our second weekend in Croatia

After our adventurous (read "tiring") hike through Mljet National Park Friday, we decided to be a little more low key on Saturday. A leisurely breakfast than another pilgrimmage to Tommy grocery store. We walked through Old Town on our hour-long trek; I never tire of walking down the Stradun, although we are developing a little bit of a 'tude... the first few days in Dubrovnik, it was just a "huh" kind of look as tourists pushed past us, oblivious to the "natives". Then they became "those tourists"... and now they're "damn tourists" (said with a sneer and look of disdain). This week I'm sure we'll start swearing at them in Croatian.. and we're told in August, when the Italians vacation, it's even worse. Thank goodness we'll be gone by there, or we might be responsible for an international incident... lol.

Anyway, after our purchases of cheese and yogurt and fruit (how very European), we hit the bread counter and bought a loaf of bread, still warm from the oven.. and a cheese pastry that was thin layers of dough and about 12" long. It wasn't sweet and I told Cathy as we ate it on the grocery store steps that it would have been awesome dipping it into pasta sauce.. yum.

We took a cab home and hung out at the apartment until we decided to go back into Old Town and stop at the college to check mail. We got through Ploce gate and as we started down the Stradun, we stopped in our tracks. Cathy and I looked over at some of the tourists at one of the outdoor cafes. They were signing.. two women were at a table signing to another woman walking down the Stradun, telling her they were deaf, asking her to join them. Cathy and I were amazed; we don't know what nationality the ladies were, but WE understood them. As I looked around, I saw a few other people having their picture taken, gesturing to their photographer friend to take the picture portrait length, not landscape. It felt like a touch of home, to be somewhere where we understood very little of the native language but saw people signing to each other and knew what they were 'saying'.

Pictures: The drummer and guards.. they march through Old Town to the Pile and Ploce gates each evening at 7:30

A minstrel who plays near Pile gate... that red thing on his foot is his tambourine which he uses to keep time with the music by stomping his foot up and down.

Sunday morning Cathy and I took momentary leave of our senses and planned out an ambitious day. We would go down to the beach in the morning for a swim in the Adriatic. Then we would attend the noon service at Saint Blais' and that evening we had been invited to the Dean's home for dinner. We knew that involved at least three trips down all those stairs and at least two trips back up, but we were buoyed by how well we had done on the stairs the day before; obviously one of the benefits of our trek around Mljet.

What we failed to consider in this equation was that after swimming in the sea for an hour, we would be tired. And we had 400+ steps to climb to get to the apartment, shower, and descend into Old Town again... in the hottest part of the day... and after church, we would face those same steps again... in STILL the hottest part of the day. Any sense of Saturday's accomplishment that we had ascended Harold and Kumar steps without taking a break and had climbed upper hell with only TWO rest stops... and then walked from the road all the way up the apartment without a break, vaporized. We're not twenty-something young chickies... I can tell you right now, even with all this exercise, I do NOT expect the producers of "Buns of Steel" or "Thighs of Iron" to be calling me to record their next video. ("Buns of Tapioca", maybe... "Thighs of Cottage Cheese", absolutely!).

We vowed not to plan this much ever again. I know during the church service, not understanding a word of Croatian, we were praying we'd just make the second trip up the hill without heat stroke or twisted ankles :)

Dinner at Dean Don Hudspeth's home was a delightful event. It was the Dean, Vincent, Cathy and me. He had a special room, built away from the house, where he barbequed veal chops and sausages. We had potatoes baked with fresh rosemary and onions and grilled vegetables, eggplant, zucchini, mushrooms and peppers. His mother-in-law, who lives just down the road, had made a dessert, a custard with carmel syrup... baked with eggs fresh from the chickens penned in the Don's yard. There were tangerine, pomegranate and olive trees; grapevines and artichoke plants; chickens and kittens and bats, oh my! I said all Don needed was a cow for milk and he'd never need to visit a grocery store.

His home was at the base of mountains; on one side, if you went over the mountain, you'd be in Bosnia. There were actually mortar rounds discharged from the top of that mountain and Don showed us where the house and walkway had been hit. It is very humbling to think that a little over fifteen years ago there was a war going on here.

His wife's family is from Croatia, while he himself is a Candian. During dinner he explained the variations in languages in Croatia and Serbia and Slovenia, and the histories and attitudes of people in the different regions. As with Professor Stasa, Don told us how families are so tight-knit in this part of the world. It's not just immediate families, but mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers that many times gather for a meal, everyone sharing the cooking and cleaning and entertaining. Kids spend time on the computer playing games, but they also wander down to the river and congregate with their friends for hours of fun. Over and over we've heard of the strong sense of community and the unhurried pace here, something lacking in the States.

Well, I suppose I should get some work done. This week is going to be a busy one... Cathy and I leave for Italy tomorrow evening, as Wednesday is a holiday here. Tentatively, there are two class field trips planned for Thursday and Friday, so we jump off the boat from Bari Thursday morning and hop on another a few hours later. What was that again about us not being young chicks...? I can't remember... I'm too busy soaking up the culture and surroundings... I'll have time to sleep on the plane on the way home :)

mir... annette