A Little Sing-Along

Time and distance do a lot to alter one's initial impressions. So much can happen in the intervening weeks between the vacation and the transition back to reality that the glowing memories begin to fade. They do not tarnish, but their freshness, their vitality seep away, and it is difficult to evoke the intensity first experienced while traveling. Still, certain things can trigger an explosion of memories that instantaneously transport me back a few weeks ago. Perhaps the most effective for me is music.

I know that I am not unique in having specific songs remind me of certain experiences or people.  There has to be something about the nature of music that we humans instinctually grasp onto, and it certainly is something through which we can bond. I found this to be especially true with my touring companions in Croatia. Driving back from one of our hikes, there happened to be an uncharacteristic lull in the conversation. So, when a hush descends like that, it makes perfect sense to turn up the music. The selection from the day ranged from traditional Croatian music from the Dalmatian coast (a type of a capella choral called klapa) and Croatian music associated with the North (tamburitza, which explores themes of love and village life with the accompaniment of stringed instruments) to modern American pop music and classic American rock. And it was the distinct music stylings of the Eagles that elicited a good old-fashioned sing along.

An example of the tamburica

Several times, I had heard songs that reminded me of friends from college, from Chicago, and even from work. With those, I quietly mouthed the words, fondly thinking of whomever the song reminded. If any sound ever escaped, it was soft, carefully muted so as not to give away me away. But when the first few chords of "Hotel California" crossed the air waves, my ears immediately perked up and I began keeping time with the music, listening closely for the cue to make an entrance. It is not a song to sing under your breath, but one that demands being sung out loud with feeling. (Okay...so I say this perhaps as an excuse as to why I sang much more loudly before.I will even admit I was probably showing off a little since singing is one of those things I have been told I do well.) And so when the mesmerizing guitar solo at the beginning drew to an end, I didn't even bother singing softly. I joined right along with the others (who also felt the compulsion to sing) and let the song overtake me.

The fact that we could share this music, this song, meant something. Perhaps it was one of those instances where we ascribe far too much meaning to a simple occurrence, but I would like to think not. (Something which I often do, I admit.) The fact that Tom, Marty, Davor and I could sing along without inhibitions or self-consciousness struck me as an example of the bond we had developed in our short time together. Music is something friends share and something that I think defines us. It brings people from all different backgrounds together, and this moment symbolized that for us. And I am certain that from this point on, any time I hear the Eagles, I will find myself not in the room where the music is filtering in but rather in the passenger seat of a van driving through the beautiful Croatian countryside with good friends around me joining in the song.

On the Adriatic

Several times this week, I have been asked to name the favorite thing I did while in Croatia. After debating for a couple of moments, weighing each activity against some imaginary scale of enjoyment, I inevitably settled on saying kayaking the Adriatic Sea.  While not a lie, it is also not the whole truth. It was a markedly different experience than that of hiking, so of course it stands out in my mind for that reason. And, I would argue, it is something that most people would readily agree as being a highlight of any vacation. Some of the other experiences that I would rank as the most enjoyable (which I hope to explore in a future blog) would require a more in depth explanation that no one really wanted to hear about when asking that question, so short and simple was my goal.

That said, kayaking and I have a kind of love/hate relationship. I enjoy kayaking immensely, but I find it challenging. I am not always at my best when faced with a challenge...and when I woke up the morning we were headed to the sea, I admit that I was filled with a sense of dread. A thick mountain mist blanketed the area near our hotel, and it seemed that our time on the water was destined to be shrouded in a haze. Yet, after breakfast we forged ahead toward a small town called Vrsar on Istria, the peninsula in the northwestern corner of Croatia.

As we were driving, I kept an eye on the outdoor temperature hovering around a cool 15 Celsius (60 to all of us in the US), and the lingering gray. I wasn't so sure about the whole thing, but then, after traveling through a long tunnel, it was like we were transported to a completely different place from before. Not only was the sun shining, the sky clear, and the temperature climbing steadily to about 25 Celsius (about 77), it was as if we somehow ended up in Italy. Signs were in Italian and Croatian. The architecture and landscape looked eerily similar to Italian villages, which makes sense considering it has been under Venetian control at some point and a heavy Italian influence has remained throughout its history.

After some intrepid exploring of the area (we got a great tour of some of the back country...even if it was unintentional), we found a good place on the public beach in Vrsar and launched our kayaks--Tom and Marty in one and Davor and I in the other. (For the record, having the well-experienced, much stronger guide as my kayaking partner made my job so much easier! I recommend it to anyone :))  It took me a few moments to adjust to these kayaks, as they were a different kind from the one I had used in the past, but I think overall, I like this kind better.

Our Kayak

 On a more random note, after only a few minutes of kayaking, it quickly became clear that we were not the only ones enjoying the beauty of the Adriatic. After turning a bend, we came across a (VERY) long stretch of coastline that I later learned was home to Europe's largest naturalist campground. So, for over half of the time we were on the water, it seemed like we were passing hundreds of naked Germans (okay, I have no clue if they were Germans or not, but in my experience--which is minimal mind you--those who bare all on the beach are German). A great source of amusement, I admit, but it limited the number of pictures I wanted to take of the shore... Oh, and one more point of clarification.  Also, this is NOT why kayaking is my "favorite" thing from my trip.

Back to the actual kayaking. What I love about kayaking is being so close to the water, where you can see, touch, smell, everything but be IN the sea. Experiencing the Adriatic while surrounded completely by its gorgeous  green-blue waters that while calm are not completely still. Seeing the rugged coast as it rises from the sea, vegetation clinging to the rocks, growing where it can. Watching other boats in the distance (and up close) as they pass by. The sun beaming down, radiating a pleasant warmth long forgotten during a dreary Midwestern winter.  Time stops as you adopt a rhythm of paddling, working with your partner to do something so simple as moving the kayak further. Like hiking, it lends itself to a meditative state. At least when you can free your mind of other thoughts.

Kayaking to get here was very much worth it!

And this is where I begin to 'hate' kayaking. By my own estimation, it is not something I am great at. I don't like being less than great at anything I do. Call it a type-A personality or holding myself to ridiculously high standards, but whatever it is, initially I had a difficult time fully immersing myself in the experience. And while I look back now and recognize how ridiculous my thinking was, I could not shake the feeling that I was little more than dead weight in the front of the kayak. For the first leg of the trip, I managed to maintain a fairly steady pace, trying to rest only when Davor stopped and praying that I wasn't making any stupid mistakes like paddling in a way that threw us off course. (I was very self-conscious about his opinion of my abilities. I didn't want to be seen as a slacker or lightweight, and I also have to admit, it was hard to relinquish control of the situation...)

However, by the time we got to the restaurant (our destination), I was pretty much drained. A combination of the sun, the sea, and the sheer fact that I had been going full-speed for about six days with minimal sleep hit me hard. I enjoyed a simple (but delicious) lunch of olives, cheese, and bread but was concerned about how I would make the trip back without admitting some kind of 'weakness.'

The view from the restaurant. There was a cave behind us with pirate cut-outs...

Once we were back on the sea, I didn't last very long before it became apparent that I was flagging. Eventually, Davor kindly suggested I take a break. And as a testament to my exhaustion, I did. Even though it wasn't very long (I am too stubborn to give up completely...and yes, resting when tired amounts to giving up in my twisted logic), those few minutes that I just sat there, I allowed myself to relax, and it felt good. It was as if I were waiting for permission to take a break, to feel okay handing the reins to someone else, even if it were for something as small as this. Just these five or ten minutes were startlingly refreshing because it is very, very rare that I let my guard down like that.

Much of my life has been spent trying to be wholly independent, not asking for much of anything from friends or family or even strangers--my guiding principle seems to be to do whatever I can not to be a bother, to have the least impact. Asking for any kind of help is weakness in me. (Yet, I admire others who are open and willing to seek and accept help...figure that one out.) But those of you who know me probably realize this about me, and I realize that the weakness is in NOT asking for support. If I am not careful, one of these days I am going to wear myself down so much that I won't be able to bounce back.  And in a long-winded way (see nothing is ever clear-cut with me), this is why it was one of my favorite days of the tour. I allowed myself to show imperfection. And while I know I am rife with imperfections, to willingly let one show like this without benefit of a polished facade is a big step for me. (And I had the opportunity to kayak on one of the world's most beautiful seas past a bunch of nudists, one of whom was riding a scooter across a bridge...tell me that doesn't rank up there as memorable?!)

From on High

At this point, I diverge from providing a chronological account of my journey, beginning instead to expand on central themes to what I learned and experienced in Croatia. Today, I explore the hiking part of my trip, which made up a large part of my vacation. While to some, braving the elements (whether it be the mist, the rain, or the blazing sun) to walk up steep paths often surrounded by thick vegetation and lined with slick rocks or leaves sounds like a nightmare, I found it to be just what I needed to help me relax and focus on what was truly important at this time.

Okic Castle -- the way up was a bit steep

I find the act of hiking requires a level of concentration unlike that of simple walking. Instead of getting completely lost in my own thoughts as I often do when out for my daily stroll, these hikes forced me to pay attention to the path ahead.  My mind and body had to work together--to judge where it was best to place my foot, to determine the right pace so as not to run into the person ahead of me or not to trip up the person behind me, to coerce my tired legs to go that little bit further when their strength began to flag. For some it may be easy to slip into a routine that allows their minds to wander, and at times I was able to divide my attention, looking at the glorious scenery that surrounded and absorbing the fact that yes, indeed, I was thousands of miles away from home climbing a mountain (or mountains) so unlike anything that Kansas City has to offer. But if my thoughts lingered a bit too long from the trail, all it took was a slight slip of the foot or a low-lying tree branch to jolt me back to my focus. And that is a good thing. Too often, I found my thoughts slipping back to things I had wanted to leave behind, even for a little while. So banging my head on a tree was a very physical manifestation of that figurative slap to the face we all sometimes need to remind us what we should be paying attention to. (yes, I really did run into a tree...) Hiking allows me one of the rare opportunities to live fully in the present, to enjoy the fact that I am capable of climbing those steep paths that take me onward and upward to a goal that does not have any more reward than that of personal satisfaction. 

And what a wonderful feeling it is to reach the top. My first great moment of clarity occurred on the second full day of the tour when we reached the top of a mountain (sadly, the name eludes me at this point) after a steady, extremely steep climb up. As I first glimpsed the expanse of rolling mountains and valleys, miniature houses dotting the landscape, I was breathless. (Few things elicit such a reaction from me like that anymore--I have become rather jaded as I have gotten older.) For the first few minutes, I just stood and stared, understanding that this is why I had decided that--of all the kinds of vacations I could have taken--this was the right one for me. A small bubble of giddiness worked its way up, and I swear I had the dopiest smile on my face, but I didn't really care. I was happy. Not the kind of happy that flickers away just as quickly as it appears. No, this was a feeling that would endure, resurfacing several times throughout the trip (like when reaching the peak of Mt. Risnjak after fighting gusty winds and slick rocks or when enjoying something as simple as fresh cherries and wild strawberries on the way up Mt. Učka).  It is something very personal and difficult to articulate, but it very much ran along the lines of "holy freaking cow, I am in Croatia." (I really do think in phrases like that :))

View from above

What was even more significant for me this time around were the climbs down. Any of you who have traveled with me in the past and have gone on the trails know how much I abhor winding my way back down. I hate to admit that more often than not, I spent a good deal of time sliding down mountains rather than walking down them. The memories of the bruises and the wounded ego resonated loudly each time we began a descent. I refused to say anything about my (irrational) fear most likely out of pride, but I felt that each step I took down was fraught with hesitance, and I truly appreciated the times where I dropped to the back. (I am not sure if my fellow travelers noticed this, but I usually don't do a good job masking my emotions...) Yet, I survived. And I might add, without any bruises. I still hate the idea of climbing down, but I recognize now that perhaps it isn't as scary as I make it out to be in my head. And, I shouldn't let my anxiety about what has yet to happen (or what may never happen) mitigate the enjoyment of the present moment. Initially, I dreaded the climb down so much, I forgot to take notice of what climbing up availed. (Do you see a theme developing here? Am I being too obvious in advocating a "live-in-the-moment" kind of philosophy?)

All this is easier said than done. It is simple to live life to the fullest when you are gallivanting across the countryside. Mired in the day-to-day grind of regular life, distractions obscure our focus, and we become preoccupied with what has been and what might be. (Or so it has been my experience.) Is it too idealistic of me to think that there has to be a way in which I can harness some of the peace I discovered hiking without having to travel thousands of miles to do it? Perhaps. But I have to believe that life should be filled with more of those enduring moments of giddiness than not. If so, then I definitely have to work out that balance because something is currently way off. Have you ever had an epiphany where it became crystal clear that something just wasn't right? If so, what did you do to resolve it? (I am at the recognition phase of the whole process, if you have not gathered it yet. The resolution is still very much in the works.)

Zagreb

The real journey begins in Zagreb. With a population around 800,000, Zagreb is both the capital of Croatia and its largest city. Because of my appalling level of ignorance, I had no idea what to expect, but I admit that it was not the vibrant, modern city that met me on the first afternoon. Our hotel was located in the city center, which made observing its vitality even easier. It is a beautiful city, a product of several centuries of history that is hard to capture here. As with many European cities, the mixture of modern conveniences and historical buildings provide an interesting juxtaposition. Clearly, Zagreb is a city that enjoys a rich heritage while it still makes room for its future.

City Center -- Looks fairly empty here, but I promise, there were people everywhere!

The flurry of activity was a bit overwhelming. It was a bit disconcerting to watch as cars, trams, bikes, and pedestrians use the same paths, and it took a while to adjust to walking around as if I knew what I was doing. I did my best approximation of the locals and adopted a state of (seeming) oblivion to the very real risk of getting mowed down and just started walking. 

King Tomislav -- first king of Croatia

I have found that the best way to overcome nerves in a situation like this is to immerse oneself in exploration. Armed with the information given provided by Davor on our drive into the city, I struck out on my own. The cathedral was my first destination, partially because it was impossible to miss, and partially because I have a strange obsession with churches.  Currently, the cathedral is being restored, each stone being meticulously removed, cleaned, and replaced. While scaffolding mars the exterior, the beauty inside remains untouched.

Inside the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (yes, that is its official name)

From the cathedral, I began following the signs for other tourist destinations. I believe that I managed to hit all the major stops on my first trek about town (at least saw the exteriors--many of the museums were closed because it was Monday), including several more churches and a few other notable sites. (I made sure to walk in circles several times to ensure I didn't miss anything...or because I tend to get a bit turned around at times. I am not sure.)

For all the activity swirling around me, I noticed there was ample opportunity to slow down and enjoy life, too. The streets were lined with tables, where several people had stopped to chat over a cup of kava (coffee) at the outdoor cafes. I passed several people ranging from the very young to the very old with ice cream cones in hand. And at the parks, I witnessed friends laughing, families playing, and lovers walking hand in hand. It all struck me as amazing, sweet, and yet familiar. The universal attraction of being outdoors on a lovely day in the presence of those you love is something we all can appreciate and enjoy. It was these green spaces to which I felt drawn, and so, in spite of the other attractions, I spent my time watching others enjoying life. And as I watched (not as a voyeur, I promise! Just a curious observer), I realized that I had been missing this level enjoyment in my own life as of late. Too much time focused on work, family, obligations, and the like had clouded my vision so much that it took over 20 hours of travel time to find something to wake me from the sleepwalking of the past several months.

The ideal summer afternoon

The adventures that followed these first couple of days in Zagreb were a welcome reminder that I can be someone more than the narrowly defined roles I find myself inhabiting every day in the 'real' world--roles I recognize I tend to impose on myself, but ones that others have come to rely on as well. I can be someone who explores, challenges, learns, teaches, trusts, shares, and, most importantly, laughs.

A Souvenir of Sorts

So, what follows was my souvenir to my great friend, Shelley. She didn't want anything from Croatia, really, but she did ask me to eat a pastry for her and let her know how it went.  Because I cannot do anything quite that simple, I took it a step further. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed researching and writing it.

As you had requested of me, I have done my best to acquire, photograph, and taste a pastry in your honor. Indeed, I have done even better by enjoying a bit of local dessert every day. It was challenging, I assure you, and sometimes, I did not have my camera at the ready to capture the delicious goodness of my chosen desserts.  Still, I think you will not be disappointed.  (Except maybe in the quality of some of the photographs…I need practice J)

My first choice of pastry was a tart cherry strudel. It was still warm when I opened up the bag and positioned it for its debut as a food model. The blood red cherry filling oozed from between the flaky layers, hinting at a sense of danger and temptation (too much drama? J). While most sane people would tear into it with their teeth, ripping through the pastry, I took a more delicate approach, using my hands to create smaller bite-sized pieces. The sweetness of the powdered sugar contrasted nicely with the sour cherry, and it made for a pleasant afternoon snack. Still, nothing in particular struck me as being uniquely Croatian, so I vowed to continue searching for something different.

Another day, another pastry. I chose a different bakery today in Zagreb, and I opted for another strudel, this time filled with something between cottage cheese and cream cheese. (Maybe kind of like ricotta in texture.)  The filling had a hint of sweetness, but nothing like is typically found in American desserts. I will refrain from describing the filling sans pastry as it could easily devolve into something vulgar, disgusting, and well…yeah. I’ll leave it at that. However, that aside, it tasted great. I am not sure whether I would say it was better than the cherry or not since both were distinctly different flavors. But, I wasn’t satisfied, so the quest continued.

Image www.zagreb.hr/ 

(On a side note, to supplement today’s choice of pastry, I opted to indulge in Vinček (pronounced vin-check) ice cream…what I think was a mixture of chocolate and vanilla swirled with hazelnuts. Outside of the life-threatening hazelnuts, I think you would have enjoyed it!)

Image From chicgalleria.com

The heavens opened up, and all seemed destined for misery on the day we headed to Plitvice National Park. Despite the fact that Plitvice is one of the country’s most famous places to visit (and one of the world’s most beautiful), the gray weather made it seem a little less than appealing. The crowds also did not bode well for my enjoyment of the day, but in the end it all worked out , and I had a lovely time. My quest for dessert was limited today, although a small piece of apple strudel offered by my good Canadian friend, Tom, helped tide me over until later. (It wasn’t really all that exciting, but it was something, right?)  Still, later that evening, I felt it my duty to find something more, and so I sampled the palačinka (pala-chinka), a crepe filled with apricot jam and sprinkled with powder sugar and drizzled with honey. (imagine the chocolate to be honey on the stolen picture above.) Again, no pictures by me, but it was amazing. What better food to sustain international talks about politics, government intervention,  and the role each country has in helping out in the global community?  I cannot think of any J 

 

Image from croatia.org

(I stole this photo from the internet…I wasn’t good about keeping my camera handy)

On the third day, after hiking up to a castle and then up top for a beautiful mountain view, we stopped in the town of Samobor. There, we enjoyed the most delicious of cakes—kremsnite—as we relaxed after our (not so) arduous journey.  The kremsnite is best described as a custard filling (vanilla in flavor this time around) topped with a thin pastry crust. The top is removed and eaten first, like a small appetizer before the main meal. Then, you delicately eat the filling, airy and light with a hint of vanilla sweetness. It almost seems insubstantial as it dissolves in your mouth, so you are compelled to eat more to be sure it is not just something you have imagined. It is definitely something to savor and enjoy—even as the skies darken and the thunder rumbles in the distance. Not a bad way to end a fabulous hike!

On the fifth day, if I had known the splendor of the dessert that awaited, I would have brought my camera. (Lucky for you and me, it was served again a couple nights later—the picture included is from then, but it looked much the same.) I also photographed my lunch, a delicious polenta

Image from http://www.sarahs-blueberry-recipes.com

 

Palačinka for dessert again, but instead of a fruit filling, this time there was a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and instead of honey, it was covered in blueberries. After sea kayaking along what had to be Croatia’s (if not all of Europe’s!) largest nudist campground on the Adriatic, I think I deserved to enjoy the light crepe with its deliciously cool ice cream and beautiful blueberry sauce. Kayaking is hard work, and I was exhausted by the time dessert hit. Still, I couldn’t let such a delicacy go to waste, so I managed to keep my head upright long enough to finish it. Seriously, if you ever find yourself in Delnice, Croatia, do yourself a favor and visit Hotel Risnjak for dinner and dessert! (Closest image I could find to stealJ)

On the final day of the tour, we had a choice of strudel for dessert. I probably should have stuck with the blueberry (pictured above), but I decided to go for apple because, well, that is usually my preference for pastries.   Don’t get me wrong, it was still utterly amazing! And paired with the sour cherry ice cream, it served its purpose quite well.  As you can see, I came prepared for dinner tonight, so I was able to capture photographic evidence of just how good it was. (And Davor, our guide, was kind enough to let me photograph his blueberry strudel as well…when I had explained the task you had given me, my entire group thought it a grand idea!) Anyway, the tart flavor of the ice cream in the cool medium of ice cream is delightful to the tongue. I have never had sour cherry ice cream before (only very sweet), and after a long day of good hiking, it tasted divine. It was consumed far more quickly than perhaps it should have been, but it was a fitting send off for Croatian desserts. My next stop was Slovenia, and I had no idea what to expect. Still, you really cannot go wrong with sweets anywhere, so I wasn’t too worried…

I didn’t have a Slovenian pastry on the first day there. Instead, I went ahead with ice cream, Nutella-flavored because I have a hard time resisting a chocolate-hazelnut combination. I have to admit, my heart wasn’t really into finding a treat on this day. Something about saying good-bye to Tom, Marty, and Davor made me far sadder than I thought possible. That put a slight damper on my arrival in Slovenia, and really, it didn’t improve a whole lot as time passed. It was lonely without my trusty travel companions, and I found myself wandering Slovenia feeling conspicuously alone.  Thankfully, I had the task of finding sweets charged to me, so I at least had that to spur me forward and out of my hostel room.  When I did get my ice cream, it started to drizzle, an apt reflection of my mood. Still, you cannot help but smile a little with an ice cream cone in hand, so all was not wrought with misery. It just happened to be a different experience that I think all who travel have at some point during a trip – the crash of adrenaline, the realization that the trip is winding down, and the reality of the world looming over you. That is why God made such things as ice cream (and strudel and sweet crepes and anything in between) – it makes the not so fun parts bearable!

The final night away from home. The day began in Ljubljana, and overall it went better than the day before.  However, as I was heading to the train station, I found myself with far too many Euros (Croatia is still not a part of the EU), and not wanting to have to endure the hassle of converting it back, I figured purchasing food was the best way to go. One of those purchases was this chocolate-filled donut that would serve as my pastry for the day. Sadly, it took me until late in the evening to be hungry enough for it, so it was not as fresh as it could have been. (It managed to stay fairly unsquished in my backpack through a long train ride and the seemingly impossible search for the bus that would take me out to my final hotel.) It managed to have a nice balance of chocolate and fluffy donut dough, and it was a lot of fun having a chance to eat it in my adorable little hotel room. (Seriously, this place was a five minute walk from the airport—key to arriving in time for an early morning flight—and it had the best shower ever, beautiful furnishings, a fabulous television AND the owner made me sandwiches and gave me an entire liter of juice for the next morning since I was leaving before breakfast.  I left the juice behind because there was no way I could consume an entire liter before hitting security, so I didn’t want to waste it.)  Funny, the last night in Croatia, I spent organizing my things and watching television. There is a strange mix of programming on Croatian television –several familiar American shows like Friends and Sex and the City, a slew of telenovellas from South America and even a few soaps from Turkey.  I always find European music videos enjoyable for all their absurdity, and don’t get me started on the commercials.  It was a nice, quiet way to unwind after several days on the go.

Thank you for asking for this souvenir! Seriously, it not only made me venture out to try different things, it helped spark (at least a little) an urge to do a little crafted writing. The biggest challenge (besides the torture of eating delicious food!) was trying to describe eating without sounding horribly…sensual J I remember a professor once saying that anytime an author wrote about food, s/he was really writing about sex. I truly understand that now…all kidding aside, I hope that this wasn’t TOO much information, and I hope you are satisfied. If not, I will be more than willing to go back and try again…but this time, I would encourage you to tag along and guide me away from making the same mistakes again!

First Impressions

First impressions are often the most enduring. I never know what kind of impression I make, but hopefully it is a good one. Still, it is something I fret over, and as I was flying over the Atlantic, I worried about it. Would I get along okay with the other members of the group? Would I be able to hack it on the hikes? Will they mistake my shyness for conceit or disinterest? (Did I spend any time wondering what I kind of people I would be working with? Nope--not really. I was too concerned and self-centered at this point to think about how they would think of me!)

All the worrying was for nothing. The first person I met after leaving the baggage claim in Zagreb was our guide for the tour, Davor--friendly, helpful, and extremely nice. I liked him immediately. As we drove to the hotel, he provided me with some background about the city--its rich heritage defined by its ties to the Austria-Hungarian empire, the effects of being a part of communist Yugoslavia, and even the effects of the war with Serbia. My knowledge of Croatia had been to this point abysmal, and even now, I wonder if I am representing it accurately. Still, outside of his general friendliness, one of the things I observed about Davor was his strange habit of scanning Croatian radio stations for English songs. It seemed the second advertisements, Croatian music or something similar came on, he would quickly find the next familiar tune. I later learned that this was just one of his many ways to accommodate us, but at the time I found the act itself amusing and I was astounded by the amount of American music there was (particularly upon listening to listening to the mix of American songs playing--there are some bad ones out there!).

I personally was struck mute, my mind still trying to process the fact that I was in Croatia and all that meant as well. While I am absorbing information, I find it difficult to formulate good questions to ask, let alone vocalize any. So, I sat with a bit of a dazed smile on my face and nodded along.

Once I checked into the hotel, I learned that there were only two other members of the group. The thought of a small group (four members total) unnerved me a bit. It is pretty much impossible to blend into the background, hang along the edges (a tactic employed while touring Crete). If there are personality conflicts, that would mean long-term trouble, and it could ruin the whole trip.  Can you tell I was a bit anxious?

Turns out, I was worried about nothing. Tom and Marty were a couple from Calgary who proved to be ideal travel companions. Tom and Marty are about my parents' ages, which actually played a large role in why I could get along with them so well. But more importantly it was the kindness and compassion that exude from Marty as she first talks with you. It was the genial and genuine enthusiasm for life that made it impossible NOT to like Tom. It was always easy to smile when they were around. Not only were they great people, but their traveling history impressed me (and made me a little green with envy). As I learned more about each--about Marty's time abroad that had her spending time everywhere in a time where it was even more dangerous to travel alone as a woman. Tom's work took him everywhere in the world, and there met people from such diverse backgrounds. Very proud parents, they have instilled an appreciation for travel in their son and their daughter. Two people from whom we could learn a number of important lessons.

Based on first impressions alone, I knew this was going to work. Little did I know at the time how much I had to learn from each of them, and I had no idea just how much of an impact their presence would have on this experience. (Even as I write this, I find that I am being a bit sappy and sentimental. Truth be told, I am one of those people who, given the right circumstances will gush effusively because I know of no better way to state my appreciation. I am afraid I attach too easily, opening myself up to vulnerability and hurt. To counteract this I often go to the other extreme and remain completely detached. In a group this small, that would be pretty much impossible.)

This particular trip was an eye-opening reminder that while what you are doing is important, arguably with whom you are sharing that experience is just as important. Hopefully, as I continue the narrative account of my trip, what I am trying to capture here so futilely will bear itself out. At least I certainly hope so :)

Just the Beginning

I used to say that I lose a small piece of my heart every time I travel, falling in love at least a little bit with the destination, its people, and the experiences and leaving a part of me behind. However, it really makes no sense to think of it as a loss. More accurately, my heart grows with each new experience as I explore, learn, and live. And what is life really about if not growing and, in turn, helping others grow, too?

My time in Croatia proved far more expansive than I could have ever imagined. The group I traveled with was small--it was just me, an amazing couple from Calgary, and our intelligent and ever-so patient guide. Together, we explored the innumerable natural treasures of Croatia, engaged in conversations about just about anything, and had a lot of fun.

Over the next couple of weeks, I hope to use this blog not only to chronicle my time outdoors, but to apply some of what I learned to my life now. Yes, this trip was meant to be one that transported me away from the worries of day-to-day life, but it is impossible for me to divorce my experiences in Croatia from the context in which the needs was created. (Basically, there was a reason I needed to get away, and if I don't figure out what that was, much of the perspective I have gained this past 10 days will be lost.)

As will soon become apparent, my time in Croatia did something I have hope would happen--it has sparked my desire to write again. I have written and rewritten accounts of the past few days, several pages of thoughts, impressions, and even a few questions. I will do my best to spare you of all the excessive details, distilling my words to reflect only the more interesting experiences and insights. Please be patient, though, because I am still searching for the write voice in which to share these stories.  Also, if you want to hear more about something, please ask! Although, I am not really sure if anyone would dare ask me for more details...:)

There is a lot to go through, and so much that is important to me but may be of little interest to you. Now it is just a matter of catering to your needs.