Croatia

August 2005

Republic of Croatia background: Shaped like a deformed boomerang and according to the CIA “slightly smaller than West Virgina” (but probably twice as literate). One tiny corridor allows Bosnia access to the coast and splits the country. 4.5 million people. Capital city: Zagreb. Language: Croatian. Currency: Kuna. Religion: Roman Catholic. Major industries: Steel, Cement, Chemicals and now tourism again. Life expectancy for females is 78 years old! Average annual income about $11,200. Surprisingly there are 10% below the poverty level.

If you like statistics about countries, check out the CIA World Factbook at www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos You’ll find stuff on here you never dreamt or cared about and after reading it, you probably still won’t care. Did you know for example that Croatia has 5,835 km of coastline of which the numerous islands make up 4,058 of that figure. Told you. Completely useless but compelling statistics. One thing it does tell you is that the statistics on the Online Lonely Planet Pages are out of date by some time. Still they have discovered that “Despite the tragedy of war (see Serbia background), its charms remain largely intact; most of the tourist areas have been lovingly restored” (Online Lonely Planet).

I had visited Croatia extensively in 1998, so I don’t really want to repeat myself. Like Bulgaria, I decided to show my father a couple of highlights on the way up to Hungary. First off was Dubrovnik and I am going to cheat by copying some of my 1998 diary notes. Founded 1300 years ago by Greek refugees, medieval Dubrovnik (Ragusa until 1918) was the most important independent city-state on the Adriatic after Venice. Until the Napoleonic invasion of 1806, it remained an independent republic of merchants and sailors. Like Venice, Dubrovnik’s fortunes now depend upon its tourist industry. Stari Grad, the perfectly preserved old town, is unique for its marble paved squares, steep cobbled streets, tall houses, convents, churches, palaces fountains and museums, all cut from the same light coloured stone. The intact city walls keep the motorists at bay, and the southerly position between Spilt and Albania makes for an agreeable climate. It is UNESCO protected, and even the bombardments in late 1991 did not destroy the character of the place.

We drove along the cliff tops overlooking the majestic old town and we were rewarded with a superb view of the city walls and battlements surrounded a flood of bright orange tiles roofs below that filled the entire interior. A few church towers stuck out but generally it was a carpet of roof tiles. Parking opportunities anywhere near the old city walls was non existent and we ended up parking on the cliff top and descended through alleyways of steps down to Pile Gate - one of the entrances. Inside was the huge Onofrio Fountain (1428) which was like a bricked dome with water dripping out of faces. Next door was the Franciscan monastery with the third oldest functioning pharmacy in Europe by the cloister (operating since 1391). There was a modern pharmacy and next door a small museum with relics of the pharmacy through the ages. Lots of china vases with labels, an old iron still and equipment. There were some lovely religious exhibits inside too. The cloisters were very picturesque and history pored out of the stone floors and walls.

Walking down the pedestrian promenade of white stone, the buildings gleamed with their bright white/greyish exteriors. At the far end past outdoor cafes lay the clock tower with the Orlando Column (1419). On opposite sides of Orlando were the 16C Sponza Palace (now the State Archives) and St Blaise’s Church - an Italian baroque building. Next door was the baroque Cathedral and the Gothic Rector’s Palace (1441), now a museum with furnished rooms, baroque paintings and historical exhibits. It was a lovely building. The fruit and veg market was just closing next to the imposing Jesuit monastery (1725) which was being repaired from the bombing.

1998 diary entry: Considering that Dubrovnik had been bombed during the Croatian/Serbian war, there was little evidence of it. Most of the town had been repaired. We climbed up to the city walls for a lovely walk right around the town, overlooking the roofs and the sea crashing against the rocks below. Built between the 13-16C and still intact today, these powerful walls are some of the finest in the world and Dubrovnik’s main claim to fame. They enclose the entire city in a curtain of stone over 2km long and up to 25 metres high, with two round towers, 14 square towers, two corner fortifications and a large fortress. It was certainly one of the more memorable walks I could remember and better than the walls of the old city of Jerusalem. The old city was full of locals going about their ways, but there were few tourists. We felt privileged to see it before tourism picked up again.

2005 diary entry: They have ATMs!

Let me now tell you that in August 2005, the place was positively heaving with tourists; Americans, British and every European nationality. You could hardly move for the tourists. It was quite a shock after my last sedate visit. Every overpriced outdoor café/restaurant was heaving with people drinking cold beers in the shade trying to get away from the blazing sunshine. Dubrovnik is still a stunning place but not in the peak season. We spent two hours in the old city battling our way around and then decided to leave the crowds far behind. It’s a much nicer place without the visitors.

The ride north along the “sublime stretch of the Adriatic coast” (Online Lonely Planet) is a lovely vista of serenity. On our left the islands stood out in the sea - very flat and barren looking. The sea was a lovely deep blue. On our right the light coloured/grey mountains were dotted with scrub. Bright yellow bushes lined the road. It was a 240km haul up to Split, but at least the police speed traps I’d dealt with in 1998 had disappeared. We hardly saw a police car in Croatia. It had seriously westernized during my 7 year absence.

Just north of Dubrovnik, we entered Bosnia for at least 15 minutes. There were border patrols at either end but when we pressed our passports up against the car windows, they just waved us through. I hadn’t been able to rouse much interest from my father to visit Bosnia. Maybe some of my 1998 diary explains why:

“We had had enough of police blocks and radar traps. Up ahead, we saw signs to Sarajevo in Bosnia, and we decided to give Bosnia a go. It wasn’t far to Metkovic on the border and we thought, what the hell, they probably won’t let us in. The car also wasn’t insured for Bosnia. At the unmarked border crossing, a guard inspected our boot, stamped our passports and let us in. We were surprised to say the least, thinking that Bosnia was off limits to tourists.

We headed for Mostar. We had not read up on Bosnia and didn’t know what to expect. We followed a picturesque river valley with the Neretua River looking stunning in the fading sun. However, building wise, the entire valley was gutted. Almost every single building had been blown up and destroyed. The ugliness of war was more vivid than I had ever seen it before. When I attempted to stop and take some photos of the destruction, a passing motorist stopped and told me it was prohibited and that the police would lock us up. He stayed until we moved on. I got a photo later, but it was difficult. There were plenty of armoured vehicles moving down the road. It was certainly a new experience.

We drove through Mostar and found entire areas destroyed. Buildings blown to bits, riddles with bullets, just shells really. I popped into a post office to get some stamps and a local old man hung around looking for money. He pulled the bandage up above his forehead to reveal a huge open wound across his entire scalp. He could have starred in a horror movie”.

So my dad missed “Medugorge which was a bustling town full of people, pensions, restaurants and people. It looked like a place to stay, whatever the guidebook said. We found a nice pension, full with a Spanish tourist party on their religious pilgrimage. 240 kuna and the car could be parked right outside. On 24th June 1981 six teenagers in this dirt poor mountain village 23km SW of Mostar, saw a miraculous apparition of the Virgin Mary, and Medugorge’s instant economic boom began. ‘Religious tourism’ was developed as if this were a beach resort and a place that really did sell ‘Pope on a rope soaps’ and had confessions in 10 different languages.”

One day I have to come back to this region. I still have to visit Belgrade, the capital of Serbia, Kosovo when it turns itself into a republic and Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia which has to be completely rebuilt. 5 days… tops.

Back in Croatia. The coastal road had also been improved. We checked out a couple of scuba dive schools but nothing seemed to be happening. As the sun started to drop, we started to look for accommodation. We tried some guesthouses and noone wanted to know - if we were only staying for one night. Just south of Split, we pulled into the small town of Omni and saw a couple of guesthouses on the main road.

There was an old woman standing outside one. I asked her how much and she said 40 Euros. I told her it was too much while my father checked out the other next door. The old lady had a strange Germanic accent and basic English. I intimated that we had a car and could keep going. She hummed and harred and talked to herself and eventually dropped the price to 30 Euros which was fine by us. It was 7pm. Was she going to get many other customers today? Apparently she owned two other places next door so she wasn’t exactly poor. She was, however, a little paranoid, locking the strong iron gate which accessed the staircase at all times. Even when I popped out to get some shopping, she was peering out of a window to make sure that I had locked the gate. What was she expecting? Dracula?

While I visited the local supermarket up the road to purchase copious amounts of the Croatian Karlovacko beer, she sat on the balcony with my father, opened a bottle of vile plum brandy (It must have been vile. I tried some later and couldn’t drink the stuff) and told him her life story while trying to get him pissed. Since they were both the same age, she obviously fancied her chances. Her name was Anna and she said “Sit still father and let me take the strain” (oo-er). We had the use of a kitchen, fridge etc. The only problem was that it was Saturday night and the sports club across the road had an outside Techno Disco and the terrible noise boomed out for hours. This gave us both an excuse to drink copious amounts of Karlovacko beer. Before my father passed out he mumbled “Lock that bloody door. I don’t want that crazy woman sneaking in and raping me in my sleep”. Ah, the perils of being old.

Even when I got up really early and popped out to the car, the crazy lady was peeping out of her window to make sure I had locked the door. Its 6am and she’s having sleepless nights about security? What about her other two places? Still, its meeting people like this that make road trips interesting and remind you that you can’t wait to get home!

On Sunday morning, we left the crazy woman drinking plum brandy, mumbling to herself and pleading for my father to stay as she told us to lock the door behind us, and headed for Split up the road. I had been decidedly non-impressed with Split on my last visit (even if it had been a Winter Olympics base in the 1990?). Fortunately, a bypass had been built since 1998, so we bypassed it.

1998 diary: “Split, the largest Crotian city on the Adriatic coast, is the heart of Dalmatia. The old town is built around the harbour. Split achieved fame when the Roman emperor Diocletian (245-313 AD), noted for his persecution of early Christians, had his retirement palace built here in 295. We walked through the remains of Diocletian’s Palace described in the guidebook as “one of the most imposing Roman ruins in existence”. We found it uninspiring. It was interesting to walk through the complex with the existing buildings inside. The Peristyle was a picturesque colonnaded square with the neo Romanesque tower rising above. Youths hung around offering drugs or ‘ money exchange’. I don’t know why because there was no black market rate. The old palace lay by the sea which looked nice, but Split didn’t seem to have as much to offer as I was led to believe by the guide book. It was surrounded by high rise tower blocks and was a fully functioning second city to Zagreb”.

We were still trying to find a dive school to try some scuba diving in Croatia. Pulling in to the attractive fishing hamlet of Primosten, we did find one, but we could only dive at 3pm which meant 6 hours hanging around. Primosten looked a nice place if you had 30 minutes to spare. We abandoned the idea of diving in Croatia and headed inland.

A brand new toll motorway had been built since my last visit, and we used up our Croatian Kuna, paying our way north along an excellent new road which would take you to Zagreb, the capital. We were able to drive at unfeasibly fast speeds with no police radar traps. Midway between Split and Zagreb, we pulled off to visit our second site: the wonderful Plitvice Lakes National Park. In 1998 I had reported “There were more destroyed buildings by the roadside, but nothing as desperate as Bosnia”. Those buildings were still un-demolished in 2005.

Plitvice was where the civil war in ex Yugoslavia actually began on 31st March 1991 when rebel Serbs took control of the headquarters at the National Park there. But tourists come here for the original reason: the Plitvice Lakes National Park (Nacionalni Park Plitvicka Jezera). The 19 and an half hectares of wooded hills enclose 16 turquoise lakes which are linked by a series of waterfalls and cascades. The mineral rich waters carve new paths through the rock, depositing tufa in continually changing formations. Since 1998, the entrance fee to the park had more than doubled to Ł8. This included the use of a boat to cross the lake and buses .

From Ulaz 1 Entree, we walked down a steep cliff and across some cascades to view the spectacular Slap Plitvica - a 78 metre waterfall which was breathtaking. Then we walked up by the side of lakes Kaluderovac, Gavonovac and Milanovac crossing more wooded slatted trails across beautiful white rapids. The lakes were a clear turquoise and were some of the most beautiful I had ever seen - smaller scale rivals to the Canadian Rockies, and those in New Zealand. Gaping cave entrances could also be spotted. Unlike in 1998 when “the tranquilness of the place was breathtaking” and “there were a handful of people” taking in the sights, today, like in Dubrovnik, it was absolutely heaving. At every narrow wooden walkway, we had to follow lines of people around like lemmings.

We walked around a mostly empty narrow track right by the edge of Jezero Kozjak. The water’s edge had bright green plants that contrasted with the deep clear green lake water. The trout could be seen swimming beneath. Trees which had collapsed lay beneath the surface. The sun shone down and we worked up sweat. There were numerous rapids and waterfalls at the far end of the lake. In sheltered pools, the greenish water sparkled in the sunlight. Following the trail up by Lake Gradinsko and then Galovac, we continued the walk across endless rapids to Lakes Okrugljak and Ciginovac. Finally, we reached Proscansko Jezero which was another huge lake surrounded by woodlands and slopes. From here we waited for a bus to take us back. My dad and his legs were shattered. He had put up a brave fight but the plum brandy had got the better of him. The trail up through the lakes was a gradual ascent - almost like a set of natural dams.

1998 diary “The park was obviously underused. The tourists that turned up stuck to the more popular trails which meant that you had the place to yourself when you headed off on the lesser trails by the water’s edge. There was very little litter…. A truly wonderful day of walking in spectacular scenery and probably the highlight of our trip”.

2005 diary. “F**king tourists everywhere. Whatever happened to my ‘secret place’? ”. Like Dubrovnik, Plitvice Lakes National Park is un-missable if you can miss the tourists. I still rate it as the best place to visit in Croatia.

The nearby village of Rakovica had developed into a town since my last visit, and I couldn’t spot the (then new) hotel I had stayed at. Instead we saw a sign at a house advertising rooms for 30 Euros. When we pulled up, a man told us to follow him and drove down a side road to his mother. She didn’t want to know. So we went up the road to his brother who did. We got a comfortable room with a balcony. Peace and quiet and no Techno disco, even if we felt like we were staying with the local Mafia figure.

We drove down the road to a restaurant and sat outside along with all the other punters. It was packed. Our waiter was a Canadian Croatian. He could speak excellent English (well, he would wouldn’t he) and told us that his father owned the restaurant. We had an excellent meal and tried to keep the Karlovacko down to reasonable legal levels.

It thundered and lightened all night long and it was still trying to drown an ark when we set off the next morning. The locals drove slowly enough to assume that they were expecting to pass a slow moving ark on the road. As in Poland and Romania, it was bloody miserable. This gave us an excuse to rejoin the toll motorway, spend the rest of our Croatian Kuna to drive very quickly down rain-swept roads and bypass Zagreb. In case you are interested.

1998 diary entry: “An attractive city of over a million inhabitants, it has been the capital of Croatia since 1557. Much of medieval Zagreb remains today. The city was packed downtown. We found a parking space with difficulty. Blue trams hurtled along beside us. The main square of Trg Jelicico and all surrounding streets were pedestrianised. In the Kapitol district, we walked to St Stephen’s Cathedral (1899), with its twin neo Gothic spires. It was covered in scaffolding and traffic pollution had obviously taken its toll. Nearby, in the colourful Dolac vegetable market, we purchased some of the smoked cheese. But the fruit seemed expensive (at least UK prices and above) and we wondered how locals afforded it.

We entered the Gradec district - the real old town. It was full of sidewalk cafes, brimming with locals drinking beers and coffee and taking in the sunshine which was blazing down by now. With all the twisting streets, it was difficult to orientate oneself, but we finally found the 13C Stone Gate with a painting of the Virgin Mary which escaped the devastating fire of 1731. People were praying and lighting candles by it - despite the fact that it was a thoroughfare.

The colourful painted tile roof of St Mark’s Church on Martov Trg marked the centre of Gradec, but it was closed. On the east side was Sabor (1908), Croatia’s National Assembly which was a very small building and part of an entire row of buildings. On the west side was the Banski Duori Palace - the Presidential Palace - which was being redecorated. There were no guards at the door in red ceremonial uniform. That was about as much as Zagreb had to offer us, and we retreated from the crowds and attempted to drive out of the city which was a lot more difficult than getting in, with no signs anywhere”.

I just didn’t rate Zagreb as a capital worth visiting. My dad has also seen enough capital cities to be even more discriminating than me. We nervously wondered if we had enough Kuna to survive the last 60km of motorway to the Hungarian border. No problem. Crossed the border in minutes.

Croatia conclusion: Croatia is now a very westernized country. It is one of the most prospective Eastern European countries to attract tourists. A fabulous coastline, national parks and historical cities. You will be visiting it sooner than you think.

Travel - £ 28.28
Accommodation - £40.20
Food - £20.67
Other - £27.42 (18.09 - Nat Park, 9.33 – road tolls)
Total - £116.57