Guest Blogger: Adam on his Daily Run

Rijeka street welcomes joggers

Rijeka, at least the Center or “Centrum” as the Croats say, is not great for runners.  The guide books tell us that Rijeka retained its Liburnian (i.e., pre-Roman ) layout, never acquiring an orderly grid like so many “castrum.”   History aside, Rijeka is built on a series of steep hills.

Mussolini loved it

Despite the geographic challenge, I have found a route that works for me.   First, I jog to the top of the hill we live on to Kozala Cemetery.  Its votive chapel, the design for which Mussolini himself is recorded to have admired, is a fixture of the Rijeka skyline.   While Kozala tells City’s history in stone, it feels remarkably lived in due the Croatian fondness for caring for graves and decorating them with pictures of the deceased, flowers, candles, and even chocolate bars. I start running in the old sections, which are primarily Italian and include a Jewish section.  The names speak of Fiume (Rijeka’s name before WW II) of the 19h Century and its vanished Austro-Hungarian multiculturalism of Croats, Italians, Jew, Germans, and Hungarians.  

Old Fiume

The graves have names like “Sigismondo von Lipschitz” or “Mustapha Albanucci.”  I run past the older, 19^th century mausoleums, with their lavish carvings and decorations, to the newer, post-WW II sections, build into a cliff-side, with austere, stacked marble mausoleums bearing only Croatian names. 

After Kozala, I jog down the hill, passing through hideous 1970s Communist-era high rises to late 19th and early 20th century lanes and steps which could have come out of any Italian mountain town.  

Charming picture, omitting Communist-era apartment blocks

Rječina River

I then pass over to the next hill, Trsat, cavalierly crossing, the Rječina river, which once served as a border between fascist Italy and the Croatian fascist puppet state. I often wonder, as I pass, the significance this river had to Jews escaping the Ustasi to the relatively friendlier Italian jurisdiction (at least before capitulation in 1944).

Who kneeds this?

I then jog up Trsat via the “Holy Stairs.”  These stairs are part of pilgrimage from the old church  downtown up to the Church on top of Trsat.  In August, the devout traverse this route on their knees.  I find jogging hard enough—and have yet to make it up the hill without stopping. 

I do not go to the top. I stop here:

Why take the stairs?

A Rijekan legend holds that the man who built the stairs called upon Satan to aid in its completion.  Satan agreed, provided that the stairs lead to the bar, which is precisely to where the sidewalk to the left leads.  But, the tricky Croatian built a final flight of stairs (to the right) that goes right up to the Church—saving his soul and at the same time completing the pilgrimage route.    At the very least it offers a tremendous view.

Sunset over Kvarner Bay

Well, this blog entry is getting a bit long.  I jog down the hill, head to the green market (which will get its own entry), and then jog up the 3km pier.  It offers a view of the City.   You can make out the narrow spire to the left (Kozala) and the hill with the Church to the right (Trsat).

Bad idea:  Stalinist apartment blocks on hilltop

Croatian Census

Census poster

Late last week, a Croatian census worker knocked on our door.  I had been forewarned by my always-helpful landlord that the 10-year census was happening and I might hear from someone, in which case I was supposed to give the census worker our landlord's cell phone number.  But something must have been prearranged, because the guy who knocked on my door spoke decent English and seemed to know that our family was not native Croat.  I told him I had to pick up my daughters from gymnastics in 10 minutes, and he said it shouldn't take that long.  It took 45 minutes.  

Except for the stack of forms in his arms, there was nothing like a badge to identify him as a legitimate census taker.  But then again, in a country where crime is rare, the need for such identification is probably unnecessary.  We sat down at the dining room table and he pulled out a two-sided form, about the size of a paper placemat.  There were the standard questions, like birthdate, religion, marital status, income, country of birth, primary language, education completed (which is the only time my MBA ever feels useful), but there were odd questions too, like do we use computers, and if so, what programs.  Does our apartment have heat, if so, is it gas heat?  He also made note of our arrival in and anticipated departure from Croatia.  The whole time, my census worker is sweating all over the form, because in Croatia, people seem to wear winter clothes until the end of May.  For example, today I saw a woman wearing a knee-length down coat and it was 73 degrees.  My census guy was wearing a long sleeved, hooded fleece sweatshirt, and to get to our apartment requires a fair amount of exercise.

Long after I sent Jonah to pick up the girls, he finished his questions for me and started packing away the form.  I thought we were done.  But that was just the first of five handwritten forms, because each member of the family had a dedicated form.  So I went through each of the forms with him, and of course, it went faster each time.

I complemented his handwriting and my census worker told me that all applicants for the job have to pass a handwriting test.  I told him that in the U.S., the census forms are mailed to all households, filled out, and mailed back, and the U.S. census workers only have to go to the houses where the forms weren't returned.  He told me that they do it that newfangled way in Slovenia, but in Croatia, it's all done by hand.

We finally finished all the forms, and he left.  But by chance, I ran into him in the hallway the next day as we were walking out the door, and he told me he forgot to ask me a question.  The question was about air conditioning, and whether our apartment has it.  I told him I didn't think so, but I made a mental note, remembering the sweat dripping off his face, that I really ought to find out for sure before summer really kicks into gear.

After all that, I don't think we'll be included in the official count.  The Republic of Croatia Bureau of Statistics website says that:

the total population shall include:

- persons who have been resident in the Republic of Croatia in the moment of Census at the place of their usual residence continually no less than 12 months.

Oh well!

The Torment

Look way way down and there's the torment

At home, if the wind blows an article of clothing off my clothesline, I can bend down and pick it up.  But the clothesline here is five stories high.  We don't have a clothes dryer (I understand that very very few Croatians do), so the clothesline gets used almost every day.  Between the bora winds and my unfamiliarity with high-altitude clothes drying, things fall.

When that happens, we can either go through the basement catacombs to get to the tiny enclosed outdoor area, or when something has gotten stuck say, two stories up, we can yell up at a neighbor to pluck it off and let it fall down to the ground so we can retrieve it (this is what happened to a pair of Jonah's soccer pants -- they were dangling from an area we could not reach for about two months before we noticed someone in a nearby window, and with sign language and pigeon Croatian, asked him to free the black sweatpants).

Zoomed in

But last week, my favorite pair of bluejeans -- my only pair -- fell.  Yes, they're about a size 4 or 6 in case you were trying to read the label.  They fell into the "courtyard" of another building.  They are not dangling near someone's window.  There is a 10 foot high cement wall separating our courtyards.  I do not know anyone who lives in that building who could go to the ground floor and toss them over the cement wall.  In fact, because of all the funky corners and lack of any identifying building traits (which are on the fronts of buildings, but not the backs), I couldn't even tell you which property they are on.

So it appears that they are lost forever, and every time I hang clothes on the line, I see my jeans just lying there with the yellow clothespins still attached.  It is a torment.

Debrecen Spring Break

Pirate restaurant, Debrecen

We left Budapest for the eastern Eastern Central Europe leg of our spring break.  Debrecen is the home of our friends Zoltan and Anita, and their two kids Zsofi and Peti, and it's in the very flat Carpathian Basin portion of eastern Hungary, not far at all from Romania.  It's the second largest city in Hungary.  We met Anita and Zoltan last year when they were in East Lansing with a Fulbright.

Fountain in the main square

We found our hotel right away and had only a little bit of time before we needed to find the fountain in the main square, our meeting point.  Even though our hotel person didn't speak any English and there were no city maps, we found the fountain fairly easily, and we found our friends who gave us a tour of the downtown area.  We went to dinner  at a restaurant that actually had a children's menu, and with it's pirate theme, it was a hit with the kids too.

Debrecen park

A much-needed haircut

The next day we did a little shopping in the morning, had a mid-morning coffee break, and got to see the market, complete with whole pickled cabbage.  Jonah was scheduled or a haircut because Anita's salon was right next to our hotel, and she knew an English-speaking haircutter there.  Since Jonah is so sensitive about too short haircuts, we thought it might be good to be able to explain that he didn't want too much taken off.  The haircut was PERFECT, but Jonah still thought it was too short.

We met Zoltan at Zsofi's elementary school and the kids all got to visit her classroom.  Georgie then attended an English language session with Zsofi, which she loved, while the rest of us played at a very well-stocked playground.  After Georgie and Zsfoi rejoined us, we all went to the zoo, which was right next to the park.  We dodged rain for a little while while walking around, which the kids didn't mind at all, but by the time we left, the sun was out.  By car, we followed Zoltan to their house about 10 minutes from Debrecen and enjoyed a fantastic meal, complete with grilled hamburgers for Jonah and Hungarian specialties for the rest of us.  The kids got to play with their Wii, they caught about 100 of the chubbiest snails you've ever seen, they got to play with toys that weren't purchased for their portability, and we all got to try Hungarian specialties.  Unfortunately for us, Hungary has a zero tolerance law, and you really aren't supposed to drink, even with dinner, if you plan to drive.  Because of this law, I limited my intake of homemade plum brandy to one shot, and we made it back to the hotel without needing to take a breathalyzer.

Hortobagy

After looking at a map to plan out our last day in Hungary, we decided that Anita's plan was the best.  Her plan was to go to Hungary's first national park called Hortobagy (also the name of the village), situated on a steppe (puszta).  Hortobagy is a UNESCO world heritage site, about 40 minutes from Debrecen, and the entrance fee would include a horse-drawn carriage ride during which the traditional Hungarian cowboys would show us their skills.  You just can't argue with a plan that includes horses, the Hungarian puszta, and cowboys, so at 9AM, after a mad scramble for an ATM to pay our cash-only hotel bill, we left for Hortobagy.

By 10AM, we were on a horse-drawn carriage in the middle of the flattest, emptiest country you've ever seen.  Even telephone and electricity lines are buried.  In the distance, you could see barns that housed native Hungarian species of black horses (the Nonius) which were the first horses not reserved for the military or the rich, but for the middle-class, and a special breed of sheep with straight, twisted horns.  The storks were apparently on their way back from Africa, and we did see storks later that day, but the area is a haven for birds.  Many roofs in the Hortobagy area are thatch, which is really fascinating to see up close.  It gives you an instant rural and medieval vibe.  But they are also practical, since trees don't grow in the alkaline soil, but thatch material does.  Some of the thatched rooflines came almost completely down to the ground to minimize the need for timber.  They all had lightning rods.

In the middle of the carriage ride, we were given a horse "show" by the Hungarian cowboys.  One of them went in a circle around our carriage at top speed, while standing on the backs of two horses.  They had the horses perform tricks like sitting (apparently, this is quite a natural position for a horse), and then the horses would play dead while the cowboys simultaneously snapped their whips above their heads.  It was as loud as a gunshot, but the horses didn't flinch.  The horses needed this skill so they could play dead and wouldn't be agitated by gunshots when the cowboys were dealing with robbers.  After the show, we all got to ride the horses, and for the kids, this was certainly the highlight of our entire Hungarian adventure.

The area is a bit like the Old Chrisholm Trail, in that the cattle were driven through the plains (although at a much slower pace than American cattle were driven so the cattle wouldn't lose as much weight).  Adam is convinced the cattle moved slower because they stopped for coffee along the way.  The cowboys did stop every 10-12 kilometers, a day's drive, at inns/restaurants that were built to host the cowboys. Ultimately, these cattle landed on dinner plates in Italy, Germany, Austria, Turkey, and many other places.  The Doge of Venice himself travelled to Debrecen to ensure Venice's supply of beef.  We all learned quite a bit about this region thanks to our excellent translator, Zoltan.  Before heading home, we had a great lunch at one of these old inns on the cattle route.  It was the fourth time I had goulash soup in five days, and I would have it again today if I could!  

Many thanks to Zoltan and Anita for making the second leg of our spring break so memorable.  And if I ever have to start a kid birthday party planning business in Hungary, I would design Hungarian cowboy birthday parties.

Budapest Spring Break

Chain Bridge

Last Tuesday, we took off for Budapest, Hungary, about a 4-5 hour drive from Rijeka.  Our hotel was actually an apartment in the heart of Pest, which was in a very Jewish part of town (lots of synagogues, kosher restaurants, Hebrew lettering).  Amazingly, our GPS guided us right to the apartment, and we tucked our car away in the underground garage and walked/took public transporation the entire rest of the time.

At the strudel table

Goulash soup

Farger Kave

We started out by walking to the "Metro Center" of Budapest, called Deak Ferenc Ter, and bought Budapest 48 hour card, which entitled us to ride all public transportation (trams, metro, and buses) free.  At the time, the kids were starving to death, but we had left the list of recommended restaurants given to me by our friends Paul and Paula (who lived in pest for a semester) in the apartment.  I remembered that one of them was on 6. October Street, so we headed that way and walked by the Basilica and before the kids died of starvation, we settled on House of Strudel.  It was there that I learned that my kids like goulash soup (in Hungary, goulash is never a stew, it's always soup).  I also had a delicious cabbage strudel.  Later that night, I saw that the House of Strudel was one of the places Paula had recommended, so we got very lucky.  We took a tram to the Parlament building, one of the largest and fanciest government buildings I've ever seen, and walked back to the apartment.  We stopped at a coffee shop and the kids got to feed the turtles, and a waiter took a liking to Jonah (it was mutual).  In the picture, note the plaid hat.  My son, who normally wouldn't be caught dead wearing plaid, chose this hat from H&M, where we stopped to pick up some clothing staples for the kids, since we have no Target in Croatia.  What was striking to us was how polished and updated all the gorgeous Hapsburgian buildings seemed to be, and how thoroughly even the tiniest streets were labelled, compared to Rijeka.

Parlament

The next day, we took a 10:00AM tour of several rooms in the Parlament building -- there are almost 700 rooms in all.   This is the third largest parliament building in the world.  It seems massive for such a small country, but when it was built, Hungary was part of the Austro-Hungarian empire and the area it governed was much larger.  It's located in Pest to balance out the dominance of the Royal Palace on the Buda side.

Szechenyi Baths

Szchenyi Baths

After the tour, we crossed the Chain Bridge and saw some great views of Pest from the castle district.  We walked back to the apartment to get our swimming gear and took the metro to the famous Szechenyi Thermal Baths.  We got our wristbands, which looked like blue plastic watches with no numbers, then separated into the boys and girls lines.  We found the lockers, changed, and used the wristband thing to push a small circle down on the locker, which locked it (and later, would unlock it).  We walked through a labyrinth of hallways filled with small cabinets and lockers, and perhaps 100 miscellaneous doors, looking for the outdoor pools.  Some of the areas we passed through had large hottubs which smelled slightly sulfurous, some rooms we passed were for massages, but eventually around a corner, we found the door that led to a huge courtyard with three huge pools.  The building around the courtyard is extremely ornate, yellow and very expansive, and there were statues and fountains... it was just gorgeous.  Because we were in our suits, and it was "only" about 60 degrees outside. we hopped into the first pool, which turned out to be the warm pool.  We were not allowed in the cooler lap pool without swimming caps, but we darted to the farthest away "hot" pool, which had the temperature of a hottub.  There were several chessboards set up, but mostly people were just sitting on the steps because, like a hottub, you can't stay in very long before you overheat.  We went back to the warm pool and stayed there until it was time to leave.  We took our swimming gear back to the hotel and then went out for dinner (which was less remarkable), and got the kids to bed way past their bedtime.

House of Art Nouveau

Dohany Synagogue

On our last day, we went back up to the castle district in Buda to find a medieval synagogue, but it was closed.  We headed back to Pest to see the House of Hungarian Art Nouveau, sort of a museum/flea market for art nouveau furniture, then we walked back to the House of Strudel for our last lunch.  We picked up some souvenirs on the Vaci Utca, the main tourist drag, then toured the Dohany Synagogue, the largest synagogue in Europe and the second largest in the world.   The synagogue was in the neighborhood of our apartment, and we had to be back by 2PM to get our car out.  We got into our car, which was already loaded up, and drove out of Pest, enjoying takeout poppyseed, prune, and sour cherry strudels from the House of Strudel on the way to Debrecen.

Jonah's sister

Outside Parlament

The Two Hours We Had a Pet

Our Brijuni inspiration

Yesterday, the kids and I visited a park I hadn't been to before (the kids went the day before with their babysitter).  Because Rijeka is built on a hill, this park had an entire stone retaining wall, upon which, salamanders were sunning.  Salamanders, if you haven't had a chance to see them in the wild, move like lightning, and they disappear almost instantly into little crevices in the stone wall.

Jonah, having become smitten with the idea of a salamander pet during our Brijuni Island visit, decided he wanted to catch one.  But at the moment he made this decision, he had a full-blown bloody nose, and because I didn't have a single tissue on me, he was using his sister's fleece jacket in lieu of a kleenex.  He asked me to get him a plastic bag (which I did have, since we were

A proud, new pet owner

headed to the store afterwards), to which I said, "sure, Jonah, go catch yourself a little salamander. (wink, wink)"  The next thing I know, my 8 year old boy, perched on the back seat of a park bench, with one hand holding a pink fleece jacket over his nose, in a muffled voice, was yelling "I got it! Where's the bag?  Hurry!!!" with a three inch long wildly wiggling green salamander dangling by his tail from Jonah's one free hand.  He had the hugest smile on his face.

So we brought the thing home (having bought a plastic tub for it at the supermarket) and put it on our balcony.  Within a couple hours, it had escaped. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the flimsy plastic wrap that I insisted would be better for air circulation than the lid of the tupperware.  At this very moment, the kids and Adam are out trying to catch a replacement (so that I could go for a run and get in shape for the April 29 Royal Wedding), so I'd better go set the plastic wrap out.

Random Pictures

With a bloody nose (using Lucy's fleece jacket in lieu of kleenex), just caught a salamander

At the park

Recycling tetrapaks and paper (our only recycling options)

At the Rijeka Museum of Natural History

Lovran Park

Fig tree on the Lungomare (figs from last season), Rijeka in background

You Are Actually Here, or Titoland

In case you thought you were somewhere else...

Today, with Lucy's hives under control and my headache finally gone, we got an early start with our rental car and headed to the Brijuni Island National Park.  It's a 90 minute drive to Fazana (close to the bottom tip of Istria on the Italy side), then a 20 minute passenger ferry.  One isn't allowed to go to the island without either a hotel booking or an excursion ticket which includes both your ferry ride and a group tour on a bus, very convincingly made up to look like a little train.  We were on the first ferry of the day, along with several European golfers wearing very loud plaid pants and huge rolling golf club case contraptions.  There were no other tourists, however, because the tourist boat and the mandatory guided tour wouldn't leave until 11:30, and we wanted to be able to explore some of the island independently, at our own 3 kid pace.  Overall, the extra time we had turned out brilliantly.  We had the run of the island, except that we were walking all over this 2km square island with five packs of peanuts, a Milka bar, a banana with a large bruise, and two bottles of water from 9:00AM- 3PM.

On the ferry to Brijuni

Jellyfish kebab

Tito's swamp viewing hut

The most recently dead sea urchin

We were walking so much we hardly noticed we were starving to death.  That's because the island's history is fascinating.  Besides the 400 dinosaur prints (we managed only to see one well-labeled print on the pier), the island has Roman ruins, gorgeous inlets and beaches (the kids were beside themselves when they found three perfect sea urchin shells), a Josef Broz Tito museum featuring a lot of taxidermy on the first floor and on the second floor, a lot of pictures of Tito doing his work and hobnobbing with the rich, famous, or head of state.  It's got an ethnographic museum, a chapel from the 15th century, research gardens, a 1,600 year old olive tree, paths carved through limestone quarries (much of which became famous buildings in Venice), a smattering of crumbling villas and dated hotels, a sort of safari/zoo area, a parrot named Koki trained to speak by Tito himself (but he was sadly for the kids still in his winter residence), a large golf course (when it was built, it was the largest in Europe), a souvenir shop, and a coffee shop where the closest thing to food was a bowl of sugar packets.  But no restaurants.

In front of the 1,600 year old olive tree

Beside all this, Brijuni was Tito's private island residence six months of every year for about 30 years. It's where he conducted the business of the non-aligned movement, it's where he hosted rich and famous people (Sophia Lauren, Queen Elizabeth, Josephine Baker, Elizabeth Taylor, Eleanor Roosevelt, etc), it's where he had his own little disneyland/horticultural utopia with the exotic flora and fauna that world leaders brought to him when they visited.

Before Tito's era, the island was a malarial swamp.  In the late 19th century, a rich Austrian industrialist named Paul Kupelwieser recognized the beauty of the area and bought the islands with the intention to turn it into an aristocratic playground.  He hired a guy to find a cure for the malaria (that guy -- Robert Koch -- did get rid of the malaria on the island and later got the Nobel Prize for his research into tuberculosis), and Kupelwieser took out all the swamps but one so we would know what the place looked like before being gentrified.  In that one remaining swamp, we sat in an adorable thatched hut that Tito used for viewing the turtles and ducks he apparently loved, but we would have missed it had we only taken the group tour.

A small part of the Roman villa

The islands have been inhabited since prehistoric times, and we got to walk around the remains of a Roman villa (we would have only seen this from the tourist train on the group tour, so this was another benefit of going early).  While walking around the ruins, we encountered several green salamander/lizard things.  Jonah and Lucy in particular were completely in awe of these little reptiles.  They asked me if they could get a pet salamander instead of a dog.  Interesting!  Lizard.  Dog. Lizard.  Dog.  They have already named her Lizzie.  Thanks, Brijuni!  Now I don't have to get a dog and a new vacuum cleaner.

The Tour Bus Train Caboose

Lanka, a gift to Tito from Indira Ghandi

See explanatory note below

See Tito photo from same exhibit

So that's a lot about the island.  We were so exhausted by our morning perambulations that we were happy to meet up with our 11:45AM tour group at the ferry and climb into the tourist bus made up to look like a train.  It took us to a lot of the places we had walked to, but several that we hadn't.  In particular, the kids loved seeing the safari which had descendants of all the exotic animals that had been gifted to Tito, plus a lot of endangered Istrian animals like oxen and a special breed of sheep.  When the formal tour was over, we stopped for coffee and hot chocolate at the bar, probably putting in more sugar packets than we needed to, and were on the 3:00 ferry home with our tour group and a lot of windblown golfers.