Family Ties

Funny old thing is life – I was about to leave for rowing this morning and my local mobile rang (I have two) – I answered - it was a New Zealand voice, and in my confusion I thought that he said ‘Mark Jacobs’(molim?) but it was my cousin from New Zealand, Mark Jakic, and they had arrived in Tucepi yesterday! And I had been wondering what I was going to do today! (I feel that I am just marking time this week until my daughter arrives here (two more sleeps!)).

So I introduced them to Plava Kava, my local café, and then we drove to old Tucepi – Mark and Kay wanted to show me their family land up there, and I wanted to show them ours…. (their’s was a palace compared to ours). Kay has a small photo album that she carries with her – it has photos of their house two years ago (which showed that someone has removed one wall and made better use of the stones elsewhere but ‘sto raditi’?).

As we were leaving, a new Mercedes drove past, the driver with eyes so crossed that I mentioned it… and out came the photos – and there was a younger version of the same eyes! A photo taken by someone else, a family group that Mark and Kay had not yet had the privilege to meet – so back we went. Difficult to say ‘hey this crossed-eyed guy, is this you in better days?’ Kay showed him the photo and with skills which should award us a post as diplomats, I said “is this your mother?” pointing to the older woman in the photo. And it was, and so we had to come inside and drink his wine (of course).

We extracted ourselves after discussions (no English) about his family, his age, his children, and wandered up to the other side of the village. Seriously, this selo is one of my favourite places in the world – but you will have to wait until I go there with Danica and Samuel before you get the full picture, but in the mean time, here is me, standing in front of what was our grandfather’s house.

Ok, slightly rustic, a bit overgrown, but as the real estate agents would say ‘needing TLC, a real gem, heaps of potential’!
We ate a mixed grill for three (me the vegetarian) that would have fed an army, drank some rakija, and then went to meet Mark’s cousin Sonja Tomas in Tucepi. We finally got back to Makarska at 6, sat in the café with the local men talking to my friend Lara and got back to my apartment at 8. A long fulfilling day, full of family, missing details and Croatian charm.
Oh, and in the café Mark noticed what I have been raving about – the grandfather’s with their grandchildren – the gentleness and joy that these grandparents take in the little ones. They are surely the centre of their universe.

Quiet as a Church Mouse

Today there was an interesting article in the newspaper which reminded me of the ‘togs, togs, undies, undies’ concept that was trumpeted onto our TVs, but it is more specific in that it points directly at the clothes that are appropriate attire to enter a church in Croatia. Over the years that I have been popping my head into European Churches, things have certainly become more stringent. Often churches are locked now unless a service is being held – this was perhaps as a result of a wave of art thefts from churches about 6 years ago.
But most churches that you are allowed access to now have a pictorial list of ‘does and don’ts’ posted at the entrance – they suggest that you don’t have ice-creams or drinks, don’t talk on your cellphone, no photo-taking and no beach¬wear. (Disclaimer at this point – I did take a photo of the inside of Sv Martin yesterday at Brac, but there was no-one else in the church at all, and I didn’t have my bikini on).
The article states that priests (zupnik) and nuns (casna sestre) are amazed at the lack of respect that tourists have when entering churches. They cite recent examples where in the middle of mass, tourists wander in drinking from water bottles, eating ice-creams, talking, and wearing ‘kupacima i bikiniju’ (bathing togs and bikinis) ‘kratkim hlacicama’ (shorts) and ‘japankama’ (jandels), and even smoking. One priest in Sibenik said that over the last two years he has required six thousand tourists to leave the church for inappropriate behavior.
While they realize that tourists bring a healthy enconomy, they want it noted that churches are sacred places for prayer, not just another place for photo opportunities.
Some are going to take a lead from the pope in the Vatican, and the Blue Mosque in Istanbul and have t-shirts available for sale to cover shoulders and arms, and sarongs to cover legs. And another enterprising priest is now going to charge 30 kuna to allow entrance to his church.
It is an interesting point – I, for one, love nothing more than to go into these beautiful churches and just sit and enjoy the quiet, and I would hate the availability to do so to be stopped – I find the art in these old churches more interesting than the art museums and galleries. But the points raised are appropriate, and should be enforced (oh, a job opportunity for me!).
Tourists should be mindful of the local customs and dress code – maybe that advertisement could be re-branded to put the point across that in Croatia, you keep your togs and shorts on the beach and out of the churches.
(I tried to explain the concept of that 'togs, togs, undies, undies' ad to the person I was drinking coffee with as we watched a middle aged (not that that has anything to do with it) tourist sit down in a cafe for a drink - in his speedos - not in a beach cafe, but on the riva. It was lost in translation, and the comment was that the 'tourist's money is important - they can do what they want'. With a shrug of the shoulders.

The weather was nicely overcast this morning, a bit cooler (only 27 degrees) after a heavy downfall over night, so I decided that an adventure was in order. I wandered into town for the morning caffeine fix, checked out the notice board for the ferries to Brac and then organized a picnic for myself.

The 12.30 ferry (trajekt) left on the dot (things seem casual here, but are actually pretty punctual when it comes to departure times). There is a car ferry that runs between Makarska and Brac (Sumatin only) four times a day. Of course I didn’t read the timetable to the bottom of the page and was planning to return on the 3.30 ferry but the fact that the last ferry on a Sunday was at 6, not 3.30 wasn’t fatal! Although, to be honest, I had seen all there was to see by 3.30.

So, Brac (and that’s a ‘ch’ on the ‘c’). It is an hour ferry ride, is the largest island in Central Dalmatia, boasts over 2700 sunshine hours a year, produces some wine, olive oil, figs, almonds and sour cherries, but the main export is the white stone that is still quarried and exported. Yes, the White House is made from Brac’s lustrous white stone, and so is the Diocletian Palace in Split (remember, we went there the day that it snowed).

The roads leading away from the village a bounded by the most amazing rock walls – and in the fields beyond the walls are piles of the same stones. The thing is that to prepare the land to plant olive trees or any other trees, you have to get rid of the stones to get to the soil – then you have piles of stones, so you make walls to get rid of the piles of stones –all back breaking stuff, and mainly done by the women.

Sumatin, the village that we visited today, is described as sleepy – well, I think that everyone must have been asleep – I spotted seven local people, and two of those were in the café that served me lunch and the other three were on the beach swimming. The town is not old and has more modern houses than I have seen – the style of house and the roof-lines are quite different. I pointed this out to the couple that joined me for lunch, a Finnish couple, he being a construction engineer of some sort, and he hadn’t noticed. I think I have ATD (attention to detail).

I mean seriously, you would have noticed that they look different – look at them.

The church (Sv Martin) was open – and just look at it! Check out the ceiling and the altar!

The Romans were in Brac in 167 BC, Slavs settled the island in the 9th Century, Venetians ruled in 1420-1797, the plague ruled for a while, followed by Napolean, then the Austrians, the Germans did a bit of damage during WW2 (actually they burnt, looted, and murdered the villagers, didn’t want to understate that). But as I say, it is a pretty sleepy place at this end of the island, but apparently bustling with tourists at the Cool End.

Sumatin is not the Cool End of the island, and unfortunately, there is a conspiracy to make sure that unless you have a car, you cannot get to the Cool End from Makarska easily. There are two connecting buses – one before the morning ferry arrives, and one at 4.30 in the afternoon. Zlatni Rat, the iconic beach at Bol is at the Cool End of the island – and to get there you need to go to Supetar from Split. And so I shall, in due course. I’ll let you know when I do.

Check out those names – Sumatin (St Martin), Supetar (St Peter) – a bit of local cleverness.
Arrived back to the evening promenade – oh, I love it!

Oh and by the way, I know you were wondering, but Danica and Samuel are now in Rome – I will see them in four days in Dubrovnik – you can come with me on the bus!

Beach Etiquette

So, having come from New Zealand, and being familiar with the beach antics there, let me now tell you about what you can do on the beach in Makarska, and concentrate because you don’t want to stand out and do something different.

We have already touched briefly on Beach Attire for males – speedos or those lycra shorts are pretty much universal. Some should, some shouldn’t, but life’s like that.

Females are all in bikinis. Again, some should, some shouldn’t.

The little children I feel vaguely sorry for because they have buckets and have an expectation (because there were pictures on the packaging) that they will be able to make sandcastles. Not going to happen. Stones don’t have the same qualities as sand.

But now that you are dressed, the entertainment begins. If you are a teenager, you pool your money with your mates, and you hire a padelina (think that is how you would spell that word. I can’t give you the details of what this costs, but there are lots available, and they are so much fun!

Based on the theory of relativity and parity, if a beach lounger is 30 kuna for the day, I would say the padelina would be, mozda, 70 kuna.
But you pile all of your friends onto it, and you race around on the water – down the slide, bombs off the side, ram other padelinas. Possibilities are endless! You need two people to paddle, and other people to just look cool. Note – there was one boy in one by himself, and he really wasn’t having much fun. You really need all of your mates.
I think you have this for an hour at a time, and when your time is up, the guy running it will whistle out to you, and gesture to come in. Stage two is when he whistles, gestures and puts his hands on his hips – you don’t want to go there.

Option two for beach fun is lifting each other up to dive them from a great height – groups of boys particularly, standing in twos (with the third person on the other two boys hands, shouting ‘jedan, dva, tri….’ And then the tossers toss the tossee as far out into the water as possible.
Option three is the old hand ball variation – like a hacky sack but you do it with your hands – and conviction is the key – if you have to dive into the sea to get it, it is expected from you. Conviction.
But the beautiful ‘extra’ that comes with all of these activities is singing. The teenagers playing these games sing together while they are playing. Or swimming. Or paddling. It’s beautiful, and by now, I know the tunes and some of the words too. But the loveliest thing is that none of this is ‘not cool’. They are all having fun, all doing what you do at the beach. How cool!

Picture perfect

Imagine this (if you will – just work with me)
It’s 7 o’clock at night, the temperature has dropped to about 25 degrees, you ate your main meal mid afternoon when you finished work so you don’t have to think about a big evening meal, maybe a snack, some cheese, bread, you have maybe done some work in the garden, maybe worked with the olives, and now you have time to take an evening walk.

So, dressed in your tidy clothes, you gather your wife, your children, your parents maybe, and you wander into town to stroll the riva. The rest of town is there doing the same thing, wandering from one end of the town to the other. You stop for a gelato, or a coffee, or share a pizza with friends.

I am bewitched by this ritual each evening. People are strolling, not rushing – chatting. All you hear is ‘ciao’or 'dobar dan' as people are greeted.

I’ve just been into town to be part of it – first I went down to the rowing club because I had said that I would be there tonight but knew that the boys would only be running because there is a slight sea breeze, then wandered around Sv Petar and back down into town.

The young rowing coach was walking with his new baby in a pram, and he explained that he was going to look at the postman because this baby has such blue eyes…one of the women who was with us on the mountain last weekend stopped her car in the middle of the street to say ‘ciao’…one of the ladies from my yoga class was walking with her daughter and stopped to talk, and another lady from the shoe shop on the trg introduced me to her son. And this is just after two months – imagine if you have lived here all your life.

There are teenage girls rollerblading, and teenage boys watching them – two grandmothers (‘bakas’ here) sitting with their granddaughters, quietly chatting as the girls eat icecreams together.

It’s all rather lovely, rather relaxed. I guess the beautiful weather helps, as does the lovely view of the sea. And the good gelato. And coffee.

Banking Safely

Well, here’s a nice little segue from yesterday’s blog.

Guns have been in my face since I took the photo of that sign in the ‘mall’. Out running this morning I noticed that a new crop of stalls had arrived over night, full of tourist treasures – rubber shoes for those with faint-hearted feet, cheap sunglasses and hats, towels, rubber mats, the inevitable speedos and…. machine guns. Yes indeedy, toy machine guns. And, not being one to miss much, I noticed that some politically correct tourist had purchased one for their son who was wandering around town with it. Maybe it is politically correct here?

I was waiting in the bank with a friend, looking around, taking it all in, and noticed the security guard at the door. Quite a young guy, not very robust, and I got to wondering what he would do if there was an issue (there are security guards in a lot of places, the phone shop for example) and THEN I noticed that he was wearing a gun, which put a different road map on my wonderings. It was suddenly obvious what he would do if there was A Bit Of An Issue. (I understand that Zagreb wins hands down (or hands up) for the highest number of bank robberies).

Which sent me trawling the internet to see what was what;
• There are 969,000 private guns thought to be in Croatia – only 371,000 are registered.
• To get a gun licence (to be a registered gun holder) you need to be 18 years or older, be of sane mind, be able to show those inspecting that you have a safe lockup for said gun.
• Be able to show that you have a genuine reason for requiring a gun - hunting, personal security.
• 2006 statistics showed that there were 74 homicides that year, of which 37 were gun related
• You can carry them as long as they are holstered and not loaded. (Osim u mallu – except in the mall).

By way of comparison, the population in Croatia on 25 May 2011 (I wondered if they counted me?) was 4.485, so pretty close to New Zealand’s population. The current registered gun count for New Zealand is 230,000.

I’m not trying to make any points here at all or draw any parallels, except that it is plain to me that my PC stance may not be a stance here.

I have to admit that I was fairly extreme with regards my attitude to parenting and guns (not in that order) to the extent that I remember not letting my children make gun shapes from their crusts. (Quote “ guns are not toys, they kill people” unquote. Such an earnest young mother!). I guess in the context that attitude here would be laughable if it wasn’t such a real part of the lives of many ten years ago.

I have to admit that I had to laugh at my naivety as I sat waiting in the bank, eyeing up that security guard’s gun – and it put a new twist on the mall sign.

Doubling with Duje

Help! I need a whole new register, a new vocabulary – and I needed it this morning…

When I arrived at rowing there were two boats out already – a double with my favourite chubby child in it (Pasko) and a single skiff not venturing very far from the golden triangle. A new recruit¸ allowed out for the second time by himself. (Photo is of Pasko because he really is determined to try all of his English out on me!)

Standing next to trener is the most adorable, beautiful child I have seen in my life. The eyes! (Trener agreed). Today is the third time he has come to rowing – he has been on the rowing machine and is just standing looking wisfully at the others in the boats (he is only 10) because he hasn’t had the opportunity to go out on the water yet. Trener sent him for a run and then asked what I would like to do. Take a single out? So I volunteered to take young Duje (for that is his name) out in a double. I can balance the boat while he gets a feel of the rowing.
But immediately you need words like hands, thumb, left , right, flat, slowly, quickly, forward, backward blah blah, the list goes on. I have most of them up my sleeve, but to try and tell him to keep the blades flat on the water when he is using the other blade to turn the boat – to tell him how to lean back slightly at the end of the stroke – this all needs a depth of vocabulary that I don’t have!
So. I have been studying the dictionary this afternoon, writing a list of the things I need to say (I had a mantra going with him this morning ‘ruka, tijelo, glava, polako’.. which seemed to register in some way because he did sit up, did lean forward, did hold his hands at the right level and did go slowly.) And what a wonderful sense of achievement (him, not me) and what a beautiful smile when he got out of the boat! Goodness, he is so little that he can’t even help lift the boat!
I’m picking that he will be back at rowing on Thursday morning, probably be the first one at the door. And by then I will have a few more words up my sleeve.

Oh, and I thought this sign may appeal - it is on the door leading into the shops where the praonica (laundromat) is situated. I was relieved to see that it didn't say 'no smoking'.

Ho Hum Monday

The weather here is instant – one minute you have blue sky, and then the clouds gather over the mountain, and down comes the rain – big fat heavy drops.

Yes, it’s raining again, but there is no wind -the weather forecast in the paper says clouds, thunder and a bit of rain for today same for tomorrow, and for Thursday – but check out the temperatures! Sea temperature 20 and air temperature a high of 29 and a low of 20. I’m enjoying the warmth and at least when it rains it doesn’t usually last for long and the clouds skud away quite quickly. You get a nice little opening to grab a coffee.

Speaking of which I did my run today to Krvavica and instead of taking an hour, it took two hours – that’s what happens when you start to know people! Got way-laid in a cafe (oops, in running clothes, oh the shame!).

I’ve been trying to work out a cunning plan to get back from Italy in the middle of June – not an easy thing to do at this time of year – planes, there are heaps of options but they start at $360 but include three stops and an eleven hour stopover in Germany – seriously, you can see Italy on a clear day from Biokovo! Why is it so hard to get there??

Looked at trains – a few options but they included arriving in Zagreb for a second train – at 2 in the morning. That doesn’t sound like me.
So, last option, ferries – may work. Ho Hum. I don’t understand why it is so hard to get from This Country to The Other European Countries. Another month and a half and Easyjet clicks in with a nice little flight for $150.00. When I was going through this process today, I realized that this is just a wee trial run for trying to get back to Rome to fly back home again in October! Of course, I’ll be good at it by then. so - za danas je dosta - for today, that is enough!

Walk in the Park (part 3)

And so, today’s question is… HOW much fun can you have in your tramping boots? And the answer is ..ohhhh, heaps!
Up at the crack of dawn today to be at the riva by 6.45 because the mountaineering club is going to Imotski. I looked it up on the map yesterday so that I would know generally where we were going, and whether I would need my passport (in case we were slipping into Bosnia). No putovnica required.

Paid my 50 kuna for the bus and the rucak (lunch, and yes that is a ‘ch’ on the ‘c’, well done for spotting that) but then the Makarska judge from Vosac called out that they had a car, did I want to travel with them. They were fun last week, they would be fun again. And they were.
We travelled north for about 20 minutes and then headed up over the Biokovo Mountain Range onto the autobahn. I’m not sure what the speed limit is, but we were travelling at 180 kms. In the car we had Ante, Slavko, Susana and Elenora – all with a smattering of English (phew) and more than a smattering of dramatics and humour. I sat there quietly trying to follow the gist of the conversation, and kindly, they would stop every now and then and explain the joke – but you know, twice told jokes. It was just as much fun listening. (I’m so good at sitting listening now and not talking, could I lose the art of conversation??)

When we arrived at our destination (after a few wrong turns and requests for directions) we walked into a gully where mountaineers from Split down to Dubrovnik were having a weekend camp, combined with today’s tramp. There were little tents dotted everywhere, a bar, a huge campfire, and plenty of music.

Camp Director explained that there were three tramps available – a four hour one, a three hour one and a two hour one. We of course would do the four hour one – it was discussed At Length in the car.

Through the wooded glade, sharp rise up the side of the gully, along the canyon, down the canyon , across the stream, up the canyon etc etc until I said ‘mislim da mi smo povrh svijete’ which may or may not have been grammatically correct, but it sure FELT like we were on the top of the world! It was breathtaking!

As we approached the top of the world (canyon) we came upon the ruins of a village that has seen three civilizations – the Illyrians, then the Croats and then the Turks. So for arguments sake (because there is no point arguing with me because I am not totally sure) but let’s say from about 300 BC. Old. Incredible. I love it! I am like a child with its mouth wide open in awe!

We sat at the top of the world and had a snack – dried meat to replenish our salt and scroggin because I had made it. Of course it was melted and squishy and messy, but ‘Sto raditi?’ (what to do?).
We meandered back to the bottom of the world and had the smoky bean stew thing (Diana, is it called simply, grahi?) washed down with beer. While we were there the Hrvatska Gorska Sluzba Spasavanja (mountain rescue guys (read Real Mountain Men in Red Shirts) had to rush off for an emergency – they bar ran out of beer!).
Then we had a quick stop at the Crvno Jezero & Modro Jezero – the red and blue lakes.

Now don’t be confused – the Red Lake is called that because the walls surrounding it have a red tinge, and the blue lake has blue water – the same blue as the red lake – get it? But don’t confuse them. The water levels were low, but the boja! The colour!

And then we sat in a café and replenished the liquid lost and the lack of caffeine for today. It was a lovely lovely day…. And this mountaineering thing….. I think it may be my new Thing!

Rowing Regatta

As I am writing this missive, the most amazing thunderstorm is booming and echoing around the Biokovo Mountains. I’m not sure whether it was anticipated today (because I didn’t look in the paper) but know that there are at least 300 people who are glad that it is happening now and not this morning.

I mentioned that the rowing coach had asked whether I would like to help at the rowing regatta this weekend – 10 clubs from as far north as Sibenik (with a ‘sh) and Zadar, and as far south as Dubrovnik were already unloading and rigging boats when I arrived at the Biokovo Veslacki Klub this morning at eight.

Boats and trailers everywhere, with that quiet, concentrated sound of metal on metal as riggers are screwed in place. The water was like a lake again today – it was odd, I had that same nervous anticipation in my stomach as I get when I arrive to row at regattas in New Zealand.
No masters rowing today though - first category is cadets (from 10 years old, actually 9 years old if you count Sime), then Juniors from 14 years old, and Seniors for 18 years and older.

Now, I am presuming here but I am not sure that in New Zealand at this sort of level of competition there is a trained team of judges/ commentators who adjudicate and officiate at each regatta. But here, there is such a team –they have attended a special training school to do just this. And very serious they are too.

What I haven’t mentioned is that my task today was to present the medals to the finalists. Sitting with me was a fine gentleman who was in the Croatian Rowing Team in 1965 as a 20 year old, and Ljucia who was about 16 I suppose, and her job was to stand with the medals on a silver platter as I handed them to the winners. (After the first of the medal ceremonies, she was taken aside by the National Rowing President and disappeared… I asked where she had gone and was told that she had been reprimanded because she had shorts on – she wasn’t on the beach today(!) and should have worn a dress. She reappeared with longer shorts on about five minutes later.)

The racing started on time and finished only ten minutes late – which is unusual no matter where you are as there are usually some holdups and delays, and all of the time that we sat there watching the races, giving out medals, Croatian music sang over the load speakers - and looking around, most people were singing awa, harmonising, while they were doing what they were doing. Antonio was the DJ - and he kept the songs coming, turning the music down as announcements were made.
I had to quickly learn how to say ‘cestitam’ (the ‘c’ is a ‘ch’) – congratulations- which I remembered to do most of the time!
When the racing was finished (only a second and a third for Biokovo Klub), everyone stopped for plates of pasta and Bolognese sauce, all delivered with no fuss in huge pots and platters. Croatians do catering for large groups very easily! Oh, and the most delicious strudel – lighter and richer than anything I have bought from the Pekara….

So, I’m glad that the thunder storm delayed its spectacular appearance until now – but hope that it gets over itself before the morning, because I am going with the planinari (mountaineers) to Imotski!

Beach Scene

Imagine lying on the beach and smelling the sweet sweet smell of fresh figs (smokva).

Because you can if you walk further along the beach away from the cafes - there are figs growing wild on the rocks by the sea. Imagine – two of my favourite things, the beach and figs. I love them dried, fresh, cooked. It must be genetic – my grandfather loved figs too. When my family moved to Auckland, Grandad took control of house hunting for my parents until he found the one that they ultimately bought. For him, it had two important things – a fig tree and a grape vine. It’s a funny thing, but I can’t work out, if he left Croatia at fifteen or so, how he knew, remembered, how to make the exact type of garden as the old people still have here. He made his own wine, although we children were not ever allowed to try it… I think you had to leave it to let the sediment settle on the bottom of the glass before you drank it. Anyway, I digress.

So, the beach. Fig Trees. And the gentle swish…drag.. of the stones if there are any waves. Which generally there aren’t unless the wind is blowing. Nor is there any discernable high/low tide, 40 cms at the most. It’s just there, mostly looking like a lake. And if there are any waves they are short and sharp –two or three seconds (I counted) between each wave. Cekaj – wait, and I will find out why.

Bless Wikipedia. Well it all seems pretty complicated with sophisticated mathematical formulae – suffice it to say it is because the Adriatic Sea is bounded by Italy, Croatia and with Trieste in the north, it is a narrow blocked off body of water and it is this (mainly) which contributes to the small tide variance and the small sharp waves. No surfing, just shrieking children if there are waves because waves are such a novelty. [Question to the group, why then are there surf lifesaving towers dotted along the beach – goodness, imagine these people at Piha!].

Peak season at the beach is packed – rubber mat to rubber mat, all body shapes and sizes (Russian¸Polish, Czech, all in speedos (OK, I know)) with families playing cards on the beach, and beach vendors selling krafne (doughnuts) and kukuruz (hot sweet corn) – you didn’t see that coming did you!

Beach entertainment is pretty sophisticated in Makarska. Banana boats, pedal boats, those noisy jet skis, trampoline centres, and two new things that I spotted today;
1. A bungy tower – now that’s enterprising (and ugly)
2. A slide into the water – I want to read the sign to see if there is an upper age limit! If my granddaughter was here I could use her as a decoy! It corkscrews around several times and then WHOOSH straight into the sea. I could do it! I’m a branded woman already in my shorts and running gear, so what do I have to lose! WATCH THIS SPACE.

Shift Work

Ah, *sigh*, the children. There are some very beautiful children here – dark eyes with long dark lashes, curls. They are very appealing – and also very adored by all.
I have to say that I haven’t seen so many adored and adorable children in other cities. Beautifully dressed, and the apple of everyone’s eye. Grandparents, parents, friends. I am intrigued that it is the children, especially babies and toddlers who are greeted first when encounters are made in cafés or on the riva at promenade time.
Most families have only one child, one adored child. Which sadly doesn’t help with the population growth in Croatia. Which doesn’t help with school roll numbers or employment for teachers. It’s like the days of country schools in New Zealand which the Ministry of Education felt compelled to close (more because of urban drift than low childbirth rates in those cases though), but it is a sad thing for the small schools in the villages and small towns here. As it is, when a child gets to 12 (high school age) there is a fair bit of travelling involved as not every town has a secondary school facility.
The population growth is a problem in Croatia. It is unusual for a family to have more than two children, and the norm seems to be only one child with this youngest breeding age-group. (Oh, and they do seem young). I noticed an article in the Slobodna Dalmacija recently about a woman who had just had her 13th child – comments were interesting from the ladies that I talk to – but perhaps the most telling was one where the woman paused and said ‘but she is Bosnian’. Ah.
I remember listening to the National Radio in the aftermath of the Christchurch earthquake, and the fear of the negative impact on students because school facilities were going to have to be shared. Well, here in Makarska¸ and in fact in many schools in Croatia, the schools are attended in shifts. First shift starts at eight in the morning and finishes at about one thirty (I think, by the number of students wandering out of the school at that time), and the next shift starts at two. Those who have attended the early shift will have extra tuition in the afternoon and evening – singing lessons, music lessons, technology lessons for IT and vice versa for those who attend the second shift. Great if you are a teacher - you start at eight and you are finished for the day at one thirty, or have the morning free and then work until eight. And it all seems to work perfectly well – children leave high school (I think it is called gymnasium) well educated, often speaking two foreign languages, and head to university (from Makarska) to either Split or Zadar of Zagreb. Education is important as it is seen as the key to employment, particularly in a country such as this where unemployment is high.
And while we are on the subject of shifts – the local shops have new opening hour signs on their doors – they open at eight in the morning and close at midday. So don’t even think about racing to get your prsut or meso at one o’clock (unless you go to the Konzum). And then they all open up again at five in the evening until eight or eight thirty. How civilized. Parents can go home and have the main meal of the day with their family (that’s the two o’clock meal – evening meal is a snack). All in all its not a bad regime, is it – particularly if you are in a small town where you don’t have to jump in the car to get to work, particularly if you want to catch the evening promenade crowd out for their last purchases of the day. Particularly if it is so hot during the middle of the day and it is cool at home in your apartment….

Extreme Housewives

So strong is the tourism ethic here, and so important is the tourist dollar, that every single corner is being swept and cleaned and groomed. Yesterday new flowers were being planted in the planting boxes around the parks, and new truckloads of ‘sand’ have been delivered. The edgings of the gardens on the riva are now a shamble of coloured petunias, and there is man hosing the grass berms dnevno (daily). He was happy to water around me as I sat in the sun with the newspaper, but I can report that he was taking his job with the correct amount of seriousness.
Now, let me paint you a picture (I may even be able to find one in my stock if you have no imagination)

; I have raved about the blue of the sea, the clarity of the water but don’t think that I have talked specifically about the edging of pines on the beach. So in the visual tapestry I am building, imagine that these pine trees are sometimes actually only about ten feet away from the water’s edge (I love the disconnect with this, particularly when I am running through the forest – running along the track, through the pine trees, with the sea only ten feet away! Imagine!)

I heard an English tourist yesterday saying ‘don’t you think it’s a bit unusual having pine trees right on the beach?? Well, pine trees are more fitting here than, say, pacific palms, believe me. And just to add to the mind’s eye picture, most of these trees, particularly on the main beach have a very pronounced lean on them, away from the Biokovo and leaning towards the sea (yes, the bura wind influence!)
But, (and this is where I am heading if you were wondering), pine trees have the annoying habit of dropping needles and cones – added to, all over the footpath there are the remnants of the cones that the squirrels have been nibbling on in the trees, little piles everywhere. (Oh, sudden thought, maybe it was a squirrel that took my running top.. no? oh, ok).
The obvious answer, and in the context of the opening paragraph, is that each and every morning (dnevno) there are women with rakes and brooms who come and sweep and rake the beach free of needles and cones. Ultimate Housewives! There it is. Absolute Attention to Detail for you, The Tourist.
Today’s Makarska Kronika chronicles the need for the town’s people to ensure that the town is clean and tidy, and talks particularly about the bits of plastic that the bura blows into the trees, the blue and white plastic bags perhaps becoming the ‘new symbol of the quality of tourism’ when what the tourists are expecting is the clear clean sea.
These last few weeks and perhaps the next one or two can be considered the annual dress rehearsal, because the tourists will be here en masse by early June. And then for the next few months it will be…….impossible to get a seat in your favourite café, impossible to find a parking place on the main street, impossible to get into your favourite restaurant, and impossible to run along the beach to Kvavica because of all of the tourists! Ho Hum.

Bura Tuesday

There is a huge respect here for the weather and particularly for the Bura Wind. I have been told by no less than three different people (so it must be true) that it is very dangerous to be out in the Bura Wind because it whips up that salty sea mist, and the density of the salt in the sea mist is such that it will clog your lungs and you could drown. What do you think of that? Initially I was skeptical but maybe? It is the intensity of the salt in the air and the soil around the Pag area which gives the eponymous cheese its distinctive flavor, and the same applies to the grapes for the wine industry.

I kind of like the fact that this wind has a name – not just ‘the southerly´ wind as we have at home. It is personalized - I guess it has such a huge influence on peoples’ lives. Everything has to be checked to make sure it is secure so that it doesn’t blow away¸ boats rush to the safety of harbours. It’s the law of extremes. And you don’t eat an ice-cream in the Bura Wind – you can guarantee that you will end up with a cold. (Okay, maybe take that one with a grain or two of Bura salt laden air, but it happened!).
The rowing coach looked sagely out to sea – ‘no rowing, Bura is coming. This is good, it will clear the air’. Jasno.

But I’m not enjoying the weather today. One day of this rain and wind is enough when you are in a small apartment. I had a good polyprop top for this sort of weather – a running and rowing top that has seen better days but knows what is expected from it in the wind and the rain. A seasoned Tamaki River top (am I being emotional??) and last week I wore it as far as the beach (so that I didn’t look too sporty in the streets), tied it around my waist to run, and then when I got to the track through the forest, I (glupost) tied it around a tree, intending to pick it up when I returned (because it was annoying me around my waist). Sadly, you know how this story ends - stupid me. The same thing would have probably happened at home, so what was I thinking.

The tragic thing is that there are only a handful of regular people on the track, so one of these people thought that the polyprop fairy had been in town. Never mind – I am going to go to Mana store to see if I can find a sloppy old sweatshirt that I can train into a fine sports coverall. In the mean time, I don’t want to get one of the two other warm tops that I have with me wet, because I’m not sure how many days it will rain for. My Bura Wind clothes are limited.

Oh, and I have a confession to make. Those who know me well will vouch for my obsession regarding television. (Is there a word for a negative obsession?). But each evening at ten I turn on Doma TV and watch ‘Seks I Grad’ (Sex in the City) and ‘Prijatelji’ (Friends). Just for the subtitles of course. And I laugh out loud. Don’t judge me. Hvala.

just another rainy day

Goodness me, this weather! Yesterday I was sunburnt from my day on the mountain, and today, I could swear that snow is in the offing.
I poked my nose through the shutters at eight this morning before I left the apartment to see what sort of temperature it was outside, and then had to add a few layers of clothes. Entertainment is limited on a wet windy day – and it is incredibly windy today. I grabbed an umbrella from the stock at the front door and by the time I had walked to the shop where the man sells the most delicious prsut, the life of the umbrella had come to an end – blown inside out and I was just left with a broken rib cage. I threw the deranged skeleton into the first bin that I passed, thinking that I would now be drenched. But the wind was blowing so hard it was blowing the rain away!

I spent an hour in the library hunting through the discarded books in a pile on the floor, trying to decide which books to borrow next. This is a library like no other – l love it, it is so disorganizedly organized, books every – and it smells of cigarettes because the librarians obey the no smoking signs by hanging out the windows to smoke.
It’s a funny how quickly you get used to seeing Croatian as the written word, and it takes a moment to register when a book is in English – or German, as some of the books are. It’s the same with music lyrics – it takes a few seconds of a song in a café until I register that the song is actually in English. I have re-organized the books into German /English/ French, with a sub-pile of books that I will never read even if they are the only books left in the library. Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales is there, as is Jane Austin. There are lots of Jeffrey Archer. I grabbed a biography of Billy Connolly for today.
Last week I grabbed a book called “Sixpence in her Shoe” which said it was about the oldest profession in the world. I thought it was going to be about the history of prostitution, but it was on how to be a good housewife!! It told me that my role as a wife was to make my husband’s life more simple – it said that women should not work, unless it was a non-stressful part time job that ensured that we were home to greet our husbands when they finished their important day. I tried desperately to finish that book. I tried desperately to take the book seriously… It would have been more interesting as a book about prostitution…

From the library, down through the narrow streets into the centar, looking for a coffee - Too windy in the main cafes – they have shut the shutters and are huddling inside smoking. No one on the riva, just the fishing boats rocking in the harbour. A comment was made yesterday that there are about 10,000 people living in Makarska, but you get to see the same 500 wherever you go. It’s true – this morning I spotted about 5 of the people from Vosac, all doing their morning thing, all sheltering from the weather, all with a friendly ‘dobar dan’.
I had arranged to meet a friend in the park at two o’clock – she is in between jobs and hopes that if she brushes up on her English it will be a further feather in her employment cap – and in return I will practice my Croatian with her. The wind was whipping the park, so we backed ourselves into a smoky corner in a cafe and entertained ourselves for two hours over a couple of coffees.
And that was my day. It’s raining gently as I write this – I’ve popped my basil seedlings in the shelter from the wind – yes, I’m gardening - I’m just hoping that this will be the last of the wintery blows and that the sun shines for the next few weeks at least.
Oh and by the by - today I ate a ‘strudel s sirom’ - I thought it was strudel with cream before I read the label – and it was strudel filled with something that looked liked cream but had the consistency of cottage cheese or feta cheese, not sweet, but not savoury. The jury is still out. Will try the cokolada one tomorrow.