November 26, 2016 (Saturday)
It is raining steadily in Dubrovnik with no end in sight, so
I’m starting to regret my decision re: Montenegro. Until this morning the hotel breakfast buffet
had been, by and large, a Zen affair.
Calmly munching pastry, sipping coffee, tucking in on eggs and yogurt
and cereal. Today was Satan’s breakfast.
Because I had no timetable I slept in, did
some stretching, and went down for what I had hoped would be a leisurely
breakfast around 9:00. I found myself in
the Black Friday equivalent of breakfast buffets. Parents dragging around unruly children. Autonomous kids fingering the assortment of
cheeses. Long lines for eggs, pancakes
and croissants. The latter began being
hoarded. I saw folks with plates piled
with them but none to be found at the pastry station. To call the wait staff harried would be an
understatement. So I grabbed what I
could (I did manage one croissant before they became an endangered species)
which meant forgoing the eggs and loading up on cereal and yogurt and any
cheese I felt reasonably certain had not been fingered by a recalcitrant child
(or adult – let’s be fair to the children).
And, of course, plenty of coffee.
The woman who refilled my cup was pleasant. She mentioned it had been busy over the past
three or four days. Because it was off
season I wonder if the hotel was putting out promotional rates, and parents
seized on this for a long weekend in the Pearl of the Adriatic. Too bad about the rain.
I stayed in my room until nearly noon reading “Surely You’re
Joking, Mr. Feynman,” an engaging memoir of the Nobel Prize-winning physicist
Richard Feynman, before the rain began to let up. Off to the bus stop and back to Old
Town. As the bus made its way east the
rain returned, so upon my arrival I sheltered at the Dominican Monastery and
Museum. The Dominicans are more ornate
than the Franciscans, with three rooms of exhibits and a beautiful but somber
church. Both monasteries were chock full
of reliquaries (containers with sacred relics).
There were leg-shaped and finger-shaped reliquaries. I suppose they cost less than full body
reliquaries. I intended to visit the
Cathedral of the Assumption, but it appeared to be closed and the rain had
begun to increase again. By then it was
close to 13:30, so I took a pleasant lunch at Konoba Ribar, a family run
establishment that serves traditional Dalmatian cuisine. I had the Black Risotto, risotto with
cuttlefish. They aren’t kidding about
black. I wiped my mouth with my napkin,
and it came away positively noir. While
it may not have looked appetizing, the risotto was delicious and filling. Dessert was at a sladoled that served ice
cream, which is closer in spirit to the Italian gelato. A scoop of Biscoto in (what looked like) a
waffle cone really hit the spot even on the rainy day.
It was still overcast but the rain seemed to have let up, so
I walked up the steep steps through the Buza Gate to the north of the city and
bought a cable car ticket up to Mount Srd.
Had the weather been less spotty I would have bought a 1-way ticket and
hiked down. As it was I paid 120 KN
(almost $20) for a round trip ticket.
While the view was impressive, all the viewpoints (except for possibly
the restaurant, which I didn’t go into) were partially obstructed by the cable. For the price one would hope for a more
pristine view. The rain started up
again, so I took pictures quickly and headed back down. Two idiot tourists had climbed beyond the
safety fence to get their pictures against the city below while balancing on
slick rocks. In case of a problem I
would certainly have called for help, but it was also tempting to let Darwinism
take its course. Mercifully I did not
have to deal with that moral conundrum.
Back to Old Town to buy a couple of gifts for co-workers,
then a futile attempt to buy a sandwich to take back to the hotel (both of my
options were closed for the season). The
rain persisted, and I was getting cold, so off to the bus stop for a return to
the hotel.
November 27, 2016 (Sunday)
The long travel day.
I made sure I was well away from the mundane sisters. Gorgeous scenery from the bus. The Adriatic.
The mountains. Sun (on the travel
day, of course).
We made a comfort stop in Bosnia & Herzegovina. I had a black and white coffee. Then we stopped in Pakovo Selo for lunch and
a brief tour of the Ethnic Village there.
Our local guide Anna described what life was like 100 years earlier in
this remote village. She spoke perfect
English, with hardly any trace of an accent.
My lunch was polenta. Most of the
rest had the more traditional peka, roast pork or chicken. Donut holes (or the traditional version
thereof) for dessert.
Because there was a delay on the highway (which is the
equivalent of a freeway in the U.S.) due to mine removal near the road, we took
side roads to meet up with the highway further along. On this route we saw abandoned homes both
bombed out or just hollowed out and empty.
We arrived in Zagreb, and it was cold with some rain. After checking in at the hotel a group of us
walked into the downtown to grab some food and a drink at a craft brew house
recommended by a bar owner in Dubrovnik.
Doug and Kay were the instigators in this craft beer quest. To say Kay is outgoing is an
understatement. She and Doug (who is
about 15 years her senior) met at the airport a few days earlier and became
fast friends and travel buddies. She’s
just that kind of a person. Doug is a
retired public school teacher who currently lives in Thailand. Kay teaches nutrition and diabetes control at
a university in San Diego. Both are free
spirits and somewhat irascible. Kay
“collects” glasses from pubs. She paid
for the ones at the Craft House (the pub we drank at) but apparently she
absconded with others earlier in the tour.
I stopped at a sandwich shop called Pingvin before rejoining Kay and
Doug, and I’m glad I did. All they
served at Craft House was pub grub, and I needed something more filling (i.e.,
a veggie burger).
November 28, 2016 (Monday)
Zagreb dawned crisp and cold. Jelena, our local guide, started the tour on
the bus (perhaps to give the outdoors time to warm a little). Of all the Croatian towns/cities we have
visited this is the one I could see myself living in. Split was a close second. If the view counted more than the bustle,
Split would win.
There was an Upper Town and a Lower Town (where our hotel
was). Lower Town was planned and
organized. Upper Town was more chaotic
as it had grown out of necessity. Old
Town is split into two parts – Gradec to the west and Kaptol to the east. In the early years of the city a river
divided the two areas with a bridge connecting them. The two sides fought, often at the bridge, so
it became know as Bloody Bridge.
Eventually both sides threw so much garbage in the river, it stank. So they filled the river in and paved over
it, thus permanently connecting both sides of Old Town.
Often when Jelena discussed the economic status of Croatia
she would make her point by contrasting them with their wealthier neighbor,
Switzerland. For example, she would say
things like, “70% of Croatia claim to be entrepreneurs. Many of these entrepreneurs probably smuggle
cigarettes from Serbia and Montenegro. Otherwise
we’d be Switzerland.”
After the tour I sought out the Christmas marketplace hoping
to find a Santa figurine for Mom. No
luck. The stand I thought might hold
promise took forever to open and, as the merchandise came out, it appeared less
and less promising.
I went back to Pingvin for lunch, and the fellow loaded me
up. Delicious, filling and very
inexpensive. After a quick stop to change
Kuna for Euro, I headed to the bus for our trip to Slovenia and Lake Bled
(pronounced “Blade”).
We arrived near sunset.
The porters weren’t able to unload luggage from the bus right away due
to the tight space. Normally I’d just
carry my bag to the room and save the porter a trip. So I unpacked what I had with me and took a
few quick pictures of the lake and the castle.
Even in dusk they looked beautiful.
I headed downstairs to pick up my bag and was greeted by an
elevator full of luggage and a harried porter.
He began to unload the elevator, but none of the bags were mine. As he hefted the bags out Agnes walked up,
pointed to two bags and announced the room to which they should be
delivered. Entitled, party of one. In the lobby I found my bag, took it up to my
room and finished unpacking.
I walked over to the restaurant next door and ordered a
coffee and a kremsnita, a light pastry filled with crème. Word to the wise: the kremsnita is so sweet and rich, a strong
coffee is the ideal accompaniment. I
heard someone from the group drank a hot chocolate (which here is so thick, it’s
almost a pudding) with their kremsnita.
They probably needed an insulin chaser.
About 20 minutes into my dessert a mass of schoolchildren arrived for a
kremsnita treat, and chaos reigned. I
was lucky to get out in time for the country inn dinner later that evening.
We took the bus over to the tiny medieval town of
Radovljica. Elvis gave a brief tour then
walked us over to dinner. We were
invited into the establishment with bread and salt, then led down to the wine cellar
for samples of red and white Slovenian wine, as well as sausages. No sausage for me, but the red wine was
tasty.
We were also treated to traditional Slovenian music and
dancing. The accordion player was
garrulous and funny, and during the meal upstairs he and the dancers would
return between courses to provide more music, more dancing, and some historical
context. The end of the evening
culminated in first the men and then the women playing the equivalent of
musical chairs but with hats. Elvis won
the men’s competition and Sabrina won the women’s. All in all a delightful evening. Only sixteen of our number partook, but it
was the fun sixteen.
After returning to the hotel, Kay invited Doug and me to her
room to continue drinking beer. We sat around and drank and watched music
videos on VH1 until she kicked us out. Tomorrow is the tour of Ljubliana.
"Otherwise we'd be Switzerland." Priceless.
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