Gulliver's Travels

The plan is to meet my wife Nora and two friends, Jan and Pedro in Vienna and travel together for three weeks. We hope to take boats down the Danube River stopping off at towns on the way and ending up in Budapest. We have rented apartments in Vienna for three nights giving us time to see the sights and plan the rest of our trip. I’m looking forward to meeting the three of them and continuing to explore Europe.

I board the train in Sighisoara for Vienna preparing myself mentally to travel with three other people. Traveling by myself has become such a delight, going and doing as I wish, not having to talk or listen to others, staying in any place that meets my standards (preferably clean, and no rats ON the bed), without having to discuss it. I expect it to be more complicated and different with others.

My compartment mate on the train is Daniel from Bucharest and he is on his way to Vienna where he works on a Danube river tour boat. These are the one week to one month tour boats with rooms and meals costing thousands of dollars. What a break, this is great he’ll be able to tell me what I need to know about the boats on the Danube since I can’t find anything about them on the internet. I explain to him what we want to do and does he know where we can find passenger boats that run up and down the Danube. His answer is succinct and helpful. “There are none. They stopped years ago.” There goes that plan.

Daniel and I talk several hours into the night. He often travels all the way to northern Germany to catch his boat for work. He is a cabin attendant and likes the work because it pays well and he is always meeting new people. He does not like to be away from home as long now because he worries about his fifteen-year-old son in Bucharest who is becoming “rebellious and difficult.” I try to assure him, that having a son of my own who was very rebellious, and as hard as it is to believe now, in five or six years he will be a fine young man that he will be proud of.

Vienna is another world from Sighisoara. It is the capital of Austria as well as its political and cultural center. Its 1.8 million residents live in a city ranked number one in the world in quality of life. Even the horses are dressed and fed well, and instead of wagons and plows, they pull carriages of tourists through the streets for 60 Euros a ride.

We have apartments for our stay here so I go to the Naschmarket to get some food to stock the pantries. The market is a Viennese institution dating back to the 16th century. During the week it is a produce and food goods market but on Saturdays, the day I’m here, it adds a large flea market where you can buy anything from junk to antiques. I spend several hours haggling with sellers over pocket knives and used accordions but in the end I walk away with only food.

I head to the apartments and get the keys, put the food away and check out the transit routes from the train station to the apartments. Nora, Jan and Pedro are arriving on the 11:22 PM train so I plan the subway route with one transfer. According to several locals it will be much faster by subway than taking a cab across town on Saturday night. I spend the rest of the day exploring Vienna.

That night I get to the train station with time to spare and the train arrives an hour late. Nora, Jan and Pedro look in good condition after the long ride from Frankfurt. It’s great to see friendly faces and converse without sign language. We start for the apartments via the subway but no trains arrive while we are waiting at the transfer station. A security guard finally comes by and tells us the subway closed at 12:30. We get instructions about the night buses and walk several blocks pulling suitcases trying to figure out where to catch it. Once we do we ride for twenty minutes to our stop. The next day we discover that we boarded the bus only about a 5 minute walk from our apartments.

The next few days we take in as much as possible of the beauty and history of Vienna from the grounds of Schonbrunn Palace, the art in the museums and lunch at the Central Café.

Three days later we take the short train ride to Bratislava, a city of under 500,000 that is the capital of Slovakia. Bratislava is changing fast as money is flowing into this newly admitted European Union country. The old town center has cobblestone streets, pedestrian plazas and pastel 18th century rococo buildings surrounded by large housing blocks built by the old government.

We luck out and find cool basement apartments from a guy at the train station. This is so refreshing since the heat wave covering Europe has had the temperature in the mid-to-high 90s every day. That evening Nora and I walk down to the Danube River and enjoy the cooler breeze. Jan's sightseeing is limited by having to work while traveling and so Nora and I start exploring on our own more. Pedro who can always find places with good food, keeps us all in good snacks. The heat also drives him to keeping the freezer stocked with ice cubes and cold drinks.

The next afternoon we go to Budapest, a great city that has more to do than you can ever cram into a vacation. We did the tourist things, Buda’s Castle Hill and the Citadella, Danube ferry ride, Varosliget (City Park), etc. but the best things were what we happened upon. Nora and I were walking around in City Park one evening and came upon a concert by the Budapest Symphony Orchestra at Vajdahunyad Castle. What an enjoyable evening sitting outside in the warm confines of the castle grounds listening to Beethoven piano and violin concertos. The next evening we came upon a café with a jazz trio and spent the night listening to some very good music with our dinner.

We did the “pay what you want Budapest tour” and our guide Julia was a native and very knowledgeable about Budapest. Since Nora and I were the only two to show up we had her full attention. It was interesting to talk to her about the political situation in Hungary but alarming to hear her reasons for the current economic situation. All though she thought of herself as a leftist politically and was "not a racist" she blamed the Roma’s for much of the countries economic problems. A very common theme it seems throughout Eastern Europe.

We hope the Adriatic coast might provide some relief from the heat and leave Budapest. Our train ride to Zagreb is one of the most enjoyable to date. Nora and I are in a compartment with some Spanish college students and it seems like most of the trip is spent with the rest of their friends in the compartment with us. It leads to lively discussions, card playing, and just plain goofing around. It makes the trip go fast and is one of those fun experiences that you just can’t plan.

Returning to Zagreb I realize what a great city it is. It’s easy to get around in and it has good restaurants, cafes and parks. We ended one evening of sightseeing in a park drinking beer and listening to a jazz trio, having a thoroughly enjoyable time.

An accidental fall by Jan while crossing a door jam cancels our planned trip to the Adriatic coast. While Jan and Pedro figured out the extent of the injury and when they will be able to return to the States, Nora and I decided to visit Zdravko and see if we can talk him into going to Plitvice Lakes National Park with us.

Zdravko is in good spirits and hasn’t smoked since I left. He seems eager to go see the lakes. “It is a most beautiful place in Croatia. We can drive there in two hours.” We drink wine spritzers and talk about what we have been doing. This is the Zdravko that knew in the states good humored and eager to do things. But in the morning he is different. He decides he can’t go and it will be “too crowded” and he has, “other things I need to do.” Nora and I decide to take the car and drive there on our own which is OK with him. As we are pulling out of the driveway he cautions us to not get stopped by the police because, “I’m not sure the car is registered correctly.” This makes Nora nervous but I figure the worst that could happen is a few years in a Croatian jail, and what a story it would be.

Plitvice Lakes is 16 turquoise lakes in a wooded countryside that are connected by waterfalls and cascades. It is one of the most popular natural tourist attractions in Croatia. In spite of the heat and all the other tourists it is a beautiful day in nature. We make it back to Zdravko’s without incident and spend the night. The next morning Nora and I return to Zagreb and Jan and Pedro have left for home. We decide to head for what we hope is the cooler air of Lake Bled in the Julian Alps of Slovenia.

After the heat of the large cities, the small town of Lake Bled (pop. 6000), will be a relaxing few days before Nora has to return home. At the tourist information center we find out that their are no rooms available, because we have arrived during Bled Fest (the annual summer festival) which attracts tens of thousands of people to bustling market stalls, live music, outdoor bars, gondola boat races and firework displays. Through much pleading we are able to get a room for the weekend in a new hostel that has a cancellation.

Bled Lake has an island in the center that is home to a small church and overlooking the lake from a commanding position atop a 300 foot cliff is the 10th century Castle Bled. We decide to take the six kilometer walk around the lake and as we do we understand why General Tito had his summer house here. The place is postcard beautiful. The next day we feel compelled to attend some of the festival but it’s like every festival now days with a few booths of local arts and crafts and many more of the same items we have seen in every city tourist center. And there is nothing like being at a beautiful mountain lake and having speakers blasting bad rock-and-roll at you for hours on end. That night we see a great thunderstorm that overshadows both the laser light show and the fireworks.

The next morning we headed out of town, hiking four kilometers to Vintgar gorge, in the Triglav National Park, and followed a two-kilometre trail along the river. This takes us through a narrow ravine carved out over many millennial, where we are amazed by the natural beauty. On our walk back we spent some relaxing time sitting at a restaurant patio drinking beer and watch the huge cumulus clouds waltz across the afternoon sky.

On our final day, we traveled to the nearby Lake Bohinj, Slovenia’s largest natural lake. We rented a canoe and paddled around long enough to work up a hunger so we can go into shore and eat our picnic lunch. We sit and looked out over the lake to the mountains surrounding us and wished that we had more time to travel together. The next morning we part at the train station, Nora catching the train north to Frankfurt and home. I catch the train south to the capital of Slovenia, Ljubljana. Time to go find this democracy that Frank keeps commenting about.

It's a different experience traveling with other people. (Not as bad as some of you emailed me about your experiences traveling with others.) I would say that the biggest difference was not meeting as many people. (You have other people that you focus on, the ones traveling with you.) I also spent about 1-3 hours less a day doing things outside and more time trying to figure logistics of where to stay, eat, etc. Everyone has different levels of comfort and that can vary a lot due to weather, location, money, health, sex, and expectations.

Nora and I travel well because we like each other for who we are. This trip she was the young Swedish nurse, and I was the dashing American flying ace recovering from my battle injuries.

Dracula's Crib

I awake and look out the train window, there is a shroud of fog on the countryside, just like you see in the Dracula movies. It is unbelievably beautiful; we pass lush green fields with shepherds tending their sheep, and villages that disappear into the grey hillsides.
I congratulate myself on the choice to come to the small village of Sighisoara, Romania instead of a larger city, not aware that I’ve already missed my stop at Sighisoara and don’t have any choice but to go on to the next stop.

The sleeping car attendant is Regina, a fortyish woman from Slovakian who is working this route for the first time. She works for the company that owns the sleeping cars and not the railroad company per se. (Like Pullman employees did, and still may, in the U.S.) She saved me last night when I got on the train and had a bedroom reservation but no ticket since I thought I’d bought both. Luckily I was able to go and get a ticket at the station before the train pulled out saving me tens of Euros over having to purchase a ticket on-board.

As the train was boarding we stood and talked about how she enjoyed her work because she liked to travel and work with the public. She said the working conditions were not that difficult and the salary good. She questioned why I was going to Sighisoara and not a larger city like Brasov or Bucharest? I told her I was interested in seeing how people lived in the small towns. As we board the train she took my ticket and tells me she will wake me fifteen minutes before Sighisoara.

The next morning Regina knocks on my compartment door and tells me we will be getting into Bucharest about an hour late. Then wiping the sleep from her eyes she says, “You’re not going to Bucharest, are you?”

“No, I’m going to Sighisoara.”

“Not today your not. You didn’t get off at your stop back there. Why didn’t you get off?” she asks.

“You have my round trip ticket. You were going to wake me to get off, remember?”

She sheepishly responds. “Oh I was, wasn’t I? Have you ever been to Brasov?”

Brasov is the largest city in Transylvania with about 330,000 residents. It was the first Saxon town north of Bucharest and is ringed by mountains and verdant hills.
Like almost all European cities it has its old section with a variety of interesting things to see.

The Black church built 1384 -1477, is the largest Gothic place of worship between Vienna & Istanbul. The height of the clock tower is 213 feet and the length of the church is 292 feet. It has a 4000-pipe organ that was built in 1839. In 1689 the invading Habsburg forces set fire to church blackening its walls, and giving it its name. You would think they would clean the smoke off the walls of a church that took so long to build, but this isn’t one of the 87% Eastern Orthodox Christian churches, it’s Lutheran.

Brasov also claims to have the narrowest street in Europe, Str Sforii.

Something it has that it doesn’t need is the big tacky “Hollywood” style BRASOV sign on Mt. Tampa overlooking the city. They would have been much smarter using their signage at the railroad stations so you would know where you are.

Another thing Brasov has is bears. There are an estimated 80 black bears in the Brasov area. The come into the city and eat from the trash dumpsters. They have killed a man who was sleeping on a park bench one evening and chased tourists up the BRASOV sign atop Mt. Tampa forcing them to stay there for several hours. There is even an evening tour to go see the bears rummaging at the dumpsters.

A big political fight is brewing over how to deal with them. The hunters want to have a higher kill quota and the naturalists want to capture and relocate them.

I take the day long castle tour offered by the hostel and it is entertaining. The first stop, Peles castle, built by King Carol I. The Moorish, Florentine and French styles make it a beautiful place. Most impressive I think is the central vacuuming system. You don’t see that in a lot of old castles.

Next on the tour is the famous Bran Castle. Bran Castle is considered Dracula's Castle however there is no proof that Dracula was ever even there. For those who do not know who Dracula is, his real name is Vlad III Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler, or Vlad III Drakul. He was a cruel ruler of Walachia in the 15th century. Dracula was born in Transylvania (Sighisoara) and lived from 1431 to 1476. He defended Transylvania and Walachia by scaring the hell out of the invading Ottoman forces. He did that by sitting and eating steak while impaling thousands of Ottoman soldiers on skin-piercing rectum-to-underarm stakes. Despite his cruelty and crazy behavior he is often revered in Romania as a defender of Christendom against the invading Turks.

Our final stop is the Rasnov Fortress an old fort that sits on top of a hill. This fort is quite large and impressive. The Rasnov Fortress is surrounded by large walls and inside the walls there are buildings, towers, churches, and land where the cattle and other animals could graze. One of the big attractions inside the Rasnov Fortress is the well at the centre of the Fortress. It is 460 feet deep and provided the inhabitants of the fortress with fresh water. The story goes that two captured Turkish soldiers were put to the task of digging the well. They were told that they would be given their freedom once the it was completed. It took them seventeen years to complete the well, but they were still killed afterwards. The Rasnov Fortress was used to defend against all kinds of invaders including Mongols (Tartars) and Ottomans (Turks).

Brasov is a great small city, I love it here. The people are friendlier than anywhere I’ve been, everything is inexpensive, the food is good and it has enough things to do. I would stay another day or two but I want to visit Sighisoara and get to Vienna by Saturday.

Sighisoara, (pop 32,000), is surrounded by Saxon villages, some of which can only be accessed by horse and buggy or walking. But its claim to fame is the birth place of Dracula. Vlad Tepes was born here in the medieval citadel, a 14th century walled city. It is said that it is the only citadel left that still has private homes people live in. It has a172-steps covered Stairway to the Gothic1345 Lutheran “Church on the Hill” with a great old German cemetery behind it.

The new town bustles with tourist in the day time but at night it is a wonderful small town with good restaurants and relaxing parks. I enjoy walking around and meeting people. A couple sitting on a park bench smoking cigarettes, three women maintaining the cemetery of the Red Army soldiers killed in the liberation of Sighisoara from the Nazis. Awaking mornings to the sound of horses bringing wagons of goods into town is such a great way to welcome the day. It is much more than the tour books say.

One strange thing I found here was two young women had teeth with fangs like Dracula has. When I noticed this on the first woman who worked at the hostel I thought it odd, but when a waitress later that day had the same kind of teeth I thought it must be some kind of tourist thing. Later, I asked the woman at the hostel about her teeth, (like I should talk), and she said, “What do you mean? These are my natural teeth.”

Thinking fast I said, “They are so pretty when you smile,”

I wasn’t sure if she was putting me on or not. I don’t believe in the Dracula myth but I did go to the market and buy some garlic.

Off Croatian Time

It was a beautiful Monday morning, my third one here at Zdravko’s. I went out and pulled up a bucket of well water and washed my face as Zdravko made us a breakfast of eggs, sausage and bread. This was my last breakfast. I was leaving today for Zagreb and points beyond. I‘d decided that I needed to see more than I was able to do at Zdravko’s and I couldn’t force him out of his comfort zone to do things.

As much as I didn’t like it I could understand how Zdravko felt. In one sense he is living in the past. Returning every year to where he had grown up and seeing it change, making him a stranger in the memories of his youth.

He left Croatia with his wife and child in 1987 and ended up in San Francisco with a couple of dollars and the name of a friend. His father had told him that he should leave because it was not going to be a place to raise a family. Within a few years the country was torn apart in war.

His childhood friends still greet him and want to know how he is doing but most don’t really know him any longer. To some he is now a wealthy American who comes home every summer to stay in his family’s house. To others he is still the same, a Roma.

Having family, and friends like Yasa, probably makes it more of a conflict because they do care about him. But the life that Zdravko knew before he left is gone and will not return. Properties that have been in families for generations are being sold as children grow up and leave for better paying jobs in the city. Farms are being bought by wealthy British businessmen who recognize this as prime vineyard acreage.

It’s not that different from how I feel about going home to Pennsylvania. It’s good to see family and some of the friends from my childhood but it’s not the same - it makes me feel uneasy.

We discuss these things, but there is no solution that is going to get Zdravko out of the house so I tell him my decision to leave and we part ways. I may return before I leave for home but since I don’t have plans I’ll have to wait and see. Zdravko walks with me to the bus stop and already I sense his loneliness at staying in the big farm house by himself. He is a good man and I wish him well. I look forward to seeing him again.

On the bus to Zagreb I decide I’ll take the 9:58 train to Budapest tomorrow.

I love trains and could ride them forever. To me they are like being in a big steel womb, the clickity-clack of the tracks is the heartbeat of the protective mother. I’ve logged a lot of rail miles in the US, but most of it was in box cars. I enjoy trains in Europe more than trains in the US. They run on schedule, more or less, and have compartments where you sit with other people, and can have conversations.

On the train to Budapest I share my compartment with a young couple from Korea who are touring Europe on their vacation. In our discussion they mention a cousin who lives in Union City, California. I tell them that an actor friend of mine was who is Korean-American is doing a theater show about growing up gay in a small town in California. They are very interested in the show and want to know more. They ask if people go to see it and when I explain that it has been extended for another month they look very proud. They write down the The Marsh website and say they will send it to their cousin in Union City.

Budapest is the first city I remember wanting to go to as a child—well, after Niagara Falls. I remember being ten years old, in 1956, watching resistance fighters on the evening news fighting Soviet tanks with rifles and Molotov cocktails. I didn’t understand the conflict but thought those people were brave to fight against tanks like that. Ten years later, I read about how they fought against the bureaucratic structure of Stalinism with its secret police, the AVH, and set up workers councils to run the local and state governments.

On the bus ride to the hostel I can’t wait to get out and explore. The first place I head is the Torture Museum. In 1944, during the gruesome domination of the Hungarian Arrow Cross Party, this building, known as the “House of Loyalty,” was the party headquarters of the Hungarian Nazis. Then between 1945 and 1956, the Stalinist secret police organizations the AVO and its successor the AVH took up residency here. 60 Andrassy Boulevard has become the house of terror and dread. It is now a museum that tells a very chilling history.

That night I receive an email from my wife, Nora, saying that she and two friends, Jan and Pedro, will join me in about 10 days and will meet me in Vienna. Since they want to visit Budapest I decide not to spend any more time here but to head somewhere that we won’t be traveling together.

My goal of going to Odessa to see the steps in the film “Potemkin,” then ferry to Istanbul to see friends, who are currently in Iran, is not going to happen in ten days. After a lively discussion with some people I’d met in the hostel I decide to go to Transylvania.

The night train with a sleeper doesn’t cost much more than a night in the hostel so I set out for the heart of Romania on the 11:13 PM train. My destination is Sighisoara, a dreamy, medieval citadel town of 32,000 which claims to be the home of Dracula.

As we leave Budapest, the sleeping car attendant tells my Romanian compartment-mate and me that we will be awakened at about 3 AM for Romanian customs and that she will wake me in time to get off at Sighisoara. Sure enough, Romanian customs wakes us at 2:45 and wants me fill out a form regarding my travels to any country that may have a Swine flu epidemic. The customs agent gets surly when I ask how do I know if a country I have been in during the last 10 days has had a Swine flu epidemic. “Have you been in the United States in the last ten days?” he barks. I check “no” on the form, accidently sign it on the wrong line and hand it back to him. He gives it back to me and tells me to scratch out the incorrect signature and sign it on the correct line. I do and receive my passport back with a fresh Romanian custom stamp.

I drift back to sleep but am awakened later by a lot of noise and ruckus outside in the hallway of the car. I finally get up and open the door enough to look out and see what is happening. At the other end of the car is a short man with a pencil-thin mustache wearing a trench coat and a fedora. Next to him is a tall, shapely dark haired woman in a purple dress. Just then I hear the door at the opposite end of the car slam shut and the dark haired woman points and yells, “Look, Boris, Moose, Squirrel!”

I go back to sleep and wake up 10 kilometers past my stop.

Two Steps Forward and Two Steps Backward

Week two at Zdravko’s would finally bring some activity. Still no running water but we would get some work done, I would be introduced to a side of Croatian politics and the Sv. Ivan Zelina Wine Festival was finally here. Monday morning brought a cold rain, unusual according to the locals. Usually the summer rains are warm showers. Zdravko was not feeing well from yesterday’s wine but said his back did not hurt any longer. He decided it would be a good day to rest and went back to bed. I took to cleaning up the kitchen which had acquired a certain film of grease since most of the dishes were being washed in cold water. I heated some water and went at it and got the place looking better. When Dana, who I’d met Sunday, called and asked if I wanted to come to her house in town to use the internet, I agreed. It started as an enjoyable afternoon, I was given a good lunch and enough wine to keep out the cold. Internet access gave me a chance to post my first blog entry and catch up on the news. I decided that for the rest of the trip, I don’t need to know the news. A short discussion with Mathew about the American health care system prompted a response that was very anti-Semitic. I told him it wasn’t religion but American capitalism that prevented us from having universal health care. The town, Sv. Ivan Zelina, has a population of about two thousand seven hundred. It’s a hilly and winding five kilometers from the village Zdravko and I are in. Zelina is known for its clock tower church, the highest point in town. There is a town square of sorts in front of the Municipal building and it has several small businesses, a number of restaurants and a few cafes, none of which have any live music. The biggest thing that happens there every year is the Wine Festival which begins this week. I’m looking forward to this as Zdravko has been telling me about it since my arrival. The following day in a light rain Zdravko and I started burning off the brush that he had cut. We worked all afternoon and were able to burn off everything in the front of House 2. That night we where invited to Iset’s cabin to have dinner with some of the dancers and staff of one of the folk groups that was performing at the Festival that week. It was an enjoyable time and the wine drinking was moderate for all of us. Wednesday morning at dawn under a cloudy and humid sky we started burning off the huge growth behind House 2. It was hard work but we kept at it and by 1 PM we had the biggest part done. We ate lunch of potato soup and bread then headed home for a nap. That night we headed to town for the Wine Festival. Now I grew up in Pennsylvania farm country and when a fair or festival happened it was over with by 10 PM so the farmers could get up the morning and do chores. Not here. We arrived at 9 PM. Near the entrance it had about ten booths selling local honey, jams, needle work and wooden toys. Then it had booths enticing little children to beg their parents for a toy made in China, games of strength for the teenage boys to impress their girl friends and games of finesse where a properly thrown ball would win you a stuffed bear. Of the carnival’s four rides the bumper cars was by far the favorite, and rightly so. It was the best bumper cars I had ever seen and the rides were long, creating a line that must have included every six year old thru teenager in the area. The festival’s entertainment starts at 8 PM with the main show at 10 PM. Three stages of programs had everything from local rock n’ roll bands to Croatian and international folk bands. Two of the venues had bars with tables and benches to sit on while listening and they were always crowded and busy. The third stage had no bar and never seemed to have anything happening. Zdravko after talking to several friends decided he did not like the music because it “wasn’t gypsy music” and went home, offering to come back for me if I called him. I headed to the main stage which was at the open end of a large tent that must have seated 1200 to1500. One side was a bar with soft drinks and draft beer. The back had a kitchen serving several pork dishes and my unfortunate choice, sausages. The warm up band was a group of older guys playing traditional Croatian folk music. It was very enjoyable and I got into it because they had an accordion player who was very good. They launched into a version of the Carl Perkins hit, “Blue Suede Shoes” and I realized what rock n’ roll was missing all these years – an accordion. Prior to the main act was one of those cultural events that always make me feel a little uneasy. A group of ten high school age girls do a synchronized dance routine to music that had to have been chosen for the beat and not the words. I feared that at any minute one of the parents would understand what “Shake your pussy where you want your man now” meant, and run up and grab their daughter and embarrass her in front of this large cheering crowd. But it didn’t happen and for all I know they all I knew what it meant and didn’t care. The night’s headliner was a very popular band called Gazde.
From what I could ascertain from people they play a pop style of folk music. Everyone seemed to know the words to their songs and would sing along, louder and louder as the night went on. Shortly before the show ended Dana spotted me and invited me to join her and some friends. She offered me a ride home which I took her up on and she mentioned that the next day was a holiday and they were going to have a picnic at a local castle and invited me to go. I looked forward to seeing some of the local sites and agreed.
The trip to Trakoscan Castle was a little over an hour but seemed very long. Tony and Dana started tell me of their experiences working in the U.S. for a major cruise line. Soon their racism towards others came to the front. Trying to be diplomatic I told them I was from a city where we flourish with different races and their cultures; and that soon if not now San Francisco would be minority white. They wanted to know why I would want to live with other cultures, didn’t I like my own? “Yes I liked my own, but my Slavic culture forgot to create jazz, blues, rock n’ roll, and salsa. It also forgot burritos, egg rolls, curried chicken, pupusas and Thai Basil Chicken.” They asked if I had ever been to a castle before. Trakoscan Castle was built in the 13th century within Croatia's northwestern fortification system, as a rather small observation fortress for monitoring the road from Ptuj to Bednja Valley. It has been added onto and abandoned several times. The current renovation has made it into a very good museum with a large collection of armament and art work of past residents. It overlooks a beautiful man- made lake and Mark and I walked its three mile trail. The ride home was civil but it was clear these were not friends I would be seeing again. A cold rain returned that evening and continued the rest of the week preventing Zdravko and me from doing much work. Sunday we went to the spa and spent the rest of the day discussing politics and the ways Croatia had changed since he first left in 1987. Even with constant suggestions from me I could not get Zdravko to do things out of the immediate area. I wanted to see more but he was anchored to the house -- and the past. I felt my time was not being very productive and that it was time to move on to new adventures. Zdravko has made it through twelve days without smoking, which I think is great.

The Zdravko Blues

June 22, 2009

I’ve been here a week and things are going slow. There is still no running water at either house. I set out last Tuesday to check out the village, Psarjevo Gornje. As Zdravko told me, it only has about ten families. The center has a store and a stop sign. In a quarter mile radius is an elementary school w/ playground and about 13 houses. That’s it! The store is like a corner store or a Seven Eleven without all of the takeout fast food options. It has fresh bread every morning and some fresh fruit and vegetables not always locally grown.

Tuesday afternoon we went up and checked out the house 2. Zdravko had already cut much of the bush that has grown up over the past fifteen years that it has been vacant. He has started painting the interior and we are now waiting for the village to connect the water. The water was supposed to be connected three weeks ago but we are still waiting. The village leader had said possibly Wednesday, but Wednesday passed with no connection. It’s in the nineties and too hot to work so we went back to the farm house and Zdravko took a nap to rest his back which continues to bother him.

Tuesday evening we visited Zdravko’s nephew and his family who live a couple of villages away. There I was introduced to the Croatian national drink, three parts white wine mixed with one part mineral water. The spritzer, as they are called, is offered and poured for you as soon as you sit down in someone’s house. Now I’ve never been a wine drinker, but these are pretty good drinks. Zdravko drinks them like they are water, which often leads to the problem of him being drunk.

He also chain smokes when he’s drinking and it was really a problem that night sitting in a small kitchen alcove with the constant smoke. Later while driving us home I told him no more cigarettes. I can’t stand the constant smell of smoke. To my surprise the next morning he said he was not smoking anymore and he hasn’t smoked in almost a week. I continue to encourage him.

Wednesday we needed showers and headed off to the “eco-spa” as Zdravko calls it. In the 1960s a gas company drilled a well looking for natural gas and hit a pocket of water. They abandoned the well and capped it off but the locals hooked up a pipe with some nozzles and have been enjoying the hot mineral water ever since. Of course there are stories galore about the magical healing power of the water. It’s a popular late night hangout for teenagers and the aphrodisiac effect of the water can be measured in the number of children conceived in the surrounding corn fields.

Just down the hill from house 2 is the farm of Zdravko’s cousin Joza and his wife Dada. Dada is truly a wonderful woman. She seems so at home on the land. I often see her out in the fields picking berries and checking out the fruit trees. Enter her house and she offers you wine or coffee and a seat at the kitchen table. She reminds me of my paternal grandmother, always working in the house or in the fields.

Even the healing power of the eco-spa water has not been able to cure Zdravko’s back as it is bothering him again today. The slow life is starting to get to me and I feel the need to get away.

Thursday morning we were going to go to the flea market but Zdravko said his back hurt too much for the drive there. I didn’t want to spend another day sitting around the house and decided to take the 7:45 bus for the hour-and-half ride to Zagreb.

Zagreb may not be one of the great cities of the world but it’s got things to do and any city is fun to explore if you’ve never been there. I got my chores (map, phone chip, money exchanged, etc) out of the way and by then it was almost noon so I headed for food. Walking through the big farmers market (Dolac) above the city center I found a little Italian restaurant. Seems like the universal food of the world is going to be pizza, it's everywhere. Not that I mind, I love it!

One thing every city in Europe must have is dueling church bells at noon. I thought they were never going to end. There are a lot a churches here. I ate directly across from a large church that was St. Stephen's Cathedral, but is now called Cathedral of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It was built in 1899 and is known for its neo-Gothic twin spires. I went to look inside. It looked like every other church to me but there sure were a lot of people praying for 1 PM on Thursday. I guess maybe they were getting ready for the weekend as Zagreb is becoming known for its growing night life.

I then headed for the Galerija Klovicevi Dvori which the tour book says is "Zagreb's Premier exhibition hall where superb art shows are staged." I was expecting to see some contemporary art by Zagreb artists that I’d seen a little of in Frankfurt but this was mostly pre-nineteen hundreds with a lot of stuff from local archaeological digs. It was interesting to see the history of the region and it was presented in a lively multimedia environment. After a few hours though it all starts looking the same, how many rusty hatchet heads can you look at.

I sat in the central square watching people for a while and listening to a Gypsy boy with a dog playing the accordion. I wished that I would have brought my accordion with me so I could have learned the song he was playing. The music reminded me of a street musician I saw in New Orleans in the 1970s, an old man with a dog playing blues on a guitar. Then like now, the donations and people who stop to listen are the tourists.

I walked back to the bus station and saw a pair of cool shoes in a store window. Hit the internet café at the bus station and checked my email and caught up on some news. I got the bus and headed home which depressed me thinking of no water and no prospect of getting it fix soon.

To my amazement Zdravko had a friend there checking out the problem with the water line when I arrived. He said it’s possible we will have water in the old farmhouse by tomorrow. It made me feel better that something was happening, Zdravko even went and got tires for the car so now we can drive on the highways without out fear of a blowout.

Unfortunately several hours of work on Saturday confirmed that the problem was a broken pipe under the house and not a problem with the pump or incorrectly priming the pump. There will be no water here with the current plumbing.

The person who was helping check the plumbing was Yasa, a childhood friend of Zdravko’s. He lives with his wife up the mountain about half a mile, but has a small but beautiful cabin he built himself another mile up. His cabin is not much more than 7 X 7 meters but is very cozy and comfortable inside. We spent Saturday afternoon there drinking wine and discovered we were able to communicate in Spanish well enough to enjoy the time. Yasa has a collection of pitchers from all over the world that he has acquired in his travels and he is very proud of them.

Sunday we headed back to the eco-spa. God, the unlimited hot water is so nice. After the spa we went to visit another childhood friend of Zdravko’s. He is a sculptor Isiet Garosizic. He was having a party for his daughter’s first wedding anniversary. We arrived at their country house about 10:30 before the guests so that Zdravko and Isiet could have some time to catch up on things. We had a brunch of wine and beef heart soup which was very tasty. Isiet has acquired much land over the years and has set about to create a beautiful park- like estate. He has planted over 10,000 trees, mostly pine but also has a garden with trees from all over the world. (Sequoia, from seeds he took from Sequoia National park in the 1980s.) He spends much of his time here building small houses using old building methods. He acquires lumber by purchasing old houses and disassembling them. I believe his goal is to build houses on this land for his children and hopefully his grandchildren.

Their vineyard produces some of the strongest and best wine in the region, they told me. By early afternoon when family and guests started to arrive the wine was working well on Zdravko. Vena, the wife of Isiet, is an English teacher in the local school and speaks with a charming British accent. Her son Mark and daughter Dana are also good English speakers. It was a nice change to be able to talk to someone in English.

Dana and her husband Tony, who have both worked as airline flight attendants and aboard cruse ships in the southern U.S., were not only celebrating there first wedding anniversary but also made a surprise announcement that they are having a baby in the fall.

Isip asked me if I cooked, and when I told him I’d been a cook in the army he made me “guest cook” and I got to stand and stir the cutlet goulash - for three hours. I met many interesting people, including one person who said I should protest that NASA is trying to kill the alien colony living on the dark side of the moon.

Twelve hours and many courses of food and drink later I drive Zdravko home. As I get in bed I remember asking Mark about the portrait of the army officer on the fireplace mantle. All day I had thought it was Marshal Tito but before I left I looked at it closer and it wasn’t Tito. I asked Mark if it was a relative who fought in the war. “No it was the true leader of Croatia during WW II, Ante Pavelic,” head of the fascist Ustasa movement.

The heat of the last week has given way to a cool breeze tonight and as I doze off I can hear thunder in the distance.

June 16, 2009

Remember that trip you took to Europe the summer after you graduated from high school? You and a friend catch a cheap flight to Paris and spend the summer backpacking around where WW II happened. Well for me it was like my fiftieth birthday party. It never happened. In fact it never even occurred to me that I could go Europe after I graduated. The only kids in my high school class who went to Europe did it on Uncle Sam as members of the U.S. Army or Air Force.

Forty-six years later I’m doing it. I sold my business last July and now have the time to do it. The only rub is I can’t do it on the 1963 “Europe on $5 a Day” which is what my income is. To help solve that problem I’m spending time with some friends and relatives who live in Europe. My wife Nora and maybe some friends will be joining me later and we’ll travel around together. I’m posting this so those of you who wish may check in on me from time to time. I will warn you now, don’t expect this to be anything profound. I’m not searching for the meaning of life, my roots, or much else. It’s just an experience that I feel I should have. I’ll use it to try to improve my writing ability but it has been a struggle for decades so I don’t expect it to change much now.

As I sit writing this I have been gone a little over a week. I left San Francisco on June 8th after cashing in some United Mileage Plus Miles on a ticket to Frankfurt. I spent four-and-a-half days there with Nora’s cousin and her family. It was good to see them and they were very gracious and kept me busy. I toured the Opel auto plant, attend a high school music program, and sports award night; spend two afternoons in downtown Frankfurt seeing sites and museums, saw a soapbox derby, Chagall’s stain glass windows in St. Stephan’s church, a restored Roman fortress and ate some good food. It was all very enjoyable and fun.

Sunday morning June 14th, I boarded the 8:20 train for a twelve and one-half hour ride to Zagreb, Croatia. The train ride was pleasant if somewhat long. I enjoy trains, it seem like you always meet interesting people on them. Two cute little Russian sisters (9 and 11) were in my compartment for about 39 Km. When I told them where I was from they wanted to know if I knew Kelly Clarkson. I also met a woman from Slovenia who was returning home from a trip to the U.S. that started in NYC and ended in San Francisco. She wanted to know what time of the year it’s warm in San Francisco.

Customs was no problem except in Slovenia where they questioned and searched the luggage of my three compartment mates because they were Croatian and Bosnian. Put them through the hoops like immigration does with Latinos in the US. Slovenia is in the European Union but as a country they don't have much to offer. Mostly they are a place Europeans go through to get to Croatia. They have opposed Croatian membership into the EU and harass their citizens at every chance. They want Croatia to give them about 20 more miles of coastline so they will have a deep water sea port but Croatia refuses.

My friend Zdravko met me at the train station and we drove the 15 miles Northeast of Zagreb to his house. We had a dinner of Sauerkraut soup, ricotta cheese and bread.

Zdravko is one of my excuses for taking this trip. Zdravko lives with his wife Julia in Sonoma County, California. Summers he comes back to Croatia where he was raised to maintain his family’s farm house. Last summer he bought another piece of property and wants to do some repairs on it. He has been asking me for the last few years to come visit him and help him in exchange for room and board. This year I took him up on it.

Zdravko has two pieces of land with houses. The old family farm house where we are staying now (I call it House 1). The problem here is no running water because the pipe to the well froze last winter. We take water from the well by bucket for our needs. Unfortunately the pipe broke under the kitchen floor which is tile so he doesn't want to tear it up now. The house needs some other work to be sure but if the water was working it would be fine.

This is the house he lived in as a youth. The barn was his dad's woodworking shop where he made furniture for the villagers. The house was built in the 1890s by a royal family for their stable hands and the large barn was for their horses.

The other property is the new one up the mountain about a mile away. It has two houses (House 2 and the old house). House 2 is newer, about 1960. The old

house next to it is wood construction and is over 100 years old. He is waiting for the village to turn on the water to house 2 and then we will move up there and work on clearing the land which has grown up since no one has lived there for 15 years. He has made a good start on the clearing. The property has pear, apple and walnut trees. The Village has to have their person come out and connect the water to the main line. There is one person for the whole district and Zdravko has been waiting three weeks already. I find it hard to believe they have water lines out here; this is not in a village it’s out in the country.

The old house he wants to restore. Most of the wood support is in good shape but it will take some work for a few years to get done. Zdravko is very much into starting an Eco or self sustaining community. He wants to eat only fresh grown fruit and vegetables, raise his own chickens, turkeys, pigs and goats. No TVs. I have found so far that Europeans are much more informed than many in the US about "green issues".

I think Zdravko is glad to have some one to talk to after spending several weeks alone. He said he has been getting up at 5 am to start work because he goes to bed so early. There’s no TV or internet. I told him that I brought a deck of cards and to my chagrin he informed me that he does not play cards. That does not bode well.

It is very hot today so we are not working. Tonight or tomorrow morning I will go out and look at the Village. In the house it’s cool and comfortable this afternoon. There is a slight breeze that blows thru the open windows. The birds are loud outside and an occasional car or tractor drives by. Zdravko is taking a nap because his back is sore.