Dubrovnik is absolutely enthralling. It is made of ancient stone and marble and stands on limestone cliffs above the sea. It promises beauty, extraordinary beauty and disturbing history. Here, I think of little else but disturbing history that lives.
I'm writing this from my bedroom on Budvanska 4, a house at the top of Dubrovnik in a quiet residential area that belongs to an adorable, three-generation Croatian family that hardly speaks any English. The streets were not made for cars, but they're good for motorbikes, sometimes. More often, a "street" (ulica in Slavic languages) refers to a large set of stairs built into the stone hill. To get to the old city, we walk down the stairs. To get home, we walk up the stairs. To eat, we walk down the stairs to get groceries, and then back up the stairs to cook them. To have any sort of interesting day, we must walk down to groceries, up to eat, down to the old city, up to shower, down to the bars, up to sleep. Et cetera. It's really hot in Dubrovnik.
Last night, a Croatian policeman bought us drinks. He did so far far away, by telling the bartender to simply bring them to us. When he arrived, the bartender pointed to a pale, lanky guy with a black rock-n-roll t-shirt sitting at the bar and said, "These are from him." Well, that was a first.
The Croatian policeman was interesting to me because he was obviously bored. He came over to us about 20 minutes later just to talk, to tell us that he would love to go to America and not go to New York but rather go to Alaska, or rent a car and drive Route 66, or both, but New York was definitely not for him. He said that he had not been drunk for an entire year, but tonight he was drunk. "I am so drunk, you probably think me crazy," he said. We did, of course, but his sweet nature made up for it. Also, he clued us into the fact that the Croats hate Montenegrins. "Because of the war." Naturally. If I understood the Yugoslav wars, maybe the hate would make more sense. It's beginning to make sense mostly due to characters like this Croatian policeman, who is an ethnic Croat. Here is what I know:
Bosniaks -- Muslim -- screwed (less so now)
Croats -- Catholic -- independent
Serbs -- Orthodox (majority) -- greedy
Albanians -- Muslim-ish -- screwed (especially in Kosovo)
Slovenes -- Catholic-ish -- independent
All of my knowledge is subject to change, seeing as I know nothing about Macedonia, except is strange tendency to operate under the acronym F.Y.R.O.M. Nevertheless, everybody here appears to hate each other still. It is fascinating to me that this scale of violence happened during my childhood. Fascinating, but also shocking that these wars, which should be a part of my living memory, seem to have almost never happened according to my high school education. If I could re-design my college career, I might create a major in the Nineties. And I would refocus all the attention given to Arab states and center it on the Balkans. Guys, it's THIS kind of hate we need to MOVE out of the world. This religious/ethnic strife is still so heated, it feels medieval. It boggles my mind how nations that have such advanced infrastructure in place (or more advanced than one might expect) can continue to feel deathly hateful of their neighbors. What kind of politics is this? I'm going to need help with this curiosity.
So this is Dubrovnik: the birthplace of wild curiosity. Wild curiosity about the wild Balkans and the wild failed notion of Yugoslavia. (I mean, the forced unification of all of those ethnicities under one--communist--federation would've never worked.) More and more questions arising about everything. Why being a traveller, living in a million temporary spaces, seems to offer the most clarity. And of all temporary spaces, these temporary political experiments in the Balkans have somehow drawn out my curiosity about the kind of relationships that society dictates ought to be the most permanent.
It's funny watching the people I meet react when I tell them I am moving to Jerusalem next month. Nobody really knows Jerusalem. It's an exotic spot with lots of political and religious strife. And it's really cool and weird that I will live there, of all the places to live in the world. But no one has asked, "Why Jerusalem?" It's like a fact they can't change, or I can't change, or just something they wouldn't expect me to change, like the color of my eyes. I am the girl who is moving to Jerusalem to teach youth at risk. I don't know if it's too cool, too different or too dangerous for the travellers to question. This is also a power I have, and to some extent, I am afraid of this power, too.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012 | Split, Croatia
There were many reasons to leave Zagreb. Probably the top-ranking one was Kansas. Kansas was an Asian-American student from the University of Kansas who majored in Croatian and Serbian languages and dialects. He was the most irritating person I met so far. He hovered in an every conversation everyone had, out of concern that we might need his exemplary Croatian skills to translate something, I'm not really sure. We spent too many days enduring him. That's all I know. He was well-intentioned, though.
By the end of our time in Zagreb, we had seen most people multiple times. We saw people we didn't even talk to ever over and over again on the main street with all the pubs and cafes. We saw them so often we could remember what they were wearing the day before. We couldn't stop bumping into a quintet of Spanish singers--in their 20s, usually drunk and wearing a variety of Spaniard costumes over the course of our days. We saw them on the main street, in the square with the government buildings, by the park, etc. Zagreb was too small. I started to feel like a resident instead of a traveller. Finally, we left.
Now we're in paradise. Split is what Jerusalem might be if it were flat, had a port and was surrounded by the Mediterranean. Everything is old. Across the Adriatic Sea you can see islands covered with more mountainous terrain. Beyond Split you can also see mountains, not quite the Alps but looking equally as imposing and snow-capped.
This place is outstanding and has more sun than anywhere I've been in my entire life. The water is as blue and clear as Lake Bled, maybe even more so because of all the sun and sky reflecting in it. Finally, I'm in a lpace with palm trees. This really is so different from the European cities I've been to. It's really a vacation. A vacation with ancient Roman ruins. All of the ruins are useful to Croatia. Today, I'm writing from an out of the way beach spot that has old stone structures leftover from God knows how long ago. They're useful for creating little pools and rock outposts for sunbathing and watching the harbor and the islands in the distance. Everything here is a beautiful photo. So beautiful that sometimes I worry about convincing everyone else that these places are real.
By the end of our time in Zagreb, we had seen most people multiple times. We saw people we didn't even talk to ever over and over again on the main street with all the pubs and cafes. We saw them so often we could remember what they were wearing the day before. We couldn't stop bumping into a quintet of Spanish singers--in their 20s, usually drunk and wearing a variety of Spaniard costumes over the course of our days. We saw them on the main street, in the square with the government buildings, by the park, etc. Zagreb was too small. I started to feel like a resident instead of a traveller. Finally, we left.
Now we're in paradise. Split is what Jerusalem might be if it were flat, had a port and was surrounded by the Mediterranean. Everything is old. Across the Adriatic Sea you can see islands covered with more mountainous terrain. Beyond Split you can also see mountains, not quite the Alps but looking equally as imposing and snow-capped.
This place is outstanding and has more sun than anywhere I've been in my entire life. The water is as blue and clear as Lake Bled, maybe even more so because of all the sun and sky reflecting in it. Finally, I'm in a lpace with palm trees. This really is so different from the European cities I've been to. It's really a vacation. A vacation with ancient Roman ruins. All of the ruins are useful to Croatia. Today, I'm writing from an out of the way beach spot that has old stone structures leftover from God knows how long ago. They're useful for creating little pools and rock outposts for sunbathing and watching the harbor and the islands in the distance. Everything here is a beautiful photo. So beautiful that sometimes I worry about convincing everyone else that these places are real.
Sunday, July 15, 2012 | Zagreb, Croatia
Today's lesson in Eastern European transportation protocol: Never buy a roundtrip ticket. To anywhere. Those things are practically unheard of. Ask for one and you will be laughed at. Buy one and you will save money--but your bus will never show up and you'll just have to get on the first bus you see headed for your destination of origin, pay full price to get on it anyway, and understand why things just don't work in roundtrips.
And so concluded our day visiting the Plitvice Lakes National Park. Not to worry, though, the experience certainly didn't undo today's gorgeous hikes and waterfalls. Going through Plitvice might have been one of the most rewarding travel days yet. The park was so different from Vintgar in Slovenia because of all the space the lakes take up. They are huge and pure blue, reflecting only the sky and the natural habitats beneath the surface. Aurite and I took a partially-uncharted path around the biggest lake. This ended up being a challenging trek through old fallen leaves and beaten paths that took us literally through the middle of the tree trunks that had snapped during storms. The weather was cool and windy--only in the mid-60s and I couldn't help feeling a natural bit of paranoia and wonder what a storm in these parts would do to us innocent hikers. Of course, there was no storm, and we made it up and out of the valley unscathed, our only almost-serious mistake being nearly walking into a waterfall and thinking the path might have ended. Really, we just had to walk up a steep hill instead, which we did successfully.
Zagreb has otherwise provided us with few experiences of note. As a result, we are now well-rested, detoxed, and ready to move tomorrow to Split and Hvar to go to the beach. The pressure of our flight from Montenegro to Istanbul next Friday is really starting to kick in, and I wish we had at least another week to explore the coast. As soon as we hit Budapest, we started to hear all different accounts about Croatian islands and how much fun they were. But we don't have enough time to do even half of what we've heard about.
The one thing I can credit Zagreb with is our first formal Shabbat dinner in four weeks. Of all places, the community has been most hospitable here. We found the synagogue on the second floor of an apartment building in a lovely, random square in the Lower Town, as usual, protected by guards. We met a total of four Jewish Croatians. I learned three of their names : Leah, Sacha, and Breyza. After praying, they invited us and two other travellers present--a 50-something Australian and his Israeli nephew, who will be entering the Israeli air force this fall--to join them, to sit down for kiddush and hamotzi and a light meal of berries, pickles, tuna and olives. We talked around the table for over an hour about what had brought us to the synagogue and how improvised our past 3 Shabbats have been, buying only the necessities beforehand and just having a private meal. It was nice to know that a welcoming, earnest and curious community exists in Zagreb. I'm very thankful to them for inviting us. Being Jewish and seeking out Shabbat experiences has been an excellent way to meet local residents of cities, but I must say the people we met in Zagreb were the nicest and funniest so far.
And so concluded our day visiting the Plitvice Lakes National Park. Not to worry, though, the experience certainly didn't undo today's gorgeous hikes and waterfalls. Going through Plitvice might have been one of the most rewarding travel days yet. The park was so different from Vintgar in Slovenia because of all the space the lakes take up. They are huge and pure blue, reflecting only the sky and the natural habitats beneath the surface. Aurite and I took a partially-uncharted path around the biggest lake. This ended up being a challenging trek through old fallen leaves and beaten paths that took us literally through the middle of the tree trunks that had snapped during storms. The weather was cool and windy--only in the mid-60s and I couldn't help feeling a natural bit of paranoia and wonder what a storm in these parts would do to us innocent hikers. Of course, there was no storm, and we made it up and out of the valley unscathed, our only almost-serious mistake being nearly walking into a waterfall and thinking the path might have ended. Really, we just had to walk up a steep hill instead, which we did successfully.
Zagreb has otherwise provided us with few experiences of note. As a result, we are now well-rested, detoxed, and ready to move tomorrow to Split and Hvar to go to the beach. The pressure of our flight from Montenegro to Istanbul next Friday is really starting to kick in, and I wish we had at least another week to explore the coast. As soon as we hit Budapest, we started to hear all different accounts about Croatian islands and how much fun they were. But we don't have enough time to do even half of what we've heard about.
The one thing I can credit Zagreb with is our first formal Shabbat dinner in four weeks. Of all places, the community has been most hospitable here. We found the synagogue on the second floor of an apartment building in a lovely, random square in the Lower Town, as usual, protected by guards. We met a total of four Jewish Croatians. I learned three of their names : Leah, Sacha, and Breyza. After praying, they invited us and two other travellers present--a 50-something Australian and his Israeli nephew, who will be entering the Israeli air force this fall--to join them, to sit down for kiddush and hamotzi and a light meal of berries, pickles, tuna and olives. We talked around the table for over an hour about what had brought us to the synagogue and how improvised our past 3 Shabbats have been, buying only the necessities beforehand and just having a private meal. It was nice to know that a welcoming, earnest and curious community exists in Zagreb. I'm very thankful to them for inviting us. Being Jewish and seeking out Shabbat experiences has been an excellent way to meet local residents of cities, but I must say the people we met in Zagreb were the nicest and funniest so far.
Thursday, July 12 | Zagreb, Croatia
I feel like I'm on another planet today. Home is like a distant, reassuring memory of people who know me and can confidently recount my strengths. It's not that I feel weak today; I just feel the distance between where I am now and my real intellectual and spiritual comfort zone. I've gone pretty far off the map by now. I truly am happy while travelling, but travelling doesn't affect my humanness. Which is something I'm glad about. I'd rather be nobody but myself, anyway, and it's relieving to be able to understand myself at new angles. Especially now that we've made it to Croatia. To Zagreb.
So far, I do like Zagreb. I love its authenticity. I love its architecture. In Aurite's words, it's Ljubljana with a pulse--a city with little pressure to do anything but hang out, but still, people are out in bars and cafes--there are so many in the main streets--at all hours, including breakfast time. Because of the buzz, I've already gotten somewhat of a sense of the Croatians.
This is the first time I've felt overwhelmed by a new place. Zagreb is not at all overwhelmed by tourism. It's the capital of Croatia. And with that, it's a real Eastern European city. It's very manageable in terms of size and geography, but for the first time, I foresee culture as a possible challenge here. Maybe it's because of the remarkable way people dress. It's different. Women have short haircuts more often than not. Fashion is fantastic. It's skirts, dresses, accessories in a whole different way. And it's great. It's making me and Aurite want to go shopping as immediately as possible. The language is so different it pervades my comfort level here. It sounds sharper and more articulate. Croatian, not English, dominates as it should, and I am getting earfuls of it everywhere I go. It's at once refreshing but also reminds me of my status as a visitor. It's nice to feel humbled by a new place. It reminds me of how much I don't know.
So far, I do like Zagreb. I love its authenticity. I love its architecture. In Aurite's words, it's Ljubljana with a pulse--a city with little pressure to do anything but hang out, but still, people are out in bars and cafes--there are so many in the main streets--at all hours, including breakfast time. Because of the buzz, I've already gotten somewhat of a sense of the Croatians.
This is the first time I've felt overwhelmed by a new place. Zagreb is not at all overwhelmed by tourism. It's the capital of Croatia. And with that, it's a real Eastern European city. It's very manageable in terms of size and geography, but for the first time, I foresee culture as a possible challenge here. Maybe it's because of the remarkable way people dress. It's different. Women have short haircuts more often than not. Fashion is fantastic. It's skirts, dresses, accessories in a whole different way. And it's great. It's making me and Aurite want to go shopping as immediately as possible. The language is so different it pervades my comfort level here. It sounds sharper and more articulate. Croatian, not English, dominates as it should, and I am getting earfuls of it everywhere I go. It's at once refreshing but also reminds me of my status as a visitor. It's nice to feel humbled by a new place. It reminds me of how much I don't know.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012 | Bled, Slovenia
My mind and body have slowed down since we arrived here. I could literally feel the process take care of itself. My heartbeat slowed down, my thoughts simplified, my brow stopped sweating, my feet stopped hurting. The air is clear. The water is even clearer. We are surrounded by mountains, and each one is a climate in and of itself. I've never experienced anything like this place.
Yesterday, Aurite, Harriet and I hiked through Vintgar Gorge, which has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. We walked through several villages to get there. Walking through the gorge was also unlike any sort of beauty I've seen before. We walked through tall rock cliffs, trees, over bridges and around waterfalls, taking plenty of photos. At the end of the walk, we made it to a cabin. And then it started to rain. And then it started to hail.
After standing under the awning of the cabin, freezing for about 20 minutes, its owner finally let us inside. We sat next to an Israeli family, who I surprised by entertaining a conversation in Hebrew with their daughter, who looked to be about 2 or 3 years old.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Rebecca," I said. "What's your name?"
She laughed. "Tamar." After smiling a few moments more, she asked, "Why Rebecca?"
Why my name is Rebecca...what an excellent question coming from this little girl. "Because my grandpa's mother was also Rebecca," I said in Hebrew.
She asked, "What's your grandpa's name?"
I smiled to think of him at that moment, considering where I got my name. "Mike," I told her.
At last, the hail subsided. We ran back through the gorge and back into town to try to find the way back home, back to Bled. We walked and walked through pouring rain, desperate for a bus or a cab or a ride or something to end the misery and maybe save us from getting sick. But it seemed hopeless--until a minivan suddenly stopped on the side of the road, and its driver, an older Slovenian woman, started to literally beg us to come inside.
I'm pretty unfamiliar with the practice of hitchhiking, and reason was not a part of any of my thought process at the moment. But she insisted, "For me, it's no problem! I take travellers all the time!" So we got in her car and she drove us the rest of the way home, about 1.5 km. She was so nice, I almost couldn't believe it.
We have been doing nothing but relaxing ever since. I took a bike ride this morning while Aurite, Harriet and Harriet's friend from Lyon went to the lake. Slow life ends soon, but it's been a wonderful refresher, and very fitting for Aurite and my 3-week travel anniversary! And now we have only 3 more adventure-filled weeks to go.
Yesterday, Aurite, Harriet and I hiked through Vintgar Gorge, which has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. We walked through several villages to get there. Walking through the gorge was also unlike any sort of beauty I've seen before. We walked through tall rock cliffs, trees, over bridges and around waterfalls, taking plenty of photos. At the end of the walk, we made it to a cabin. And then it started to rain. And then it started to hail.
After standing under the awning of the cabin, freezing for about 20 minutes, its owner finally let us inside. We sat next to an Israeli family, who I surprised by entertaining a conversation in Hebrew with their daughter, who looked to be about 2 or 3 years old.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Rebecca," I said. "What's your name?"
She laughed. "Tamar." After smiling a few moments more, she asked, "Why Rebecca?"
Why my name is Rebecca...what an excellent question coming from this little girl. "Because my grandpa's mother was also Rebecca," I said in Hebrew.
She asked, "What's your grandpa's name?"
I smiled to think of him at that moment, considering where I got my name. "Mike," I told her.
At last, the hail subsided. We ran back through the gorge and back into town to try to find the way back home, back to Bled. We walked and walked through pouring rain, desperate for a bus or a cab or a ride or something to end the misery and maybe save us from getting sick. But it seemed hopeless--until a minivan suddenly stopped on the side of the road, and its driver, an older Slovenian woman, started to literally beg us to come inside.
I'm pretty unfamiliar with the practice of hitchhiking, and reason was not a part of any of my thought process at the moment. But she insisted, "For me, it's no problem! I take travellers all the time!" So we got in her car and she drove us the rest of the way home, about 1.5 km. She was so nice, I almost couldn't believe it.
We have been doing nothing but relaxing ever since. I took a bike ride this morning while Aurite, Harriet and Harriet's friend from Lyon went to the lake. Slow life ends soon, but it's been a wonderful refresher, and very fitting for Aurite and my 3-week travel anniversary! And now we have only 3 more adventure-filled weeks to go.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012 | Ljubljana, Slovenia
Our day in Ljubljana was perfect, as perfect as a travelling day can get, anyway. We stumbled upon a beautiful, inexpensive cafe with fancy yogurt for breakfast (mine had bananas, walnuts and honey in it). It was alongside a quiet part of the river in a suburban-esque part of the city we stayed in, called Trnovo. We then wandered up toward the castle, which was among the oldest we've seen yet and definitely the most beautiful. We also learned a fair bit of Slovenian history and came away even more confused about the exact definition of what is Yugoslovia and are we in it or not. But it didn't bother us for too long, since once we wandered away from the castle we found a cafe in Trg Kongresni (the square with the parliament building, I think), spent an hour eating zucchini and aubergine sandwiches and relaxing. Then we wandered into Tabor, a real artists' colony, which sold stunning original homemade jewelry, buttons, clothing, handbags, and more. In Tabor there is a prison-turned-hostel called Celica. This hostel has a Point of Peace, complete with hammocks, where I spent some time meditating before we returned to the main square and spent 3 and a half hours drinking on a bar that was actually on a dock in the most beautiful part of the river in the middle of the city. All this while, there's a loud 3-on-3 basketball tournament (which, of course, is accompanied by a DJ blasting American pop songs) going on in the middle of the city. Amazing dark chocolate ice cream at every corner. Pumping American pop music everywhere. And so much refreshing greenery and forestry surrounding this tiny but active city. Ljubljana is like some new pinnacle of civilization. If all of life wowed me like Slovenia, things would be pretty good.
Shocking things about Ljubljana: First, nearly everyone speaks English here. I was definitely not expecting that anywhere we've been, but especially not here. Second, the city is the most technologically advanced one we've seen yet. The buses have electronic cards, screens, and exact timers to let you know when the next one is coming. It puts New York transport to shame. Maybe it's because this city is a bit newer and has the chance to think these things through from the start.
We are currently on a very bumpy bus ride to the Julian Alps, where we anticipate having nothing to do except sit near a lake, hike through gorges, and cook. I have never seen any sort of Alps before, and right now they are standing massively on my right hand side. They seem to be partially covered in snow, but mostly covered in forest. They tower into the clouds in a very official way, real permanent fixtures of the world that will never succumb to any pressure to change. They will just be here forever waiting to be hiked, skiied and photographed. This journey is truly remarkable.
It seems we've just traveled into Kranj, a city close to Ljubljana. Street art here is just as weird as it is in Ljubljana. The statues are bizarre, enormous, monstrous images of men and women. Real iron fighters. It's not like they're defending anything as much as they seem to be scaring people off.
Harriet, our beautiful new Australian travel-friend who recently finished her semester abroad in Lyon, has been travelling with us since we left Budapest until now. She is young but independent, like many of the Australians we've met, ready to encounter anything and make the best of it while taking their time. She will probably be joining us tomorrow in Bled. It's fun to continue reminiscing about how ridiculous life in Budapest was with her, since it really was quite ridiculous and girls do enjoy debriefing.
Shocking things about Ljubljana: First, nearly everyone speaks English here. I was definitely not expecting that anywhere we've been, but especially not here. Second, the city is the most technologically advanced one we've seen yet. The buses have electronic cards, screens, and exact timers to let you know when the next one is coming. It puts New York transport to shame. Maybe it's because this city is a bit newer and has the chance to think these things through from the start.
We are currently on a very bumpy bus ride to the Julian Alps, where we anticipate having nothing to do except sit near a lake, hike through gorges, and cook. I have never seen any sort of Alps before, and right now they are standing massively on my right hand side. They seem to be partially covered in snow, but mostly covered in forest. They tower into the clouds in a very official way, real permanent fixtures of the world that will never succumb to any pressure to change. They will just be here forever waiting to be hiked, skiied and photographed. This journey is truly remarkable.
It seems we've just traveled into Kranj, a city close to Ljubljana. Street art here is just as weird as it is in Ljubljana. The statues are bizarre, enormous, monstrous images of men and women. Real iron fighters. It's not like they're defending anything as much as they seem to be scaring people off.
Harriet, our beautiful new Australian travel-friend who recently finished her semester abroad in Lyon, has been travelling with us since we left Budapest until now. She is young but independent, like many of the Australians we've met, ready to encounter anything and make the best of it while taking their time. She will probably be joining us tomorrow in Bled. It's fun to continue reminiscing about how ridiculous life in Budapest was with her, since it really was quite ridiculous and girls do enjoy debriefing.
Thursday, July 5, 2012 | Somewhere else in Slovakia
On another note, "Slovakia" in Slovakian is written "Slovenska." Or at least it seems like it.
Slovakia is apparently harvesting sunflowers for a living.
Slovakia is apparently harvesting sunflowers for a living.
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