Cliffs of the Vipava Valley
Predmeja meadow
Pot [path]
Sunday, May 18, 2008
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
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
Thursday, May 01, 2008
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
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.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
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.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
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.
Friday, November 30, 2007
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!!
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!!
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