The 2016 movie recap looms, so let us take the
second in what I hope is a regular series of diversion travelogues to clear the palate
and the mind.
Many people have asked what inspired me to go to Croatia and
Slovenia. It was never a bucket list
location like Machu Picchu, but it has lurked for a number of years in the back
of my mind. I knew very little of the
countries’ histories, and I suppose that was a significant part of the appeal.
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November 20-21, 2016 (Sunday and Monday)
My flight to Paris had been delayed 30 minutes, but I chose
to keep my Super Shuttle reservation unchanged.
Better early than late in international travel. The shuttle driver listened to KUSC (the public
classical station), so the drive to LAX was pleasant. On the plane I sat next to a very sweet Latin
couple (though I couldn’t be sure if they were husband and wife or mother and
son). She watched Spanish language TV
most of the trip and laughed heartily. My
baggage was checked through to Venice -- my final airline destination -- so I
was able to make a tight connecting flight at Charles de Gaulle. However, that flight was delayed because
there were too many bags checked onto the plane. After about an hour on the tarmac the pilot
sheepishly came on the intercom to inform passengers that about a dozen pieces
of luggage would not make it to Venice on this flight. We finally took off after about a 1½ hour
delay. I checked my itinerary, and
according to the paperwork my transfer to the first Croatia hotel was only
obligated to wait one hour. So I flew in
suspense wondering whether I would have luggage when I arrived and/or whether I
would have to find my own way to Opatija.
I arrived in Venice and both my luggage and my transfer were
waiting for me. I didn’t have to go
through customs when I arrived, which was unexpected. Perhaps that’s a perk of EU membership. Several other members of my Gate 1 travel
group were waiting as well (and had been for close to 2 hours). Unfortunately, one of our number was among
those whose luggage had been left in Paris, so we waited an additional hour
while the couple filed their report before leaving the terminal. Next was a 3½ hour drive to Opatija. It was dark, so there was nothing to see
scenery-wise. More sleeping ensued.
We met our Tour Manager Elvis (yes, Elvis) at the Grand
Hotel Adriatic and received the particulars of our stay, checked in, and enjoyed a welcome buffet dinner.
I was famished, as I had eaten little since around 13:00 (it was 21:00). Though the dinner was meant to introduce
group members to each other, everyone was so wasted from a day of travel that
little socializing occurred. Most went
straight back to their rooms once the meal was finished, myself included. It took a few minutes to figure out how to
turn on the lights in my room. You needed
to insert your key card into a slot next to the door in order to activate the
lights in the room. I approve of the
environmental efficiency.
There is an optional tour of the Istrian peninsula tomorrow,
which I will forgo to decompress from 24 hours of travel and to stretch the old
pins by walking around Opatija.
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Last night I dreamed that I lived with my Aunt Janet and
Uncle Ralph in Arizona. A person they
just met needed help, so they decided that the family should relocate to help
this person. I tried to persuade them to
visit the new town first before making this commitment. They disagreed. We grabbed something to eat from a local
café, while I determined whether I had the correct currency to pay for it. A traveler’s nightmare.
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November 22, 2016 (Tuesday)
Opatija is a quaint coastal town on the northeastern edge of
the Istrian peninsula, like a more picaresque Cambria. Today it is socked in with rain and
clouds. I woke up and did a full
stretching routine in my hotel room – much needed after an entire day crammed
into plane and bus seats -- then down to breakfast. I arrived about an hour before the service
ended but didn’t see any of my travel companions from the night before. I had hoped to sit with some and chat. Yesterday, I had no desire to talk, only to
listen. And even that had been exhausting.
Like Cambria there are no significant sights in Opatija. However, there is the Lungomare, a seaside
walk that weaves along the coast for several miles. This would have been ideal on a less rainy
day. Instead I aborted the walk part way
and began to look for places to eat back on the main drag of Marsala Tita -- filled
with small shops, banks, restaurants, and coffee houses – that runs north (or
is it east) to Volosko.
I found a recommended seafood place well off the beaten path
in Volosko, a quintessential fishing village that itself feels off the beaten
path. I saw two fisherman walking the
street in modified waders and felt momentarily transported to an earlier
time. Unfortunately, the restaurant
didn’t open for another hour, and there was nothing to do in Volosko but wait. It was cold, so I traipsed back the ½ mile to
Opatijo.
About a ten minute walk from the hotel I found Ruzmarin, a
restaurant which I had been looking for earlier in the wrong part of town. (Sometimes losing your way actually pays off.) I was hungry by then, so I went in. My Croatian is pathetic, and the patient wait
staff spoke English to me. I ordered mushroom
soup and what I thought was a monkfish sandwich. The cabernet needed to breathe more but the
soup was delicious. When the monkfish
arrived, it was a full dinner plate with sides.
It was very good but I had no idea how much it might cost. The full fish dinners looked pricey on the
menu, so I braced for the worst. When
the bill arrived all was fine. It was
more than I had originally expected to pay but less than I had feared. According to Lonely Planet Guide there’s a
service fee in Croatian restaurants, so you tip by rounding up. It felt odd doing this, but the waiter didn’t
run after me demanding more money. So I
guess it was fine.
After lunch it was still raining, so I walked around a
nearby park then headed back to the hotel once I got too wet and cold. After a refreshing nap/sleep I walked about 15
minutes for dinner at Roko, an Italian influenced restaurant. I had a Greek salad and an excellent
margherita pizza with a superior glass of cabernet.
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In both Ruzmarin and Roko I noticed the background
music tended to be acoustic, easy listening versions of popular songs by the
likes of the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Coldplay and Dexys Midnight Runners
(?!). More often than not the singer was
a woman (though I’m pretty sure I heard a man singing a cover of Madonna’s “Material
Girl”). You haven’t lived until you’ve
experienced an acoustic version of “Honky Tonk Woman” performed by someone who
sounds like Karen Carpenter.
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November 23, 2016 (Wednesday)
Alarm at 6:00. Wake
up call at 6:15. No time for niceties.
Luggage had to be out of the room by 7:00, so the porters could stow on the
bus. Down to breakfast. Checked out and on the road by 8:00. This was my first time having porters pick up
my luggage outside the room; however, when I returned after breakfast my bag
was still there. Fearing a
misunderstanding I took my bag downstairs and found a cache of Gate 1 bags
waiting for loading. Turns out it just
took longer for the porters to collect bags than I had given them.
Elvis is a remarkable guide.
As we drove to Zadar he gave us a brief history of Croatia to set
up the tragedy of the “War of Separation” that begin in 1991. Contrary to media coverage it was less a war
of religion or ethnicity than it was a fight over which of the provinces would
control which parcels of land. From the
Venetians to the Ottomans to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the stage had been
set for a bitter and fractious separation of Yugoslavia into its various
provinces – which had been held uneasily together by Josip Broz, better know as
“Tito,” until his death in 1980.
We had lunch at a cafeteria-style restaurant. I was still full from breakfast, so I stuck
with the cheese sandwich, tomato soup, and some fresh fruit for dessert. I need to have tomato soup more often. It’s the perfect comfort food.
In Zadar we were left to our own devices for a couple of
hours. Zadar is a peninsula. At the tip are the Sea Organ, which uses wind
and waves to create an eerily soothing music, and the Sun Salutation, solar
panels that collect sunlight during the day and emit a light show after
dusk. We arrived in the early afternoon,
so no light show. But the Sea Organ was
impressive, especially when large boats churned past, stirring up the waves.
We arrived in Split and checked into the Radisson Blu. As a surprise Gate 1 treated the group to
dinner to make up for the rainy day suffered the day before in Opatija. Since the hotel was out of the city center
and finding a place to eat on my own would have been a chore, this worked out
well. We were offered the choice of a
meat dinner, seafood dinner or vegetarian dinner. I considered the seafood option but, as
portions in Croatia were much larger than their European counterparts’ I went
with the vegetarian option – a nice salad and tasty pasta with fresh vegetables,
washed down with the house red wine.
Small samples of a dessert pancake and flan were brought out. One of our number (Agnes) was celebrating her
57th birthday the next day, so there was off-key singing. Also, an older couple (the husband was Serbian)
celebrated an anniversary that very day, which led to a couples dance while two
musicians wandered the room playing a guitar and an accordion. I spent much of the meal talking travel with
Sharon from Chicago, who was with her boisterous husband. She persuaded me to make Vietnam and Cambodia
my next travel destination. Elvis had to
herd the group out quickly in order to get out driver back by 21:00 – union
rules. We were just wrapping up when
Sharon’s husband strong-armed the amenable wait staff into bringing him an
additional dessert of tiramisu.
