Update

For those of you who are new to the party, let me explain what I am doing here.  For two weeks I am visiting towns in Croatia studying and documenting their culture.  This information will be compiled into a book and video which will be used to educate us back in the United States.  I plan to continue the project with more and more countries in the near future.   I have created this blog as a sort of diary to document the process and to keep everyone back home updated.  Please understand I have taken hundreds of pictures and countless hours of video of interviews that need to be edited and will take me some time to process.  Because of my full itinerary I have had limited time to write.  But that is ok because I feel my time is better spent visiting with the Croatian people.  I cannot tell you how much I appreciate everyone's support and interest.  My head is spinning with everything I have seen.    I did some wonderful sightseeing yesterday in Opatija, a beautiful seaside town and Rijeka, a bustling shipping community, and I thought you would be interested in seeing the photos while I work on Koprivnica's blog.  There is a lot to say about that charming community!  Tomorrow I leave for Bjelovar!

Peace,
Chris

Opatija

 

Croatia's Walk of Fame

 

 

Rijeka

 

 

Zagreb

 

Tuesday morning I finally made it to Zagreb!  Mark picked me up at the airport and that was a great reunion.  I have not seen my Welsh friend in over 20 years!  We know each other from our Hungary days and he has since moved to Croatia.  As he updated me on his life (which includes a new wife and child!) I quickly tried to take in the Zagreb landscape. Surprisingly, it is very similar to Texas.  The grass, shrubs and trees look a lot like back home, just greener, and of course we don't have mountains in the backdrop.  And  we certainly have nothing like the charming Croatian homes with their colorful and unique architecture.  Mark lives in a neighborhood like this, charming with lots of mature trees and ground cover creating a very cozy environment .  I gather they are from the World War II era.  When we pulled up to his house I had to fight the urge to jump out of the car and start running down the street  with my camera but I decided to not abandon my friend just yet.   

Mark got me settled in his house and I got to meet his wife, Renee and mother-in-law, Wanda.   Both are Croatians.  Renee is a translator so of course speaks perfect English.  Wanda, not so much.   In typical European fashion, I am fed a wonderful meal right away.   Tracking carbs is not something the Croatians seem to bother with and I am glad because I am served delicious potatoes and sautéed peppers with rice.    It's a simple dish really, but so tasty.  I remember this from Hungary how Eastern European food can be so flavorful  but uncomplicated.   I am sure it has something to do with every ingredient being fresh and local in origin.

Mark and Renee had some work to do (they work from home with their translation business) so I took advantage of this time to go exploring.  He lives not too far away from a main drag so I grabbed my camera and got after it.   His house is close to a main thoroughfare that is quite busy with traffic

and trams that run every few minutes.  Businesses line the street and it seems every other one is a coffee shop or bar.  It's the middle of the day but most of these establishments are fairly full with people sitting outside enjoying their drinks looking very relaxed.  The employer in me wants to ask them if they have jobs they need to get back to but I bit my tongue.    Businesses made of new construction share the streets with very old and typical Croatian buildings.  Every once in a while a very utilitarian building from the  Socialist era looked down on me imposingly.   Of course, the only buildings I'm interested in are the old ones that most of the locals probably pay no attention to. 

 

 

 

 

I head back towards Mark's neighborhood and who do I run into?  I've only been in the country a few hours, who could I know?  Vanda.  Mark's mother-in-law is walking down the street and we meet like we are old friends.  She tells me in the best English she can muster that she is going to re-purchase some items that she just donated at a charity shop the day before.    I guess she is having a case of donor's remorse.  When I make it back I spend some time walking around Mark's peaceful neighborhood.   Kids play in the street without worry and neighbors stand outside their houses discussing whatever Croatian neighbors discuss.  A little girl on a tricycle pedals by shouting demands at her father as he obligingly tries to keep up.   Two brothers on rollerblades are curious about me.  They keep skating by pretending not to notice me but checking me out from the corners of their eyes.   I start taking pictures of them and this makes them even more curious.  This is a sweet little community much like neighborhoods anywhere.  But it's Zagreb, Croatia, and I can't believe I am here.  

 

That evening Mark and Renee take me into town for dinner.  The restaurant used to be a camera shop where photos are printed for customers.  It appears there is not much demand for these services anymore so it has been converted into a restaurant.    The building is typically old with wonderful wooden floors and stone walls that are lined with photographs and vintage cameras from its previous business.   After a yummy dinner of cheese stuffed eggplant and iced coffee, Renee heads off to her hip hop dance class and Mark takes me to the city center for a tour.  I got a quick history lesson and a peak at the Gothic Zagreb Cathedral.   There is lots of restoration going on.  There is also a famous open air market that sells lots and lots of fresh fish and produce.  It is so impressive that Margaret Thatcher once visited and sang its praises.

Chris, Renee, Mark (and American tourist in the background, ha!)

 

Zagreb Cathedral

 

As we make our way back to Mark's car through a park area he points out to me that most people feel very safe in Zagreb and it's common to walk alone at night without worry.  He is right.  I felt it too.

We get back to the house where I sleep the sleep of the dead.  And it's a good thing because tomorrow I travel again.

Tomorrow I leave for Koprivnica.

Layover in London

My current project is about Croatia.  However, I have an overnight in London and I would be amiss not to mention some of my observations I have made of our British Brethren.

As Americans we typically lump together the UK with the rest of Europe.  After all, geographically speaking, what else would they be?  I wouldn't say that too loudly when you get here.  The UK definitely has an island unto iteself mentality.  Their currency is still the Pound and they do not take the Euro.  They have their own power outlets and if you bring a Euro power converter you are out of luck.

I've watched enough PBS in my life to be familiar with the endless number of dialects.  As I sit in the hotel lounge listenening to conversations (they like to talk about the weather a lot) it's hard to miss it.   There are probably as many British dialects as there are pubs in London.   Every dialect reminds me of some British actor.  I hear one person and I think "Harry Potter!".  I hear someone else and I'm sure it's the receptionist from Doc Martin.  And there's Lord Grantham and Lady Mary!  Now if I hear someone that sounds like Mr. Humphries from Are You Being Served I'm going to fall out of my chair.  He really cracks me up.

I've known quite a few Brits in my life, my mother's family for start.  One thing I know is they are hilarious.   Funny British?  Oxymoron?   Not at all.  They have a very dry and witty sense of humor and if you are not paying attention you will definitely miss it.  That's why almost every program I watch is from the BBC.   Currently, Doc Martin, Downton Abbey and Call the Midwife are my favorites.  But As Time Goes By and Chef are a couple of all time favorites of mine.  And if you are not watching Masterpiece Theater, you should be.

I don't know how everyone on this island isn't fat, however.  Menu choices seem to be a collection of breads, fried potatoes and pastries.   And don't forget the beer!  They have beer with everything.  Unless they are drinking tea and then they are eating biscuits (cookies) with that.  If I ate like that I would look like Harry Potter's aunt from The Prisoner of Azkaban  where she blows up like a balloon and floats away.

The Brits have figured some things out that makes me wonder why we have not.  For example, the hotel room requires you leave your room key in a slot on the inside wall by the door to turn on the light.  That's brilliant really. You always know where your key is and you don't waste electricity if you are not in your room.  I admit I have walked into my hotel room before with the lights on and tv blaring from leaving them on from earlier.   

Also, soap and shampoos come out of dispensers.  That has to save a fortune by not using those little bottles that most of us have a collection of at home.  Plus, it is green.

One pretty funny observation from today... on the shuttle ride over here we passed several office buildings for lease.  But instead of saying "FOR LEASE" in the windows it said "TO LET".   The problem is, between every couple of letters was a vertical window pane.  So everywhere I looked it said "TOILET".  Over and over, TOILET, TOILET.   I had to bite my lip on that one.

I was a little annoyed that I had to lose part of my trip with this layover.  But now I am really wishing I could stay a day or two.  Cornwall, England is on my short list for future projects so I will get my chance at some point. 

I want everyone to know how fortunate and blessed I feel to have the opportunity to work on this project.  It's a dream come true and I very much appreciate everyone's support.  I got a little teary eyed leaving my family yesterday and thoughts similar to "What the hell are you doing" ran through my head.   But those were just nerves and I am ready to go!!

Zagreb tomorrow!!

Peace,

Chris

Found this mile marker hidden in the grass off the side of the road.

Wasn't much to photograph around my hotel.  Thought this was kinda cool though.

 

Time to Leave!

My bags are packed and my boarding pass is downloaded to my IPhone.  If it isn't packed at this point it isn't going to be.  I only have one check-in back and a carry on backpack.  That's pretty good since I have more electronics than any one person should have:  Laptop, Iphone, IPad, Professional video camera, still camera, extra lenses, tripod, microphone, chargers, converters and adapters (including a dc adapter for the airplane, just in case). 

When I arrive in Zagreb I will hit the ground running so I really hope I can get some sleep on this overnight flight.

Earlier today I received questions and pictures from the 2nd grade class I spoke to earlier this week.  I will bring them to one of the classes I am meeting with in Croatia to "exchange".  They are really sweet!

I will try to write when I can.  Time to load up!!

Peace,
Chris

Transylvania

As most of you know, the reason I was in Hungary was to teach English to children at an elementary school in the town of Godollo.  I immensely enjoyed it but I wouldn't say I instantly fit in.  Most of the teachers there kept clear of me, partly because they were embarrassed to try out their English skills on me.   But mostly, they wanted to observe me from afar, the crazy American with the colorful clothes.   However, one teacher who had worked as a nanny in America became an instant friend to me.   Her name was Marta Deme and she was my personal welcome wagon. 

Marta was extremely helpful in those early months.  She was my friend, my translator, my tour guide and my ambassador.  In return, she got to practice her English on me, American English, and relive her time in America.  I gather she wanted to return to the US pretty badly.

Marta arranged for several excursions for me.  One was to Transylvania.  At the time, I had no idea where Transylvania was or what it was.  A country?  A city?  Well, turns out it is a region of Romania with an extensive Hungarian heritage.  As a matter of fact, it was actually a part of Hungary before the borders were changed about 100 years ago.  Marta’s boyfriend had Hungarian family in Transylvania and that is how our trip was arranged.

First, I had to acquire a visa to get into the country.  So I went to the Romanian embassy in Budapest.   When I arrived, I looked out at a sea of people waiting to get paperwork to either get in or get loved ones out of Romania.  My heart sank.    I think it is fair to say, I was the only American trying to get into Romania that day  (or any day in the recent past).  Because of that, I was able to get to the front of the line and got my documents quickly. With visa in hand, I left the embassy staring into the unpleasant looks from the ever waiting crowd.

 

It was very exciting to get to travel east of Hungary, into the depths of the former Soviet Bloc-ness.  (If you are not familiar with the former Romanian  and communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu you should read up on him.  Fascinating stuff.)  My friend tried to explain to me that this trip was going to be a bit rugged and not as glamorous as my travels to Vienna and Venice.    I don’t think I was listening.

When we got to the Romanian border, we all presented our passports,   three Hungarian, one British and one American.  Which passport do you think the border patrol was most interested in?  That’s right, the American one.  Everyone got theirs back but mine got brought back to the guard house to be examined.  I’m not sure what they were doing in there:  using an x-ray machine, looking at my different country stamps, making fun of my passport photo.   After what seemed like an hour, I got my passport back, without even a word from the guards.

We crossed the border and soon entered the Transylvanian region of Romania.  We drove on through some of the most beautiful and pristine countryside I have ever seen.   I remember thinking as I looked out at the rolling fields with intermittent snow capped hills, “So this is Transylvania”.  The roads were pretty rough and we shared them with horse drawn carriages.    We finally arrived at our destination, a charming little village.   But when we got out and I started exploring I realized this community was, shall we say “traditional”?    No modern conveniences. No paved roads.  No cars.   I would soon learn only a few buildings had electricity or indoor plumbing.  The people wore traditional clothing, all exactly the same.  I imagine it is similar to an Amish community here in the States.

 

That evening the locals planned a traditional dance concert for us in the community center.  I think this was the one building with electricity.  The dancers wore more formal traditional clothing and danced to folk music that I can still hear in my mind.  It was part polka, part line dancing while they slapped their thighs and high stepped to accordions and violins.  Even the audience was dancing around between their chairs and clapping their hands.  It was such a fun time.  Not one of them could speak English with us but it didn’t matter.  That night we were a part of their community, one of them.

When it was time to go to bed we were split up into different people’s homes to sleep.    I made the mistake of mentioning to Marta I wanted to take a shower.  What a grand affair that was!  If you wanted a hot shower you had to go out in to the field, collect sticks to put into the fire which heated the water that ran through a skinny pipe over your head as you stand in something that resembled a barrel.    I’m not sure how the water got into the house but I imagine by as complicated of means.  By the time I got my shower I was so mortified at what lengths they all went to to get me my shower I promised myself I would never get dirty again!

The lady of the house made up a bed for me.  It was pretty cold outside and there was no heater so she piled about 30 heavy blankets on top of me.  I was snug as a bug in a rug.  With only the sound of nothingness outside I slept like the dead.

I was sad to leave the next day.  We said our goodbyes to our new friends and we continued travelling into Romania.  The rest of the trip provided the obligatory historic buildings and cathedrals that you expect in Europe.   Not to minimize the importance of history, however, I enjoyed  our tiny village so much more.  

 And to all of you who are wondering....I never saw a single vampire.

 

Transylvanian boys in traditional clothing.

 

Marta, Ilsa and Transylvanian villager