Um.. . Tunj

The "token" baroque church.  They also have a Jewish temple or two, dozens of mosques, and a few christian chruches (catholic, orthodox, ect, ect.)

Perhaps we have not fully given you a glimpse of what seperates Sarajevo from the modern world that we all live in.  Let's attempt to give you that glimpse by describing our trip to the National Museum.  It is important to note here that we really wanted to go to this museum because there was an exhibit "Sarajevo Under Siege" which portrays life in Sarajevo during the war that we really wanted to see.  In fact, we wanted to go to this museum so badly that we decided not to do an offered tour we were otherwise planning to do (paid more money to go on a shorter tour) because the museum hours would not have fit with the original tour plan (note:  museum hours short and spotty- our first hint).

So as to not sweat our clothes all the way through, we decided to take the tram to the museum rather than walk the whole way.  The tram ride was sweltering hot, so hot that your arms slipped off the person that was packed in next to you.  Janna ended up next to the ticket validation machine, and got to play ticket validator for a good 8 or so people that could not get to the machine themselves.  By the time we oozed off of the train, faces were red and we were thrilled that we had guessed and gotten off at the right stop (we knew this because we could see the famous Holiday Inn that we knew was near the museum).  Somehow we got quite lost enroute, but found ourselves again and made it.  Paid the entry fee of approximately $2.50 (it is only 1.25 for locals) and asked where the toilet was.  We were directed upstairs to 1 of two of the museums exhibits. 

Well, there was no bathroom up there but the exhibit that we wanted to see was there so we started looking.  It was a crazy juxtaposition.  The material (the pictures, the artifacts, the descriptions) was very powerful and well organized and thought-provoking and non-biased.  Really exceptional quality.  But at the same time, these beautiful, impressive authentic (original) photos and newspaper articles were mounted literally on a contstruction paper background covered with plexiglass.  The construction paper was faded and you could notice sometimes where a picture or description had slipped down, revealing the original darker color of the background.  There are all of these homemade guns and other household items that people of Sarajevo made while the city was under siege (for almost 4 years- the longest siege of a city in modern history) in unsealed cases.  It was honestly heartbreaking to think that in 10 or 20 years the artificacts will begin to be destroyed.  We should add here that it was probably 95 degrees in the museum room with skylights letting the sun fade everyting.  The humidity was also quite high.  Along with the other 2 people in the museum, we were dripping sweat.  Remember, this is the National Museum of Bosnia Herzegovina and most of their pictures and information will be destroyed at some point in the reasonably near future. 

After 1.5 hours of sweaty reading and looking, we could not handle the heat anymore so did not look at the exhibit about Sarajevo's history before the recent war.  As we headed downstairs to try and really find the bathroom on our way out, smoke filled the stairwell- of course smoking is permitted in the National Museum.  The windows on the stairwell were so grimy that you almost could not see out.  Sue asked where the WC was (toilet had not worked before obviously) and we found it.

Sarajevo is an old beautiful city that has a lot of hidden charm a huge amount of potential.  It is vibrant, there are lots of young people, there are beautiful old buildings and a rich history.  The countryside around the city is absolutely breathtaking.  But the city has a lot to do to reach be a touristic charming mecca.  There would be a marked difference if just trash were picked up from the river and the side of the road, if windows were cleaned regularly and if lawns were mowed.  So, back to the bathroom.  Another perfect example of Sarajevo.  There was no working light inside the unisex bathroom and therefore the door could not be shut all the way and we needed to stand guard for one another.  Luckily, the only other person at the museum was still upstairs.  There was toilet paper (better than the experience Sue had at the Tunnel Museum earlier today) and it hung in a grocery bag on the door handle.  The sink "worked" but the handle was broken so it took some jerry rigging  to turn on and off and there was certainly no soap or anything to dry your hands on.  Remember, the National Museum of Bosnia Herzegovina.  At this point, we were so hot and hungry that we had to go outside (we had been hoping for a small cafe or ice cream stand or water at such a famous museum, but we were wrong).  Luckily, we had a can of tuna stashed in our bag, so in the relieving coolness of the 90 degree ouside temperature, we ate our can of tuna (they make tuna here that comes in a can with corn and beans and tomatoes and green beans and has a pop top- it is called mexican tunj- AMAZING food by the way).

Not cat food, yummy human tuna-drianed.  Unfortunately all tuna here seems to be in oil.  We can find no Tunj in Voda.  See the beans?  (Well, 99% sure it is human tuna.  Our Bosnian isn't 100%).

Sue draining the tuna on the muesum steps.  Notice the grass growing around the tiles.  Don't worry, the can made it to the dumpster two blocks away (don't even ask if they recycle here)

Something we have picked up from talking to Sasha (the man at the restaurant last night) and our tour guide (Heron) today is that the people of Sarajevo  worked so hard just to survive during those four years, that many of the people are now content just surviving.  The official unemployment rate is about 50%.  I guess that we need to remember that so many children died and so many civilian men and women died during the seige that the scars of war are not gone.  Even though 80% of the buildings have been rebuilt, they still remember.  For young adults our age, their childhood was wrecked by war and they remember that.

The very ugly, expensive (some rooms as high as $600/night) and visible "Holiday Inn"

Earlier in the morning, before the museum event, we went on our first "guided tour" of the summer.  It was a three hour tour highlighting the war in Sarajevo (do you sense a theme of what we are interested in??).  Our tour guide, Heron, a 17 year old boy was very patriotic and enthusiastic and very adamant with his views.  If only for the point of view that we heard throughout the three hours from him, it was definately worth our time and money.  It was remarkably interesting to hear someone unabashadely tell their story and share their view (and presumably the view of atleast some other citizens of Sarajevo).

In the background, the white and darker large swirl is a civilian cemetery from during the siege.  It used to be a park.  The whiter makers are the graves of Mulsim people(Bosniaks), while the darker graves are those of the Christans (Catholic Croats, and the Orthodox Serbs that stayed behind to fight with the city's defenders)

If you are having trouble seeing it in the picture, look just above the three identical towers.  It is much larger than it seems.  

It definately feels like time to move on, because you would need to stay a week or more to delve much deeper into the city.  At some point, we'd like to be back here to explore the Bosnian countryside in greater depth; it truly is a beautiful place with a very rich history and wonderful, kind, helpful people.

Janna in front of the house that hid the tunnel under the airport.  It was a half mile long tunnel that helped goods reach the city.  What you see on the house are marks from bullets and grenades.  It was the only way for injured people to get out. We saw a statistic at the museum that the hospital took 106 recorded direct hits during the siege.  A maternity hospital was completely destroyed. 

Sue climbing out of the tunnel.  It was only 1.6 meters tall, so don't even think about trying to stand  up straight.

As a side note, we should mention here something else that we have noticed.  Every time someone from here (Bosnia, Croatia, Dutch girls at dinner, etc.) finds out we are from America, they first ask what we think of Obama and then tell us how much they loved Bill Clinton.  He is a hero to many of the people here.  It is so interesting that they mention someone who has not been president for 10 years (here especially- when he became president in '93 he tried very hard to intervene and end the war but apparently England and France would not go along with the plan).  But that's a whole other story.  By the way, we heard that Chelsea Clinton got married, that it cost 3 million dollars and that "Hillary looked dashing in fuschia."  May not be true, but that's what they're talking about on this side of the ocean.

For anyone who would like more information on the breaking apart of Yugoslavia or the seige on Sarajevo or the opinion of people that we spoke with here (especially Heron's opinion) we have a lovely new turkish tea set and would love to serve you tea and tell you more stories when we return to the ZDA (Bosnian for USA).

The man who made our tea set.  This is his hot little shop.  He showed us how he uses the tools. He leared how to work copper from his father. 

This is the WWII monument that now is in the Serb state.  It is in quite a state of disrepair.  There are parts you can't get to on the monument becuase it is snake infested.

P.S.  Aimee V. Are you seriously moving on our street?  Route 4, or Harvard Drive.  We are super excited either way.  What type of tea do you like?

Back to the Future

FOr dinner in Mostar, we tried to find this place that the woman at our hostel professed had the "best vegetable lasagna ever". We walked and walked but....could not find it. We ate pizza instead. But this time it had artichokes and we got a salad too. The food was pretty good, but the downside was that it was a smoking restaurant so it was a bit smoky....
Went back to our hostel nice and early (8:30) and we were served a cup of tea and biscuits (amazing!) while we got our stuff packed and together which for whatever reason was a hilarious experience. Remember, we packed very very light for this trip, but we have acquired a lot of souvenirs at this point and are no longer as light; fitting everything has become a big challenge.
After a less than restful night's sleep, the alarm went off and we shifted into high-get-out-the-door-in-less-than-20-mins-gear. Bags were rolling at 7:00 am. We decided to walk (as opposed to a $1.50 taxi) because it was so early we wouldn't get hot and a stroll would be nice before we sat on a train for awhile.
Well, the shortcut we tried to take was blocked so we had to go the extra long way and it was a humid 80+ degrees and the "stroll" turned into a run with our bags. Let's just say we broke our "don't sweat before 9:00 am rule."

Arriving at the train station in Mostar we were transported back to 1985. The tickets were handwritten (and cost only $11 each for what professed to be a 2.5 hour trip). There were no food shops, no stores, and only one bench on the platform. Luckily the morning sun was beating down on us to keep our sweat going. People were huddled (smoking) in the shade of the pillars.

When we were in Budapest last summer, we teased J an awful lot about the blue trains that were a gift from Stalin and have not been upgraded since. Well, those trains met their match when the Bosnian train circa 1950? pulled up and everyone tried to climb (I literally mean climb) on. The conductors wore little red hats and had signs to tell the train when it could go and it went at a speed of 20 miles per hour or so. We ended up in the smoking car with two young divas and a techno listening young man.

The train went through some beautiful mountain terrain, and we stopped at all these "stops" that looked like abandoned, looted stations with lots of trash around them. No one would get on or off, but a conductor would come out of the station and give the signal for the train to get going. Our stops progressively got longer and longer (1 minute, then 3, then 5, then 8). There was no food to be had (and Sue was hungry) but every once in awhile an old man with a mini shopping cart full of vodka, pepsi and beer wandered through the train selling his goods.

We'd been stopped at a stop in the middle of nowhere for awhile when one of the conductors walked through barking some information in Bosnian. People starting sighing, standing up. We asked the girls in our car what he said- the translation we got was "something went a little bit wrong. We are going to stop for a little while." Sue said, "oh, only a little while, that's good," and the other girl said, "it's not going to be just a little while, believe me."
Time to seize the day. We got off the train like everyone else and enjoyed the scenic view of the decrepid train station. After 20 minutes or so, the conductors who had been smoking and shooting the breeze together, all ran toward the train. All the relaxing passengers followed suit and so did we. Soon the whistle blew, and off we went. Wonder what "a little problem" means?

Honestly the ride was like what you would imagine Soviet era transport. But the views were amazing. We chugged through Alp like mountains that were peppered with little villages and small farms and hastacks. For the first hour or so the track followed a beautiful blue green river that cut through the mountains. At one point out the window, 2 men were leading a horse drawn cart pulling hay and when the train whistle blew the horse took off. It was quite a show.
Now, the train station in Sarajeov (after a 4 hour train ride- things don't run on schedule here). Again, think 1985. We think that things were upgraded here in the early 1980's for the Olympics (held in 1984 in Sarajevo) and then were set back by the war. Public transport has not been upgraded since then and the trams and busses look like Stalin could be on them (J- moreso than Budapest!).
As we exited the station, we walked out front to buy a tram ticket- tram 1, 5 stops to our hostel. We knew where we were going. Price 1.6 KM. There were a bunch of guys from New York with no idea where they were going. They were trying to get info from the non-English speaking ticket seller and finally gave up and just yelled out, "does anyone know how to get to the center of town?" Of course we helped them, but were greatful that we had become much more savvy....to think they are renting a sailboat next week and sailing down the whole Croatian coast, but cannot get to the center of town.
As we left on the tram we saw the infamous Holiday Inn (where reports stayed during the war). Although the town is a bit somber and dated, it has been rebuilt much better than Mostar (the war damage is much less in-your-face). But, with the busses and trams and the old old cars and the narrow roads without signs and the trash it feels like you are in a south american country. By that we mean a developing country with some very modern people living in it.

That said, the old town is beautiful and the "new town" has some very ritzy shopping, lots of nice cafes and restaurants and bars. There is definately a communist-era influence here. There are some beautiful buildings (some which were destroyed and are workingt to be rebuilt still). But many of the buildings are drab and industrial. THe city is nestled in the mountains and all around it houses extend up the steep mountains. Very beautiful. In only 10 minutes we were able to walk out of the city and into the suburbs.

We ate dinner at a little vegetarian restaurant with amazing food and a really wonderful Bosnian waiter/owner/cook who sat down and talked with us for half an hour about the war. He was fascinating to listen to. During the war, he left with his baby son and wife and lived in Germany for 5 years; the Germans apparently opened their borders and gave monetary help and jobs to more than 400,000 Bosnian refugees (thus, many Bosnians speak fluent German and have a lot of respect for Germany). He helped explain why there was so much trash around and why we didn't see any homeless people (which we just can't quite understand as the unemployment rate is between 30 and 45%), why there isn't much drugs or prostitution for a poor country. He talked about the tensions that still persist between the different ethnic groups. Through all of this, we still have no idea as to whether he is a Serb, Croat or Bosniak. He claims to be pacifistic and to stay away from politics.

It was a lovely warm evening and we walked the long way back to our room via the bustling new town. When we got back to our room at 9:15 (we are exhausted at this point as we have been going since 6:30 am in the heat) there is something wrong with the lock on the outside door. We cannot get in. After some minor tinkering (we didn't want to look like we were breaking in- how would we explain ourselves to the Bosnian police?) we gave up. Here we should note that we have a "satelite hostel room"- about an 8 minute walk from the hostel, in seperate apartment building. We go to the hostel (reluctantly and grumpily) for help. The man at the desk comes back with us and confirms that the door is not working despite pushing and pulling and shoving. After some hemming and hawwing and trying some phone numbers and text messaging, he finally rings the buzzer on one of the dark apartments upstairs (not a single apartment has a light on). What ensues is a 15 minute battle with 2 old ladies who thought we broke the door. They were in their windows yelling down. When they finally came down, they were really mad to find that they could not get out the door either. Good thing we don't understand Bosnian because there was a lot of yelling and cursing. Finally, they got a man in a very small tank top to get a ladder and help from the inside. More yelling, pushing, groaning. At 10:15 we were let into our room and the guy from the hostel had gotten quite an earful from the old ladies. Whew.

As a side note:  we haven't been mentioning cats much in our blog, and I apologize to all of our cat fans out there.  There are cats almost everywhere we've been.  In Mostar there were some little black kittens!  They look better than the cats in Dubrovnik (more taken care of) but most of them are still street/ restaurant cats.  We have bought some dry cat food that we sprinkle out for them.

That's why we are blogging this morning and not last night.

We have a big and exciting day ahead- details later.

War. What is it good for?

It is always exciting to get to a new place and check into your room and then go out into a new city to discover.  We arrived in Mostar yesterday to a welcoming hostel that provides "welcome cake".  In fact, we have come to learn that the people here in Herzegovina are known for being exceptionally welcoming and hospitable.  It makes our friends from yesterday make a lot more sense.

The old town of Mostar is unbelievable.  When you first enter the city, you are shocked by the sight of bombed out buildings.  Then you start to notice the bullet marks everywhere.  On our walk to our hostel, we happened to walk down the front lines from the conflict.  It was fascinating and sad.  Many buildings have been rebuilt, but the ownership of some of the lots is in question, so no changes will be made. 
After Croatia and Slovenia declared Independence from Yugoslavia, Bosnia and Herzegovina(BiH) tried to follow suit, but didn't have the backing of the Serbs (about 30% of the population) in the country.  The Yugoslavian army came in to stop the succession.  What ensued was a brutal war with the Bosniaks(Muslims) and Croats (Roman Catholic) fighting against the Serbs (Eastern Orthodox).  Once the Bosniaks and Croats won the conflict, they turned on each other.  About 200,000 people were killed in BiH, many civilians.   In Mostar, the fighting was right down the main street of town, with the Croats on the West, and the Bosniaks on the East.  It is interesting to note, that as you walk down the street, since they are from the same ethnic background, the two fighting sides are indistinguishable.  The majority of the Muslims here look as European as anyone else.  Rarely do they wear headscarves.

A major event here was when the old Ottoman bridge was intentionally brought down by the artillery in the hills surrounding the town.  In a real and a symbolic way the town was divided in two.  A cease fire was eventually negotiated in 1995.  But before that happened, parks were turned to cemeteries and much of the city was destroyed. 

Since then some major things have brought a good deal of reconciliation here.  A major turning point was when the stones from the bridge were pulled from the river.  Although the stone could no longer be used, they used the same material and technology to replace the old bridge.  It really is inspiring that such a horrible war could break out here, and the people left afterwards have found a way to live in peace. 

There really are two cultures colliding here.  Once you cross the "old" bridge to the Bosniak part of town, you could swear that you were actually in Turkey.  Everything looks very Eastern.  It is fascinating.  From one point in the town you can see about 6 minarets (towers at a mosque where people called to prayer).  We were able to go in a Mosque and take pictures.  It was really neat. 

Staircase leading to nowhere.  Always in mosques.  The top stair is for Mohamed.

View from the tradional place the women worship.  In reality, in most mosques here they aren't up here.

View from the Mosque minarette.  We overcame our minarette phobias from Egar, Hungary.  This one had much more breathing room (but was still ridicuously narrow.)

The Mosque WC (our first "squatter" on the trip) - ps. costs 50 cents Euro per person.

We also toured an old Turkish house.  The bottom of the house was were a family really lives now, but where the Turkish family would have lived during the winter.  During the summer, the family lived in what we would almost call an outdoor covered porch.  The furniture and decorations were amazing.

Janna REALLY seemed to enjoy Turkish couches, so why not try on some clothes?

Anyone looking for some pants?

In the midst of this new cultures, you look up and see where a bomb went right through a wall.  It is just an unbelievable juxtaposition.  After having seen all of the WWI sites in the Alps, and now the remnants of this more recent war, we struggle more than ever to make sense of this senselessness.  Parks turned into cemeteries.  Buildings turned into ruins.  Lives turned into ruins. . . . in the name of what?

It seems as though we travel from one country here to another, we see among the common threads of these people that they all loved Tito.  Tito was their ruler from WWII until just before the conflict broke out.  He held things in a delicate balance here, and he "was loved during his life and after his death".  He was a leader who held these different - yet similar - people together and they were building a great country.  Then they fell under some brutal leaders, and those leaders made these same people willing to kill their neighbors.  It really shows how powerful of a force hate can become. 

And so, as we wander this city, we are amazed at what Mostar is now.  It is old and it is new. It is East and it is West.  It is Christans and Muslims.  It is peaceful but poor (about 1 in 3 are unemployed).  It is growing but empty (lots of widows and orphans and bombed out building that will not be replaced any time soon), and it is putting the pieces back together without forgetting what it felt like when they fell apart.

Jadan Dvah Tree

Just to make things more interesting, we woke to intense thunder and lightening in the middle of the night.  We had stuff drying on the balcony so Janna scrambled outside in the pouring rain (convenient for Sue that she heard it second) to bring it in.  This was some of the loudest thunder we had ever heard; there was no noticable delay between the sound and the light.  Although the intensity eventually decreased, the storm continued well into the morning  (think 5 hours of disrupted thunderstorm sleep).

At 8:00 when the alarm went off, it was still pouring rain.  We needed to be out the door at 8:30 to make our first connection.  Surprise surprise, we were both dragging our feet to get out the door into the storm.  With Sue waiting at the ferry stop under a rooftop, Janna was sent to get breakfast.  She came back with 2 chocolate filled croissants.  We may or may not be developing a fairly serious condition called "pastry belly"....

We were the only ones on our $2.50 ferry trip to Orebic (the main land).  We arrived in Orebic, found out when the bus to Trpanj was supposed to come, and commenced an hour of waiting in teh rain.  Janna did help to pass the time by acquiring a cinnamon crusted roll and a cream filled donut like pastry.  The bus was more than 30 minutes late, but we felt ok about it because a young man and his elderly mother (we thought) were also waiting.  Then the bus was almost an hour late....hmmmmmm.....

A car ferry arrived and the man at the bus station was trying to tell us that the bus wasn't going to come "nein autobus"...and signaling that we should come with him.  He also told us no money (it wouldn't cost anything) and his mother kept saying Trpanj (or so we thought- the pronunciation is a little tricky).  Since we now have no trouble crawling in cars with just about anyone, we thought, "what the heck?".  Just kidding Mom....we wouldn't really crawl in anyone's car.  It's hard to describe this, but in the US, you would think someone was crazy to offer you a ride in their car because for some reason that you don't understand the bus wasn't coming.  But in Croatia, if the bus isn't coming, and you have a friend giving you a ride, and there are more seats in the car, of course you are going to help someone out.  Plust, grandma was very very unassuming and sweet.  Understand our situation here:  There are about 15 km between Orebic and Trpanj (where we need to get to catch our ferry), and the 15 km are over a mountain.  It is raining.  Taxis are no more reputable and probably cost about $75....

So in the car we got, and grandma could not have been happier to have us as company in the backseat.  It did not take us long to call her "Mama" because she was the boy (age 33)'s mom.  The driver was a very friendly and nice guy, and was doing his friend a favor by giving him a ride.  We had a very interesting conversation during the car ride, trying to communicate with one another.  The English they spoke was limited to "Mama Mia!", "America", and "Obama" and "Clinton".  We brought to the table in Croatian "thank you", the numbers 1-10 except for 5 and poor pronunciations of the places we wanted to reach that day.

We learned that they were going to Sarajevo and that while he has a Bosnian passport and lives mostly in Sarajevo, she has a Croatian passport and lives in Orebic.  She had a daughter (the boy's sister) who died giving birth fairly recently.  She has 2 sons, 4 daughters, her new house that she is turning into a "sobe" (think bed and breakfast) cost 80,000 euros.  He works in ceramics and works in both places (the money is much better in Croatia but stuff is MUCH cheaper and more beautiful in Sarajevo.  And there is much more.  It is amazing how much you can actually communicate without any words.  And yet it is amazing how much words increase communication.

You're thinking, "wow, you learned that much about them during a short car ride to the ferry?"  Oh no.  Grandma made sure we followed her to the ticket office and got safely on the ferry, sitting with them.  As a favor, we bought his ferry ticket (as thanks for the ride that his friend would not take money for) and he bought us hot chocolate on the ferry.  We rode the ferry together, got off in Ploce together, and headed to t bus station together (even though they were taking a train at 5:00). 

Now, let's talk more about Grandma.  She is 74, speaks not a word of English but acts like we understand everything she says in Croatian.  She made sure Janna zipped up her coat, wiped Sue's hair off her forehead three times, handed Janna a napkin when she had mustard on her hands, fed us chocolate cookies, greeted every bus that arrived to check if it was our bus and took Sue to the free bathroom in the train station (as opposed to one that cost 45 cents in the bus station). 

Honestly, this day was priceless; we were surrounded and protected by our two loving Croatian escorts- they woudn't take a cent of money (not even an American quarter as a souvenir) and did not leave our side until our bus came (two hours after we arrived at the bus station).  It was a day of communication and struggling with communication and smiling and pretending to understand and being frustrated that you couldn't understand better and of thankfulness and appreciation for the goodness of some people out there.

So, the bus.  Bosnian busses aren't in a hurry.  Except when they are.  Our bus was more than 1.5 hours late to pick us up and it meandered through the countrside, stopping twice for the driver to have a cigarette (in less than 45 minutes) and eventually pulled up to a bus hub (not a station and well outside the standard route).  The driver said something in Croatian/Bosnian/Serbian???  and all the people started getting off.  Hmmmm.....we definately weren't in Mostar yet.  Once we saw our bags on the side of the road, we quickly got off too.  It seemed as if we were just standing in the sun....enjoying the view of the terminal?  For 5 minutes.  Then 10 minutes.  Then 15 minutes......then a new bus pulled up and were were apparently supposed to get on.  After confirming "Mostar" (the only word we know besides thank you and the numbers) we climb on, and literally as the passengers are getting on (before anyone has sat down) the bus zooms out.  Now we are in a hurry.  It was a speedy drive through some intense winding switchback mountains.  Nauseating.

At 5:00 we arrived in Mostar.  Whew.  The sun is out now and we found our hostel.

Mostar is beautiful and stunning and very safe and our hostel is adorable and very cute and the people are very nice and the gelato is very cheap here.  It was unreal to walk through beautfiul building that just 15 years ago were literally the front lines of a nasty war....

There is so much to say about this beautiful city and its history but that will have to be tomorrow....It is amazing how you can travel 100 miles and enter another world.

Vacation from our vacation

The last few days have been very nice and restful. Last year at the end of our trip, we had

three days in Sorrento, and it made a huge difference. This year instead of trying to hit
two different islands, we just came to Korcula and stopped moving for a bit. Although the
weather wasn't magical, it was do-able. Here are some highlights from the island.

1. We had been meaning to go to a performance here called the Moreska dance. Other than
knowing it was very local, we knew it invoved swords and music. We were sad when we found
out that last night's performance was for "invited" people only. We were seriously bummed
out. Then we were souvenir shopping, and one man was closing very early. He explained that
there was going to be a festival that night and the president of Croatia was coming to the
island. Great. We walked around looking for crowds. Finally we saw one around a circular
shapped stage. We stood around just outside the crowd barrier. Guess what it was? Yep,
the dancing. It was really amazing and fun. We are pretty sure we saw who the president
was, but it is very different here. There is none of the formality. We are pretty sure the
president was one of two differnt guys in a tan colored suit. His security was wearing t-
shirts that said "Security" (in croatian, of course.) But no metal detectors, no guns on
the security guard.

2. We ate out twice for dinner. They were even different restaurants. We had excellent
luck here. Fewer Itallian style "fish" joints. It is still heavily influenced by Itally,
but more what we would expect of Itallian food. Last night we shared some pizza and pasta,
and tonight neither one of us had pizza. Can you imagine? The restaurant was very cute.
We were sitting in this really ancient stone room with a bunch a neat artifacts. It was
near where Marco Polo grew up. Anyway, most of the seating was on the street, but when we
arrived that was full. The waitress teased us about our private romantic dinner. It was
pretty ammusing.

3. The town is very cute. If we weren't so conditioned to this middle-aged castle/cities on
the edge of a penninsula I know we would find it amazing and charming. We are enjoying it,
but maybe not quite appreciating it the way we should. One thing I will say about the town
is that it is specatular at this festival thing. Last night was the big festival with the
dancing. Tonight a whole parade made its way through town with a flag waving leader and
someone playing something the bagpipes from an animal stomach and 50 costumed people behind.
We don't understand all of the croatian ways.
4. The pastries here have been exceptionally good, and we seem to be eating more than our
fair share. That usually amounts to somewhere in the vacinity of 3 gelato cones per day + 3
pastries. Is that too much? Oh, don't worry. We also rented a kayak and paddled hard for
two hours. We aren't loosing our edge.

Janna "Scuba Diving"

Tomorrow should be a little more advenutrous. We seem to have our best stories when we
move, and tomorrow, we take a ferry to a bus to a boat to a train. Wish us luck!

Leaving Plitvice

When the alarm went off at 6:24 this morning, we bolted out of bed, into yesterday's clothes, grabbed our cold veggie pizza from last night, some water, and headed out the door sleepily. Our goal was to hit the Plitvice trails before anyone else. We succeeded. Obviously, park transportation was not running until a more reasonable hour, so we began hiking to "Stop 4"- the furthest point of the park. It was longer than we remembered, and took us more than an hour to get there.

The hike was more than worth it (even Janna agrees). We were totally alone on the trails (which is pretty amazing in a place that sees 10,000 visitors per day). Saw some fabulous waterfalls, had good (but cool) morning weather, and got our 5 plus miles of hiking in before breakfast. Once we saw our first people, we hurried toward the shuttle (literally a full out sprint, as they only come every half hour). We made it in time, and sat for 15 minutes while the driver read his morning paper.

At this point, you should know that we were following a really tight timeline for the day, in order to make all our transportation connections and enjoy the places we visited enroute. You can imagine that this full out sprint to sit and wait for 15 mins was frustrating.

After the shuttle ride and 1 mile uphill hike back to our hotel, Sue went to find some bus information. Here, again, some important information: think about today a little bit like an extension to the Amazing Race. Plitvice is a very isolated place, far from cities and substantial towns. Busses come through on the main road from Zagreb (capital city, 3 hours north) and Split (big coastal city 4 hours south). We had been warned that catching one from here was tricky, and involved standing at the bus station (a small roofed fort) and trying to hail a very crowded passing bus, looking as desperate as possible. We needed to make it to Split for a 5:00 ferry, and wanted to make it by 4:00 if possible.

Well, Sue found some "information". Keep in mind that before this we had tried the internet, guidebooks, and busstations and had been able to attain no worthy bus schedules other than "look pathetic and try to hail a bus on the way by". The woman cleaning rooms at our hotel, who spoke only Croatian and Deutsch, was very helpful and told Sue that a bus went by the bus station (which was very close by) at 10:00 am every day. Sue returned to the room where Janna had begun to pack with this important information. It was 9:52.

We literally THREW all of our stuff in our bags (to give some more context here, before leaving the room, Sue had to unpack the big bag of trash including a 1.5 liter soda bottle Janna had packed in Sue's backpack in her haste). We dropped our key in the lobby, sprinted out the front door, jumped over the plants, off the 3 foot high ledge, rolly suitcases in tow. Landing on the grass below, we continued to huff it into the street, and out to the main road, not even pausing to roll the bags. A local tractor driver driving by our hotel at that moment watched the scene and must have wondered what we stole.

Janna was in the lead out the door and off the ledge, but 20 feet before the end of the road succumbed to fatigue and began a slow plod the final stretch. Sue, behind through the jumping phase, sprinted all the way to the bus stop, passing Janna in the final stretch and arriving a full 30 seconds ahead of Janna.
It was 9:58 when we got to the bus stop. Whew.
Janna wanted to make lunch, but Sue insisted that we didn't have time. We took turns pasting our eyes on the corner of the road from which the bus would come, ready to flail and wave as soon as the bus rounded the turn. The one not watching was allowed to get a drink, finish brushing hair, clean out the bags, and get ready for the day.

At 10:30 we were still waiting, but our hopes were bolstered because a local man had arrived and was also waiting for a bus to somewhere. He said it would come in 10 minutes. At this point, Janna was resting in the shade of the small station (think tree fort) and Sue was practicing synchronized rolly bag dancing routines. Lunch had been eaten. Janna clipped her fingernails, and Sue was wishing she had had time to wash her face.

At about 10:55 (one hour after our mad sprint to the bus stop), a large bus pulled over. It didn't have a sign on the front window, but it did have a Atlas Bus (big tour company in Croatia) label on the side. One of the drivers got out, asked where we were going, put our luggage underneath, and on we hopped. We had almost sat down when we realized that the bus was empty, save for two other people. Hmmmm....
The second driver was a very friendly man who spoke good English with a thick Croatian accent. He was thrilled to have Americans on his bus and engaged us in conversation for 30 minutes. We learned that the bus had actually just spent 7 days in England leading a tour group around and was just being driven back to its home in Dubrovnik. The drivers were so friendly and thought it was wasteful to drive an empty bus...so were picking up people like us. The other couple was from the Netherlands. We also learned that soon we would get on the highway and fly to Split.
Really, somehow we had caught an amazing break. Busses to Split take 4-6 (and usually 6) hours. We would make it in 3.

The only problem is...Split center and bus station is actually a good 18-20 kilometers off of the expressway....hmmmmmm.......
So, at 2:00 we got dropped off at the edge of the greater Split area. We waited half an hour for another bus, heading into Split, got on and made it....Whew. 3:00, ahead of schedule (miraculously). Note here that our ride from Plitvice to Split cost us 8 dollars total. It should have cost almost 100. Lucky.
So, we had 1.5 hours in Split until we had to be on our ferry. We were efficient experts, as we had been in Split just last year (albeit in a Bonnine hangover-type state, but there). We left our bags with a bag-leaving man, bought fruit and pastry and water and AMAZING dark chocolate gelato, a backpack full of Christmas present (Split is the biggest shopping place we have been thus far and knew we needed to take full advantage of it), and the piece de resistance: a take away mexican salad and a fishburger from the Black Cat Bistro (we needed to not eat pizza tonight).

Even though throughout our day everything seemed to be going wrong and going right at the same time, we somehow made it to Korcula (in the right place), with full bellies and good storeis.
After a wonderful but frenzied 2 days getting to and away from Plitvice, we are really excited to be settling in for 3 nights on a Dalmatian coast island.

In Korcula, the 13 year old son of the Guest House owner met us at the ferry, led us to the place, showed us our room and checked us in (Willie- this could be you!).  He copied our passports, took our money, showed us around......

The Wrong Bus Stop

We had a relaxing morning in Rovinj preparing for what we thought would be a tricky day of traveling. Sue went on a run, we ate delicious croissants at our free breakfast and headed to the bus station 20 minutes early. Somehow we managed to almost miss the bus we needed (because it had been sitting in the station for 30 minutes and we didn't notice it).
The bus ride was a little amusing because Rovinj is on a peninsula called Istria. The bus left Rovinj, heading south, the eventually went back north. After 2.5 hours of driving on back roads we were 24 kilometers from Rovinj. That is about 15 miles. Hmmm....

We made it to Karlovac and made our connecting bus in 5 minutes only! During this 5 minutes we needed to make and eat our lunch because we had splurged on tuna in a can and some multigrain crackers as a change from cheese and bread, but we felt rude eating tuna on a crowded bus....So, Janna drained the tuna (which turned out to be in oil instead of water-yuck) and we hopped on the bus to eat our smelly lunch.It was a very full bus; we were in the very back in the last two seats empty, but we were on the bus- hurrah!

After some very windy roads we eventually arrived at the stop called Plitvice Camping. We knew this wasn't our stop- we wanted Plitvice hotels. So, at the next stop where there was a big map of Plitvice Lakes National Park, we got off the bus. And soon realized how wrong we were to get off there.

Other than the big sign, there were two small guesthouses and a grocery store. Didn't look like Plitvice. Using the map and our poor directions, we were not quite sure where we were. So Sue went into the grocery store and (tried to) ask. We found out it was about 7 kilometers further along. We had gotten off the bus way too early.

But, there were no taxis to be found, no busses to ride. What were we going to do but walk? So we began walking. Remember, we are carrying our rolly bags and walking along the side of a road. To make it even better, the road soon began climbing a mountain pass so all but the first 1/2 mile of our walk was quite uphill.

After about 1.5 hours of hiking (which even Sue did not enjoy) we arrived at the first entrance of the park. Our hotel was past the second entrance and easily another 3 miles along. Sue got up the courage to ask a park ranger what the best way to get there would be, and as luck would have it, he actually worked at the second entrance and was being driven there by a friend in a very short amount of time and welcomed us along for the ride. What a wonderful wonderful man.

We got in his friends car and he took us right to our hotel. Sometimes luck is on our side. We have never been so happy to be in the car with two strange men.

After checking in, and still very anxious to get to the park that we had traveled so far to get to, we literally ran the trails to get there (about a mile away).

The park was amazing and lovely and we walked most of its large area between 5 and 8:30 at night, seeing so many waterfalls and lakes, and very few people during the last hour of our journey (hmmm...everyone else had left the park at that time). By the time we headed back to our hotel, we were exhausted and starving.

Across from our hotel was a Pizza Bistro, and the lack of table cloths on the tables encouraged us to sit down without even seeing a menu. Vegetariana pizza yet again. This one proved to be the most interesting yet. It was a jumbo pizza with about 48 small shreds of cheese spread across it and 1/2 cup of what seemed like frozen vegetable mix (peas, carrots, corn). Interesting.
With full stomachs, we collapsed into bed.

Biggest Loser Former Yugoslavia

Today was a beautiful, exhausting Croatian day that ended with a bunch of very cute Croatian cats, amazing gelato, a cheese Burek, and a pretty sunset. Sounds idyllic doesn't it? You obviously haven't heard all of the details yet....

A friend of ours said that we should write a travel book, and we were thinking, well, who would buy our travel book? The 4 people in the world who want to travel like we do? So then we were trying to label how we travel...and figured that it is some kind of combination of the Amazing Race and the Biggest Loser (both TV shows that we haven't really seen because we don't have tv).

Here is how it would work: you have some insane path you have to cover in a certain period of time (for example, you might have to bike around the dirt trails of the hill towns of Istria on a partly working mountain bike to reach a beautiful ocean destination) and the last person to arrive at the final destination gets kicked off. A tourist-race to get in shape, lose weight, and lose more gelato.

You can imagine how this might lead into the story of our day. We woke up and Sue was giddy with excitement because we had decided to rent bikes and bike around today. Janna had trouble getting out of bed. To her credit though, once she did, she was smiley and happy and excited for her day of adventure. We took a morning walk through town to pick up some souvenirs, and then came back to our hotel for free breakfast! Eggs and yogurt and fruit and croissants and juice- delicious!   Even Sue had more than one mini-croissants.
We got all dressed for biking (which meant bathing suits under clothes) and packed our bags (which contained towels, 1st lunch, 2nd lunch, and two heavy books for reading), rented our bikes, and we were off. Following the "red" biking trail throught the countryside. Of course, here it should be noted that we were not following the trail in the conventional manner- that would have been too easy. Rather, we followed it backwards because we wanted to climb to hilltowns first and finish by the ocean for swimming. Basically, we were going the right way, they made the trail in the wrong direction.

It was beautiful. We rode through small farms with beautiful crops on the hillsides. Lots of olive trees and grapes mostly. There was a surprising amount of poverty; very small houses, lots of lived-in campers, very run down homes next to vibrant, breathtaking fields. Almost all of the crops were very well taken care of, though we saw no evidence of modern farming techniques; it seems to mostly be done by hand. Also the fields were big, but single family farms, not commercial at all. None more than 5-8 acres. Some of the farms were making their own olive oil and wine and selling it in fancy bottles to tourists. A few big mansions had recently been built up in the hills, but the owners were definately not farmers. There is a fair ammount of fallow ground, showing that a fair number of people have left farming for more prosperous professions (probably tourism around here). The roads were very rocky, rough dirt, but where the dirt is turned over for farming it is a beautiful dark red color that apparently is quite fertile. We saw one place with gigantic pumpkin sized winter squash growing.

As you can imagine we struggled with following the trail, but somehow always ended up back at the red signs. Lots of ups and downs (it seemed like more ups than downs), a fair amoutn of sweat, and after about 2.5 hours of pretty hard biking, we ended up at our first beach. Ah! Respite. We ate first lunch, went for a swim, and then immediately ate second lunch. Whew. We dried off, and moved on.

At this point, we had no water left and were very very thirsty, but somehow kept missing roads to towns and opportunities to buy water. Back on the main road, we bike past many many stands selling homemade wine, olive oil, fresh fruit....but no water.
Finally, at the edge of what we thought was Rovinj, we found a Konzum (Croatian grocery store) and Janna was sent in for water. She came out with water, a much needed Mars bar, and two pieces of bread. Note: Janna was sent in because Sue knew that she would not be able to resist bringing out a necessary chocolate snack, whereas Sue would have grabbed only water.
Somehow, we worked our way back to the water, found a beautiful beach, stopped, read, slept, swam, ate snacks, played cards, sunburned, and relaxed.

Getting back on our bikes, we realized we were quite a bit further south than we thought we were and still had quite the ride ahead of us....so we rode and rode along the coast. It was very very pretty, and finally we couldn't resist any longer and had to swim again. Ah, the Adriatic....this time, we didn't bother drying off, so with wet shorts we continued on our way.
At 5:45, we returned our bikes...It was an 8 hour biking bonanza. When asked what the best thing she saw on the trip was, Janna replied, "The Konzum with the water."
Showers, dinner (to-go), wandering, picture taking, dessert, cat-petting, and in our room before dark. Which, it should be noted, is when most of the Italians were just heading out.
Tomorrow morning we take a long bus ride to Plitvice lakes...it is unlikely that we will have internet tomorrow or the next night so you'll be lucky if you hear from us :)

Don't worry, plenty of pictures and stories when we emerge from our blackout.....