Life in Slovenia

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 22:16:00 +0000

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CHRISTMAS 2008

Christmas was peaceful this year. I couldn’t wear shoes, so I couldn’t go anywhere. After the surgery my foot is healing beautifully, but shoes are cursed things!! So I lounged on the sofa, foot in the air reading books, watching movies and enjoying the Christmas tree. After two weeks of this life of resting I went to get my hair cut and I couldn’t believe how relaxed I looked in the disgustingly huge mirror lit with florescent lights. I haven’t looked this young and rested in 20 years. A life of leisure suits me.

Sveta Gora Nativity

Christmas was spent singing in Sveta Gora. After 4 years in this freezing church I have learned to layer with wool, wrap in scarves, double gloves and jump up and down when ever appropriate. I have also learned some of the traditional songs and I can even sing parts of them from memory in Slovene. It is a very good feeling.

"Holy Family at Sveta Gora"

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WINTER SOLSTICE

We went to the Santuary of Madonna di Castelmonte [Stara Gora] for the winter solstice. Even though this mountaintop shrine is a religious monastery and the Cappuccini Friars might frown on acknowledgment of the pagan, it was a top of the world location to watch the shortest day of the year turn into the cold of night. Ancient Slovene tradition was to burn bon fires on the winter solstice because the fires and their warmth kept the life of the old sun Svarog from dying before the new sun Svarožic was born out of the longest night of the year, and they were also supposed to save the soil from freezing deeply in the winter. During the dark days people also feared attack from wolves, the wild man o f the night [ponocni mož], the woman from the mountain cave [Zlata baba] and other mysterious creatures. Even after Christianity became the dominant faith the fear changed to devils, and witches roaming during the long nights of a cold winter. We saw no bon fires, but as the burja wind can rise to over 100 miles per hour it is easy to imagine that the sharp blade of the wind along with the haunting sounds could conjure up the belief in many things to fear in the darkness.

Solstice sunset

Castelmonte rises high above the Friulian plain and has been a pilgrimage site since the 1100’s and a strategic point of protection of Friuli for centuries. In 1913 the Cappuccini monks were given guardianship of the shrine that was then attacked by German forces in November 1943. The church is a blend of the ancient with the painted dark skinned stone Madonna from the 13th century to the front façade and interior front walls that must have been rebuilt after the bombing with a style of the times. From the monastery the view is to the Adriatic Sea, the Dolimiti and Julian Alps and across the flat plains of Friuli. When the tourists are gone it must be the perfect place to meditate on the wonder of the creation. There are so many majestic hill top views in this area and I never tire of watching in silent meditation.

Castlemonte crosses

The Cappuccini monks wear dark brown hooded robes and the drink of the same name, cappuccino, is so called because the spike of foam is shaped like the hood [cappuccio] and the color of the coffee and milk mixture is the same color as the robe. Some even credit Marco d’Aviano an itinerate Cappuccin monk for discovering the drink, but that is probably just a tall tale unless he took his steam milk machine on the road with him. He is historically credited with gathering Protestants and Catholics to join together in stopping the invasion of Vienna by the Ottoman Turks in 1683. Supposedly following the victory the Viennese found sacks of strong infidel Turkish coffee left by the retreating army and since it was too strong for their refined tastes they diluted it with cream and honey, named it after a monk in a brown robe and convinced the whole world to drink it. But don’t drink it in Italy in the afternoon. Milk after a meal is not good for your stomach so just plain espresso is what you drink following a meal. Ordering a cappuccino after a meal is a sure sign of “tourist”, but pronunciation may have hinted “non local”.
Sources:

http://www.cappuccinivenezia.org/castelm

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/2979993.stm

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HOSPITAL STAY

The tall pink and blue building is the Šempeter hospital - on a clear day you can see Italy and the mountains.

On December 11 I had surgery on my foot. I had a node [or a horn as my doctor called it] on the top of my right foot at the big toe due to osteoarthritis [like a bunion]. The condition has been progressing nicely over time, but when we returned to Slovenia it seemed to become more pronounced and the pain became unbearable. The problem of course is shoes. When I am barefoot [as the Creator made me] or in sandals [to protect myself from broken glass] I had no difficulties, but shoes are the Devil’s tool and it got to the point that even my 25 year old hiking boots that are the most comfortable shoes I have ever owned could not come with in a mile of this foot. My plan was to have the surgery when we returned to Ohio in the spring but going barefoot in the winter, even in a Mediterranean climate, is not a reasonable thing.

I didn’t want to have surgery here because of language. My Slovene is really [and I mean really] not that good that I can discuss carving my foot with someone who doesn’t speak English. I mean, really it is hard enough to get a US doctor to give needed information in a language that I can understand and I think we speak the same language, so the thought of having surgery here when translation was the common language was just too frightening. The second reason was “socialized medicine”. I am a product of my culture that tells me that the US health system is the best, and I have heard all my life how terrible socialized medicine is. And even though I am a fervent believer in free universal health coverage for all American citizens I have been brainwashed to believe that truly the best care for my hurtin’ foot was at home. So it made sense that if I could choose I would have the surgery done in the US, but I was not able to walk!!!! So let me give you the real story of my experience and dispel some of the myths of universal health coverage…..

MYTH #1 YOU CAN’T CHOOSE YOUR OWN DOCTOR – Bob had a terrible cold the first year and took some days off from school, but to get paid when not teaching you must have a doctors statement stating that you should take time off from work [and in our experience doctors are highly preventative and encourage people to stay home and heal rather than work themselves to death]. He asked the secretary at school to recommend a doctor and he went to Dr. Maja Klemenc at the clinic across the street from the school. They had a great conversation in English, she gave him permission to stay home until he regained his voice and he has gone to her again for the same annual beginning of the school year condition. When I needed a doctor I asked the secretary to call the same doctor for me. I got an appointment immediately. At her office I signed a paper that designated that I was choosing her for my doctor and now she is my doctor. The choice was not different than moving to a new town and choosing a doctor by asking a friend for a recommendation, and was actually easier than when we moved to Ashland. When we first moved there, no doctors in town were taking new patients and so we had to drive 30 minutes to another town to find a doctor who was willing to take us.

MYTH #2 YOU HAVE TO WAIT A LONG TIME FOR TREATMENT – Qualifying statement: I admit from the beginning that my situation may be a little different because I am a foreigner and the doctors have become our friends. When I requested the first appointment I wanted to make it for the following week. The nurse in the office recommended that I come that very day [Wednesday] because this was on my foot and she didn’t want me to have more difficulties. Wow!! After the doctor looked at the foot she agreed to consult with our mutual friend and surgeon Dr. Igor Pavlin that same day and I needed to return the next day to see what they had agreed upon. The next day when I stuck my head in her office door she saw me, called me into her personal office, and told me to go on Friday to the hospital to see Igor while he was on duty.

On Friday I went to the hospital, Igor looked at the foot, sent me to x-ray, showed me the x-ray, took out his hospital calendar book and scheduled me for the following Thursday. Just like that!

Before the surgery I needed blood work and an ECG. Monday I went to Maja’s office, she told me to come back to her office on Wednesday morning. Wednesday the nurse [whose English is about as good as my Slovene] took my blood with the most gentle prick I have ever felt, I returned in the afternoon after the blood work was completed!!! and had an ECG in the office. I took all the results with me when I went to the hospital the next day.

MYTH #3 THE QUALITY OF CARE IS POOR - I have never had surgery like this and I take no medication so I can’t compare this experience with too many others, but Bob has had both of his hips replaced and he has spent a lot of time with doctors and in the hospital. I had blood drawn, shots, anesthesia, medication, an incision, and an overnight hospital stay. Every aspect was the most professional. The shots were gentle, the incision is clean and healing beautifully with no infection or swelling, the anesthesiologist offered me three options and together we chose the lighter general so that I did not have to have a tube over my vocal chords or a spinal. I woke up from the surgery with almost no pain, none of the hallucinations I have had with past anesthesia and I have suffered from no post surgery stress. It was recommended that I stay in the hospital over night and if I needed to I could have stayed longer. In addition they did not wake me up every two hours to take my vitals; instead if I was asleep they let me sleep. Plus they sent me home with documents that told me my diagnosis and test results and the procedures that were performed [some of these I can even read]. Compared to the care that Bob received at the “world renowned Cleveland Clinic” after his first hip replacement this was a visit to a health spa. Bob had a leaky catheter that I had to fix myself and clean up the spill because no one would come in response to his call button, each shift of nurses had a different opinion on whether he should wear the pulsing socks to prevent blood clots, his food was placed out of his reach when he was not allowed to get out of bed, his room was not cleaned for the weekend and we got him out of there as fast as we could so that he didn’t contract anything else. His surgery was fabulous, but the hospital care was very

MYTH #4 THE FACILITIES ARE POOR – The biggest difference between this Slovene hospital and US hospitals I have visited or stayed in is that here there are no fountains in the lobby [actually there is no lobby really], there is no original art work on the wall, the building is not new with glass sunroom enclosures, the room did not have a TV, I think there may not be a comfortable chair in the entire building, there is no insipid mood music playing constantly, the hallways are dark and the inside and the outside of the building really could use a new paint job with a designers eye. The food was unpleasant as hospital food is required to be, but this may be the condition of being a vegetarian in a meat eating nation [spaghetti topped with canned peas and corn in a light cheese sauce is even too bizarre for my imagination], but I did have fresh fruit and a fresh green salad. The building looks well worn, and probably needs a lot of renovation [the weather was torrential rain and they had some puddles in the emergency area]. The colors are really unpleasant; the walls are painted a Microsoft Word blue with Post-it-Note yellow or gold trim, and there were three different colors of blue in my room [walls, window trim, window frame, curtains]. Some of the equipment looked older than I have seen in Ohio hospitals, but everything seemed to work. Many of the rooms had 6 beds but I was in a single room [foreigner and not a Slovene speaker]. And I was never required to sit in a wheel chair; because I could walk out of the hospital they allowed me to do so. But none of these things are an indication of the care they are just the façade and even though it was difficult not to judge the care by the packaging I tried to break out of my American perspective.

Language was indeed a difficulty. My doctors both speak beautiful English and were very open to answering my questions and made certain that I understood everything. Unfortunately many of the nursing staff was either without English skills or were too shy to use them so I learned more Slovene and they learned a little more English. It is certainly not their fault that they couldn’t communicate with me and I was frustrated by my weakness, but I have grown so accustomed to most everyone speaking English that I was surprised how difficult it was to communicate. Fortunately I had no medical difficulties so it really wasn’t a problem, but I had people I could have called to translate if needed.

THERE IS NO MYTH ABOUT THE COST!!! My insurance, that I pay nothing for, covers 85% of the medical costs and I could have purchased an additional insurance to cover the additional 15%, but I didn’t know about it and we didn’t purchase it in time to allow for the 3 month waiting period. My first doctors visit cost me €2.20, my antibiotics cost €1.50, my lab tests were really expensive €3.84 and I don’t know yet my out of pocket cost for the hospital, but I am guessing it is a lot less than I would pay in the US. €1.00 = $1.33 UPDATE: 1/8/09 Today I received the bill - Total cost 2.062,18 - my portion 191,78

EXTRA BONUS TO THE SLOVENE SYSTEM – If I had needed to stay in the hospital it would have been encouraged until I was able to go home – if I had needed therapy it is possible that a stay in a health spa would have been prescribed and paid by my insurance - if I was younger maternity leave would be a year and if it was a difficult pregnancy I would have had paid sick leave prior to the birth

According to http://www.photius.com/rankings/healthranks.html - 2000 World Health Association Ranking System – the US is ranked 37th in the world in quality of health care – Slovenia is 38th – Costa Rica is 36th and Cuba is 39th – I could not find out what the criteria was for the assessment, but France and Italy are #1 and #2 and the US is 37th? Why do we fervently believe that our health system is superior?

When I return to the US I will sign up for American health insurance that will cost me over $200 per month with a $2,500 deductable, but 100% pay after the deductable. I can not use the US insurance in Slovenia with out paying for everything first out of pocket and Slovene insurance is not honored in the US. But this is a much better deal than the “excellent” State Teacher’s Retirement plan which cost me $400 per month [Bob has his own costs], $1,500 deductable and 80–20% pay. And I am one of the lucky ones because I can afford to pay this outrageous cost so that the insurance companies can throw away my money on CEO salaries and gambling on the stock market, and then beg the government to bail them out for their irresponsible behavior. Guess I get to pay for my insurance twice, but what about my son who can’t afford to pay????

If you haven’t seen Sicko made by Michael Moore you can watch the complete film on youtube and it is worth the 2:03:56 - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fANRr6JumJs

Resources:

www.commonwealthfund.org

http://www.libraryindex.com/pages/1862/International-Comparisons-Health-Care-OVERVIEWS-SELECTED-HEALTH-CARE-SYSTEMS.html

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sat, 22 Nov 2008 12:12:00 +0000

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Sunny Adriatic

SALT-FLATS

The day had the breath of chill in the air and winter was peaking in the window, but the sun was still claiming the sea so we headed to the salt-pans on the Adriatic. There are two remaining “salt farms” in Slovenia near Portorož/ Piran and in “no man’s land” between the border crossings of Slovenia and Croatia. The salt –pans were the source of salt for centuries and function today as a working museum which produces salt in traditional ways. The sun sparkled on the surface of the stagnant water in the salt-pan squares shooting the reflection with the greater force of salt and called us into the basin of history.

Salt Flats

The first documented discussion of salt making in this area was in 840, but historians believe that long before that time the process of claiming salt from sea water was happening in the delta of the Dragonja River. The richness of this production was claimed by the Venetian empire and sale to the Italians was compulsory until the end of the Venetian rule in 1797, when at that point the Austrian Empire claimed the salt monopoly. In the middle ages the design of checkerboard squares was introduced following the patterns established by Arab salt producers, and in 1358 the petola process was developed to create a carpet of algae, carbonate minerals and gypsum grown on the bottom of the salt plot as a barrier to keep the muddy floor from mixing with the seawater and the salt. Because of this crust the salt harvested her e was known for its purity in color and taste.

Secovlje

The conditions for producing salt were perfect in these protected delta because the climate is hot with a constant warm breeze in the summer and the sea level is relatively constant. Salt was produced in these closed basins by allowing seawater to flow, by gravity or aided by wind or hand pumps, first into a reserve basin and then five basins of different grades of salinity and then to the crystallization and collection basins. As the sea water flowed between the pans the water evaporated gradually, the salt crystals start to form on the surface of the brine (aqua madre), they become saturated and built up clusters of salt on the warmer surface. These clusters were raked with wooden scrapers (gavero) from the shallow pools into piles where, because of gravity, the surplus moisture leaked from the bottom. The dry salt was then gathered by hand and transported by wheelbarrow and wagons to storage units. It takes approximately, 50,000 cubic/m of sea water spread over 100,000 sq/m, of flat solar evaporation area, to produce 1,000 tons of salt a year and this daily collection of salt produced pure white unrefined sea salt. In good years the production was as high at 40,000 tons.

Canal

In 1903 the Austrians consolidated the salt-fields, bought up small producers and modernized the production. After WWI the Italians renovated the fields and enhanced the production to a high level. In 1957 the Yugoslav government built an infrastructure to prevent flooding, but because the mining of salt was more efficient than the evaporation process the sites were closed for production in 1968. The Slovene government has established this area as a protected wetland and a cultural heritage site. Salt is still produced in the traditional ways and sold as a specialty item for eating and beauty care. Areas have also been flooded to encourage greater breeding by sea birds such as the tern and claim this as a wildlife refuge.

Ruins of worker houses

Throughout the 1,400 acre salt-pans remains of the salt houses stand on deserted islands. The evaporation ponds and residences were all connected and separated by canals, gates, dikes and aqueducts. The salt was harvested daily and the flow of the sea water was controlled with the tides, so the workers lived in the midst of their work. Their homes were typically 2 stories with the living quarters on the second floor and storage of salt and tools on the ground floor, with an out side bakery. Now they stand naked with out their roofs and emptied of any sign of life. From the place where we parked the car, I found a recently constructed levee that lead me out to the houses. The mallards reminded me that I was investigating an area not open for tourists, but it was a lonely day and no one else but the egrets noticed.

house construction

The houses, still plumb square, are built of roughly cut pure white blocks of stone from the Istrian Peninsula [the same stone used in the White House] filled with left over chips and mud. There is little land around the houses but each had an area where they docked the boats that would have transported them along the canals. The absolute calm on these little islands was profoundly peaceful., and far on the horizon were the snowy peaks of the Dolomiti mountains, the sound of the sea was quieted by distance and not a single mechanical sound could be heard. It was marvelous!

Peaceful quiet

Sources:

http://www.soline.si/park/?lang=eng

http://salt.org.il/frame_prod.html

http://www.aegean.gr/alas/traditional.htm

http://www2.arnes.si/~kppomm/frames/english/english.htm

http://www.mcvitamins.com/Health%20Opponents/salt.htm

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 12:01:00 +0000

The Lipizzaner horses live and breed in Slovenia, and have since1580. Estates not far from Trieste were established by Archduke Charles, son of Hapsburg Emperor Ferdinand I for the sole purpose of breeding horses for dressage and parades. Indigenous horses from the Slovenian Kras were cross bred with Neapolitan, Danish, Spanish and Arabic breeds creating the magnificent long bodied brilliantly white horses that are so famous for dancing and prancing. The colts are always born dark brown or gray and have documented lineage for generations. Between their sixth and tenth year the color of their coats lightens and becomes an unblemished satiny white. They are rigorously trained in Piber, Austria and then returned to Slovenia for stud services.
Once a year the stud farm in Lipica has an open house with free tours and exhibits and we took Sarah and Larry Reed visiting from Mt. Vernon, Ohio. It was a gloriously warm colorful fall day and we sat and reveled for two hours in the beauty of the show of dancing and racing Lipizzaner horses.

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 09:18:00 +0000

"View from Dornberk vineyard"

It is grape season in Primorska [near the sea]. The air is sticky sweet with sun warmed juice, tractors snail from the vineyards hauling loads of grapes and vats of juice, chatting and laughing rises from between the rows and entire families and close friends spend gloriously sweet days picking grapes. Many hands make light work; but it is also a traditional event of working out side, easing the labor of a loved one, socializing while working, gathering around the table outside for a harvest lunch, and enjoying the wine of your labors the rest of the year.

"Spoiled grapes" In some vineyards it was not a good year for grapes. Some of the hillsides had hail the size of eggs destroying much of the crop. Some bunches were full and sweet on the protected side but on the outside bruised and dried like raisins. In addition there was a lot of rain followed by high temperatures. Disease grows rapidly in these conditions and if the grower is not able to spray within an hour of the rain the mold is unstoppable. "Picking in Vogrsko"

Each grower has his own style of picking. Some who have larger vineyards tell us to cut the bunches and not worry about trimming out the dried parts, but others ask us to cut out every bit of the bad and only put the sweetest berries in the bucket [they call the single grape jagoda meaning strawberry]. Trimming every bad spot in the vineyard is a tediously slow process, but makes for lots of time for conversation. "Svetinje"

We traveled this week to Prlekija above the Pannonian plain, in eastern Slovenia on the Hungarian and Croatian borders, to visit the villages and vineyards there. Picking has not really begun yet so the vines were still heavy with grapes. The vineyards look so different because they are tended in different ways. The soil in Primorska is rocky and nothing grows under the terraced vines that follow the contour of the hillside. But in Prlekija the paths between the vines are grass, the vines are trimmed very close to the support wires [maybe to make it easier for machine harvest] and some of the vines run vertical on the hills as well as long twisting ribbons of green. "Jeruzalem"

In Prlekija there seem to be fewer villages on the top of hillsides, but small church communities. We stayed in Jeruzalem [pop. 55] named by the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem who brought the image of the Lamenting Madonna here on their return from a crusade to the Holy Land. The Knights were a Christian organization who built a hospital on the site of the monastery of St. John the Baptist in Jerusalem in1080 to provide care for sick and injured pilgrims to the Holy Land. In 1099 they were charged with defense of the Holy Land, and along with the Knights Templar, were one of the most powerful crusade organizations fighting the Muslims. When the Muslims expelled the Christians from Jerusalem in the 13^th century the Knights were given land on this ridge in Slovenia where the Benedictine brothers built a chapel and church community. The current church was built in the 16^th century. Now the monastery buildings have been converted into a lovely hotel. "View from Jeruzalem" We of course came up with our own fractured history: Richard the Chicken Hearted grudgingly started out for the Holy Land kissing his mama goodbye and promising a souvenir on his return. After a torturous crossing of the Alps and then going up and down, and down and up again and again he decided that the view was pretty good from this hill top so he stopped and called it Jeruzalem. Now he could tell everyone that he made it safely to Jerusalem and sent mama a bottle of Rumeni Muškat for her souvenir. The amazing thing about both stories is the amount of traveling people did hundreds of years ago. We think we are so modern and global and we complain how tired we are from a 12 hour overseas flight. But these people traveled for years and were offered hospitality along the way and were somehow able to communicate along the journey and used trade to pay for everything.

For a country of only 2 million people and a land mass the size of northern Ohio the diversity is incredible. In this region of Prlekija the language does not even sound like Slovene. Our friends tell us that they can’t understand the language here and we certainly didn’t understand anything. In our area everyone speaks English and Italian, but in this area everyone speaks German and probably Hungarian too. We saw homes that had Hungarian influence, stork nests, Austrian castles and regional dishes are made with pumpkin oil and buckwheat. It feels like a different country.

Along our walk from Jeruzalem to Svetinje we followed the sound of the klopotec echoing throughout the valley. The clacking sounds of wood blocks striking wood are used to scare the birds away from the ripening grapes but to us it was the giggling sound of laughter which added even more joy to our adventure. "Klopotec"

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 10:50:00 +0000

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noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 21:06:00 +0000

Kitchen Garden

Vegetable Garden

Sunset

Peace Flags on Front Porch

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 20:22:00 +0000

I had no idea how it would feel to come “home” to Ohio. I have visited twice in the past two years, but visiting home is like taking a nap on an old bed; it feels right and comfortable, but it is just not long enough to know for sure if your back is going to hurt. Living in Slovenia on the border of Italy is an incredible adventure. Each day we are discovering new places, struggling with language, meeting new people, and wading through the adventure and challenges of two cultures. Some times we are so tired of not understanding, of getting lost, of being continuously confused that we crave familiar normalcy and a place where we can understand every inane thing that is said. But the familiar eases out adventure, and at home we found ourselves searching hard to discover the new and interesting. Would we simply fall into old patterns when we returned? Would the sameness seem dull or comforting? Would the familiar be cozy or uninteresting? Would family and friends be curious about what has changed us, or are we expected to slide back into being the people of the past?

Our home stood breathlessly waiting for us. The trees and bushes lined up for inspection showing how tall they had grown in 3 years; the flower gardens hung their heads in shame because the weeds had invaded and the gardens had lost the war, and the field laughed in wild flower joy. On my first morning at the house I brewed myself a cup of coffee, fluffed milk for a latte and settled in my quiet ritual of rocking on the porch until the coffee is gone. But the hummingbird had other ideas. No one had feed him in 2 years and he was unhappy; buzzing my head on the porch unhappy. So before I could even finish my coffee I had to find the feeder, mix him a cocktail of sugar water and feed him his treat so that I could have a little peace. This same hummingbird has been returning to my feeders for around 6 years I think; but they all look alike. He always comes begging the beginning of May and if I don’t have the feeders out he searches for me. One year I was in my studio on the second floor at the back of the house where there was never a feeder and he found me. He hung at the window fluttering his tiny wings until I got up and filled the feeder, as if to say “Mom, come on I’m home, where’s the food”. He doesn’t search for Bob; he somehow knows that I am the dealer for his sugar habit.

Bob came home the beginning of February and he did an enormous amount of work on the house; keeping it safe during the -17° F temperatures, repairing things, painting rooms to cover renter nicks and finger prints and he planted the vegetable garden with some flowers for me. So I came home to the house that felt like my home. It is delightfully peaceful here. The stream that fills the neighbor’s pond from the artesian well across the street snickers all year long, constantly reminding us that she carries secrets from deep in the earth. The song birds dance in streaks of yellow, red, blue and orange, calling to each other from perches on high and serenading us early in the morning. Bob also moved the hot-tub from the master bathroom to the back patio and where we can celebrate the setting sun from the depth of hot water. Now home seems like a fancy resort with luxury in our back yard. We are so very blessed!

We have found in other visits home that contact with family and friends is very different than we expected. People ask “Do you like living over there?” “Are you home to stay?” When we answer yes to the first question and no to the second the conversation comes to a screeching halt. There seems to be no more interest in what we have done, what we are doing and who we are becoming. The conversation quickly oozes to the local gossip, the quality of playing by the Cleveland Indians, the romantic encounters of music and movie celebrities or diatribes about recent illnesses. Generally people seem to not be curious about what we are doing. That is strange for us because we are so fascinated by the experiences of other people, that we thought people would be fascinated by ours. After sharing stories one friend said “You make me feel like I am doing nothing with my life.” Her comment makes me wonder if that is how our stories make others feel. Rather than feeling interested and excited with us the conversations make them feel badly for themselves. We of course hope that our choices can help inspire others to take the risk and do the things that they have always wanted to do and live life without regret, but it doesn’t seem that way.

This summer has been a garden holiday. We have reestablished some of the flower beds, grown the vegetables for our dinners, and built a wildflower labyrinth. It has been a time of reclaiming the home that we designed and built with our own hands. It has been a time of reading, talking, visiting and sharing. It has been a time of great contentment.

Our plans now are to live in Slovenia for 6 months during the school year and 6 months in Ohio working the land. We both will have part time teaching jobs in Nova Gorica and we will call Šempeter our Slovene home for another year. We hope to return to Ohio in April, reestablish Thistlefink Gardens, sell flowers and take full advantage of both of our homes and all they have to offer.

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 19:25:00 +0000

Hummingbird friend

Garden Harvest

Red and Black Raspberries picked with friend Carson

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 13:48:00 +0000

The views from my bike today

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sun, 18 May 2008 13:38:00 +0000

Cliffs of the Vipava Valley

Predmeja meadow

Pot [path]

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sun, 18 May 2008 13:29:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sun, 18 May 2008 13:18:00 +0000

It’s really SPRING in Slovenia!! I know it is spring [or trying to be spring] where you live too, but here spring is oozing out of every pour and the air is sweeter than a candy shop. The sweetness is roses that reach caressing me when I walk by screeching me to a stop, the sweetness is the locust trees hanging their flowers in front of my face along the bike path, the sweetness is the crowns that light up the giant chestnut trees along the street, the sweetness is the cluster of lily of the valley sneaking under the fence begging for attention.

When we first moved to Slovenia in August the air was thick with the smell of roses, lavender and rosemary and I was so distracted by the scent that I had to be careful crossing the street. Now those scents are not as strong to me because they are so familiar, but when spring comes new scents attack me and this year seems to be more intense than the past two years. I never remember being overwhelmed by the smell of the air in Ohio. I’m afraid that we have so many hybrid plants that the roses are perfect and beautiful, but they don’t smell. Lilac bushes are the most glorious scent, but we were given a lilac for our new house that did not smell. I was profoundly disappointed. How can they steal the lilac smell? So I am delighting in the taste of each smell here and planning my walking path to pass by certain gardens and trees.

Last week I had an unusual free day and I went hiking near Predmeja. To get there I have to climb, weave and wind along a long narrow road that has 3 tunnels hand cut out of the rock. At the top, the walking path follows the cliff edge looking into the Vipava valley and dashes in and out of forest, meadow, farm fields and rocky out crops. The profusion of wild flowers was amazing; florescent blues and yellows tucked protected in the grass or near the base of a rock, white clusters spinning in the wind along with the apple blossoms that called to me with the song of the Sirens. The complete peace was interrupted only by the twitter of yellow and grey birds, the warning of a rooster or a farm dog. I could have walked for days, but the wind quickly exchanged cotton candy clouds for charcoal whirlwinds and I escaped just before the rain.

Vipava valley from my picnic spot

path marker

forest floor of blue

glow of the sun at my feet

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Thu, 01 May 2008 11:48:00 +0000

Sunny yellow cottages tip-toe through the grass
like dandi-lions dotting the walled pastures.

Slab stone flat pavement glistening in salt spray,
their toes tickled by delicate blossoms, seeds blown from across the wind.

Guinness chocolate foam licking the lips of repeeated melodies
of flute, concertina, guitar
toes tapping, stepping to time.

The language sings to the wind swept bushes
nothing could be greener.

Burren looking to Fanore

Cliffs of Moher

Rocky coast

pasture

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Thu, 01 May 2008 11:35:00 +0000

Bob went home to Ohio the end of January because our house was going to be empty during the most bitter cold part of the winter, and we just couldn’t take the risk of damage due to freezing pipes. It’s difficult to be here in Slovenia without him. Not only have we spent 35 years supporting and caring for each other, but after a day of traversing another culture, another language, and many cultural differences, it is a huge comfort to come home to the snugly warmth of his arms. But the thing I have discovered most is that I am pretty boring company for myself!

We decided to have a romantic rendezvous for my May holiday, I kept telling people that I was meeting my American lover . Now I know that no cartographer would believe that Ireland is half way between Slovenia and Ohio, but for us it seemed like the perfect mid point. And they do speak English. Don’t they?

We each flew into Shannon. Bob arrived before me and was all ready with a rental car, a warm loving smile and the comfort of US. We planned to hike a lot, and I wanted to do the entire trip by foot and bus transport, but Bob really wanted to drive on the left side of the road so we had a car [and I am really glad we did]. We had booked a B&B on line outside of Doolin for a couple nights and the rest of the week was up for grabs. Bob did great with the driving!! I just said “left” when we turned corners to be certain that he was not on automatic pilot. The only difficulty he seemed to have was judging exactly where the left side of the car was. The secondary roads are cart paths lined with 5ft. high stone walls and bushes growing on them. He could see the middle of the road just fine, but the side of the road was a mystery. I learned quickly not to hang my arm out the window.

We stayed only on the western coast along the monstrous cliffs to the sea. It is the most amazing countryside. Checkered all over the rolling hills are ancient stone walls used still to corral cows and sheep. The land rolls and rolls along until it falls off the cliffs of Moher into the crashing, smashing sea. And there are no trees!!! Yes I really mean that in some places there really are NO trees. The trees that do stand, jitter-bug all day with the wind and have a distinctive limp. The soil is thin on top of the glaciated rock, the wind is powerful, but we also read that the English cut down all the trees so that the Irish would not gather in the woods. This is just one of countless despicable acts done by the English to keep the Irish in slavery, desperate poverty and as a subservient population to the crown. The lack of trees though provides brilliant vistas to the sea and we could watch the rain storms and the bursts of sun come and go on the currents.

Bed and Breakfast cottages speckle the landscape all along this area brightly painted yellow, salmon or trimmed in shocking blue. Tourism has brought new life and lots of people to this farming community, but the B&B’s are still working farms raising cows for milk and meat as well as sheep and following Irish traditions with warm hospitality and kindness. We booked a couple nights at Moher Lodge on the internet and stayed in the lovely home of Mary and Patsy Considine, but then moved to the Aille River Hostel so that we could cook our own meals. The off season rate for the B&B was 35€ per person plus breakfast, the hostel was half that, but we had a private room and we could cook. One of the fabulous things about the B&B was breakfast; fresh squeezed orange juice, fruit, home made scones and a traditional Irish breakfast for Bob. This breakfast of sausage, bacon, black pudding [blood sausage], potatoes, eggs, grilled tomato washed down with strong tea would be torture for a vegetarian, but I understand for a meat eater it is “The way to start the day”. I had a hard time sitting at the same table with him.

Doolin is advertised at the music capital of Ireland and we decided that the Irish have the same gift of exaggeration as the Slovenes, because it is hard to even describe Doolin as a town let alone a capital. But this title brings people from all over the world to this tiny hamlet, without a grocery store, a bank or an ATM, to hear traditional music. There are lots of places to stay and pubs for music, food and Guinness. After watching the sunset we went every night to O’Connor’s to hear music by a different group nightly. I am pretty sure there were never any locals in the pub, but lots of Americans and French. None the less, to sit all night soaking a dark foamy beer engulfed in fiddle and flute tunes is a taste of heaven.

Bob hiking in the Burren

music at O'Connor's pub

Aille River Hostel, Doolin

trees dancing with the wind

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Thu, 01 May 2008 11:21:00 +0000

During the day we hiked. I had hoped to hike from town to town and settle in a new place each night, but the hiking routes described in “Walking Ireland” are really walks on these narrow roads that have a 100km/hr speed limit. What are they thinking?! So we were really thankful for a car.

We drove to the Burren and hiked cow paths, across fields, climbed walls and walked for hours on bare rock polished by the glaciers. This is a karst region just like our area in Slovenia, but nothing at all like it. Karst is a geological phenomenon caused by slightly acidic rain dissolving the limestone surface creating fissures and then forming under ground aquifers. In Slovenia sink holes are very prevalent and the underground water comes to the surface out of holes in the side of the mountain or sneaking under the hill. But in the Burren the fissures are crevices in strips and down inside there are miniature flower gardens protected from the wind and able to collect the rain. Looking into the distance on the path from the Black Head Lighthouse the Burren landscape looks like giant petrified cow pies. It is tricky walking up the hill and over the slices in the ground. Humans have lived and worshiped here from pre-history and forts, tombs, and stone circles still remain. Unfortunately if you don’t know what you are looking for everything looks like rocks piled on top of rocks so everything or nothing looks like an ancient monument. We had a marvelous time wandering; chasing the sunshine and hiding from the rain showers.

Poulnabrone Dolmen [prehistoric tomb]

fissure garden

prehistoric fort on Blackhead point

the Burren

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Thu, 01 May 2008 11:05:00 +0000

We also watched a local Gaelic football game. It was played on a plateau over looking the bay and it is a combination of soccer and basket ball. They did not dribble the ball with their feet or their hands, but both. Running down the field at full speed they would bounce the ball on the grass or kick it off their foot back into their hands [did I say they were running full speed down the field being chased and guarded??]. One point can be scored if kicked through the goal post [like Am. football] or 3 points if it is kicked past the goalie into the net [like soccer]. There was very little physical contact between the players, but a lot of running without stopping. I was exhausted just watching!

With the map of the area we also went searching for castles, churches, monasteries and grave yards. There are so many remains of old buildings that cows graze in the living rooms. The map tells of a castle, but the signs are few and far between. It made great adventure turning down rough roads trying to find a place that is pictured in a guide book, but hidden in the mist and only available for the very determined.

In a few towns thatch house can still be found. Many are charming tourist spots, but some are still lived in. It is clear that the Irish economy is doing well by the energy that is used to keep the houses in lovely shape and beautifully cared for.
Everywhere people were warm and friendly and curious. I found it very difficult to wade through the accent, and I found my self speaking more slowly and simply the way I do in Slovenia because I couldn’t understand them. I had to shake myself into remembering that English was our common language [although all the signs are in Gaelic and we heard a lot of Gaelic spoken].

My family immigrated from Donegal, Ireland before the potato famine that devastated the country. 50% of their population immigrated from abject poverty and slavery. On the next trip we will go to Donegal and search the McGarveys.

http://www.doolinireland.net/
http://www.cliffsofmoher-ireland.com/index.html
http://www.esatclear.ie/~ailleriver/

High Cross at Dysert O'Dea

O'Brian's tower

Gaelic football

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Thu, 01 May 2008 10:11:00 +0000

thatch house in Adare

makings for thatch

horses have the greatest view

signs in Ballyvaughn

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 14:41:00 +0000

dining room

Zapreval Tourist Farm

Bob in front of the peč

Slovenia has over 200 tourist farms; working farms where guests are treated like family. http://www.slovenia.info/en/Countryside.htm?podezelje_1=0&lng=2

When Bob and I visited Slovenia the first time in the fall of 2004 we stayed in 4 different tourist farms in different parts of the country. Each experience was unique. There was one we wouldn’t recommend because we needed to put a chair against the door to keep it from swinging open at night, the people seemed to argue about everything, a light in the bedroom was dangerously hanging from a wire and Bob had to bend backwards in half to keep from hitting his head when using the toilet. Another was just an apartment in someone’s modern house and it was not on a farm or had any of the charm we came to expect. But we have a favorite that we have visited often since and can highly recommend.

http://www.slovenia.info/en/farm-with-accommodations/Tourist-farm-Žgajnar.htm?farm_with_accommodations=162&lng=2

Zapreval is a small village high above Ljubljana and not far from the medieval village of Škofja Loka. From the Žgajnar tourist farm you can see the lights of Brnik Airport if there is no fog, but there is no sound of planes. There are only a few farms in Zapreval but it sits in the middle of Stari Vrh ski resort so day and night time skiing takes place all around the village. In the months when there is no snow people hike and the very strong and determined ride bikes. We have been there in all seasons except summer and it is the most perfectly peaceful place at all times of the year.

Jana greats each guest with a warm smile and šnops made from flowers, blueberries, or maybe even honey before she shows you to your room. I keep trying to drink this horrible liquid that makes me shiver with every sip just to see why it is so celebrated, but so far I can't recommend it. At the farm there are basic accommodations for as many as 20 people, and most of the rooms easily sleep 3. Each room has a private bath and an incredible site viewed from the tiny old windows to the mountains, the valley, the ski slope or the gardens.

Meals are served in the common dining room with the peč. My favorite seat is leaning up against the tiled stove and keeping my back warm. A peč was a common part of every home. The hearth was in the kitchen and served as a cook stove and oven for baking, but the channels of hot air blew through a maze of ceramic tiles that stuck out into the room next to the kitchen and served to heat the house. Children slept on top of it in the cold winter, and on racks hanging from the ceiling clothes were hung for drying. This family farm is generations old and they still raise cows, fruit and vegetables that are served at table. We stayed here the first time in September and Bob went with Jana to the woods hunting for mushrooms that were then served in the most tasty mushroom soup [gobova juha] imaginable. The food is homemade daily and she is very sensitive to vegetarians. Mostly it is a place of great aesthetic beauty in a natural farm sense and we feel very cared for and welcome.

Off season the cost for a room, breakfast and dinner is less than 20 € per person per night.

We have visited Zapreval 3 times this school year. Once in the fall, when Aaron and Elle were here after Christmas and then late winter just before Bob returned to the U.S. Sadly the snow was not so good this year and even though they make snow and have beautiful new ski equipment and buildings the skiing is only marvelous if the snow is great. We did do some skiing and it was such fun, but we were never there when all the slopes were open. But that didn’t matter, because it is really fun to be there on top of the world, in the quiet of the early morning, when the fog is still settled in the valley and the sun is melting the ice off the trees. It is truly a piece of heaven.

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 14:00:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 17:20:00 +0000

Cheers!

Bob and Kay

Aaron and Elle dancing

Tenors

Bob and I have been married for 35 years. Impossible, since I still feel 35, yet true!

We celebrated our anniversary while Aaron and Elle were visiting us in Slovenia and in good Slovene tradition we had a party. A great party!! We rented the beautiful cozy banquet hall at a tourist farm in Tabor and invited 50 friends from our schools and the choir at Sveta Gora and Bob’s family from Podlipa. As is traditional the evening began with pršut, bread, cheese and šnops (and grilled vegetables for the vegetarians). Then we all sat down for dinner of pork, chicken, sausage, potatoes, vegetables (and pasta for the vegetarians) served with homemade wine from Joško and Alida. Next came the buffet of salads followed by American desserts made by us(chocolate chip cookies, brownies, peanut butter cookies, toffee bars). We hired a button box accordian player to provide music for singing and dancing, and much was done all night long.

It was the greatest joy for us to celebrate our union with our new friends. They have become so meaningful to us and they celebrated our friendship by singing songs for us, writing new words to old songs to applaud our longevity and even the teacher's choir sang “When I’m 64”.

It was an unforgettable evening of lots and lots of laughter with dear friends and family.

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Sat, 22 Dec 2007 16:07:00 +0000

Crossing from Italy to Slovenia

Slovene border

Fireworks

Costumed Italians

One of my friends said, “I can’t believe that the border is down. There have been border crossings for my entire life. It just seems impossible!”

The borders between Slovenia and Italy and Austria were officially opened on 21 December when Slovenia became apart of the Schengen border-free area. At one minute past midnight lights were lit by Slovene and Italian officials together on both sides of the border, bands played, costumed citizens danced and fireworks lit the night sky. We stood on the bike path on the old railroad track that had served as the border between the two countries since 1947 and watched the celebrations on both sides. After the official opening and dismantling of the crossing gates, masses of people walked freely between the two countries, for the first time, without document checks.

This border was more than simply the line dividing two nations, but it also was the division between people of the same culture. Gorizia, Italy was once a city of Slovene majority. After WWI the city of Gorizia and the region of Primorska were annexed to Italy and the Italians began to bring citizens from other parts of the country to Gorizia for work and to increase the Italian population. After WWII Primorska was returned to the Slovenes [at the time Yugoslavia], but Gorizia remained Italian. Nova Gorica [new Gorizia] was birthed from a field of roses so that the Slovenes could live in Slovenia and not have to live any longer under the ruling of the Italians. Some people could not leave their families, their businesses, their farms, their houses and had to stay in Italy. The border separated them from family and friends and even some farmers had vineyards in Goriška Brda, Slovenia and Colli Orientali del Friuli, Italy straddling both countries.
One friend tells of hearing the bells tolling for the death of his grandmother in Italy, but none of his family was allowed to cross the border to attend the funeral. Another tells of smuggling meat across the border with her mother, as a young girl, in hopes of earning some money by selling it to Slovenes in Italy. And a popular story is a day when the border was opened without stipulation and people went in mass to visit family and friends in Italy, each returning with a broom slung over his/her shoulder; a commodity more precious than gold.

Prior to 21st December everyone had to show documents when passing to the other country and there were certain borders for locals and borders for all others. Because we do not have EU passports we could only pass at the international crossings even if we were walking or riding our bikes. Now because of the free borders we can cross into Italy just 2 blocks from our apartment.
This celebration was the biggest Schengen opening and creates a 24-country area where EU citizens can travel without passports. In addition to Slovenia , Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Malta, Poland, Slovakia and the Czech Republic also joined the Schengen.

To stand and watch the excitement and feel the energy of breaking down barriers was a thrill. Although our friends here have experienced other moments in history it is seldom that I have been able to feel the breath of change hot on the back of my neck.

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 15:33:00 +0000

Croatian Coast
Trogir from the church tower

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 15:31:00 +0000

Holidays are one of the many nice things about working in the schools in Slovenija. There is a week holiday for each season, and this gives us the opportunity to travel and discover more distant places. This fall holiday, at the end of October and beginning of November, we decided to drive down the coast of Croatia as far as Dubrovnik enjoying the coastal road along the sea and stopping at the ancient villages along the way. The Dalmatian coast is dotted with islands, some inhabited, some naked of trees and life, so the view along the coastal road is interesting and varied.

There were Indo-European settlements along the Adriatic as long ago as 1200 BC and the people were known as Illyrians. The Celts followed much later in the 4th century BC but were defeated along with the Illyrians by the Romans in the 2nd century BC in an attempt to protect their ships from attacks from the Dalmatian coast. The Romans built great roads, thriving walled port cities with community buildings, amphitheatres, grand palaces and aqueducts to transport water. The Roman Empire in this area was destroyed by relentless attacks by the Huns, Vandals, Visigoths and Longobards. In the 6th century the Avars conquered the land and the Slavs, Byzantines, Croats [a Slavic people possibly from Iran], Franks and Hungarians followed. Croatia was not united until 1058, but the land was still fair game for the Hungarians [again], Tartars, Turks [many times], Venetians, and in the 1500’s the Hapsburgs from Austria, then Napoleon, then Austrians again until the dissolution of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire as the result if WWI. In 1918 the Croats joined the Slovenes and Serbs in forming the State of Slovenes Croats and Serbs, but many of the cities along the coast were annexed to Italy and the country remained divided. During WWII the country was invaded by Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy and resistance to these forces resulted in the creation of the Partisan movement and eventually the Communist Party under the leadership of Tito [of Croatian, Slovene mix] and the formation of the country of Yugoslavia. In1991 Croatia declared independence from Yugoslavia [a day before the Slovenes] and a devastating war between neighbors broke out between the Serbian factions and the Croatian nationalists. 1995 peace was declared, but UN forces monitored the land until 1998. Now Croatia is in negotiations for acceptance into the European Union, but there are nationalist who are afraid that joining will not be the best for Croatia, so the conversation continues. But with this history it is no wonder that Croatian people want to be autonomous without the dictates from elsewhere.
When we travel all day in our 1995 Twingo along a road originally built by the Romans, past medieval villages, we are flabbergasted by the amount of traveling done by foot, on horse back, and bumping along in wagons. Modern humans think that we are so mobile with the easy access to airplanes, trains and cars, but in ancient times they traveled unbelievable distances in conditions we would think were less than desirable. Men must have been away from home for years fighting in far distant exotic places while women were home tending the homestead and family. My romantic image of the homey peasant farm, multiple generations snuggled around a blazing hearth after a day of hard work is distorted by the realizations that they had great fear of invasions, the loss of the man of the house for years and what strength the old people and women needed to survive.

Bob visited Dalmatia in 1972 with his parents. His memory is desolate hillsides divided into plots by stone fences and small isolated villages clustered in bays where a port for trade and fishing was possible. 35 years of progressive modernism has drastically altered the landscape. Now the hills that rise directly from the depth of the sea are scared by tourist apartments and hotels. The Croatian tourist board advertises Croatia as “The Adriatic the way it used to be”, but there is little of the pristine beauty Bob remembered to be found along the road. The 2 lane road hugs the hills side and I can’t even imagine how awful it would be to travel the twist and turns in the height of tourist season. All these apartments must be filled with people from somewhere and the only way to get there is by car. The road must be impossibly impassable. The high hills still are divided by stone walls, but no longer do sheep graze or vegetables grow. Certainly the standard of living is much higher and people earn their living during the summer giving them the winter months to recoup and rebuild. No longer do they need to fish the sea daily or trudge the high slopes to raise food to survive, but I wonder what else within their lives and culture is lost. I know that I am the worst kind of tourist. I want to visit the “old country” and see people living the simple life; instead what we see is entrepreneurship at its best. People add multiple stories with private rooms to their homes; they advertise with a soba/camera/zimmer/ room sign and rent them out to people passing by. We made no reservations, but waited until after dark and found a sign lit up and knocked on the door. In each case we were warmly welcomed, given a clean room with a private bath and comfort for the night.

The main cities we visited were Šibenik, Trogir, Salona Dubrovnik and Cavtat. All have been beautifully restored. The pedestrian areas and buildings are made from quarried Dalmatian stone, arches cover the sidewalks connecting the buildings, stairs polished from generations of feet lead to gardens and city walls. Small shops serving residents and tourists peak out from under layers of ancient stone, some clearly stolen from Roman structures. Benches are placed under palm trees and churches appear around every corner. The colbalt sea is ever present by sight, smell or the taste of salt in the air.

I really liked Salona, a Roman community near Split, named after the salt that was harvested there. The foundations of an ampitheatre, temples, baths, homes, walls, gates and roads remain. One man, Frane Bulić, spent much of his life as and archeologist uncovering this city that once was the richest and most populatedRoman city in the mid-Adriatic area. It is easy to see the shapesof the city and in the late afternoon and feel the ghosts of residents who wore grooves in the stone road under the main gate into town. The sophistication of the Roman infrastructure is fascinating. An aquaduct brought water up from the river to the city and covered trenches to displace gray water are still visible . I thrill in walking the path of the ancients. Most of the paving stones have been used for other purposes in other places, so grass carpets the roads and sidewalks giving the place the sense of peacefulness. Yet along the river are oil storage tanks and the modern buildings of Split loom in the distance, but for a moment I can imagine what it must have been like when it was a thriving community.

Dubrovnik was our main destination. To get there we needed to travel inland past the Neretva river delta. This swampy area has ancient raised walled beds for growing that can only be reached by boat. The sweetest tangerines I have ever tasted hang heavy on the trees and stands sell them along the road by the kilo. We ate them like candy with juice dripping everywhere. The approach to Dubrovnik is a dramatic breathtaking view from the hillside. Goats peered down at us when we stopped to look at the city jutting out into the sea. The shape of the walled city makes it clear why this was a safe fortress for centuries. It became the independent Republic of Ragusa in 1382 and the wealth of the inhabitants and the power of the sailing fleet made it a force to rival Venice. A devistating earthquake destroyed the center and the buildings we visited are those rebuilt in 1667. The exterior walls were massive protection from Turkish invasions, but they did not protect the city from the bombing of the Yugoslav army from autumn 1991 to May 1992. From the hillside over 2,000 bombs and guided missiles rained down on the city disturbing half of the houses and all the monuments. UNESCO, the European Union and private sources funded the rapid reconstruction of the city beginning in 1995. As we walked along the streets looking up at the rich design of the buildings it is difficult to imagine the poison that would cause people to destroy such an ancient treasure, but then the expertise, the hard work, the creativity that restored the city shows the goodness in humans that I hope will balance the hatred. We were very happy to be in the city off season to wander around in a slow stroll absorbing the ambiance of the empty streets. We stayed in a B&B just outside the walls and when the second day was pouring rain we had a lovely place to snuggle up and watch the storm come in waves from the sea.

We took an over night ferry from Dubrovnik to Rijeka on the way home. The weather was gray and the wet windy road would have been a tough drive. It was much nicer to sit in the lounge next to the window and watch the coast line pass us by. We met an American couple from Texas and it was really nice to just sit and talk over drinks and dinner. People here speak beautiful English, but it is very relaxing to speak English with people that share a common culture. We can use phrases, make references that are understood by all and it was a delight.
When I visited Bari, Italy with the teachers the first year we were walking through the middle of the old city and there in front of us were Roman ruins. I was slowly dragging at the back of the group looking at every little detail while the rest of my friends rushed by. I stopped at the Roman columns and said “Wait are these Roman?” One teacher stopped and said, “Yes I think so”. “But you just rush by!” I said incredulously. “It’s just more old things”, she said “we see old things all the time.” I will never tire of visiting the ancient sites of this area, but it is amazing how one medieval village begins to look like another after a while. I can’t even believe I am saying that!!

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 15:26:00 +0000

Neretva river basin
Solona Roman ruins
Split seen from Solona

noreply@blogger.com (kay raplenovich) — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 15:24:00 +0000

Dubrovnik