Ok I give up – the images that I can find on the internet are copyright protected and I can’t add them to the text. Sorry – you can of course search the images yourself if you want to see what I am talking about…(grandparents, ask your grandkids how to do it).
I want to talk about erasers – I’ll say erasers, not rubbers, in case you get the wrong impression of what I am talking about – this is a family blog after all.
Croatian politicians have a passionate relationship with erasers. If something doesn’t suit, rub it out. Gone, justlikethat.
History no longer suits? Rub it out. Street names no longer appropriate? Rub them out and change them. I was joking with a friend in Zagreb (or maybe not joking) and suggested that all street names should be in pencil to make it easier to change them. Or maybe just blackboards and a piece of chalk.
Ban Jelacic Trg is the main square in Zagreb – it was the trading place for the various craft guilds when the two towns (Gradec and Kaptol) existed on either side of the creek. It also contained a spring for water supplies so it was an important place. It was named Harmica originally, and then in 1848 when Josip Jelacic became the first ‘ban’ or ruler it was renamed Ban Jelacic trg. A magnificent statue in his honour dominated the square – sword raised in Hungary’s direction! Take that Hungary! The creation of the position of ‘ban’ was the start of independence from Austria, so a fairly important part of history.
But then came Tito – Jelacic was then derided as an Austrian Collaborator – they rubbed him out, removed the statue and put it into storage (not under the bed, it’s quite large) and renamed the square Trg Republike!
Oh, but then came the independence of Croatia and they rubbed out the republic notion and out came the statue again! It dominates the trg again.
Now Tito is out of fashion – they have merrily rubbed out any references to him – I think that the last reference is to the beautiful theatre in Tito Square – and there are discussions (oh, there are always discussions!) about getting out the eraser again!
Near the large railway station there is another magnificent statue – Kraj Tomislav. He was the first King of the Kingdom of Croatia – in 925. He was acknowledged as such by Rome. But… the eraser is sliding out of the pockets again – there are discussions (there always are) that perhaps his mother was not Croatian (maybe Bosnian or Serbian – can’t remember which) and therefore not an appropriate hero for the now independent Croatia. The discussers are suggesting that perhaps he wasn’t actually ever really legitimately crowned, maybe the ceremony wasn’t conducted correctly, and so the crown may fall – and down will come the statue and the eraser will deal with the history books! I love it!
We were chuckling about the passports – When the country (under Tito) was Jugoslavia the passports were Red – Red for the glory of communism. When Croatia became an independent country, with great haste the passports were changed… They must be Blue Blue, not Red – divorce yourself from the connotations of the Red, Blue! And they no longer refer to Jugoslavia – you were not born in that country even though in fact, if you were born more than 20 years ago, that’s where you were born – the eraser has removed that country too.
The chuckle was because as Croatia inches towards EU membership, guess what colour the passports will be….RED!
Friday, 30 September 2011
Thursday, 29 September 2011
Zagreb - part 1
Now, if you are one of those people who say that you buy Playboy Magazines for the articles and don’t look at the pictures, then this blog is for you – I went to Zagreb and didn’t realize that the battery was flat on my camera… so there is an article but no pictures!! Ja sam glupost! I am stupid. I couldn’t believe it at first.
And then I thought about it some more and decided that maybe sometimes we are so busy taking photos of things that we forget to look at them. (Don’t you hate it when I put a positive spin on everything?)
Well. Zagreb. My first impressions (arriving at 8.30 at night) were that it seemed very clean and tidy and organized. These first impressions still hold true.
Do you want history? Briefly? Most of what I can tell you I found out from the Musej Grad Zagreb – the city museum set up on the Gornji Grad (or upstairs as it is called) in the old town. Please be impressed – I am a bit of a speed museum visitor – my concentration for museum visits is short. This museum was so (quiet and uncrowded) that I spent two hours in it! A new world record for me. It was beautifully set out in small rooms, each room chronicling the next step in the history of the city. It was as though you only had to take bite-sized amounts of history in each time you went into a room so it wasn’t so overwhelming. Next time you visit Zagreb, promise that you will go there.
Here we go… (and I'm trying to work out how to insert images from ‘another source’ ( I know you are visual people and I don’t want you to get bored – forget about the Playboy conversation, you can look at the pictures).
Zagreb is a city with a rich history, dating from Roman times.
Old Zagreb was two settlements situated on two neighbouring hills: Gradec (also known as Gornji Grad) and Kaptol, with the houses lying in the valley between them along what used to be a creek (it is now a beautiful cobbled street lined with cafes and sunshine).
Over the creek and between the two towns was a bridge over which the people of the two towns would meet to trade insults and throw a few stones. Only once was there ever any real squirmish on the bridge where a couple of people died. The bridge was then called ‘krvav most’ – “bloody bridge’. The most spectacular thing about the bridge is that there isn’t one. Not a bridge in sight. It stands at the top of the disappointment list for tourists who really really came to see this bridge.
The Cathedral in gornji grad has had a tumultuous past – it was originally consecrated in 1217, but later in 1242 it was damaged by the raids by the Tartars. After 1263 it was restored and rebuilt. Fearing a Turkish invasion, the Bishop of Zagreb had the fortifications built around the Cathedral and his residence. The Turks didn’t ever reach Zagreb. Then the Cathedral was badly damaged in an earthquake years later and an Austrian architect (Bolle) was sent for to reconstruct and modernise the building in the Neogothic style.
In the museum there are pieces of the cathedral which were removed including statues of the disciples from around the main doorway. What fascinated me was the removal of one part of the façade which clearly shows the triangle with the eye in the middle – the unmistakable symbol of goddess worship. There was a lot of reluctance from parishoners to let go the female part of the deity lineup, and the church leaders were forced to include Mary as part of the church.
The other fascinating thing (for me) was that the church was re-built in sandstone in keeping with the style of the remodelled cathedral. Sandstone goes a beautiful dark colour as it ages. But the people of Zagreb want the clean white colour. One of the local women told me that she has never in her life seen the cathedral in all of its glory, because there is always a part of the building shrouded in scaffolding while the façade is cleaned.
It’s a lifetime career. Start at one side and by the time you get back to the start it is dirty and you need to start again. Do it slowly and make it last even longer!
The only remaining part of the fortification around the upper town is the Stone Gate – this has become a shrine to Mary and is more popular as a place of worship than the cathedral. The story goes (and I’m sure it is accurate) that during one large fire which threatened the city, all that was left in one pile of rubble was a picture of the Virgin Mary, untouched by fire. Candles are lit at the shrine under the Stone Gate, and plaques are attached to the wall giving thanks for specific things that people don’t want to let pass without acknowledging.
Walking across the quiet deserted trg Sv Marko (where is everyone, and why are those men in dark suits standing around the corners of the square with those ear pieces attached…)
St Marks Church – spectacular from the outside but locked so I have no idea what it was like inside – the roof is unusual.
But the thing that this wee trg (square) is famed for is the witch burnings! Over 400 years , 140 women were convicted of witch craft but the death penalty of burning was stayed in most cases. In 1756 Maria Theresa banned the death penalty for witchcraft.
In the museum there is a list of women who were convicted of being witches, and the sentence meted out. A couple died in the dungeons, but those who were burnt at the stake met their fate in this beautiful square. Imagine!
The witch hunts on the square are now limited to the normal vagaries of political life – because this square is also where parliament sits. And seeing as you mentioned the Prime Minister Jadranka Kozor, she who is leading the Anti Corruption campaign, beating the anti-corruption drum, she who was the former PMs deputy, who handed him over to the powers that be when he was charged with corruption… and twas also she who signed the same documents that have him in the proverbial, but she says that she had no knowledge of what Sanader was up to because she didn’t read the documents that she was signing. Everyone needs a deputy like that, particularly if they then step up to lead the country! Attention to detail being a necessary part of being a Prime Minister – it’s in the job description. Oh, and taking responsibility for one’s actions is also in the job description I think – I’m sure I saw it in the fine print..
And it was the body guards of all the politicians waiting by their big black diplomatic cars that I had observed in the square. It was the first day back for parliament the day that I was wandering around. We wondered if they were discussing whether it was worth trying to push through and have an election this year, or whether they should just close their eyes tightly and hope that no-one notices if it doesn’t happen.
That’s enough for now – I am a bit sleep deprived. More tomorrow.
Maybe with pictures.
And then I thought about it some more and decided that maybe sometimes we are so busy taking photos of things that we forget to look at them. (Don’t you hate it when I put a positive spin on everything?)
Well. Zagreb. My first impressions (arriving at 8.30 at night) were that it seemed very clean and tidy and organized. These first impressions still hold true.
Do you want history? Briefly? Most of what I can tell you I found out from the Musej Grad Zagreb – the city museum set up on the Gornji Grad (or upstairs as it is called) in the old town. Please be impressed – I am a bit of a speed museum visitor – my concentration for museum visits is short. This museum was so (quiet and uncrowded) that I spent two hours in it! A new world record for me. It was beautifully set out in small rooms, each room chronicling the next step in the history of the city. It was as though you only had to take bite-sized amounts of history in each time you went into a room so it wasn’t so overwhelming. Next time you visit Zagreb, promise that you will go there.
Here we go… (and I'm trying to work out how to insert images from ‘another source’ ( I know you are visual people and I don’t want you to get bored – forget about the Playboy conversation, you can look at the pictures).
Zagreb is a city with a rich history, dating from Roman times.
Old Zagreb was two settlements situated on two neighbouring hills: Gradec (also known as Gornji Grad) and Kaptol, with the houses lying in the valley between them along what used to be a creek (it is now a beautiful cobbled street lined with cafes and sunshine).
Over the creek and between the two towns was a bridge over which the people of the two towns would meet to trade insults and throw a few stones. Only once was there ever any real squirmish on the bridge where a couple of people died. The bridge was then called ‘krvav most’ – “bloody bridge’. The most spectacular thing about the bridge is that there isn’t one. Not a bridge in sight. It stands at the top of the disappointment list for tourists who really really came to see this bridge.
The Cathedral in gornji grad has had a tumultuous past – it was originally consecrated in 1217, but later in 1242 it was damaged by the raids by the Tartars. After 1263 it was restored and rebuilt. Fearing a Turkish invasion, the Bishop of Zagreb had the fortifications built around the Cathedral and his residence. The Turks didn’t ever reach Zagreb. Then the Cathedral was badly damaged in an earthquake years later and an Austrian architect (Bolle) was sent for to reconstruct and modernise the building in the Neogothic style.
In the museum there are pieces of the cathedral which were removed including statues of the disciples from around the main doorway. What fascinated me was the removal of one part of the façade which clearly shows the triangle with the eye in the middle – the unmistakable symbol of goddess worship. There was a lot of reluctance from parishoners to let go the female part of the deity lineup, and the church leaders were forced to include Mary as part of the church.
The other fascinating thing (for me) was that the church was re-built in sandstone in keeping with the style of the remodelled cathedral. Sandstone goes a beautiful dark colour as it ages. But the people of Zagreb want the clean white colour. One of the local women told me that she has never in her life seen the cathedral in all of its glory, because there is always a part of the building shrouded in scaffolding while the façade is cleaned.
It’s a lifetime career. Start at one side and by the time you get back to the start it is dirty and you need to start again. Do it slowly and make it last even longer!
The only remaining part of the fortification around the upper town is the Stone Gate – this has become a shrine to Mary and is more popular as a place of worship than the cathedral. The story goes (and I’m sure it is accurate) that during one large fire which threatened the city, all that was left in one pile of rubble was a picture of the Virgin Mary, untouched by fire. Candles are lit at the shrine under the Stone Gate, and plaques are attached to the wall giving thanks for specific things that people don’t want to let pass without acknowledging.
Walking across the quiet deserted trg Sv Marko (where is everyone, and why are those men in dark suits standing around the corners of the square with those ear pieces attached…)
St Marks Church – spectacular from the outside but locked so I have no idea what it was like inside – the roof is unusual.
But the thing that this wee trg (square) is famed for is the witch burnings! Over 400 years , 140 women were convicted of witch craft but the death penalty of burning was stayed in most cases. In 1756 Maria Theresa banned the death penalty for witchcraft.
In the museum there is a list of women who were convicted of being witches, and the sentence meted out. A couple died in the dungeons, but those who were burnt at the stake met their fate in this beautiful square. Imagine!
The witch hunts on the square are now limited to the normal vagaries of political life – because this square is also where parliament sits. And seeing as you mentioned the Prime Minister Jadranka Kozor, she who is leading the Anti Corruption campaign, beating the anti-corruption drum, she who was the former PMs deputy, who handed him over to the powers that be when he was charged with corruption… and twas also she who signed the same documents that have him in the proverbial, but she says that she had no knowledge of what Sanader was up to because she didn’t read the documents that she was signing. Everyone needs a deputy like that, particularly if they then step up to lead the country! Attention to detail being a necessary part of being a Prime Minister – it’s in the job description. Oh, and taking responsibility for one’s actions is also in the job description I think – I’m sure I saw it in the fine print..
And it was the body guards of all the politicians waiting by their big black diplomatic cars that I had observed in the square. It was the first day back for parliament the day that I was wandering around. We wondered if they were discussing whether it was worth trying to push through and have an election this year, or whether they should just close their eyes tightly and hope that no-one notices if it doesn’t happen.
That’s enough for now – I am a bit sleep deprived. More tomorrow.
Maybe with pictures.
Sunday, 25 September 2011
promaj
I had an interesting discussion this morning about a phenomenon that I have touched on lightly (so lightly you may have missed it), and for the sake of correctness, we will call the phenomenon ‘promaj’ because that is in fact the correct term for it. The discussion had to be brought to a hasty end because the person I was discussing it with was taking the conversation as a personal slight on their intelligence. Whoops.
Translations of concepts that run so deeply in a culture are often difficult - often, the English words used (or any other language, not to be blaming the English language) just don’t do the concept justice, just don’t go deep or wide enough. Or take into account the ‘ooohh’ factor.
The closest that I can come up with is ‘draft’ … but more deadly.
Not to put a too finer point on it, you are committing a cultural sin to have a draft in your house here. Two windows open and you are playing with the devil. Even in the middle of summer, searingly hot, you are risking your health having a cross-draft blowing through your house. If I am to believe what I am told, the following illnesses could ensue – bells palsy, migraine, rheumatoid arthritis, multiple schlerosis, and the common cold.
The draft thing extends from the house into the car – again, no breezes. Keep those windows shut – or maybe just one at a time (goodness, I’ve been in cars with breezy air con fans… - different thing? Oh, ok..)
You are well-advised not to go outside after a shower without drying your hair – one person told me that you should wait an hour before going outside after washing your hair – because the same sorts of illnesses await you. And don’t even ask how many people have told me that you shouldn’t wash your hair when you have your period, or in the evening just before going to bed. (Just a thought.. is sea water different from shower water in terms of its power to make you sick?)
Definitely no ice-cream eating with bura blowing – you will have a cold justlikethat!
I remember this sort of conversation with my grandmother with comments like ‘wear a longer shirt because you will get a cold in your kidney’. None of which the teenage girls of my generation or this generation ever suffered from, despite ignoring the well-intended advice.
The reason that the conversation started was because I was asking about the number of people here who wear brace-like supports around their waist when they are on a motor bike. I presumed that this was because people had issues with their spines – you know, these braces look like the ones that men wear when they are lifting weights. But I am not in a town of people with bad backs, but a town of people who are protecting their kidneys from a chill. Does the company selling these particular braces really have a morbid concern for the welfare of the collective kidneys, or is it riding on the popularity of the collective belief in promaj?
I mentioned the concept of Critical Thinking the other day. As a nation, dare I say it, New Zealanders are taught to question - and we do. Authority, government - sometimes to our parent's despair and to our detriment. Is this part of that?
Perhaps I need a more scientific approach to this - and so would ask that if anyone living outside Croatia, where they do have cross-breezes in cars and houses, and they don’t wear kidney protectors, (or knows personally anyone who has developed Bells Palsy as a result of having wet hair in the wind), could send me some statistics of the illnesses mentioned above, we could then have a discussion on it. Damn and blast – I may have to leave the top on my car until we have a conclusion on this one!
And in the mean time I am going to go and put a plastic bottle half filled with water on my front garden to stop the dogs from soiling the path….
Looking forward to hearing from you on this one.
(I’m off to Zagreb for a couple of days…)
oh, and I found a new cousin...
Translations of concepts that run so deeply in a culture are often difficult - often, the English words used (or any other language, not to be blaming the English language) just don’t do the concept justice, just don’t go deep or wide enough. Or take into account the ‘ooohh’ factor.
The closest that I can come up with is ‘draft’ … but more deadly.
Not to put a too finer point on it, you are committing a cultural sin to have a draft in your house here. Two windows open and you are playing with the devil. Even in the middle of summer, searingly hot, you are risking your health having a cross-draft blowing through your house. If I am to believe what I am told, the following illnesses could ensue – bells palsy, migraine, rheumatoid arthritis, multiple schlerosis, and the common cold.
The draft thing extends from the house into the car – again, no breezes. Keep those windows shut – or maybe just one at a time (goodness, I’ve been in cars with breezy air con fans… - different thing? Oh, ok..)
You are well-advised not to go outside after a shower without drying your hair – one person told me that you should wait an hour before going outside after washing your hair – because the same sorts of illnesses await you. And don’t even ask how many people have told me that you shouldn’t wash your hair when you have your period, or in the evening just before going to bed. (Just a thought.. is sea water different from shower water in terms of its power to make you sick?)
Definitely no ice-cream eating with bura blowing – you will have a cold justlikethat!
I remember this sort of conversation with my grandmother with comments like ‘wear a longer shirt because you will get a cold in your kidney’. None of which the teenage girls of my generation or this generation ever suffered from, despite ignoring the well-intended advice.
The reason that the conversation started was because I was asking about the number of people here who wear brace-like supports around their waist when they are on a motor bike. I presumed that this was because people had issues with their spines – you know, these braces look like the ones that men wear when they are lifting weights. But I am not in a town of people with bad backs, but a town of people who are protecting their kidneys from a chill. Does the company selling these particular braces really have a morbid concern for the welfare of the collective kidneys, or is it riding on the popularity of the collective belief in promaj?
I mentioned the concept of Critical Thinking the other day. As a nation, dare I say it, New Zealanders are taught to question - and we do. Authority, government - sometimes to our parent's despair and to our detriment. Is this part of that?
Perhaps I need a more scientific approach to this - and so would ask that if anyone living outside Croatia, where they do have cross-breezes in cars and houses, and they don’t wear kidney protectors, (or knows personally anyone who has developed Bells Palsy as a result of having wet hair in the wind), could send me some statistics of the illnesses mentioned above, we could then have a discussion on it. Damn and blast – I may have to leave the top on my car until we have a conclusion on this one!
And in the mean time I am going to go and put a plastic bottle half filled with water on my front garden to stop the dogs from soiling the path….
Looking forward to hearing from you on this one.
(I’m off to Zagreb for a couple of days…)
oh, and I found a new cousin...
Thursday, 22 September 2011
FKK
I sensed a few raised eyebrows when I mentioned the nudist beach.
Croatia has the most nudist beaches in the world (or we could call them Naturist Beaches), that is, official ones. And some of the most beautiful.
In fact the only beach around Makarska which isn’t nudist is the main one, the one that is jam-packed with up to 10,000 people in the sezona, and who wants to swim there (that’s a rhetorical question). All of the other beaches in walking distance are clearly marked with FKK.
I had worked out that that sign spray painted on a rock delineated the ‘with clothes at your option’ from the main stream beaches.
I didn’t however know what it stood for, so merrily looked it up on Google with my (and your) education in mind. FKK - Freikorperkultur - German for Free Body Culture. Which comes as no surprise because it is the Germans and the Dutch (apart from the Croatians) who are very comfortable wandering around the beach bez kostim za kupanje.
The main beach at Tucepi makes it really clear with a big sign with FKK, with a line crossed through it, but the ones at either end are FKK – the one at the Podgora end even has cafes to sit at.
And to be honest, I admire the fact that the people on the beach just don’t care about their body shape, or whether others will judge them for being overweight or no longer sylph-like – because most of the bodies are over 50, and our bodies don’t look like supermodels, and do have some mileage on them at that age.
I guess it fits in the same basket as my comments regarding the over 60 year old bakas (grandmothers) that I sometimes join on the beach in the morning after rowing (although they have disappeared now that the weather has cooled a bit). They are all in bikinis, and completely comfortable with themselves. And correct me if I am wrong, but that would raise an eyebrow in New Zealand. I know, because I have raised an eyebrow at myself still wearing a bikini, telling Danica to please tell me IMMEDIATELY it is time for me to stop wearing one, and I ain’t 60 yet! Here, I have even bought a smaller bikini – who would have thought!
So there it is - the positive side of beach culture here in Croatia.
Still not completely sure about those boxer speedos on the men, but guess I have a couple of weeks left to get used to them if I really put my mind to it.
Croatia has the most nudist beaches in the world (or we could call them Naturist Beaches), that is, official ones. And some of the most beautiful.
In fact the only beach around Makarska which isn’t nudist is the main one, the one that is jam-packed with up to 10,000 people in the sezona, and who wants to swim there (that’s a rhetorical question). All of the other beaches in walking distance are clearly marked with FKK.
I had worked out that that sign spray painted on a rock delineated the ‘with clothes at your option’ from the main stream beaches.
I didn’t however know what it stood for, so merrily looked it up on Google with my (and your) education in mind. FKK - Freikorperkultur - German for Free Body Culture. Which comes as no surprise because it is the Germans and the Dutch (apart from the Croatians) who are very comfortable wandering around the beach bez kostim za kupanje.
The main beach at Tucepi makes it really clear with a big sign with FKK, with a line crossed through it, but the ones at either end are FKK – the one at the Podgora end even has cafes to sit at.
And to be honest, I admire the fact that the people on the beach just don’t care about their body shape, or whether others will judge them for being overweight or no longer sylph-like – because most of the bodies are over 50, and our bodies don’t look like supermodels, and do have some mileage on them at that age.
I guess it fits in the same basket as my comments regarding the over 60 year old bakas (grandmothers) that I sometimes join on the beach in the morning after rowing (although they have disappeared now that the weather has cooled a bit). They are all in bikinis, and completely comfortable with themselves. And correct me if I am wrong, but that would raise an eyebrow in New Zealand. I know, because I have raised an eyebrow at myself still wearing a bikini, telling Danica to please tell me IMMEDIATELY it is time for me to stop wearing one, and I ain’t 60 yet! Here, I have even bought a smaller bikini – who would have thought!
So there it is - the positive side of beach culture here in Croatia.
Still not completely sure about those boxer speedos on the men, but guess I have a couple of weeks left to get used to them if I really put my mind to it.
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
Nugal
I launched myself out of bed at 7 this morning to run/walk to Nugal beach –my all favourite place to run to. I’ve talked about this beach before (through the forest for 2.5 kms) but not sure whether I have mentioned that it is a nudist beach – of course, the options are there – top on, top off etc. Some do, some don’t.
It takes me about 20 minutes to run there (I walk through town for the first 5 minutes – you don’t run in town, people would stare – and it’s hilly, ok?), have a swim, and then 20 minutes back again – no nicer way to start the day. This morning I passed a guy on the track, carrying his groceries – potatoes, bread etc. I was intrigued because each time I have gone to the beach lately, I have seen this same guy. But why the groceries to the beach?
I was just getting ready to run back again and he arrived at the beach – I asked him about the slaters which are on absolutely every surface today – every rock, every tree root, even on the beach. He said that they are buba -seems they are brought out by the heavy rain – then got the courage to chat to him and ask him zasto (why) he has krumpir at the beach. He said that he has been coming to Nugal for 28 years and each year spends time with the same group of friends – and they like to build a fire and cook their rucak (with a ‘ch’), their lunch, and eat it together. He was disappointed at the market this morning because there was no kukuruz – sweet corn- so the potatoes were going to have to do for lunch today. What a lovely thing to do. I had noticed the smoke stained rocks at the far end of the beach…
And that got me amusing myself as I ran back, thinking about another guy that was at Nugal one day. He was there with his wife and three young daughters – they were in kostim za kupanje (togs) but he opted for no togs, completely comfortable with his own nudity. His daughters had goggles and snorkels to play with in the sea. I was trying to work out which country they were from (him particularly) and decided maybe that small island called Weirdo, or the larger island of Very Odd.
Now, where he seemed comfortable with his own nudity, he seemed more than interested in everyone else’s situation. He stood knee deep in the water, facing the beach with what one can only describe as a fevered brow. Each time anyone, man or woman (and only if they were naked) headed in to the water for a swim, he grabbed the snorkel and goggles from his poor bewildered daughter, and immediately snorkeled towards the naked swimmer, getting as close as he could to them, sometimes within 60 cms! It was plain for all to see what he was doing, but I was intrigued to see that his wife wasn’t bothered by his behavior. The rest of the beach were laughing and pointing. I don’t know what he thought – maybe he thought that the minute he put the goggles on he became The Invisible Man! The faster he swam towards a naked body, the faster the people walked further down the beach away from him. I was waiting for someone to push his snorkel under the water!
It’s a great little beach – because of the longish walk, there are not so many tourists there, it isn’t crowded, it is beautiful and as you can see there is always something to amuse me (I’m easily amused). By the afternoon it is mainly locals who head there for a swim after work – and then as the sun goes down it is a lovely walk back home again. Who can argue with that. (And will I find somewhere similar to go to on my way home from work when I get back to Auckland…. *sigh*)
It takes me about 20 minutes to run there (I walk through town for the first 5 minutes – you don’t run in town, people would stare – and it’s hilly, ok?), have a swim, and then 20 minutes back again – no nicer way to start the day. This morning I passed a guy on the track, carrying his groceries – potatoes, bread etc. I was intrigued because each time I have gone to the beach lately, I have seen this same guy. But why the groceries to the beach?
I was just getting ready to run back again and he arrived at the beach – I asked him about the slaters which are on absolutely every surface today – every rock, every tree root, even on the beach. He said that they are buba -seems they are brought out by the heavy rain – then got the courage to chat to him and ask him zasto (why) he has krumpir at the beach. He said that he has been coming to Nugal for 28 years and each year spends time with the same group of friends – and they like to build a fire and cook their rucak (with a ‘ch’), their lunch, and eat it together. He was disappointed at the market this morning because there was no kukuruz – sweet corn- so the potatoes were going to have to do for lunch today. What a lovely thing to do. I had noticed the smoke stained rocks at the far end of the beach…
And that got me amusing myself as I ran back, thinking about another guy that was at Nugal one day. He was there with his wife and three young daughters – they were in kostim za kupanje (togs) but he opted for no togs, completely comfortable with his own nudity. His daughters had goggles and snorkels to play with in the sea. I was trying to work out which country they were from (him particularly) and decided maybe that small island called Weirdo, or the larger island of Very Odd.
Now, where he seemed comfortable with his own nudity, he seemed more than interested in everyone else’s situation. He stood knee deep in the water, facing the beach with what one can only describe as a fevered brow. Each time anyone, man or woman (and only if they were naked) headed in to the water for a swim, he grabbed the snorkel and goggles from his poor bewildered daughter, and immediately snorkeled towards the naked swimmer, getting as close as he could to them, sometimes within 60 cms! It was plain for all to see what he was doing, but I was intrigued to see that his wife wasn’t bothered by his behavior. The rest of the beach were laughing and pointing. I don’t know what he thought – maybe he thought that the minute he put the goggles on he became The Invisible Man! The faster he swam towards a naked body, the faster the people walked further down the beach away from him. I was waiting for someone to push his snorkel under the water!
It’s a great little beach – because of the longish walk, there are not so many tourists there, it isn’t crowded, it is beautiful and as you can see there is always something to amuse me (I’m easily amused). By the afternoon it is mainly locals who head there for a swim after work – and then as the sun goes down it is a lovely walk back home again. Who can argue with that. (And will I find somewhere similar to go to on my way home from work when I get back to Auckland…. *sigh*)
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
Zubar
I don’t think that I mentioned that I went to the dentist the other day – I was inspired by another traveler who was getting his teeth attended to here because it is cheaper than in New Zealand. Apart from which I am hopeless and haven’t actually been to the dentist for years.
He was very sweet, and after inspecting my teeth carefully (and making me watch what he was doing on a screen above my head) he said that they are ‘good, but you brush too hard and the legs of your teeth are naked’.
I just thought that I would share that with you.
Today I had to go back to have two small holes filled. I don’t go to the dentist often because I am pathetic - but this guy managed to drill and fill my tooth without my feeling a thing. And he was funny. He told me not to eat but that it was ok to go to yoga. (For those detail people, an injection and two fillings in neighbouring teeth, 500 kuna – approx $110. I told you – cheaper.)
By the time I got back to my apartment the temperature had dropped to about 14 degrees and it was nearly 7 o’clock so, taking the Dr of Stomatology at his word, I helterskeltered up to yoga – a good 10 minute walk. Yesterday at this time of night it was 28 degrees.
We talked about ‘justlikethat’ before – and justlikethat, summer has ended. I considered taking an umbrella in case it rained again, but it would have been a waste of time. I did have to wear a sweater. During class as we did the loud ‘exhale breathing’ the wind was competing, dragging the branches of the trees across the windows and whistling through any little gaps that could be found. It’s not quite bura, still that dangerous jugo wind (no heart attacks, no migraines – in case you wondered) but bura is on its way. And it’s so dark already.
What I do love about this town is that it feels so safe – the night lighting is poor and it is dark but I have no concerns at all about wandering through town by myself. I’m sitting here writing this waiting for my medaljoni s spinatom (with a ‘sh’) to cook (hey what else can you do on a double gas burner) and the wind is working itself up to a beautiful crescendo, taking the terrace chairs with it. I love it. The percussion instruments have finished their grom-bling, and now the orchestra will concentrate on the wind instruments! I will sleep with the shutters louvred open and listen to it all night.
He was very sweet, and after inspecting my teeth carefully (and making me watch what he was doing on a screen above my head) he said that they are ‘good, but you brush too hard and the legs of your teeth are naked’.
I just thought that I would share that with you.
Today I had to go back to have two small holes filled. I don’t go to the dentist often because I am pathetic - but this guy managed to drill and fill my tooth without my feeling a thing. And he was funny. He told me not to eat but that it was ok to go to yoga. (For those detail people, an injection and two fillings in neighbouring teeth, 500 kuna – approx $110. I told you – cheaper.)
By the time I got back to my apartment the temperature had dropped to about 14 degrees and it was nearly 7 o’clock so, taking the Dr of Stomatology at his word, I helterskeltered up to yoga – a good 10 minute walk. Yesterday at this time of night it was 28 degrees.
We talked about ‘justlikethat’ before – and justlikethat, summer has ended. I considered taking an umbrella in case it rained again, but it would have been a waste of time. I did have to wear a sweater. During class as we did the loud ‘exhale breathing’ the wind was competing, dragging the branches of the trees across the windows and whistling through any little gaps that could be found. It’s not quite bura, still that dangerous jugo wind (no heart attacks, no migraines – in case you wondered) but bura is on its way. And it’s so dark already.
What I do love about this town is that it feels so safe – the night lighting is poor and it is dark but I have no concerns at all about wandering through town by myself. I’m sitting here writing this waiting for my medaljoni s spinatom (with a ‘sh’) to cook (hey what else can you do on a double gas burner) and the wind is working itself up to a beautiful crescendo, taking the terrace chairs with it. I love it. The percussion instruments have finished their grom-bling, and now the orchestra will concentrate on the wind instruments! I will sleep with the shutters louvred open and listen to it all night.
Monday, 19 September 2011
Summer Wine
I’m nearing the last of the summer wine.
The weather is about to change and it will be autumn. The weather forecast last night showed that the whole of Croatia is heading for a storm. I woke to slab jugozapadanjak (weak jugo wind) as promised, with dark clouds gathering above Biokovo.
I raced out to the posta (with a ‘sh’) with a box of things that I need to send home – precious things like my tramping boots. Who knows, I may tramp in Auckland now that I have such flash boots.
That done, I sat in plava kava and read the newspaper, skipping through the many pages discussing the soccer games, reading about the population crisis facing Croatia. The weak wind was forcing its hand and becoming strong enough to deposit dust into our coffee cups. The forecast in Slobodan Dalmacija confirmed the change in weather – thunder, lightning, heavy rain.
I was engrossed in my reading when a friend stopped to chat – I told him that I love this warm wind and he gently admonished me, telling me that it is a dangerous wind – people have heart attacks in this wind, and suffer from migraines. I will have to watch myself.
Within five minutes of returning to the apartment there was a loud clap of thunder and the rain came down, retribution for the last two months of stifling heat and blue skies.
And justlikethat it has stopped, leaving a lovely warm wind (I’m aware of my heart beat). Dedicated Weather Watchers tell me that it will rain if there are ‘fluffy caterpillars’ clinging to the craggy peaks of Biokovo, and I can see them up there still.
The grapes are being picked for the new season’s wine and one of the cafes was pressing grapes the other day for the start of the wine making.
Over the next few weeks there will be family outings up the hills to pick the olives for the first pressing of oil. I hope someone will adopt me for the day so that I can be part of it – I’ve got so many things I want to do and see yet!
Ambling along the pine forest track from the beach yesterday (grabbing the last of the summer rays) I heard the distinctive sound of New Zealand accents – two compatriots from Nelson, loving Nugal Beach, the temperature and the hospitality of the country - another immigrant’s daughter wanting to see where her family comes from. We walked back together and sat in a café, comparing notes and experiences.
I have to say that New Zealanders are an intrepid lot. Like me, this guy was drawn towards Biokovo, and so this morning he had started out at 5 to climb up to Vosac – by himself. He obviously didn’t know about how Dangerous it could be, and no Drago to show him the error of his ways - he had no phone, shorts (!), unaware of snakes etc, but did have food and water - he just did it – because that’s what we do. There were a group of young people leaping off a high cliff last week, and listening as I walked past, heard the NZ accent again. You see – cliffs are for doing bombs from, mountains are for climbing.
So, the last of the beach, the sun, the tourists, and my time here – the last of the summer wine.
The weather is about to change and it will be autumn. The weather forecast last night showed that the whole of Croatia is heading for a storm. I woke to slab jugozapadanjak (weak jugo wind) as promised, with dark clouds gathering above Biokovo.
I raced out to the posta (with a ‘sh’) with a box of things that I need to send home – precious things like my tramping boots. Who knows, I may tramp in Auckland now that I have such flash boots.
That done, I sat in plava kava and read the newspaper, skipping through the many pages discussing the soccer games, reading about the population crisis facing Croatia. The weak wind was forcing its hand and becoming strong enough to deposit dust into our coffee cups. The forecast in Slobodan Dalmacija confirmed the change in weather – thunder, lightning, heavy rain.
I was engrossed in my reading when a friend stopped to chat – I told him that I love this warm wind and he gently admonished me, telling me that it is a dangerous wind – people have heart attacks in this wind, and suffer from migraines. I will have to watch myself.
Within five minutes of returning to the apartment there was a loud clap of thunder and the rain came down, retribution for the last two months of stifling heat and blue skies.
And justlikethat it has stopped, leaving a lovely warm wind (I’m aware of my heart beat). Dedicated Weather Watchers tell me that it will rain if there are ‘fluffy caterpillars’ clinging to the craggy peaks of Biokovo, and I can see them up there still.
The grapes are being picked for the new season’s wine and one of the cafes was pressing grapes the other day for the start of the wine making.
Over the next few weeks there will be family outings up the hills to pick the olives for the first pressing of oil. I hope someone will adopt me for the day so that I can be part of it – I’ve got so many things I want to do and see yet!
Ambling along the pine forest track from the beach yesterday (grabbing the last of the summer rays) I heard the distinctive sound of New Zealand accents – two compatriots from Nelson, loving Nugal Beach, the temperature and the hospitality of the country - another immigrant’s daughter wanting to see where her family comes from. We walked back together and sat in a café, comparing notes and experiences.
I have to say that New Zealanders are an intrepid lot. Like me, this guy was drawn towards Biokovo, and so this morning he had started out at 5 to climb up to Vosac – by himself. He obviously didn’t know about how Dangerous it could be, and no Drago to show him the error of his ways - he had no phone, shorts (!), unaware of snakes etc, but did have food and water - he just did it – because that’s what we do. There were a group of young people leaping off a high cliff last week, and listening as I walked past, heard the NZ accent again. You see – cliffs are for doing bombs from, mountains are for climbing.
So, the last of the beach, the sun, the tourists, and my time here – the last of the summer wine.
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