Zagreb, Croatia

Zagreb, Croatia

Zagreb is a cool city. Kelly and I stayed in a four star hotel there for four days or so, which was very nice. Somehow, Kelly found a four star for the same price as the three star we stayed in the first night, so we moved (there aren’t any cheap hotels there). Zagreb lacks the ultra-quaintness of Dubrovnik, but is very cool for a bigger (though still not very big) city. We mostly stayed close to home, read, and explored our direct surroundings. There was a Subway (Sandwiches) conveniently located next door. I wouldn’t have expected to be glad to see a Subway, but I was. Talk to me about a truly large soda with ice. Ah, the American things I’ve taken for granted. How all of Europe has not yet discovered ice leaves me dumbfounded.

The beauty in Zagreb was to be found in Plitvice National Park, filled with waterfalls. Kelly and I were both frustrated to find hordes of people in the park. The place is huge; we must have walked 5 miles or more and covered only half of it. But still, almost everywhere we went there were big crowds, frequently coming to a bumper-to-bumper human gridlock. Eventually we adjusted our expectations and had a good time. The waterfall pictures should speak volumes.

From Zagreb we headed to Budapest, which was the first city we’ve been to that I didn’t like. It’s not that it’s a horrible place or anything. I just didn’t find anything I really liked about it. The people were noticeably less friendly than in Croatia (tough act to follow, Croatians are known for their hospitality). The city itself is dirty…not Naples dirty, but it gets second place. The buildings are all covered in a layer of dirt that hasn’t been spray-washed in years. Though Kelly did agree with my assessment of Budapest, I could have been a bit biased, as my back, neck, and shoulders were killing me. I had injured them over the previous days, and the pain really kicked in while in Budapest. One of the sweetest things was I bought some anti-inflammatory prescription pills, 30 of them, at the local pharmacy for $3.50 without a prescription. Yes, we in America are being raped by drug costs.

A Budapest parade described to me as a “Love Parade” also took place while we were there. It was basically a Mardi Gras style parade, with loud music, celebrating masses, and trash covering the ground. I would have loved to participate, but again, my back. Kelly and I watched it from our hotel, which was facing a main stop for the floats. The volume of the music was outrageous. In our 7th floor room with the windows open, we were a full block or two away, and the music sounded as if a stereo in our room was being played at uncomfortably loud volume. Also, there were lots of whistles being blown. Whistles should really be outlawed except at sporting events.

That night, Kelly and I took a one hour cruise along the Danube. While walking along the Danube in the evening, I condemned it because it was dirty looking and smelled like a sewer. I took it back at night (when we cruised), because the smell had gone and the city did look pretty with everything all lit up. Kelly and I shared a romantic tour of the city’s beauty; it was very nice (and included a free drink!).

After two days in Budapest, we decided to stay two more to explore the castle and the Turkish baths (and heal my back). Just after the decision was made, we found out our hotel was all booked up. We always mistakenly say we’ll stay 3 nights, then when we tell them to add days, they’re full. Instead, we really should overstate our stay and shorten it when we want to leave. Anyway, even though we had just decided to stay two more days, we immediately packed up and left Budapest. That’s just how spontaneous we are.

Leaving during my back pain episode proved a challenge. Kelly, bless her heart, carried both of the big backpacks to the train station. I mean we took a cab, but once at the station, she lagged behind me with her pack on her back, and mine being awkwardly switched from being carried in her arms to being worn backwards on her front. It was quite embarrassing and amusing to watch *everyone* in the train station stare in disbelief as I walked past carrying light bags, followed by my girlfriend turned pack mule. When we boarded the train, I rewarded Kelly with an apple and two sugar cubes.

We were off to Vienna, where I write from now. Ah, what a welcome change from Budapest. I sensed it as soon as we arrived, the vibe wafted past me immediately. Everything here is clean and efficient. Take the subway, for instance. Each track has accurate time displays showing when the next train will arrive. The trains look brand new, and are a cool rectangular shape. The doors clack shut with authority. There is no graffiti; the place is spotless. The trains are sometimes slightly crowded, but never jammed full. There is usually an available seat. Upon boarding an escalator, standers immediately shuffle to the right, leaving a perfectly open walkway on the left for walkers. In this organizational panacea, there is no diagonal cutoff, and places in line are respected. Unfortunately, everyone speaks German, but I mean you can’t have everything.

Kelly and I saw another chamber music concert last night. It consisted of music by Mozart and Strauss, contained opera singing and ballet dancing, and was the best concert we’ve seen yet. I would have sworn that I hate both opera and ballet. I really enjoyed both, however. It could be that I didn’t know I liked them, but I think it was more that the performers were that good (and that I was buzzed on Austrian beer). Also, I think opera sung live makes much more of an impact than recorded opera. The notes are so high, contain so much body, and reverberate so much, that it is hard to capture completely through a stereo system. If done incorrectly, it sounds shrill and annoying, which is my basic impression of opera. But not so live (and buzzed). Unlike our previous concerts, the space was acoustically delicious. Adding to the pleasure, their little opera faces were so expressive! I’ve never seen anything quite like it. They would emote whatever the particular song called for (jealousy or romantic interest, let’s say), but in addition to this emotion they also conveyed a huge amount of energy and happiness. More specifically, we were watching actors acting (very effectively) like very happy and energetic people acting like [whatever the part called for]. For me, it worked. I also thought I would never derive pleasure from a man in tights doing high double-kicking jumps, but I did.

In a couple days we will head to Prague, which we heard was really cheap. Perfect.

Dubrovnik, Croatia

Dubrovnik, Croatia

Kelly and I finally met up with Sara and Pierre, our Swedish friends we met in Losinj. We hooked up with them in Bol for another dinner, and enjoyed their company just as much as before, even though all 4 of us were pretty tired for various reasons. After Denmark, Kelly and I will now definitely visit Stockholm, Sweden and our new friends, who live a couple of hours outside the big city.

We took ferry and bus to get to Dubrovnik. Upon arrival, we were bombarded (for the first time) by about 10 apartment hawkers outside our bus. Each frantically opened flipbooks with pictures of their places, and desperately tried to determine who needed a room, and who might waste their time while all the worthy tenants were snatched up by someone else. I denied and just-a-minuted all offers until I could get to our bags, which were stowed underneath the bus. As I was grabbing our bags from the underbelly, I spied a good looking gentleman holding a simple sign with big letters, advertising an apartment with TV and air conditioning (unusually good amenities for a rented room). He had strategically placed himself by the baggage storage, and wasn't hawking to anyone, just standing stoically with his sign. Bingo, there was my guy. Turned out his room was a great deal, and we left with him. Our new host was extremely friendly, chatting us up about this and that. He even carried Kelly's bag, claiming the bag was "not for ladies." When we arrived at the room, he had us park our stuff (where we met his mother who was cleaning the room), then brought us inside his house (same location) and offered us a drink. A few minutes later, his wife and one year old son came out and we met them too. It was a very different experience from what we had gotten used to. It was by far the best hospitality we have received so far.

Before I tell you more about our hosts, I will get out of the way that Kelly and I saw a performance by pianist Ilia Kim. I think she is pretty well known. The classical pieces she played sounded great, and her fingers were simply amazing how fast they moved. The concert was a part of the Dubrovnik festival that happens in July and August. We also climbed up and walked around the wall surrounding the "old city" of Dubrovnik. You could easily see all the destruction from the war, as well as spectacular views on the sea side of the wall. It was pretty freaky, as the wall was only a few feet high...seemed too easy to fall over the wall. The piano concert and the wall were both cool, but did not compare with our experience with our hosts.

Our host's name was Bozo. It's hilarious for a few moments, but it's pronounced "bosho" and would only continue to be funny if he were stupid or clownish, neither of which he was (although he did have big feet). When we first met him, Bozo casually told us that he is a liason for the military, but it wasn't until the next morning when Kelly talked more with Anita (his wife) that we determined the full extent of his military service. Turns out Bozo is a civilian turned commander in the Croatian war in 1991, and is a national hero. As part of this discovery, Bozo graciously offered to take us to the fortress where he defended Croatia and tell us his story. Talk about lucking into a situation. I paid attention as best I could, and will relay to you what he told us. Keep in mind some of the specifics below may be a bit inaccurate due to my very bad attention skills as well as the language barrier. I also took pictures and will refer to them throughout the story. Just open my photo album in a new browser window, and find the correctly named picture from the Dubrovnik section. This way you should be able to read and photo-gaze simultaneously.

As Bozo drove us up the mountain to the fortress, he was going on and on about his shop customers who are "so ssshhtoopid, they wait until it is already very hot to buy an air conditioner. But it is too late. Jesus Christ! They don't know anything. They are idiots!" Bozo would often get worked up about things like this. He wasn't mad, so much as he was passionate about how ridiculous and stupid certain people and things are, and needed desperately to communicate it effectively (can you say Matt Lewis?). His desperation was underscored by his *constant* use of "understand?" at the end of every single sentence, followed by a pause while he ensured you verbally confirmed you were with him.

On October 1, 1991, Bozo was working his job as a reservations coordinator at the nearby Belvedere Hotel, when he heard several blasts very near the hotel. He called a friend at a nearby hotel to see what was going on. He was told the war had begun. Bozo told us it is hard to conceive (in the moment) of an attack being the beginning of a war, since it really just feels like a single attack. But in fact it was the start of a war. The Yugoslavian National Army had secured the airport just outside Dubrovnik, and was now making their way toward the main city. Bozo's hotel was southeast of the main city, between the city and the airport (see Fort 3. the large rectangle shape on the right is the airport. Bozo's hotel was between that airport and the fortress where the picture is taken from. For reference, the main city is to the right of the photo taker).

Prior to 1991, Croatia was a part of the former Yugoslavia, a communist country. A fire spotter we met sitting atop the fortress (his job is to spot and report fires from the superior view atop the fortress) when we visited summed up communism in this way: "Before 1991, I had to work 8 years to buy a color television. Afterward I could buy one in 2 months." He also elaborated with the following account (paraphrased): "My father wanted to be a structural engineer. The Yugoslav government told him he must be a mathematics teacher, because that is what was needed. My father hated teaching mathematics. His life was ruined, until Croatia was freed. Now he builds houses, and is happy." This man made use of the word "slavery", explaining that the Croatians were very prosperous, and were made to hand over their rich profits to Yugoslavia headquarters. Bozo told us that pre-1991, many in Dubrovnik (including himself) worked their official government job, but also worked one or two jobs in addition to generate extra (undeclared) income. Capitalism was starting.

In 1991, Croatia declared itself independent of Yugoslavia. Yugoslavia's response was "Oh, no you DIDN'T!", except in Croatian. We asked Bozo why Yugoslavia was reluctant to allow Croatia to be independent. As his answer, he pointed to the water. Indeed, the bird's eye view (see Fort 2) shows the vast access to the Adriatic that Dubrovnik, and many other Croatian cities, enjoy. Then there's the aforementioned profits they were probably not willing to give up. Plus they were communists, and we all know communists are jerks.

After hearing the explosions on October 1, Bozo told his hotel guests to leave and take refuge in the shelters of Dubrovnik, and informed his boss at the hotel that he would be leaving (he thought for a few weeks, it turned out to be much longer) to defend Dubrovnik. He organized a group of fellow Croatians, around 12 people at first, to fight the invaders.

We reached the fortress, which is a massive stone structure atop a huge, steep hill overlooking Dubrovnik. The fortress was built in 1876 by the French (see Fort 11), to ward off attacks from the (I think) Russians and Austro-Hungarians. This same fortress built to protect the French from arrows and spears was used by Bozo and his army to defend Dubrovnik from mortar fire. (I stole this last sentence from a news report video Bozo showed us when we returned to his place). It held up remarkably well, though parts were damaged (see Fort 10). In the video we saw afterward, Bozo pointed out a scene from early in the war where the perfectly formed stone spire-thingees atop the fortress were in tact, a stark contrast from what we saw when we were up there (mostly destroyed).

Bozo and his army of volunteers were responsible for holding the fortress. Atop it flew the flags of Croatia and Dubrovnik. Bozo told us that if the fortress had been taken by the enemy (and the flags changed), all of Dubrovnik looking up from below would have known they had lost the war. The national army had surrounded the land all around Dubrovnik, and was patrolling the seas by battleship. The fortress was the last stronghold Dubrovnik had, and the only thing between the surrounding Serbian army and the town below (hence the importance of holding it).

Bozo showed us how they prevented access to their fortress. The pathway straight down from the fortress to Dubrovnik (see Fort 4) was safe and used to transport men and supplies (often using donkeys) to and from. To the left (see Fort 5) and the right (see Fort 2), as well as all along the opposite side (see Fort 7), mines were laid. Bozo explained they think they probably got all the mines up after the war, but who knows really. Nobody's too eager to find out.

The Serbian troops (13,000 total throughout the war) advanced closer to Dubrovnik in early November. The Croats were able to hold them for a while. They did this by sending just 1 or 2 men near the advancing troops, and throwing grenades at them. Even though it was just a couple of men, they threw enough grenades to make the Serbian army think it was many more. This had two effects. The multiple grenades convinced the Serbs there were many more men there than there were, so they were held back for longer than they would have been if they knew it was only two guys. Using many grenades was also part of a strategy to use up all of their very limited munitions quickly, a calculated decision to make the enemy think that since they were using them so freely, surely they must have loads of reserves. The belief in plentiful munitions was also aided by what Bozo referred to as the "sshtoopid" Serbian government propaganda. Said propaganda was aided by a certain Croatian POW Bozo told us about. This POW told his captors he had spent the last many months on a Croatian shipping dock unloading crate after crate of grenades and mortars from boats. He made up the story to inflate the Serb's estimation of Croatian strength. This captured man had a Serbian name, however, so the Serbs thought he was on their side politically, and therefore believed him. The "sshtoopid" Serbian army did some quick math based on the POW's story, and concluded the Croats had immense arsenals of weapons, when in fact they had precious few. The language barrier made it hard to understand the exact number of every type of weapon, but I'm pretty sure I was told all of Dubrovnik had 600 rifles, and some super low number of grenades and mortars (with only one or two mortar launchers), and they were prevented from acquiring more since they were surrounded. Keep in mind 600 rifles limits you to 600 fighters, so they were hugely outnumbered. As the Serbian troops neared the fortress, Bozo and his fighters had to be extremely careful with their ammo. They had only 30 fortress troops, and few bullets. Bozo told us of their strategy to fire each rifle once, and wait before firing again. In this way they held back the enemy without wasting ammo.

The Croats were short on other supplies, also. Yugoslavia had cut them off from water, electricity, and communication. Croatians began rationing food and water to their citizens. Bathing and most other cleaning was done with sea water. Bozo told us that they were saved by three neighboring Croatian islands (which can be seen off the coast in Fort 2). Though the national army ships patrolled the seas, the Croatians would boat to the islands during the night and when the seas were rough (to avoid attack), and bring back munitions, men, food, water, etc. Without those islands, they would have had no hope.

As we learned from the video we watched back at Bozo's house, the whole time this war was going on, the national army was pummeling Dubrovnik with mortar fire. From their positions above the city as well as from the Adriatic, the Serbs punished Dubrovnik for Croatia's declared independence. Yugoslavia's harsh, destructive approach was largely unexpected by the rest of the world, but despite pleas for help by the Croats, no other countries intervened militarily to help. The videos we watched showed them firing mortars rather indiscriminately into civilian houses, setting them ablaze. Eventually, having avoided it for the first few weeks or so, the Serbs shelled the "old city", which is the heart of Croatia surrounded by a huge brick wall, built some umpteen hundred years ago (see photos from Kelly and my walk atop the wall). It was (and still is) a national treasure, and it was a further shock to everyone that Yugoslavia was attempting to destroy it to make its point.

By early December, 300 Serbian troops had secured themselves in positions surrounding the fortress. Bozo's men still numbered only 30. In early December, ceasefire negotiations were taking place, and perhaps were agreed to (not sure..again, language barrier). Bozo indicated that all official signs were that they could relax a bit, but he did not trust the national army, and did not relax. On December 6, 1991, the 300 Serbian troops attacked in the biggest day of fighting the war saw (according to my sources). The Serbs shelled the fortress, and sent men in to penetrate it. Those men reached the top of the fortress. Bozo pointed to ridiculously close locations where the Serbian troops were heading towards them.

As the Serbian troups approached the roof of the fortress, Bozo and his men retreated through the access tunnel (see Fort 8 and Fort 14) into the underbelly of the fortress (see Fort 1.5), positioning themselves in its eastern side (away from Dubrovnik) Once the Serbian troops were atop the fortress, Bozo's unit walkie-talkied their support troups, stationed 4 km away in Dubrovnik, and instructed them to fire mortar shells on their own fortress. Bozo and his men had chosen the eastern side of the underbelly because the western side was where the mortars approached from, and strays could have (and probably did) entered the window holes and killed them. Bozo estimates 20 Serbs were killed and 50 were wounded from that mortar attack. He described proudly how the wounded had cried for help as the army retreated, admitting defeat. That was the end of the major fighting. There were other battles and explosions that continued well into 1992, but December 6 marked the major standoff where Dubrovnik had been protected...by the guy we RENTED A ROOM FROM.

Amazingly, only 3 men in Bozo's unit were killed, and none of them in battle. They were shot by snipers while conducting activities such as retrieving land mines from the field and grenades from trucks. Every year on Dec 6, Bozo and his fellow fighters gather at the fortress to remember their victory on the day of the great standoff.

The drive back down the mountain was a stark contrast to the drive up. On our way up, Bozo had been ranting about his frustrations, but as we drove back home, he was silent, calmly enjoying the patriotic, local Dubrovnik music in the tape player. I think by reliving all the details of the war through his passionate re-enactments, Bozo underwent a catharsis that relieved him of his daily tensions. When we got back to his house, Bozo showed us photos of him in uniform showing the fortress to important political figures from the U.S. and Mexico. One of the pictures was him with John McCain, taken last year.

To top it off, that night Bozo and Anita took us out for drinks in the old city. Bozo walked through that old city like a puffed up peacock. He strolled along in an unmistakably confident, near cocky, strut. As we walked, Bozo stopped to shake hands, hug, or otherwise greet no less than 10 people. It was clear he was highly regarded. The drinks were nice, and afterward we got a taste of how hip the old city of Dubrovnik is. Rounding one corner we came upon an outdoor fashion show, complete with huge video screens, cool music, lights, and a runway with models marching along it like gestapo-troops (I have no idea why they're told to walk that way). Another corner brought us to a fully packed courtyard with live percussion music filling the air. Another corner, and loud music from an indoor dance club was pouring out into yet another courtyard. The people were out to see and be seen, and the vibe was pure energy. Naturally, Kelly and I walked right past all of it and headed home for bed. Good thing, too, because our bus ride the next day (starting at 6am) got re-routed due to a fire, and then stuck in ridiculous traffic as an awesome electric storm passed right over the bus. It ended up being a grueling 14 hour bus ride. But we arrived (eventually) in Zagreb, where I am writing from now.

Our hosts in Dubrovnik were incredible. So nice and generous. Bozo's mother (grandma) got up at 5:30am to say goodbye to us, and give us gifts of bookmarks and doilies that she had made. Bozo drove us to the bus station. We only stayed with them for two days (really one and a half), because the room was already rented for the time after that. Kelly and I decided that although we would unquestionably have stayed longer at Bozo's place, we would rather move on than move to another room. Personally, I felt like we hit Dubrovnik just right, doing so much and having so many unique and serendipitous experiences, that I was happy to leave it so soon.

Last post I wrote about my expectations about staying with a family and really "staying" with them, and how I was surprised that how I had envisioned it wasn't how it was. I also wrote of envisioning stumbling upon historic sites, instead of lining up and paying to see them. One post later, and both of those expectations have now been met. We stayed with an incredible family who took us under their wing, and even showed us a historic site which had no lines or tickets (not to mention a guide who was *there* during the historic part). It is irony squared that I pointed out last post that I had expectations that weren't met and now they have been met, since the expectation in my last post (that my original expectations would not be met) was itself unmet. So my expectations still have not been met, but in the best way. How unexpected!

Bol, Croatia

Hello from Bol, a small beach citz on the Croatian island of Brac. The kezboards here look exactlz like American ones, except the z and y kezs are each where the other is supposed to be. Since the stupid internet cafe (the onlz one on the island) won't let me adjust mz kezboard settings (as all other internet cafes have let me do), for emphasis I am not going to correct anz of the z/y mistzpings.

Bol is exactlz what Kellz and I needed. The last few places we've been have all been rather hectic, and Bol is a welcome opposite. It's uncrowded and verz beautiful. Turns out this location was the hardest in which to find a place to staz. The tourist office had none, and all the hotels (which were super pricz anzwaz) were booked. Mz door to door inquiries about rooms zielded a doyen no's before I found a vacancz. Thankfullz, the laws of supplz and demand aren't in full effect here, so our nice room is a reasonable $50 a night.

A short walk from our room is the main part of the citz, which has manz waterfront bars and restaurants. It's similar to Monterrosso (in the Cinque Terre), except here the pace feels even more relaxed, and there are fewer people (in other words, it's nicer). A mile walk in the other direction along a forested walking path is a beautiful beach, with a narrow strip of sand extending out into the water. The island is crawling with Italians. In fact, it feels like we landed back on an Italian island, not a Croatian one. It's obviouslz a big vacation spot for them, and it's smack dab in the middle of Italian holidaz season right now. It has been verz relaxing stazing here. As soon as we got settled we knew we'd be here a while...5 dazs it turns out, as that's when the ferrz leaves for Dubrovnik, our next stop.

At night, three or four bars have television projectors and screens where thez're showing the olzmpics. We watched Michael Phelps get his world record in the 400m medlez, that was great. Verz often thez are showing bad olzmpic events like handball or car racing, so we trz to catch the good events when we see them on. We have no TV in our room – it's been like that for weeks now. Mz CNN craving has slowlz been replaced bz an olzmpic craving. I'm keeping up to date on news bz reading Time, Newsweek, and the Economist. I have enjozed reading tremendouslz on our trip. I'd like to saz I'm turning over a new leaf, but I'll probablz revert to television and online poker once I'm back home and have several media competing for mz more limited free time.

Wow, there are more words containing the letters z and y than I thought.

Here, as in Losinj, Kellz and I have been reducing our budget deficit. Unlike the current Bush administration, I believe it's important to keep a balanced budget, especiallz when traveling while unemplozed. I will go ahead and divulge that mz target budget, chosen before we left, is $200 a daz while on the European leg, and $100 a daz while on the Asian leg. This probablz sounds like too little to some and too much to others. Turns out it's working prettz well so far. $200 seems like a lot, but the first month and a half of countries were all on the Euro, and $200 currentlz onlz buzs zou €160. That can easilz cover a daz for two, but gets more complicated when rooms get pricz or we take a boat trip that eats up most of the daz's budget (not to mention that British magayines, some of the onlz English reading material here, cost double their cover price). So we were over budget after Greece and Italz. Layz dazs in Bol and the rest of Croatia, however, are allowing us to correct the trend, and we should have a balanced budget again in a couple of dazs.

Kellz and I also decided zesterdaz that we want more time for Europe. Under our original flight plan, we would onlz have 4 more weeks, which is too short. We've now added Denmark to the list of destinations, and agreed while we're there we maz want to check out Sweden (and our new Swedish friends, if thez ever write me back). I emailed our ticket broker to ask her to trz to push back all our intermediate flights bz two weeks (which costs nothing as long as there are available flights), so we'll see. The extra time will come out of Thailand. Due to mz fortunate miscounting, I had scheduled us to staz in Thailand for 5 weeks, which zou actuallz cannot do in Thailand (due to visa restrictions). So we plan to knock out two weeks there, reducing total time spent in Thailand to a respectable 3 weeks. I've been there and know the good places to hit, and three weeks will be plentz.

Now, on to mz amuying muying, which I have had much time for in this relaxed environment. It occurred to me zesterdaz that from what I had read about Croatia, I had assumed that we would be stazing in natives' extra rooms. That's what we're doing, but I had pictured it more like a ˝student abroad˝ situation, where we live with a familz in their house, possiblz eat with them, etc. Turns out this just isn't the waz it works. The rooms for rent are tzpicallz manz within each house, and are rented out just like a hotel room, except the landlord is more personallz involved and there's no pool, TV, or AC (oh, and the price is 1/3 of a hotel). But it's not the cultural catillion I had imagined it might be. I also now realiye that kind of situation would be fairlz painful due to the language barrier. I alwazs underestimate the language barrier when imagining travel. It is a serious limitation in getting to know the locals when neither of zou speaks the other's language with anz proficiencz. I was also reflecting on realitz's difference from expectations as it applies to seeing the sites. Some places like Rome I wasn't expecting much from, but was blown awaz. Others, like the blue caves in Kefalonia and Yakinthos, were reallz beautiful, but I had imagined stumbling upon their awesome beautz, not lining up at a ticket counter and pazing to be ushered in to see the wonders one bz one. I tried hard, and largelz succeeded, in not having manz expectations before the trip, but of course there were a few lurking. I haven't experienced disappointment so much as a confirmation that things are so often not how zou are expecting them to be, even if zour expectations were a few seconds ago unknown to zou.

Croatian food is verz similar to Italian food. Almost everz place serves piyya, pasta, salads, squid, fish, and basic meats. The food is excellent. Kellz and I have zet to trz the traditional Croatian foods (there's a beef stew one), but we will. It re-occured to me zesterdaz how sillz it is that all the restaurants here are identical. Almost everzwhere in the States, at least most everzwhere I've been, each restaurant has a theme: Italian, Mexican, Asian Fusion. This is basic varietz, and makes good sense. But here in Croatia, and everz single other place we've been so far (with two exceptions in Rome), the rows of restaurants all serve the exact same food. We often stop to look at each place's menu, but I don't know whz, as thez differ onlz in how well thez've translated the same 10 menu items into English. If there were just one Mexican familz who opened a restaurant, thez would make a killing (where is Taco Bell?). It's quite amaying to me that in America we go to a Greek place or an Italian place, and it's trulz an all encompassing representation of everzthing thez eat in those countries. It would be like everz restaurant in America onlz serving burgers and fries. Speaking of burgers and fries, McDonalds is one exception almost everzwhere we've been.

A few Italians must have broken their code of silence about the diagonal cutoff and other related cutoffs. I know this because the Croatians are practicing this until-now-clandestine maneuver. I was second in line at the grocerz store todaz to buz some hand-sliced lunch meats, when a Croatian woman walked right past me on the side, and wedged her waz between me and the person in front. It wasn't an unpracticed wedge, either. She wedged just enough so that it was clear she was verticallz closer to the counter, even though she was still largelz to the side of me. I didn't notice until Kellz pointed it out, and bz then it was too late to make a fuss (not to mention overwhelming pressure not to make a fuss in a foreign countrz where zou don't speak the language and aren't familiar with the customs). Then, seconds later, it happened again. Even though I was on wedge guard, offender number two (also a woman!) used the unattackable ˝quick question˝ strategz. Granted it was spoken in Croatian, but the bodz language and inflection were unmistakable – it was the old I-just-have-a-quick-question-so-I'll-go-first maneuver. This is mostlz allowable in America, save for the most strenuous line conditions. Problem was, her quick question got answered, then she had another, and finallz, she started ordering bread. I wasn't in a hurrz and was not frustrated bz this, but instead amayed. It's just baffling to me that despite mz place in line, people will issue what feels so inherentlz like an insult bz walking right around me to get served first. And this from a countrz whose people are otherwise extremelz thoughtful and accomodating. Clearlz the large Italian presence on Brac has infected the locals.

Okaz, one more rant. I've caught manz people taking video with camcorders while on vacation. Now, I'm all for the camcorder and home movies. But people are taking stock footage of buildings, sailboats, etc. as thez walk around the various cities. Thez're not taping themselves or perhaps a travel partner, or even anzthing else that moves, but just stationarz citz sights. Nobodz will ever watch these videos (while awake). Video exists so zou can watch things move. If zou're going to document things that don't move, take a picture. As a guz who has taped a lot of boring stuff, I know what I'm talking about.

And......end rants. And post. Bze until next time.

Losinj & Split, Croatia

Losinj, Croatia

Split, Croatia

Kelly and I took a fast hydrofoil from Venice to Losinj, Croatia. The trip itself was efficient and speedy. Getting off the boat was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. There were about 300 people on the boat, which was an all-interior cabin very similar to an airplane. Everybody crammed toward the single exit to get off, which was made very difficult because the baggage was stowed right astride the exit, so people were cramming away from the exit to get their luggage, then trying to re-cram the other way to exit. Normally, even this chaos would take only a few minutes. However, the Croatian government, in their wisdom, decided the best way to check passports was one by one AT THE SINGLE EXIT POINT OF THE BOAT. Imagine a 767 plane with one exit, where each person’s passport is being checked by a single official at said exit, and each person’s baggage is five rows *behind* where they’re sitting. I took a picture of the madness. Kelly and I forced our way through the baggage crowd to escape in an amazingly quick (considering) time of a half hour. After we went to two tourist centers to find a room (this took about 40 mins), we walked past the boat and saw people still coming out one by one.

Croatians, at least many of them, are scary looking people. The men’s mere presence often makes me extremely nervous, until, that is, their eyes soften and their face forms a smile, and I’m reminded they’re just big teddy bears. Teddy bears that look like they could rip your intestines out. Croatians are big. Much bigger than Italians. This is excellent for me, as I was able to pick up a pair of stylish leather sandals, which were simply unavailable in my size in Italy.

As we learned in Losinj, the Croatians speak Croatian, which sounds a bit Germanish (not really, but more Germanish than Italian). They also speak German, Italian, and English, mostly due to the tourists I’m guessing. In Losinj, English was by far the least spoken of the 3 non-Croatian languages, and often we had to communicate in what little Italian we know. We’re now in Split, where English is much more prevalent. We stayed 4 nights in Losinj, mostly to recuperate. We didn’t do much there. I tweaked my neck and needed to rest it, and we had just been moving very quickly, especially in Venice where we came from.

Mali Losinj is a little port town making a big horseshoe shape around the water. There were many vendors selling fruit from boats docked near the main square. At night, the square turned into a big gathering place with street vendors and artists, and kids running amok. Kelly commented many places we’ve visited have big squares like this where you can get ice cream, sit at an open area bar, or just hang out. She noted these places really don’t exist back home. A shopping center is the closest you get, and it’s just not safe for kids to run around.

Our first full day in Losinj, a huge thunderstorm rolled through. It was awesome. The storm was absolutely unlike anything I’ve ever seen in San Diego. Enormous claps of thunder, many of which made me jump up and whimper to Kelly like a schoolgirl, they startled me so much (when they got close). At one point, the storm moved away from us, and from our balcony we had a view of about 120 degrees of constant visible lightning, both sheet and streak. Many times the streak lightning would strike 3 times in one area, so by the time your eyes tracked over to it, you could really get a good look at it. It was so continuous that the thunder never stopped, just varied in intensity. I hope (and Kelly does more than me) we get more storms, especially ones like this that started just as we were getting back to our room.

Kelly and I found a delicious restaurant where we ended up eating 3 nights in a row, and (brace yourselves) ordered the exact same thing all 3 nights. Vegetarian pizza and grilled calamari (although one night we were brought friend calamari instead). The calamari was the best I’ve ever had. Not a hint of chewy, and delicious despite lack of sauce (just a little olive oil and lemon, methinks). The veggy pizza was also the best pizza we’ve had so far, including Italy. The food in Croatia is as good as Italy, in my opinion. Their pastas and caprese salads do not compare, but their pizzas and fish are as good or better.

The next day I invited the two neighbor couples in our room complex to dinner. They agreed. One couple was from England, the other from Sweden. They were both very nice. Kelly and I took to the Swedes, Pierre and Sara, the most. Sara is extremely warm and gentle, and seems like she’s probably smart and creative underneath. Pierre is a garrulous, good natured jokester. One of his comments to us was, “I hope I don’t offend you. I don’t know how to say this…but you two seem skinny for Americans.” He’s a crackup. His inflection and humor remind me of my friend Morten’s from Denmark. We exchanged emails with the Swedes, and are going to try to meet up later in our Croatia travels if we can.

There’s this gelato server in Losinj who has mastered a little routine to draw in customers. He throws the scoops in the air and re-catches them in his scooper. Then when he hands the cone to people, he performs one of the following:

1. The Double Cone – patron grabs cone, which turns out to be a second cone housing the main cone. When server takes main cone away, patron is left with an empty cone.

2. The Upside Down Fake Out – right when patron is about to take the cone, server tips cone upside down (which still grips the thick ice cream), then rights the cone.

3. The Vertical Cone Drop – right as patron is about to grab cone, server drops cone, so that patron is left with his fingers in the ice cream (just a bit, not enough to anger).

Usually he employed these tricks in order (1, 2, then 3). He also would wing scoops across the terrace to his server buddy, who would catch them in his mouth. After this, he would sometimes then wing one at a customer, who would freak out until it became apparent it was a plastic ball looking like ice cream. This whole ice-cream routine was extremely fun to watch, and the crowds simply loved it. Kelly and I stopped to watch every time we passed, agreeing it never got old. I think the ice-cream guy had some clown training, as he had that good-natured quality that made us want to keep watching. I have a couple videos of this routine…for later.

On our final day, Kelly and I went to the local swimming hole, where Kelly and I swam, then found an unoccupied two person seat/swing, and just hung out for an hour or so. It was one of those times we’ll look back at and say, “Remember that swing, where we didn’t have a care in the world? That was great. Alright, I’m off to another grueling day of work and stress.”

From Losinj we overnight ferried to Split, where we are now. Split is a thriving city, with an old palace in the center that is so big you don’t notice you’re in an old palace (it’s big with tons of restaurants and shops within its walls). There’s an enormous fresh fruit market open every day, lots of foot traffic (many narrow pathways reminiscent of Venice), internet cafes, gelato, sunglass shops…sort of a standard biggish city like the ones we’ve seen earlier. At dinner last night Kelly and I agreed it doesn’t have a super-strong cultural feel or sights enough to make us feel like staying here very long. We will leave tomorrow after only two days. This is to the great dismay of our room landlady, who stopped into our room every 15 minutes to repeat, “Split nice? You stay three nights.” We negotiated a price for 3 nights in the beginning, and today we knew it would now be two. She came into the room this morning and said, “Three nights, yes? You pay now.” After an awkward silence, I panicked and said I needed to get money. You gotta understand, this woman has a presence, and throws a smile that says, “We’re friends now, but if you cross me I’ll burn you while you sleep.” We came back and said it would be two nights, and she was cool about it, if not a little distant. We’re going to buy her flowers or something, especially since she let us use her washer to do laundry.

As usual, Kelly is feeding the local cats, which are almost all wild here. I am buying $12 magazines because they have stereo mags in English for the first time in 6 weeks. I also bought a couple of books, which have been sorely lacking until now. Today we passed by a square where there was a 6 man acapella singing group. They were very, very good. I found out they are amateurs who enjoy keeping alive their traditional Croatian songs. For amateurs with no major singing education to speak of, they are *incredible*. I sat and listened for the whole hour or so they sang, and bought the CD they had for sale, as I’m quite fond of acapella harmony groups, like Take 6 and the King’s Singers. I am not fond of the fact that I am using the word “fond”.

Overall, I have found Croatians very cordial and friendly. Waiters seem eager to ensure you have a good experience, and are sincerely apologetic when things go wrong. I think the friendliness is more striking because the people look like they should be beating you up. Aside from the people, Croatia doesn’t seem to have an overwhelming sense of anything in particular. It could be that their culture is just mellow, or that I have been traveling long enough now that it will take an India to bash me over the head with culture shock.

Kelly and I will pick a Croatian island (most likely Brac or Vis) and leave for there tomorrow. We heard Croatia gets better the further south you go. We’ll see.

Venice, Italy

Venice, Italy

On our last night in the Cinque Terre, Kelly and I ate at Miky's again. Once again, we ordered up our pesto pasta for two (I took pictures this time). I must stress that eating this pasta is a full body experience, not merely tasting great food. Since it's sort of a pricy place, we had planned to eat just the pasta and some grilled vegetables for dinner. After we had sopped up the last of the pesto with our bread, our eyes met, and our next move was decided before we confirmed it verbally. We ordered another round of pasta for two. In fairness, two portions there would be equivalent to one portion at any one of a number of gluttonous American restaurants. But they still teased us (in a good way) about how much we liked their pasta. The first time we went there, I had joked with the waiter about ordering pesto for dessert. The second time, I wasn't joking.

I also forgot to mention that the first time we ate at Miky's, our booth was next to a young American couple that had clearly just met at the beach that day (or not long before). Their communication was dripping with first-date-in-a-romantic-location drivel. Kelly and I eavesdropped as they exhausted every superficial category in existence, all the while laughing and agreeing indiscriminately at each other's middle-of-the-road opinions, each carefully crafted so as not to jeapordize the eventual sex to take place at the hotel of the one who first offers, "You wanna check out my room?" The part that made me almost laugh out loud (and give myself away as an eavesdropper) was this:

Guy: Do you watch Sex and the City?
Girl: I've seen a few, my roommates get HBO.
Guy: So is that where you got your sex education?

This is perhaps the most awkward transition to talking about sex I've ever heard, or even can conceive of. It would be bad enough if she had brought up sex and the city, but he did. Everyone knows from volleyball it is illegal to spike a ball you yourself just set. It makes it all that much more embarrassing when said spiked ball goes straight into the net. Fear not for our hopeless romantic, however. I could tell by the girl's constant flirty giggling and desperate agreement with everything he said that he was going to get the side out.

The day after our second Miky's gorging, we headed to Venice. I didn't know much about Venice other than the water that permeates the city. I learned so much in the two days Kelly and I lasted there. Don't get me wrong...it's not a bad city. I just found it overwhelming and Kelly and I were both itching to move on after only two days. I'll try to break it down.

Venice was hot. The temperature was not necessarily hotter than anywhere else we've been. I think it felt hotter because there was no wind, as the narrow streets are all blocked by big buildings. Plus I think there's something about stagnant water that makes it hotter. Overwhelming factor number one, or perhaps the factor enhancing the other factors, was heat.

Venice is impossible to navigate. Some may find this part of its charm. I didn't. The city is a quite literal maze. The tiny streets bleed from one to the other with little zig-zags so you never know what street you're on (rendering a map virtually useless), and when you don't take the exact correct sequence of turns, you end up at a dead end or on the wrong side of the water that separates you from where you want to go (it is a little known fact that the city architect of Venice went on to design Horton Plaza). Some say it's fun to get lost, but really this assumes you can find your way back at some point. I will mention here that Kelly is in charge of navigating, as I have some sort of genetic handicap in this area (documented as early as six years old...honestly). Every time I intervene (and there have been a few times, once in Venice), things go horribly wrong. Clark must have been the navigator of the famous explorers, cause it sure couldn't have been Lewis. Anyway, a shizout izout for Kiznelly!

Venice is foot traffic gridlock. It is the walking equivalent of a one-lane highway on a 15% grade uphill climb littered with huge semi's. Each of Venice's streets is exactly as wide as two people plus a stingy allotment of personal space for each. Therefore, body traffic on each street is one way in each direction. This is problematic enough, but added to it is that stores line most streets, so you've got most people stopping dead in the highway to window shop. Extreme crowds make it even worse. Kelly commented that the city had approximately two times the number of people in it as when she was last there (during a May). Many times I was the frustrated porsche slip streaming around all the lollygaggers. But I never, to my knowledge, pulled the diagonal cutoff. The most annoying of all walking maneuvers, I believe this one to have been invented in Italy and kept within the country's borders. An Italian is walking parallel next to you. You're doing your best to walk a straight line guided by lines in the road, the sidewalk, the storefront, whatever. The Italian then walks a diagonal line, crossing directly in front of you, forcing you to slow down or slam into them. They do this with the ease with which they will scoot in front of you in line, as if you had been saving their place. Worst of all, when you prepare to yell at them, you're paralyzed by how damn good looking they are.

For these reasons Venice was overwhelming. As the overwhelm built up over two days, however, Kelly and I had some great times. St. Mark's Square attracts hundreds of pigeons. They are a special breed of pigeon that have a greatly reduced fear of humans (or a greatly increased desire for food). We bought pigeon food, held out our hands, and pigeons would fly onto our arms and hands and eat the food right out of it. It was awesome! I loved it, and so did Kelly. We fed the pigeons six bags of food over two days, and still wanted to do more. I no longer hate pigeons, as now we are bonded. They're just hungry, that's all...don't pigeon hate. The funniest part to watch was the pigeons fighting over the food. These are the most overfed, gluttonous pigeons in history, and they're still fighting over who gets to eat. Sometimes a fat, thick-necked alpha pigeon would land first, in which case he would be the only one to eat. As other lesser pigeons would fly by your hand, alpha would merely move his neck toward the contender and he would be warded off. The fun came when a couple of similar status pigeons would battle. I kid you not, while eating side by side, the pigeons would casually lift one wing and smack it on the back of the pigeon at their side, in an attempt to encourage them to retreat. The casualness of the smack (which is conducted without any disruption of the gorging) is simply hilarious, and somehow makes me think pigeons are smarter than I thought. That overestimate was corrected every time the pigeons resorted to more ordinary beak jousting. For Kelly and I it was a game of chicken (this expression should really be called a game of pigeon)...how long could we support three or four pigeons on our arm while they fight each other, before we dread the scratching and drop our hand, forcing them to fly off. Man, I miss those pigeons.

We also attended a violin concert held in a church. It was very intimate and cool. They played mostly Vivaldi and two other composers. For those interested (and by those interested I mean Noah), I will post a photo of the playlist. One guy playing what I believe is called a Violincello was super animated, and I'm talking about Beck's guitar player type of over-animated. He was really fun to watch, and quite hilarious playing next to the seven other super-stiff-by-comparison musicians. He played a featured piece for an encore and kicked ass. I took a video of it, but it and many other videos are not convenient to post, so interested parties can view them once we get back.

Earlier that day, we attended the Guggenheim museum, which is a modern art museum housing Picasso, Pollack, and many others. My favorite was a painting of nothing with lots of cool colors by Jackson Pollack. And yes, there were many that could have been drawn by a three year old or an engineer with a protractor and ruler, but they were few enough that I didn't get incensed.

Kelly and I decided not to do a gondola ride. They are like €70-€100 and apparently you have to fight to keep them from dropping you off after 20 minutes. It was quite interesting/sad how the gondoleers pimp people for rides, then float along with their passengers like boxcars following the same track. Kelly and I will wait for the real thing next time we are at the Venetian in Vegas.

A couple of closing comments about Italy:

Great food - Amazing pastas and pizzas, but there's nothing new there.

Low pants - Women in Italy wear the lowest pants ever (at least that's what Kelly has told me, I don't notice those kinds of things). And pants are already very low in the States. Pants in Italy are often worn so low that those hip bones, and the super low, separately-indented part of the stomach they guard, are fully displayed.

Shameless fashion-snobbery - Seemingly every woman in Italy carries a bag that has the words "Pinko Bag" on it in shimmering glitter. It's made by the designer, you guessed it, Pinko. Now I understand buying, say, a BMW or a Rolex. Yes, they are very pricy and have a status associated with them. But they are also known for being much higher quality products than average. It is going to be hard to convince me that these Pinko bags, which are simple canvas tote bags, are somehow superior in quality to all those "inferior quality" canvas totebags. What makes it so ridiculous is that the designer doesn't even bother to dream up an embarrassingly simple pattern to announce its status, like Gucci does. Pinko simply labels in plain English that the bag is made by them, and women buy it merely to show the world who made the bag. Which is ironic, because most were made illegally in China and bought from Africans on the street for €3.

Italy was great. On to Croatia.

(I posted more pictures from Rome. Cinque Terre and Venice photos are coming soon, as well as Croatia posts. The internet sucks here in Losinj, Croatia.)

Cinque Terre, Italy

Cinque Terre, Italy

We saw Simon and Garfunkel at the Roman Colosseum. It was a good show, or at least it seemed like it from where we were. There must have been many tens of thousands of people out for the show. Kelly and I actually got there 5 hours before the concert, and had spots right near the stage (50 to 75 yards away). While I held the spots, Kelly left to check on a hillside view we had spotted on our way into the main stage area. She returned, claiming it was a great spot. I wanted to stay where we were, but the security had closed off the front section where I was, and they wouldn't let Kelly back in. Decision made. We left and went to the grassy area, where we were all alone. At least we were alone 5 hours before showtime. By the time the show started, the grassy area, as well as everywhere around it, was packed. I was sure we would be able to hear and see the concert just fine from where we were, but it turned out to be hard to hear (and we couldn't see at all). We could hear alright if we cupped our hands behind our ears like satellite dishes and bent our ears forward a bit (have you tried this? It's amazing how well it works). We ended up walking around a bit during the concert, finding some places where we could hear well, but the thick crowds triggered Kelly's claustrophobia. I must admit, I was bummed we hadn't stayed where we were originally, but there was no way to know that was best until afterward. Even though our concert experience was close to the sound of silence, I tried to feel groovy, since an island never cries. Also I said bye bye to my love little Suzie who I wanted to wake up (the Everly Brothers played too, but come on, what can you do with only two popular song titles?).

We left Rome and made our way to the Cinque Terre, where I am writing from now. We've been here 4 days, and are planning to leave tomorrow. It's a real nice little area. We're staying in Monterosso, the largest of the 5 cities. Yesterday we hiked to all 4 others (quite the little 5 hour hike, much of it straight up or straight down). We were saved by the weather - it has been cloudy since we got here. The hikes would have been simply brutal if the sun were out. The towns are each distinct, but the other 4 all feel more authentically small-townish to me. They've got more cobblestone (or whatever) buildings and walkways, have fewer shops, and are physically smaller. If I return, I will stay in Vernazza, my favorite from the quick glances we got. It wasn't worth it to move our bags there to stay, however, as we found an awesome apartment in Monterosso. Same price as the cheapest hotel, and three times the size (plus it has a washer).

The Cinque Terre is where pesto was invented. How much better/different could it be from pesto anywhere else? A whole lot, it turns out. Specifically at one restaurant named Miky's. Holy carbohydrates was it good. They make each pasta in a big dish which they cover the top of with dough. The dough cooks until it puffs up with steam (visual: picture an old fashioned stove popcorn container), finally springing a hole and spewing steam from the top like a geyser. Once cooked, the dough tastes very much like Naan bread, only its underside is moistened from the pasta goodness. The pasta itself was indescribably good. We loitered like starving cats outside Miky's last night hoping it would open again, but it was closed on Tuesdays. Tonight we feast again!

The other restaurant we tried was not as good as Miky's (though still good, mind you, this is Italy). The lowlight at the time, and therefore the highlight I will mention here, was when I wanted to know the fish of the day. Our waiter fetched his feisty daughter/random-female to make the English with us. It went like this:

Me: What's the fish of the day?
Her: Ogardshva (or whatever...it was nothing I'd heard of)
Me: What's it like?
Her: Fish.
Me: (Trying harder) What...is...taste....like?
Her: Ah.....you know......FISH!
Me: Gracie.

She was right...it tasted like fish. Speaking of, we've eaten our fair share of fish, each with an unwelcome plethora of little bones. They serve the fish whole on the plate, complete with eyes, gills, and (worst of all) bones. After a meal of picking the tiny annoyances from my mouth as I sort them from the fish (a task reminiscent of tying a cherry stem into a knot, which I cannot do), I vow (temporarily) never to order fish again. Can't they invent a boneless fish? I mean come on. I was sure that invention would be right on the heels of the seedless watermelon.

Kelly and I are off to Venice tomorrow, or at least to somewhere on the way to Venice. Also, I found a firewire connection, and was able to retrieve and post the photos from Athens, which are in a new folder on the photos page. More Rome photos and Cinque photos in a few days. Enjoy.