Lungomare to Lovran

Lungomare, near Ika

After learning that Jonah's soccer team only plays every OTHER weekend, we decided to hunt down a fish restaurant in a neighboring village that was highly recommended to us by our upstairs neighbors, Gino and Nada.  Since we're right on the Adriatic, fish is a really integral part of the cuisine here, but I am afraid to buy it.  At the daily fish market downtown, it's elbow-to-elbow, it's loud, it's smelly, it's not touristy (which is good!, but it does makes purchasing fish in an already tricky environment all the more difficult).  A better cook than I would relish being able to buy and prepare ultra-fresh, bone-in, skin-on fish with the heads still on and the guts still in -- which is how they are all sold.  But I am not that cook.  So when we want fish, we have to get it in a restaurant.

Lovran, Croatia

Waiting for the bus, Lovran

The restaurant, Najade, to which we were headed is in Lovran.   There is a 12km (6 1/2 miles, about) seaside promenade, called the Lungomare, and Lovran is at the end of it.  To work up our appetites, we decided to walk from the resort town of Opatija all the way to Lovran, along this promenade, about 4 miles.  The weather was cool, but not cold, and the views were all very misty and white.  There were several parks in tiny fishing villages scattered along the route, and rocky beaches which Jonah and Lucy combed for seaglass.  When we approached Lovran, we heard very loud music, and we encountered several adults in full carnival costume.  Then we heard the bells and on the street above the lungomare, we saw bellringers heading to the next village after doing their thing in Lovran.  We hit our arrival in this village with a carnivale parade and festival, and the streets were mobbed.  We were elbow to elbow with the sheep men.  We squeezed our way along the parade route to the restaurant, which was practically empty because everyone was partying in the streets, and we had the delicious fish dinner as planned.  By the time we finished dinner and were waiting for the bus at the Lovran bus stop, the parade had ended and all the elaborate motorized parade floats were cruising down the street with sirens and loud music and yelling -- just like a secondary parade.  Everyone was still in full celebration mode.

Unfortunately, my pictures from yesterday only hint at the atmosphere of the nighttime carnivale street celebration and the beautiful scenery along the lungomare.  But we'll go back.

Rijeka Carnivale!

The huddle, Rijeka Children's Parade

Rijeka, our town, takes Carnivale VERY seriously.  In fact, Rijeka claims to have the third largest Carnival celebration in the world -- behind Rio and Venice (where we'll be next week).  While we've seen bits of it here and there, the streamers lining the entire pedestrian area, the little wooden huts selling northwestern Croatian goodies, and the ubiquitous advertisements, today we really saw Carnivale.

We went downtown at 1:00PM for the official children's parade and didn't see the last entry until 4:15PM.   I've seen my share of parades, working for a Congressman and forcing stickers on everyone under ten years of age on the parade route, and I've taken my own kids to practically every parade within a 30 mile radius of East Lansing, including the Gizzardfest parade in Potterville MI.  But this was unlike any parade I've ever seen before, and this was just the kids' part!

Behind the the "carnivale master" were four people dressed as Rijeka's town mascot, called a "morcic" (with Croatian accents marks over each of the c's, I don't know how this is pronounced, but if you say something like "mor-chick" downtown, you'll surely be directed to the nearest tourist souvenir stand).  It's a black face and a white turban, and it symbolizes victory over the Turks in the 16th century.  To our eyes, it looks like an incredibly racist image, there's no way around it.  This is the "it" souvenir one is supposed to take home from Rijeka, but I'm embarrassed when I walk by a display of them in the shop windows.

After the morcic, there were a couple of baton twirling troupes, then the kids, kids, and more kids.  Almost 80 schools were represented from Rijeka and the neighboring towns (even a few from Slovenia), each with a full-blown costume of some motif (in no particular order... fruit, elves, wizards, sheep, Native Americans, Middle Eastern shieks and shiekesses, butterflies, bees, Africans, scarecrows,  gnomes, candy, cacti, colored pencils, happy faces, suns, musical instruments, etc. etc. etc.).  Each of the 80 or so entries had between 30 to 60 kids and several adults, all costumed to the hilt.  It was freezing if the sun wasn't shining right on you, so after seeing 40 or so entries we ducked into a coffee shop near the parade route and got pastries, hot chocolate, and coffee.

When we left the cafe, we were astounded that the parade still wasn't over, so we walked back to the parade route and serendipitously caught the highlight of the parade (serendipitously because we thought the rest of the parade would be school groups).  What we actually saw was a UNESCO "intangible cultural heritage" phenomena -- village bell-ringers.  Or rather, we got to see the village youth rehearsing this event and learning how to be grown up bell ringers.  It's hard to explain, so here's a video in English about the bell-ringers if you've got the time (http://www.unesco.org/culture/ich/index.php?RL=00243).

Basically, depending on the village from which they originate, the bell ringers wear bells around their middles and HUGE head regalia in the shape of scary animals and sheep.  They ring the bells by bumping into each other, and periodically, they huddle into a group (facing outward, though) and bang their bells until they get wine (or maybe kool aid for the kids) and can rest their heads from the weight of these massive costumes, then they keep going.  There is the occasional nasty bear who causes mischief until he's put back in line.  You can't help but think that Maurice Sendak saw one of these processions before writing "Where the Wild Things Are".  It's really an amazing sight, and these were just kids!

A bell ringer in training, Rijeka Children's Parade

Cactus costumes, Rijeka Children's Parade

Shiek costumes, Rijeka Children's Parade

Georgie

Morcics, Rijeka Children's Parade

Lucy

Jonah

Sadly, there was a lot of confetti thrown out, but no candy.  Which was probably all for the best, because nothing gets me competitive like candy at a parade (a personality deficiency stemming from a youth without candy in the house).

Croatian Futball

Just about to kick a goal

This is the story of how my son joined a Croatian boy's soccer league called Team Locomotiva, comprised of 6 to 10 year olds.

Our balcony overlooks a bit of soccer field, and we could see boys (no girls) playing throughout the day and night.  Several people had told us how difficult is was to register a child for team sports here.

One gorgeous morning, we went to the soccer field to run laps and kick the ball around.  I decided to go into the adjoining gym to attempt to get information about how to sign him up.  Adam had already gone, but had no luck.  I went in and found myself talking to a woman who was about to go in for a physical therapy appointment.  She said to follow her, and then I was talking to the physical therapist while she undressed.

The physical therapist walked me to another office, with a closed door, and a man with tar-stained fingers in a smoky dark room was sitting behind a desk.  The physical therapist explained what I was after, and then the man proceeded to make one short phone call after telling me there were four teams connected with this club.  The first phone call probably went something like:  "I have an 8 year old American boy who would like to join your team but he doesn't speak Croatian" (hang up) but the second phone call was more productive and I was told to come to the club that evening, specifically the Team Locomotiva office, with Jonah.   The director then walked me to the office so I would know where to go.

So later that night, at the appointed time, we introduced Jonah to two men sitting behind a large table, asked again if there was a spot for him (in broken Italian and a combination of Croatian and English), and they indicated he could be on the team.  Practices are three nights a week(!), plus games on Sunday.  We paid 200 kuna for the month, about $38.00, but I don't even think they ever recorded Jonah's last name.  Fifteen minutes later, Jonah walked into the locker room with his coach Rade, and in another 15 minutes, he was on the field warming up with about 10 other boys.

Two days later, he was playing his first game in a uniform, not only keeping up with the Croatians, but also scoring one of the team's two goals (and darn near scoring two other goals!).  We spoke to the parents,, Gordon and Tatiana of one of Jonah's teammates and learned that they actually live in one of the farther out suburbs and make the commute to this team four times a week.  When the game was over, after shaking hands, the opposing team gathered at one of the nets for pictures, then both teams merged together for another set of pictures, then our team posed.  I think this is a lovely tradition.

Team Locomotiva after their first game

View of the soccer field from our balcony

Team Locomotiva office, soccer field is just to the left

Jonah's first practice

Later that week, one of our contacts from the university who is trying to help us get involved with events like this, emailed Adam.  She said that she called the director (not knowing we had already arranged his spot on the team) and told him there was an American boy who would like to play on the league.  The director told her that that would be wonderful, and that an American boy just joined the league, and that this boy was giving the Croatian boys a run for their money, and that he scored a goal in the game.  Our university contact said, "Are you talking about a Jonah?"  And then they realized they were speaking about the same kid.

Trieste, Italy

Rijeka is just 75 minutes away from Italy, so after Jonah's morning soccer game (more on that later this week), we got back in the rental car and headed for Trieste.  We really just wanted to eat, and that's what we did.   Jonah claimed that the pizza was the best he's ever had, ever.  Adam and I marveled at how perfect a simple green salad can be, with oil and vinegar, and the house red.  The gnocchi is unlike anything available at home -- this version had baby shrimp, rucola, and pine nuts in a cream sauce.  Lucy and Georgia kept asking if they could have more of Adam's "little pillows."  After lunch we went to a gelateria and the selection was everything I built it up to be.  Lucy had nutella gelato, Jonah had kiwi, and Georgie's was less adventurous (strawberry and lemon).  I can't even remember the name of what I had, but I wish I had ordered the pinenut gelato.  Next time...

Before eating, we walked along the Grand Canal and ended up in the main square, where there had obviously been some sort of children's carnivale event.  The ground was strewn with paper confetti and paper streamers.  The kids weren't at all disappointed about missing the parade (they'll get enough of that in the next two weeks here), but they enjoyed seeing the little kids in what look like Halloween costumes, and they were entertained for a long time scrambling to collect as much confetti as the little discarded pastry bag they found on the ground could hold.  

On the way home, we got stopped by the Slovenian toll police for not having purchased a "vignette" which allows you to drive on the main highway, and we had to pay a 150 Euro fine (about $205).  We came to Trieste by a different route and didn't need this sticker, and on the way home, with a GPS that only worked in Croatia, we accidentally ended up on this highway rather than the one we took to get to Italy.  This sticker for the toll was supposed to be purchased before entering Slovenia, from a gas station in Italy, but there were no signs about the need for the toll or the penalty for not having one in anything but Slovenian.  I am not arguing with the cost of the toll, which by the way was about $20 for 20 miles, rather, it was how intentionally confusing the process was to get the sticker.  And the paperwork about the fine was a whole typewritten page in very clear English.  So we are going to hold a grudge and boycott Slovenia.

Gelato

Crystal Restaurant, Trieste

Spaghetti Vongole, Crystal Restaurant, Trieste

We went to Krk on a Saturday but it was closed

early 15th Century Wall, Krk Town

From our apartment, we can see the island called Krk (is that a legal Scrabble word?) that we visited today.  It's one of the few islands linked to the mainland by a bridge, so it was relatively easy to reach.   We started out in the city of Krk and spent time walking the narrow cobblestone paths and then we took the kids to a playground that overlooked the length of the city wall buttressing the sea.

The restaurant at which we hoped to test out the Krk specialties (a special twisted pasta over lamb ragu) was closed, and that turned out to be the story of the day.  In low season in other western European tourist spots, the restaurants and streets may be empty, but at least places are open.  In the area we live, we are now realizing, low season means everything is closed except cafes and bars.  

Road to Bashka

Next we drove to a fishing village on the very southernmost tip of the island, Bashka, and experienced some of the frigid winds along the seaside promenade.  On the way to the village, we stopped at an overlook which featured a statue of the first letter of the glagolitic script.   The vista was pretty unparalleled, too, with the trees all stunted by the freezing cold bora winds that periodically sweep the island.  In case you were tempted to race down an 18% grade on unfamiliar, winding roads with nothing between you and the whitecaps below, we found this very helpful sign for drivers to calm the nerves.

Since we were starving at this point and there was nothing available but Croatian beer and espresso, we decided to try our luck in a village known for its gastronomy -- Vrbnik.

Vrbnik, Krk Island, Croatia

The winding city walls were gorgeous, but the restaurant we hoped to try was closed for renovation, and on the way home, we were nearly killed by a worker on the second floor of a building who pushed a heavy ancient window frame with huge rusty hinges sticking out all over it ONTO the alley we were walking on.  There was about 15 feet separating me and the kids and Adam and the other kid, and the window fell in the space between us.  But this incident could have happened anywhere, right?

Rudine, Krk Island, Croatia

Shaken, starving, and frustrated, we got bread, cheese, peanuts and chocolate from a tiny grocery store and headed to Rudine on the eastern side of the island.  Although the cave we hoped to tour in Rudine was closed, we got to stretch or legs on some unbelievable karst topography (this means that the rock layer has come to the surface and is breaking up, so it's a lunar-looking landscape).  We followed a couple herds of sheep on the way back to the main highway, so that leg of the trip was worthwhile, and we were home by sundown, and in our favorite Rijeka pizzeria by 7PM.

outside Ciziki, Krk Island, Croatia

Pula, Istria

Istria, and Pula in particular, was such a strategic location for the Romans that they built one of the six largest amphitheaters existing today.   This one is also one of the best preserved.   It was adapted for gladiator fights in 79 CE, and they continued there until 400 CE.  We toured the basement passages where there were once cages and prisons, so overall, this was quite entertaining for the kids.  The area that was once Pula's Roman forum is still a major town square, and the Temple of Augustus is still standing.  While looking for an open restaurant (it's hard enough during low tourist season, but add Sunday to the mix and there was shockingly little open), we came across an American ex-pat, a professional volleyball player, who gave us some travel advice.  His excitement at hearing "american" was practically tangible.  We later wandered up to the Kastel, a 17th century Venetian castle, where Adam enjoyed the bits of glagolitic script and the kids enjoyed the dried up moat and the row of cannons.

Pula Amphitheater

Temple of Augustus, 1st century

Glagolitic (ancient Croatian) script at the Pula Castle (Kastel)

Pula Amphitheater

Pula Amphitheater

Rovinj, Istria

Rovinj, Croatia

Istria was the destination of our first roadtrip.   We stopped in Porec and loved their seaside promenade -- from which we observed a sailing school in action.  From there, we drove to our hotel in Rovinj, where we had an incredible view across the water of the old town.  In one direction, we could walk to the old town in about 10 minutes, and in the other direction, the promenade continued for miles -- sandwiched between the ocean and little rocky beaches on one side and these gorgeous conifer forests on the other.  In high season, Rovinj is apparently overrun with tourists, but in February, it was practically empty and we struggled to even find open restaurants.   Adam and I were determined to find truffle pasta, an Istrian speciality, but the adorable little osteria situated on a cobblestone path with the truffle pasta on the handwritten stanchion was closed for renovation.  

Basilica of St. Euphemie

Old Town Rovinj, Croatia

Local stuff

Our nearest playground

A stand in the meat market, downtown Rijeka

The produce market, downtown Rijeka

Trsat Castle, Rijeka

Tsrat Castle, Rijeka

Tsrat Castle, Rijeka

Our local castle, Trsat, is about 700 years old (well, not the internet cafe).  In the 19th century, after it was really run down, an Austrian general bought it and repaired it,  in order to have a noteworthy family mausoleum.  He is buried here, but his family was impoverished by his castle hobby and couldn't afford to join him.  There are some 1500 stone steps to the castle, which doesn't sound a lot if you put it in stairmaster terms, but it is not a stairmaster and we all got quite a workout.   Since we don't have a yard, the kids tossed a ball around for a long time in the shadow of the tower.  We ate lunch near the castle at a place called Gvardian (which was later recommended to Adam by a colleague), and had a fantastic English-speaking waitress.   So of course, I asked her if she would babysit my kids and she seemed thrilled by the idea.   If I can figure out our home phone, she's the first person I plan to call.

Opatija and the Lungomare

Restaurant Ribarnica, Volosko

Lungomare

Lungomare

Our first weekend here, we took advantage of the 60+ degree weather and took a busride to the famous Hapsburg-era resort village of Opatija.  We can actually see Opatija from our balcony.  Starting in a fishing village called Lovran, extending through Opatija, and continuing to another fishing village called Volosko is a 12km promenade called the Lungomare.  We started in Opatija and walked to Volosko, enjoying the sunset and the terrific views.  There were two small swimming beaches along the way, because in the 19th century, there had to be separate beaches for the girls and the boys.  To me, the lifeguard stand also looks 19th century.  When we arrived in Volosko, it was dark, but we walked right uphill through tiny stone alleyways to the restaurant recommended by a very nice tourist office employee in Opatija.   We picked out sardines (srdela) from a huge spread of fresh fish in a tiny opening on the main floor (street level).  The cook asked if we wanted it fried or grilled.  And we ordered blitva, which is close to the Croatian National Sidedish, consisting of garlic, boiled swiss chard, and little bits of potato, all mixed up.   None of us are accustomed to picking fish bones out of our seafood, but it was fun, and quite tasty.  Fortunately, the heads were removed for us.

This is our apartment building, built in 1937, and known here as Casa Nave (architect Nereo Bacci).  We're on the fifth floor facing the sea (the side with the balconies).  The narrow door in the front is a hair salon and the entrance to the apartments is on Laginjina Ulica, the side of the building without balconies.  We've decided to not lease a car, because parking in our part of Rijeka is impossible, and the cars that are parked on our street tend to be half parked on the sidewalk and half on the narrow street.  You know you're not in Michigan when you find yourself walking back from the outdoor market, all uphill and stairs, carrying two armloads of bags full of produce and one full backpack, trying to hold the hands of two out of your three children so they don't cross the street before the coast is clear, and with all that baggage, you have to walk sideways on those parts of the sidewalk that are half taken up with parked cars.   The drivers here are crazy and the twisty turny uphill roads are madness, but I have been very impressed so far that drivers almost universally stop for pedestrians in the crosswalks. 

Casa Nave, 19 Laginjina

Laginjina 19 (c/o Vanja Mijic), 51000 Rikeka, Croatia

After falling for a craigslist scam (enough said), we got a 105 sq. meter, recently renovated, three bedroom apartment.  It's an 8 minute walk down to the heart of Rijeka's old town, and a 15 minute walk back up.   Apparently, this apartment hasn't been inhabited in nearly 20 years, so everything from towels to the coffee pot are brand new.  All but one bedroom has beautiful views of the entire bay, plus mount Ucka, and from the balcony, we can see the sunrise and the sunset.  The weather has been unseasonably warm.  We've been able to go out every day with light jackets or sweaters.  Although our satellite TV has about 500 channels, it's mostly Armenian game shows, arabic phone sex commercials, and Croatian cooking shows.  My German isn't polished enough to understand all of South Park.  The kids are so starved for TV that they watch cartoons in Italian.  

Living Room

View from our balcony

Kitchen (balcony opposite door)

The Storm of the Century Makes Airplanes Very Empty

US Airways PHL to ZAG, Feb. 2, 2011

The "Storm of the Century" delayed our flight by a day (because we couldn't get to the Minneapolis airport from Iowa, not because our original flight was cancelled).  When we finally boarded the transatlantic leg of our trip, it was into a nearly empty airplane.   It was pure luck that the storm skirted around both Minneapolis and Philadelphia, and we didn't have a single flight delay the entire trip.  We had a very nice U.S. embassy driver from Zagreb to our apartment in Rijeka, who, as a hobby, goes vulture-watching on a nearby island.