I started writing this a few days ago, and now I'm back in the states, waiting to take off on the last leg of the 14 hr journey today.
As I write this, I'm sitting in a farm yard in the south east part of Croatia. Far off the tourist trail. Rick Steves doesn't even give this area a mention in his book. Today, I was driving toward Zupanja, the last town on my trip's itinerary. On the way, I meandered through a UNESCO world heritage "intangible treasure" area of this varied country. I saw a sign for "Ekoturizam", guessed there were rooms for rent and stopped for the night.
During this adventure, I've been in 3 countries in the Baltic region: Bosnia, Slovenia, and here in Croatia. Plus, almost 3 weeks in my beloved Italy. I got to practice my languages, and stretch myself by going to completely new places, which means: new money (3 different currencies), new languages, new rules, laws, architecture, religions, cultural norms, fashions, and personalities.
The region where I am now makes me think of the stories my grandma, Nana, told me when she returned from here some 40 years ago. This inland area, still recovering from the ("stupid mistake") war 20 years ago reminds me of the feeling in the states 40 years ago. I finally found my villages of clustered wooden houses, farmers with their sheep and chickens, and a slow, quiet lifestyle I've always dreamed existed in Croatia. I'm staying in a dollhouse like place with geraniums hanging and sheep wandering through the yard helping to keep the grass down. I'll have a breakfast of eggs fresh from the hen house and bacon that aged in the barn. All this beauty, peace, and fulfillment of my dreams for $36.00 for the night!
I'll be heading back to the states and directly to my classroom on Wednesday. This summer will pass into memory, and those I love will be happy to see me and comment on my tan. They'll ask me "How was your summer?" How, exactly, does one answer this question? How do you explain to someone about walking on roads that are older than your country?
How can I convey the sound of the 3 piece combo that sang songs in 3 languages outside my window for tourists from all over the world in Dubrovnik?
How can I tell them the exact color of the sea and the sunset in Brela - we don't have a word for those colors.
What can I say that will pinpoint the exquisite taste of the best pizza ever? (Surprisingly in the Istria {Croatia} town of Rovinj, not in Italy!) I can think of myriad adjectives to explain this summer; unforgettable, a dream, indescribable, life changing. But that tells you nothing.
Starting with a week in Roma, revisiting my old haunts and brushing up on my Italian, I walked the Roman roads and ruins, stared in disbelief in the Pantheon, strolled the neighborhoods and churches to find the gelato and statues I remember. Lots of fountains were waterless. Many churches' statues were covered or removed, most of the center was devoid of Italians. Yet, it was the best way to begin this summer's adventure. I settled into my European self easily, taking off my "teacher" mantle and putting it away for awhile.
My painting class was such a great experience. I met folks from other English native language countries. I practiced skills I haven't used in years. I slept in the shade of umbrella pines and ate truffles found in the garden by the new puppy. I got to be the student and it was a nice change. I learned from Julian, my teacher, how to be a better teacher myself. Success.
The Croatian coastal towns of Dubrovnik, Brela, Split and Rovinj all gave me the dose of seaside I crave all the time in our (mostly) land locked state. The water was clear and cool, brushing the land in a repetitive, hypnotic rhythm that calmed and refreshed my soul.
The big cities of Zagreb, Osijek, and Ljubljana (Slovenia) gave me the thrill of good foods, art nouveau buildings and people happy and eager to help while practicing their English.
The nature of Croatia just blew me away...mountains, coastal beaches, heavy forests, water falling lakes, wide, lazy rivers, islands large and small, rocky plains, and wide open fields of corn and sunflowers! I took as many "little roads" as possible just to see what was around the corner.
I also experienced heart breaking sights. There are many villages and towns that seem to be half missing. Ruins that used to be family homes are now overgrown and caving in. Many currently lived in places had gunshot (I assumed) holes in a spray pattern. Some patched over, many not. I could tell the places that had been repaired, they had new orange roof tiles. I went into a church that had been repaired from more than 16 grenade hits. I was asking the guide if the columns were granite, and he said "Yes, grenades." Several people I talked to about the war sadly stated it was a huge mistake and they were sorry that the whole thing ever happened. How could they not be sorry? They turned the guns on their own neighbors for the sake of how they pray. Tragic. Nobody wins in a war.
The place I felt the most tension and fear was in Mostar, Bosnia. That city is still full of resentment and suspicion. There is a tenuous peace, but it feels strained, like everyone is walking around very carefully so as not to offend anyone or shake things up.
Then there's here, the inland part where there is almost no American tourists. This is where I feel the heart of Croatia. Where there's 100 year old wooden or hand made brick houses. There's organic family farms and one lane roads, but that's wide enough because there isn't much traffic! Where all the houses of the village face the road because all the land behind the houses is where they keep the livestock or grow the corn in neat manageable plots.
The most impressive part of all of Croatia, however, is the people. Those people who when I stopped to ask for help would lead me in their cars to where I needed to go. Those folks who shared drinks with me because we had terrace space in common. The friendly strangers who got goosebumps when I told them I came to their country because I wanted to see where my greatgrand parents were from. I experienced so much joy and helpful kindness by these countrymen, it makes me feel proud to say that these are my people. I was never treated like a random tourist (aside from the whole lodging thing in Dubrovnik), but as a friend they hadn't met yet.
The sun is setting over the barn, and three kids on roller skates just rolled by being pulled by a tractor. The mosquitos are out in force and the pace of this place is pulling me to my wooden bedroom and hand embroidered linen sheets. All I can say is I am so grateful.
This will probably be the last post of this blog until my next trip, but perhaps not...maybe I'll add little funny stories or beautiful pictures when I'm reminiscing. From the positive feedback, I think most folks have enjoyed reading the stories I shared this summer. Thanks for reading. Cheers and ciao, Christine









































