the partisans, created the Yugoslav umbrella, but after his death in 1980, the union unraveled. Doubtless old scores were resurrected, by the urgings of demagogues. I remember that in the years when sadly on too many days Mary Kostakidis would be reading the evening news about some atrocity or other, and I couldn't tell which side was which, a newspaper cartoonist echoed my perceptions in his drawings. There are two antagonists in the frame, armed with clubs. One clubs the other, saying this is for (some injustice centuries in the past). Bunk! The other retaliates, saying, and this is for (another injustice). Bunk! And so they go clubbing each other down the frames, bunk! bunk! bunk! Caption of the cartoon strip: History Is Bunk!


Unfortunate as the casualties in the attacks on Dubrovnik and Šibenik were, I knew that those were picnics compared to the nightmare of horrors in Bosnia and later in Kosovo. I have in fact chickened out and stuck to the scenic and less scarred areas of the Balkans. It is after all a holiday, not a history expedition. Still one cannot help being curious about the history. And I hear Sarajevo is worth visiting. Perhaps some day...


There is one other factor that I think isn't much mentioned and that is geography. The Balkans are mountainous, which impedes travel and communication between peoples. China is essentially a great plain sloping towards the sea, so it could be unified early in history. Many borders in Europe are along rivers or mountain ranges where separate cultures have evolved on each side. Tribalism persisted into the 20th century with catastrophic results. Ironically these divisions may have helped Columbus discover America because he was able to appeal to a rival monarch when he could not get finance for his expedition. When the Chinese Emperor shut down expeditions in the early 16th century, no one could take a contrary course.


However, one notion that I reject is that somehow the people of the Balkans are less civilised or more barbarous, whatever that might mean, than those of Western Europe. This has always been a prejudice of the West; in novels the unsavoury characters are Bulgarian or Romanian or Albanian or some country that little is known about. No, I think what happened here could happen anywhere else, where behaviour breaks down and thugs take over. That's why the West was so dismayed when this war happened on their doorstep. They thought they were over it 50 years ago.


Slovenia is in the EU now and Croatia is pursuing membership. Sooner or later, Serbia and the others will join. One can only hope that future conflicts will be no more deadly than fists thumped on tables and voices raised in the European Parliament. History might be more boring but far better such boredom than the exciting 20th century we've had.

Plitvice National Park

It's pouring buckets and that settles the question, I have to do Plitvice NP today. There's no point walking around Zadar in the rain. It might be raining less in the NP because it's inland, and besides, water is the main feature of the park and more water should enhance the beauty. That's the theory anyway.

Plitvice is on the road between Zadar and Zagreb, slightly closer to Zadar, under 3 hours by bus. This part of Croatia was occupied by rebel Serbs during the war, not for the NP, but because it controls the road between Zagreb and Zadar. In fact the first two casualties, one on each side, were in a shootout near the NP. Along the way I kept a lookout for remnants of the war. I think I spotted some abandoned houses and some warning signs, perhaps about land mines? I am not sure of the second. One would think that 12 years after cessation of hostilities, the areas near the main road would have been cleared.

However I did witness an odd incident. At a rural bus stop, the driver picked up a woman yet studiously ignored an old man in neat country garb who was trying to flag the bus down. The man waved his stick and yelled but it was as if he were a ghost and didn't exist. Why did the driver do that? Was he one of the hated "others"? Was he the well-known local crazy? Another little mystery.

Fortunately even though the rebels trashed the buildings in the park, they did little damage to the natural environment and the park is open to tourism again. It's one of the biggest tourist magnets in Croatia. There were tour buses a-plenty in the car parks. But the park is big enough to absorb all of them. You could easily spend days enjoying the trails. There are hotels in the complex. Unfortunately I have to make do with one day.

Like Krka, the landscape is formed by limestone. Travertines, sink holes and waterfalls abound. In addition, the lakes are beautiful milky shades of green and blue, depending on the minerals (rock flour) suspended in them and the angle of the sunlight.

Where the water is not churned up, it is crystal clear and you can plainly see fish and calcified wood in the lake.

Wildlife here enjoy a tranquil life and these ducks were quite unafraid of visitors, though of course one is not allowed to feed, let alone molest, them.

I guess the ducks are vegetarian and don't eat the fish.

Water, water everywhere.

Isn't that an incredible colour?

More cascades.

I

'm glad I went in a downstream direction because this is a good finale.

And finally, a map of the lakes.

The clouds had been looking extremely ominous and on the way back, the rain started sheeting down.

Today has been the top experience of the trip so far. I snapped pictures with abandon because the scenery was absolutely terrific. Fortunately I have brought enough memory cards to see me through the trip.

I decided to give Croatian pizza another chance for dinner. No go, still not tasty. I did an experiment: first I removed the cheese, that tasted better. Next I removed the some of the sauce and that was an improvement too. Extrapolating, I can predict that if I remove the topping and the crust, I will end up with the best Croatian pizza of all.

Split and Zadar

The other backpackers in the room, a couple it seemed, came in even later than we did. As it was the eve of Sunday, there was carousing in the streets into the early hours. Seemed like a um, lively neighbourhood. I also heard a catfight. The room was a bit stuffy but fortunately there was a breeze coming in from the window.

We first visited the markets and then had a breakfast of fruits with baked goods on the esplanade. I suggested to the niece that she buy some sweet cherries and flog them to her colleagues or at least wave the fruit in their faces to make them envious.

We had until about midday to do a whirlwind tour of Diocletian's Palace. Then the niece has to catch a shuttle to the airport and I have to catch a bus for Zadar. The palace dates from the 4th century and is very well preserved for its age. Diocletian's home town was Salona, just a few km out of today's Split. We tend to associate the Romans with Italy only but their empire was large and thinking about it, it's not surprising that some of them lived in other Mediterranean lands. Of course Croatia as a nation didn't exist then, there were just colonies of Rome on the coast, such as Dubrovnik.

Diocletian is known for his persecution of the Christians, which would be passé within decades of his death with the Christian Roman Emperor, Constantine. But it seems he was a good reformer and his efforts enabled the Roman Empire to last longer. He also retired from office voluntarily, unusual for Roman Emperors. Sadly he only lived for 3 years in his retirement. The story goes that emissaries tried to persuade him to come back to fix the empire but he declined, saying how happy he was in his garden.

The sphinx in the picture really did come from Egypt.

The whole palace complex is part of the modern city of Split and people work and live (and hang out laundry, I could see) within it. So they are definitely not ruins.

We ended up at the fish markets of Split where we saw these unusual (to us) pink fish. I don't know what they are. I'm sure a search will yield the answer but perhaps someone will tell me.

The niece was a bit worried because the bus left at 1355 (it was intended to connect to a Croatian Airlines flight and not the slightly earlier BA flight) and that was cutting it a bit fine, but the bus driver assured her that it would be ok as the airport was seldom crowded. I had to leave at 1345 for my bus but I promised to check by email later how it went.

I reached Zadar about 1720, with a 20 minute stop at Šibenik, familiar territory. I missed two urban buses going to Puntamika, where the hostel was, the first pulled off just as I reached the stand, and I missed the second because I didn't know that number was also valid. No matter, it gave me time to check the timetables in the station for Plitvice NP. I decided that I should visit the national park the very next day because I didn't want to miss the night bus to Pula two days hence in case the return bus was delayed.

Puntamika is about 5 km out of Zadar. It's an area of resorts and other tourist accommodation. The supermarket was closed early because it was Sunday, so I had a dinner of steak and chips. It was expensive, exceeded only by the fish platter we had in Milna, on Brač, but I felt that I deserved a treat after all that hard travel.

The only other occupant of the dorm was a Japanese backpacker, already asleep when I got back. Someone had been to a Gotan concert from a ticket stub left behind. A heavy downpour started just after my return. Good, I will sleep well.

Brela

We said goodbye to the friendly landlady and her dog and returned the car to the depot. But first to take pictures of her strelitzia and rock art that looks like a duck.

We were early for the ferry so I had a bitter lemon drink at a cafe while the niece mailed a pile of postcards. No doubt to make friends and relatives envious.

Today's ferry is larger than the one we arrived by. It's full of European tourists and their cars, from the different country plates on them.

Just under an hour later we were were back in Split. First thing we did was to leave our backpacks at the night's lodging.

Then we caught the bus to Brela, about 45 km southeast of Split, whose Punta Rata beach is said to be in the top 10 of the world. The highway is far above the water so we had a fair walk down to the town. The strawberries we brought from the market in Split were excellent. Unfortunately some of the juice got on the guide book from being in the same bag. (Note from the future: I mailed that strawberry flavoured guide to my niece in London when I reached Slovenia, in case she wanted to return to Croatia.)

Brela's beach is quite well-maintained and family oriented. There are good tourist amenities here.

It was too rushed to catch the 1815 bus so we decided to dine in Brela and catch the 2115 bus. The walk uphill was quite tiring, and I was soaked when we reached the main road, but we did get a cool journey back to Split.

We had a bit of time left to wander around Diocletian's Palace which is the nucleus of the old city before turning in.

In one of the squares we came across a demonstration of tango.

One month

Today marks a month since I started on my journey. The first week or so you look at your watch, do the timezone translation in your head, and imagine what's happening on the other side of the world, at the same instant, for some Einsteinian approximation to simultaneity. Gradually, you slip into your travel life like a new skin and leave such thoughts behind. You never had a previous life; you've always travelled; you were born with a backpack on your shoulders. No, that's exaggeration, but the memories of a former life do get faint as you deal with the exigencies of the traveller's life. But there are the fraying jeans, and the dwindling supplies to remind you that one day, this too will end. And not a moment too soon.

Brač

"So, starting with Pansion Palute and Bistro Palute, they use the leverage to found Palute Car Rental. From there they build Palute Resort. Next thing you know, Supetar is renamed Palute. A few years later, the island of Brač disappears from Croatian maps to be replaced by the island of Palute."

The niece chuckled. I had just been expounding my humourous fantasy about the future expansion of the Palute empire. This was triggered by the memory earlier in the morning of the booming voice, coming from downstairs, of the landlady giving instructions to the Pansion staff. She certainly was an energetic lady. She had spied us squinting at the morning light on the balcony from the patio and greeted us with a hearty dobro jutro! (good morning!) Besides the friendly landlady, the Pansion also had yummy home made jams. Croatia is one country where they haven't forgotten the old ways and the jams really taste of fruit.

The first order of business was to pick up our rental car at the harbour. We set out clockwise, stopping at villages such as Splitska, which is lodged in a pretty indentation in the coast.

(Note from the future: According to a tourism article, it seems that the stone for the construction of Diocletian's Palace in Split was quarried near here.)

It seems impossible to take a photo anywhere on the Croatian coast without pretty little boats inserting themselves into the picture.

Even large boats insist in getting into pictures, sigh.

But Brač is more than just coast, it also has deep valleys between hills.

By mid-afternoon, we reached our main destination of the day, the seaside resort of Bol and the nearby feature of Zlatni Rat. This has nothing to do with rodents, but means golden cape. Unfortunately I had forgotten to recharge the helicopter attachment for my camera so I can't show you an aerial view, just a side view, but if you browse any collection of Croatian tourist brochures, you will see a picture of it. It's the wedge-shaped promontory that sticks out from the south coast. Sadly, like most Croatian beaches, it is pebbly, not sandy.

We stopped to have a swim. I found that the current was stronger on the west side of the Rat than the east. I also discovered that the beach sloped away sharply into the water so I didn't dare venture too far from shore. The water was not as cold as in Dubrovnik but one round was enough for me.

Sunset found us in Milna, at the western tip of the island. More of those darned cute boats. We decided to dine there. Those winding roads take longer than you think to traverse.

It was dark by the time we took the coastal road back to Supetar, closing our loop of the island.

Trogir, Split and Brač

One of the joys of travel is the prospect of waking up to a prepared breakfast. As this was a classy hotel, breakfast was sumptuous. My insides were feeling much better but I ate warily.

The plan was to sightsee around Trogir until mid-morning, then go to Split to catch the ferry to the island of Brač. Trogir's buildings are well preserved and very attractive in the sunlight.

We bought some cherries and strawberries from the market before taking the bus to Split. It took 45 minutes to get there. As Split is a medium-sized city, we had to transfer to another bus for the harbour. The first thing we did there was to ask the tourist office to find us a room for two nights hence. We wanted to be close to the bus station so that it would be easy for the niece to catch the airport shuttle and and me to catch the bus north on the day. They found us one in a private residence and gave us a voucher in return for payment. Then I found a bakery and we had some pastry with the fruits, sitting on a bench. The strawberries had started to go mouldy in the heat and many had to be thrown out. The cherries were excellent though.

The car and passenger ferry took an hour to cross the channel to the town of Supetar, on Brač, facing Split. (The niece jokingly called it Superstar.) Brač is the largest island in Dalmatia. At the ferry terminal we couldn't raise the Pansion Palute, getting only the whistle of a fax machine. We asked the tourist office for help and they managed to contact the landlady, who drove down to the harbour to pick us up. Her large friendly dog had come along too for the ride.

I had a siesta while the niece did some exploration on her own. She was hungry and so insisted that we dine no later than 7 pm down at the waterfront. While it was great of the landlady to pick us up because of our backpacks, the harbour is actually only a 20 minute stroll from the Pansion; Supetar is that cozy. We ended up at the Bistro Palute which was run by the landlady's brother. We ordered a mixed grill for two. The serving was too large even with both of us, so we surreptitiously gave bits to a friendly but goofy dog who was hanging around the tables.

A few doors away we got a couple of gelati. I was half expecting the gelateria to be Gelati Palute. Then we sat on a bench and chatted, enjoying the mild evening. A late ferry service came in as we watched. Supetar is a tranquil world far from the bustle of Split. Islands are great that way. I wondered if there were people who lived on Brač and commuted to Split for work. Nice home if you can get it.

Trogir

I suspect the prosciutto sandwich I had near Roški Slap. That far out in the sticks, the prosciutto might have been exposed for too long. I was feeling a bit warm after lunch but dismissed it as dehydration. On reflection that could have been the early symptoms of a gastro infection. As a result I visited the toilet several times in the night. At breakfast I tried to avoid heavy food without offending the landlady, who was encouraging me to eat. It was a delicate situation.

The bus station was a shambles. Even the locals weren't sure which platform was which. But it was all sorted out. Today's journey is retrograde, to the city of Trogir that I passed on the way to Šibenik. On the way some shopper's flagon of fortified wine broke on the floor of the bus, flooding the bus with the heady scent of fruit and alcohol. The driver had to pause at a bus stop to dispose of the broken glass. Poor lady, that might have been the family's cheer for the week.

The bus passed the holiday resort of Primošten, which is connected to the mainland by a causeway. This part of the Croatian coast is prime holiday home territory. Everywhere you look there are signs advertising sobe, zimmer and rooms in other languages. I was later told that on the coast visitors can outnumber locals 20 to 1 in high season.

Trogir is a world heritage listed city on an island off the coast, but only just. The channel is so narrow that you could mistake for a river.

I easily found the hotel that I had booked for the night. It was, as the map indicated, just outside the walled city. My niece would be arriving in the evening. I was pleased by the fact that Split airport is only 6 km from Trogir, closer than to Split. So I didn't have to backtrack all the way and face crowded buses like the one 2 days ago. Better still, the municipal bus linking the cities goes past the airport. Of course, at the early hour of 10 in the morning, the room wasn't ready so I deposited my backpack and moseyed over to the old city.

I didn't feel like a full lunch so I settled for a coffee and danish. Then I found the produce markets and browsed for a while, relishing the colour. Also fruit will be better for my stomach at the moment. I noted though that the strawberries in the supermarket came from Italy.

It was a warm afternoon so on return I was pleased by the airconditioning and spotless bathroom. I didn't want to sightsee too much; I wanted to leave something for when my niece would be here. So I surfed the satellite TV. Hundreds of channels of junk: shopping, religion, sport, ad nauseum. Even channels for Cuba, Turkey and Saudi Arabia. But I found a couple of good Deutsche Welle news bulletins and documentaries. I hardly miss current affairs while travelling. Usually when I get home and catch up, there may be one or two items per month that I consider of note. Travel gives you a different perspective, to better see what matters and what doesn't in life.

In evening, I caught a bus to Split airport and fetched the niece. The airport is small and laidback. Back in Trogir we had a late alfresco dinner in the cool evening air just outside the walled city, with a cute admirer watching us for handouts.