Tag Archives: eastern europe

More is More is More — Zadar, Croatia

Leave a reply

Despite only coming to Croatia for 10 days, we have six towns on the agenda. The less-is-more philosophy is hard to follow when traveling.

The Old Town of Zadar is walled in to keep out marauders of old and cars of new. Pedestrian-only streets of cobblestone are worn to shiny so that they look wet in the evening light. The largest street, Kalelarga, means literally “large street.” It is lined with clothing shops and outdoor restaurants. The parallel streets on either side have the cheaper tourist shops and kiosks.

Walking around the crooked side streets, we stumbled onto cozy restaurants with outside seating, raised patios and courtyards. And tourist prices. But while the servers are few and generally harried, they let you linger at the end of the meal to the point where you forget to pay and get up to leave.

Other than walking the streets, there are 14 churches to see in this small area, the oldest of which dates back to the 9th century. We decided to defer entry until the internal light show started at 8 pm, feeling lucky that we’d timed it right based on the poster proclaiming, “Only two days left.” Turns out 9th century architecture can charitably be described as smooth (simple, bare, unadorned, minimalist, upright) and the light show was similarly unprepossessing, consisting of a multitude of office projectors powered by snaking cords, projecting what looked like Celtic designs on the various blank walls. The most interesting part was an unseen pigeon caught in a projector’s beam and magnified to horror-like proportions.

But what Zadar is known for is the sea organ. Made up of slits in the cement sea wall and strategically placed blow holes, the waves roll in to produce a pan pipe-like music combined with whale sounds that rises dramatically when a boat’s wake sends the sea crashing against the wall.

The 30+ degree heat mocked my assertion that I wasn’t interested in swimming or beaches and had me and my sister jumping into the Adriatic to cool off. Very salty. And almost as buoyant as the Dead Sea, so I was able to float vertically, standing up, without having to tread water, much.

To cap off the moment, we pulled ourselves back out of the water to see the sunset perform a crazy sun salutation light show across what looked like an electrical grid sunk into the ground. The rays heat up metal veins that activate mini lights of blue, green, purple, red, making them dance across the large circle. With the sea organ quiet at first, then loud and insistent as the waves roll in, church bells pealing and the grid’s lights set off by the wonder of physics, Zadar more than surpasses the often lukewarm write-ups as not being a picture-postcard town. And made me eager for the rest of Croatia. More is more is more.

Ne Koala — Zagreb, Croatia

Leave a reply

The travel writing book I’m reading begs me to avoid the “I woke up at X, then ate breakfast at Y before having lunch at Z” syndrome. One technique, the author offers, is to write your day in five sentences. So here is my 5-part attempt, although I’m liberating myself from the actual sentence count.

1. Despite having six devices between us, Mom, my sister and I met in Heathrow Terminal 2 at a predetermined location, old school. Some textual challenges getting the messages to come out on the right device with the right app but we’ve figured it out now. This is the family portion of the trip although we are a member short. It’s a milestone birthday for Mom and we’ve assured her that Croatia will make her the coolest traveler among her set. Although I mentioned this being a seniors tour in a previous post, I can’t keep it up in good conscience since Mom can outlast me in stamina and probably outrun me in a foot race. And my sister? No contest. I’m just hoping she doesn’t make us go camping or sea kayaking or rock climbing or spelunking. Now that I reread this, I don’t think she is going to have much fun.

2. Airline apologies have gotten cagier. The plane took off 90 mins late and the pilot’s apology was “We are sorry for the delay. It was either due to the late arrival of the aircraft or actions of the Heathrow air traffic control.” Is that how it works now? Multiple choice apologies? If so, there should be a formula for the options: a) a white lie that makes you sound blameless; b) throw the nearest person under the bus; c) the truth, “completely my fault and here’s why.”

3. I’m looking forward to the food in Croatia based on the airplane snack. Instead of a small bag of dry pretzels, we received a tidy box with cheese and olives in oil, although that just made the cheese taste like olives, and bagel-crisp-like crackers that listed the second ingredient as white wine. Just as champagne brings out the flavour of strawberries or the other way around, free airline white wine brings out the flavour of white wine crackers. Especially when the flight attendant empties the bottle into your glass, because really, there isn’t enough for the person beside you.

4. I slacked on homework to learn even the basics of please and thank you in Croatian. I was reminded of that as we boarded the plane and paused by the flight attendant greeter while waiting for the line to move. My sister pointed to a sign by the door in Croatian with lots of accents and u’s. I said, insightfully,”Oh, wow!” The flight attendant, surprised, “Can you read that in Croatian?” I put on my best, most resolute voice and said, “It says the door must be closed before the plane can take off.” The flight attendant was taken aback but I’ll have a harder time when signs don’t have the English translation right there below the Croatian.

5. As a corollary to #4, I went to the back room of the Zagreb hotel to pay the bill and was chatting with the manager/owner (desk clerk?). He taught me yes (da), no (ne), please (molin) and thanks (sounds like koala with a bit of throat clearing). I asked his name and was practicing different phrases. Probably too enthusiastically as he asked how old I was and when I told him, he said regretfully, “You’re too old for me.” I guess I should dial back chatting up the hotel staff, or practice the phrase, “Ne, koala.”

Come On! Just Go Already! — London, England

Leave a reply

An elderly couple tripped on my heels as Zone 1 boarding was called. When I looked back, they smiled and said, “We’re just following the people who look the richest.” We all automatically glanced down at my faded t-shirt, sweats and scruffy Toms, the closest legitimate shoe to a slipper. “Well, you look like you know where you are going,” they amended. In my defence, I paid extra to get a seat that turns into a bed. Wearing the closest thing I could find to pyjamas just makes sense.

I was boarding business class on a flight to Heathrow, thanks to an upgrade offer I couldn’t refuse and an enormous talent for rationalization, i.e. will I regret paying the extra money in two years. My fellow passengers are on a seniors tour. I’m sort of starting one myself: the coming leg is present from my sister and me for my mother’s 80th birthday. But first, a quick overnight in London to meet up with friends, Brits I worked with in Brazil the summer of 2012. I’m hoping to re-enact our Brazilian cabs rides, singing along to Call Me Maybe on the radio every morning on the ride into work, but really it is just dinner.

London has changed a bit since I was last here. The baggage carousel now has sensors on the chutes so luggage waits patiently for a break in conveyor belt traffic before making a dash for it. Even baggage forms neat queues in England now. Timid bags wait overlong on the edge of the feeder lane despite large spaces on the belt. I found myself rooting for those. And like an anxious parent, hoped my bag would be well-behaved and not fling itself mindlessly on top of another bag, outing itself as embarrassingly North American. Of course, after 30 min, came the carousel rage, “Come on, bag! Just go already!”

But suitcase in hand, one broken Tube, an express train and two underground lines later, I made my way to the overpriced hotel near Kings Cross which I would charitably describe as stable-like. I’m in the equivalent of the servants’ quarters, listed euphemistically as a triple room. I’ll concede that three people could lie down side by side in the room but that is about it.

My reunion dinner was a mix of great food, liberal libations, fond reminiscing and interesting updates: marriage, engagements, new jobs, and someone bought a farm (in a good way, with sheep and chickens). Fun and fascinating and a reminder of how connecting with people melts the years away.

And best of all, my friends redefined my strategy of rationalization. Instead of using a 2 yr measure of regret, they employ the Deathbed Challenge. By that rule, I can see a lot more perks in my future. I don’t intend to regret.

Tomorrow starts the Croatia portion with family before meeting up with a friend for Turkey, Budapest and Krakow. When I’m on my deathbed, will I second-guess breaking my trip to meet up with my London friends for one night only? Not a chance. Come on! Just go already!