eastern europe, aka the new western europe, and tipsy croatian trains
on REM Zoe Lara (in India) (India), 19/Sep/2009 20:03, 34 days ago
I've just returned from twelve days with my brother train-trekking from the adriatic coast to the slovenian mountains. Twelve days, two islands (one nudist beach), two capital cities, two mountain lakes, one paragliding adventure, cycling, rafting, wobbly trains, one international football match, lots of tipsy travellers and not too much sleep. I won't recount it all here (my ears are not far enough yet from Grant to have stopped ringing with his dismissive missives about the self-indulgence of bloggers), but a few happy moments:1. Arriving in Hvar (specially for my brother, the 'party' capital of croatia), then taking a taxi boat to a sunbathing island, only to be told by some leathery-but-hugely-happy sixty-something croatians, sitting in said boat - not to worry if we were surrounded by lots of naked sixty-something year-old croatians, because it's normal in croatia. Taking a hike around this beautiful island, only to see an old lady jumping up from the heather wearing a sunhat, a serene smile, and nothing else. Time and time again, I was struck by the joy and vivacity of the elderly population in croatia (perhaps the secret really is nudity!). Gatherings of friendly old retirees around beaches, playing cards, giggling, slapping each others' sunburnt arms from time to time at an amusing in-joke, crowded around a beautiful old rock in the sun - what a wonderful way to see out one's days.2. Taking a train trip through the slippery green mountains up to the capital, and gazing at the coastline from the windows. Glancing down at my book of croatian history and learning that this visually stunning, sunshine-country was at war with its neighbours less than five years ago, endured massacres less than ten years ago, and subsists now with over half the population under the poverty line. I have seen poverty before, but never so well-hidden; and I found myself - as I had living in Russia - staring at the faces of older people sitting around me, to see whether any signs of the conflict were etched into their faces.3. An old roman palace by the coast filled with cafes, bars and fairy lights rather than museums, ticket desks and glass boxes. Finding outdoor palace night-time music by stumbling along its windy corridors and corners following notes, until we came to crowds and candles and street-acts playing and dancing and thronging in the seaside air.4. A well-nested bar at the foot of slovene mountains, curiously named after a man who'd died from alcohol poisoning - "the george best bar".5. Running down an almost vertical cliff-drop, with strings attached to my shoulders, wishing hope-on-hope that I would fly rather than plummet. Flying over a lake, taking tumbles in the air through the invisible currents of the wind, and hoping-against-hope once again that my eyes could remember it all, so I could carry on flying in my dreams. Touching the ground after paragliding felt just as I thought it would - one step, two, three - wobble - land - sigh. We've made aeroplanes now but I'm still conviced that we're supposed to go further: every soul is meant to be airbourne; we all stare at the birds and the stars from time to time and deep down, we all know it.