Cascading Croatia
Over the last few months it’s become obvious to me that writing about countries where things go wrong is easy. As such, I’ve been sitting on the fence about writing anything about Croatia. Nobody likes to read about how great everything was, but unfortunately for you, the reader, it was an unmitigated success where the sun shone and life was easy. It’s a truly beautiful country.
Travelling to Croatia was never part of our year long travel plans, but my dad was turning 70 and he wanted to be in Dubrovnik for the big day. Conveniently, the stars aligned, and as they were preparing to leave the U.K., we were leaving Africa on a convoluted journey over to Nepal. After two long flights, but thankfully relatively little jet lag, we touched down in Zagreb, Croatia. We were 600km north of where my parents would be landing in 6 days time, giving us enough time to explore some of Croatia and surprise my parents for the big day.
Our journey began with a reunion between my wife, Jess, and a friend she’d met in the Philippines a few years before, Jakov. He’d been invaluable in helping us plan the last minute itinerary and kindly offered to take us for dinner upon arrival. As good as the food was, it was his introduction to a local, and somewhat potent, drink called Rakija that’s stayed with me. It’s like a whiskey made with aniseed that goes down with all the pleasure that one might expect from an undiluted strong spirit. Our time in Zagreb is limited, but we enjoy walking around the relatively small city centre with lovely architecture. The cathedral, the botanical gardens, the small park with a bandstand and fountains, all are lovely, clean, and well looked after. Walking the streets is relaxing and it’s nice to reacquaint ourselves with that coffeeshop scene that both Jess and I have missed after three months in Africa, even though neither of us drink coffee. As a substitute, we fully embrace the Burek, a flaky pastry filled snack that seems to be the equivalent to a pizza in Italy. We then get a tiny funicular railway to Uptown and visit the Museum of Broken Relationships. I’ll admit, I was sceptical when Jess proposed the idea to visit, but it was both delightful and moving. The museum catalogues random stories, submitted by normal people, on relationships broken or lost in the most obscure, fascinating, sad, or mundane ways. The Paul McKenner book called ‘I can make you thin’ that was given as a gift, only to rapidly induce a break up certainly made me laugh. A door from a woman’s house where her deceased son’s friends had written words of goodbye was a moving tribute that brought you right back down to Earth with a thud. Like relationships themselves, the museum is a wonderful rollercoaster of pain and joy that chronicles just a few of the complex webs ours lives weave. I leave apologising to Jess and impressed by whichever creative individual conceived it.
(The Museum of Arts and Crafts, Zagreb, Croatia)
(An entertaining display at the Museum of Broken Relationships, Zagreb, Croatia)
The only thing that let down our time in Zagreb was the hotel room, the bathroom stunk of raw sewage and for some reason it just wouldn’t go away. It was worse than anything in our time in Africa. When we mention it to the hotel staff there’s a feigned look of surprise that told us they knew about this regularly occurring issue. Other than that, Zagreb was delightful.
Before leaving the city we pick up a rental car. The girl at the agency tells me it’s a 4×4 yellow Fiat Panda, which makes me laugh immediately because it sounds like an oxymoron. But, rather comically, she wasn’t joking, and I’m immediately in love with my little yellow metal ball of fun. Having driven large off road cars on the left for the last three months it’s odd to be driving on the right in a car the size of an egg, but I adjust soon enough as we head down to Plitvička National Park. On the way we stop at Rastoke, a village famous for its old water powered mills for grinding corn. Lunch is eaten whilst sitting on a wooden bench overlooking a perfectly clear stream. We walk around the town to take in the cascading waterfalls as they weave between, and underneath, the old wooden buildings. We then drive on towards Plitvička. On the journey so far I’ve covered a little more than 100km, but I can confidently draw some conclusions about Croatian driving, it’s poor. Tailgating seems to be a particularly popular hobby, as does general overtaking in impossible circumstances at high speed. Coming in from Botswana I think that says a lot, but I suppose there’s nothing to do but embrace it and act like a local. Cue the faint revving noise from a 900cc Fiat Panda.
(The water mills of Rastoke, Croatia)
(The fastest car in Croatia and my little yellow friend)
Plitvička National Park is one of the highlights of Croatia. It’s a series of tufa lakes where waterfalls cascade over pale limestone ledges coated in a variety of plant life. Visiting the park is possible via a series of wooden walkways that wind between the different lakes, providing up close views of the various terraces and waterfalls. The park itself is unfortunately quite busy, and with the narrow walkways it can make progress slow. As we make our way further in the crowds thankfully thin, and by walking up some of the lesser visited trails we manage to find some stunning views from higher elevations. As with all water in Croatia, it’s crystal clear and the different lakes appear a variety of greens and blues depending on the minerals and algae content. The park itself is a great day out, but it’s also about halfway between Zagreb and the coast, making it a very convenient stopping point.
(Cascading waterfalls at Plitvička National Park)
As our journey progresses we move on to the coastal town of Sibenik, a small old coastal village with stunning limestone buildings facing on to narrow streets and walkways. It feels like you’re transported back in time as you wander the maze of alleys under the orange glow of sodium street lamps at night. The limestone of the steps and walkways shine from the gentle polishing of centuries of human traffic. It feels like a set from Game of Thrones, which is not entirely surprising given that three episodes were filmed here. It’s a great location to stop for a break, but also very convenient because it’s right next to Croatia’s second major national park, Krka. As far as national parks go, I think Krka proved about the most difficult to understand as an external visitor. You can enter from two points, there’s a bus and various boat options for travelling within it, but there are also other sections that can only be accessed via car or specific boats. There’s a 93-page guide that the tourism board has handily put together, but it’s contradictory and confusing in places, and realistically who is going to read that many pages before a holiday. When I bought a ride on lawnmower I could barely bring myself to read the ‘quick-start guide’. We make do with driving to the Lozovac entrance, then walking down to the large and impressive Skrasinski Buk waterfalls via a wooden walkway. The valley also contains a series of old water powered mills and one of the world’s first alternating current hydroelectric power plants. This may not be that surprising given that Nikola Tesla was born less than 2 hours drive away. After catching the bus back up the steep slope to the exit we drive north to visit Visovac Island, a small island in the middle of a lake about halfway up Krka National Park. The island itself has been occupied since 1445 as a Franciscan Monestary. I’m particularly entertained by the presence of a basketball court as I watch monks dressed in the traditional brown habit wander along chatting. Do they all let loose on a Saturday and don large foam gloves to cheer on the resident team? We walk around the small site with its manicured gardens, wandering peacocks and abundant pomegranate and apricot trees, before catching the tiny shuttle boat back to the car.
(Wandering the streets of Sibenik, Croatia)
(Jess enjoying the waterfalls of Krka National Park)
Our final stop in Krka is at Roski Slap and the ‘necklaces’, a series of tiny waterfalls. From the pictures online I thought they were huge, but perspective is a funny thing. Before leaving we stop and have a beer at a wooden table semi-submerged in the rapidly flowing water of a former mill house. Taking our shoes off provides some welcome relief from the heat as the cool water navigates and cascades its way through ancient troughs between the buildings.
(Enjoying a beer at the water mills of Roski Slap)
After Krka we make our way to the coastal city of Split. I’ve been to Split before, and I earnestly tell Jess there’s no point visiting, there’s nothing to see. She’s very confused and determined to prove me wrong, which she does very successfully on an excellent free walking tour. It turns out there’s an entire UNESCO listed Roman palace in the city centre, with amazing architecture and a fascinating history. Who knew? Jess, apparently. I’ll be eating humble pie for some time on this one, it’s become somewhat of a running joke. On reflection, this seems fair. The palace itself was built by the Roman emperor Diocletian in his later years as a place for him to retire. Imagine that, an emperor retiring?! If only Emperor Putin would take a lesson from history. Diocletian picked the location because he had developed arthritis and the sulphur spring immediately adjacent to the palace brought him some relief. Cleverly, from the palace itself you can’t smell it because they built it upwind. In addition to the surprise of the palace itself, I also learnt an interesting fact; the Romans used to eat lying down and always lying on their left. Apparently, this frees up the stomach and allows you to eat more. From now on I’ll be lying down in the KFC booths, sod the etiquette.
(The remains of Diocletians balcony in Split harbour, Croatia)
After a day trip to the beautiful walled town of Hvar, we work our way south along the coast towards Dubrovnik where we hope to surprise my parents. We stop at the small coastal town of Makarska. The main highlight here was at breakfast. As I sit down I see a couple leave their table and head over to the buffet to get more food. Jess then turns up and walks over to their table and starts feeding a stray cat some salami she assumes has been left by someone that’s vacated the table. Before I can tell her, the cat is happily chewing away, delighted with himself. More cats then arrive, sensing weakness, and one jumps on the table and drags some salami off a plate. Thankfully, in part because of my beckoning, Jess has backed away just in time to pretend she did nothing. The couple come back to their table and the man looks confused at his plate and salami pieces strewn across the table. I explain to him that cats got at it whilst he was away, but dont worry, I chased them away for him. Jess, you owe me.
We head further south, stopping briefly to climb the walls of Ston, an old walled town that sits on a steep slope in a valley. It was historically important for salt production, so the town became both wealthy and heavily fortified to protect its assets. It’s the longest intact defensive wall system in Europe and a surprising highlight of the trip. After leaving Ston we head down to Dubrovnik with both excitement and trepidation of the upcoming surprise.
(The imposing 14th century walls of Ston, Croatia)
We pull the little, yet rather conspicuous, bright yellow car into the car park in front of the hotel where my parents are staying. Our hearts are pumping fast, we don’t want to ruin the surprise just checking into the hotel. All the balconies are looking out towards the car park with the sea beyond, fuelling our fears. We quickly grab our bags from the boot and scurry inside to reception. Jess goes on look out duty whilst I handle the formalities. We make it to our room, but we don’t know what floor my parents are staying on or what rooms. I look out of the balcony and see my auntie walking towards the hotel entrance with another woman, whom I assume is my parents friend. After a few minutes, I decide to check our hallway to see if they’ve passed by, but I’ve made a foolish error of judgement. As I open the door my mum walks straight by. She glances towards me as I hold open the door but clearly doesn’t immediately compute and walks on by. I grab my aunty, Jill’s, arm and drag her into the hotel room as my mum walks on. Jill makes an ‘oooh’ sound as she recognises us. I realise this part of the plan has failed, so I open the door to find my mum has stopped still about 15 feet past our door. Her back is to me as if she’s realised something isn’t right and is reflecting on it. Then she turns to see me. It’s a beautiful moment, seeing the recognition dawn on her face as she realises I should be 11,000km away in South Africa. She makes a high pitched noise and runs over to the room to hug us both. After a few wonderful minutes it’s clear my mum isn’t going to be able to keep this a secret from my dad for any length of time. We haven’t seen her in 4 months and the realisation that we’ve flown all this way to surprise my dad is just too exciting. I’m not going to lie, I’m also excited to surprise him. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks. We decide to go down to the pool where he’s sunbathing and surprise him there. My mum goes ahead and Jess and I approach from a low wall behind his sun lounger. I walk around and tell him that unfortunately the lounger he’s in is taken and he needs to move. It’s special moment, I can see the moment of recognition in his eyes as clear as day. We have a big hug, creating one of those rare defining moments in a father son relationship where emotions are on show for all to see. We then settle down to tell them of our long journey to get here. I’ll always remember those wonderful few moments with my parents, realising the impact that the changes to our trip have meant to theirs.
(A surprise reunion of friends and family for dads 70th birthday)
The next few days are spent seeing the sights of Dubrovnik, walking its epic walls, and enjoying time with family and friends. My dad and I spend a few relaxing hours kayaking the coast and getting up close to some of the buildings that remain damaged and dormant from the Croatian War of Independence in 1991-92. On my dad’s 70th birthday we go on a ‘three island tour’ just off the Dubrovnik coastline. At the last one, me, Jess and my dad go for a swim. We free dive down and enjoy the cooling sea whilst looking up at a limestone monastery only a few meters away. Whilst I’m enjoying this moment of serenity I realise my short pocket feels somewhat heavy. I pull my sea-soaked leather wallet out and let the salt water drip out of it. Thankfully, the money is plastic and so are my cards, so after laying it all out in the sun to dry there’s thankfully no major damage, unless you class the faint white salt lines left across the leather that last a few weeks.
(Sun bathers relax in front of a hotel destroyed during the Croatian War of Independence)
(Kayaking the Adriatic with dad, just south of Dubrovnik, Croatia)
As I said at the start, our time in Croatia was completely unplanned. It involved traversing Africa south to north and added two flights to our plans, but it was well worth it. I’ll always remember our tour through the country and I’d be amazed if we don’t visit again. The stunning coastline, the azure Adriatic sea, the cascading waterfalls and the idyllic weather. But mostly, I’ll remember those precious moments spent with family and friends. Whilst our travels will eventually come to an inevitable end, those memories will last a life time.