BOSNIA, ZAGREB & TRIESTE, ITALY

BOSNIA, ZAGREB AND TRIESTE ITALY

      

      

     Leaving the memorable town of Jajce behind, we enter into a deep gorge which has us sandwiched between soaring rock formations.     

    

Many of the peaks are partially claimed by low-lying clouds and fog, but the scene is, nonetheless, captivating.                  

John’s well-thought-out travel route

has us driving via the secondary roads on our way to Zagreb, Croatia’s capital.  As we travel deeper into rural Bosnia’s uninterrupted countryside, I feel as though I have stepped into a time warp and am witnessing a peasant-like lifestyle, existing in much the same way as it did a century ago.  Small hamlets of modest Alpine style houses with smoke streaming from their chimneys, and vast expanses of farmland capture the landscape in all directions.  At times, we must yield the road to an antiquated tractor occupied by mom and pop, plugging along as if there were no other vehicles to share the roadway with.        

     In contrast is the modern city of Banja Luka where John detours from the planned route for a quick drive through the downtown area.  I am pleasantly surprised by a beautiful and well-kept city showing off its wide, tree-lined avenue, grand old buildings and well-dressed residents. We are pressed for time so we do not stop, and I must be content to take my photographs from the window of the car.

    

    




OLD TOWN ZAGREB

      
     We reach our destination of Zagreb by early evening.  My weary driver is glad to step out from behind the wheel and stretch his legs. He has delivered us safely to our destination, and provided us with an experience in Bosnia we’ll never forget.  WHAT A GUY!

XXX

     

     The next 3 days are spent in the company of our friends, Iva and Velibor, who are never at a loss for words, great hosts, and most of all, wonderful friends. 

        Iva, is an English teacher at a language school in Zagreb, and owns the VILLA BOZO apartment house in Baska Voda.  Thanks to her, I am able to live in this wonderful little village. 

       Velibor, is an attorney who loves to debate on just about any subject. And debate we do, but always in the spirit of friendship. He keeps us amused with his stories set to animation, the mood upbeat with his glass-half-full attitude, and assures our contentment with his easy going manner and generosity.  I have to say that everyone, yes, everyone, likes Velibor.  Just ask him, he’ll tell you with no modesty, and a big grin, “Everybody likes, Velibor!”

       Iva is a pretty blond with sparkling green eyes who loves to poke fun at herself when she trips over a thought process, “Well, I’m a blond you know!” she adds with amusement.  She is a real care giver, always making sure that our needs are met and our bellies full with another of her wonderfully prepared, mouth-watering, Croatian specialties.  And she always asks when we’re finished, “Is everything okay?” And of course it is always okay because she makes sure of it.  For the recipe lover, you might try her roasted red pepper dish at the end of this blog. I asked her for the recipe for the benefit of those of you who want to prepare something Croatian. Her response to my request was: “Well, I cook from experience, not books, so your friends must add the ingredients to their own taste.” So please, take Iva's advice

XXX

 

     

     

Zagreb is a great city to pass away a few days, and its coffee bars, up- scale malls, interesting architecture and high end shops can’t be beat.

    

       Dashing across the busy downtown streets we take care not to trip over one of the many sets of tracks that carry the rumbling blue trams through the city.  A stroll down one of the many busy sidewalks finds us window shopping and drooling over the Italian leather shoes and purses (ouch, the prices!) on display. 

      Situated in the town center at the top of a long flight of stairs is the colorful, Bolac, open-air food market which is easily identified by its bright red umbrellas.  The market is referred to as
the "belly of Zagreb" owing to the wonderful selection of foods brought
from all over Croatia. 

     Just a short distance away is the indoor market with its mingling aromas, strings of sausage suspended from hooks and throngs of shoppers. Here, you can find everything for the diner’s table.  For the gourmet, there is a selection of delicacies--some of which I couldn't even begin to identity, and far too numerous to mention. If you’re lucky, one of the vendors will invite you to sample their specialty.  Today we’re lucky, tasting the Mediterranean style marinated olives that explode with flavor in our mouths!  

     With camera in hand I become a market spectator, completely absorbed in the experience of shoppers pushing their dual-wheeled, canvas carts from vendor to vendor.  Croatian women are very decisive about what they want, and above all, everything that goes on their table must be fresh. They carefully view the items on display, then having made their choice, instruct the person behind the counter to slice, weigh and package their selection…all of this in less time then it takes me to focus the camera and discretely take a shot.  I have to keep a watchful eye on Iva, and John,--who is manning her cart--because Iva is quite purposeful with what she will buy for the evening meal, and I can easily lose them around a corner, and to the maze of stalls that follow.

      “What’s this and what’s that?” I ask with a peaked curiosity; even in the midst of all the noise, my English carries and the preoccupied shoppers turn their attention to get a look at the foreigner in their midst (the spectator is now being viewed.) If the camera wasn’t already a dead give away to my foreign status, than certainly the language is.  Unlike me, however---who tends to physically blend in to most European cultures--- there’s no mistaking, John, who has “Product of America” stamped across his wide, Anglo forehead, getting him the stares without ever opening his mouth.  

      Finally, our shopping experience is over, Iva’s shopping cart stuffed to capacity with aged cheese, homemade prosciutto, bunches of fresh swiss chard, freshly ground meat for the Greek moussaka dish and a crusty loaf of freshly baked cornbread…which is nothing like our version in the U.S., either in taste or in texture.

     Needless to say, we are anxiously looking forward to tonight’s dining experience---the debates will have to wait until after dinner.  

XXX

This Sunday before our departure we take the funicular for the 66 meter ride (it only takes 55 seconds, and is the shortest passenger cable railway in the world) straight up the tracks to the charming, old historic district known as Gornij Grad (upper town.)

     In the center of St Mark’s square, there is a late Gothic style, 13^th century church with a colorful tiled roof that forms two sets of coats of arms, the white castle on the red background representing Zagreb, and the other of the Triune Kingdom of Croatia, Slavonia and Dalmatia. 

     At noon every Saturday and Sunday, as a cannon is fired from a medieval tower neearby, you can simultaneously hear the clomping of a horse's hooves, and the sound of heavy boots hitting the cobblestoned street.  Closing my eyes for a few seconds I allow my imagination to take flight into another century, invisioning a city under attack and a command of marching soldiers converging on the town.  But when I open my eyes and wait a few more seconds, I see the high-stepping soldiers of the Honorary Cravat Regiment, rounding a corner into the square where they will perform the changing of the guard.

 Twelve soldiers, consisting of armourers, trumpeters, drummers, flag-bearers and their commander make up this impressive group.  It’s worthy to note that their uniforms are original 18^th century, and that the cravat got its name from the distinctive scarf tied around the soldiers' necks.  
     I am easily swallowed up in the tightly packed crowd of tall, Croatian spectators, so I must nudge my way to the front and peek through an opening to capture some shots. Since the soldiers are constantly on the

move, I’m doing a lot of dodging and weaving through the crowd, and for the most part, witnessing the ceremony through the lens of my camera.  Persistence pays off, though, for I have my pictures.             

     From the square we head for the peace and solitude of the Strossmayer Promenade, and take a leisurely stroll beneath the shade of the tall chestnut trees that line either side.

TAKEN XMAS 2010

      Since this area affords some of the most beautiful views of the city below, I lag behind soaking in the scenery. Veli, Iva and John, move ahead. Judging from the way they are huddled together, they are probably engaged in another of their debates…which should last all the way to the car park! 







TAKEN XMAS 2010



       It has been four days well spent in a beautiful city with great friends, but it’s time to move on, Trieste, Italy, being our final destination.

    

XXX 

Beneath a pewter colored sky we begin our journey on a four lane highway that cuts and tunnels its way through the mountains that belong, in part, to the country of Slovenia. It’s raining, but if we’re lucky and the temperature does not plummet, we won’t get caught in a snowstorm at the summit of the pass like we did in 2009 on our way to Venice, Italy.

     To my relief, John conquers the pass without incident, and leaving this segment of mountains behind we will start our decline to the borders of two countries, Slovenia and Italy. 

     Once in Slovenia, the road narrows to a two lane that meanders its way through lovely, present day, Alpine hamlets and lush forests showing off their autumn gold colors.

     Trieste is situated at the north east edge of Italy on the Adriatic.  Much of the city’s houses occupy the steep hillsides that spill down to the sea, making an impressive sight from the roadway above.     

     John navigates another city’s streets with relative ease following the signs to the harbor and historic district. We really don’t know what to expect because Trieste is not one of those Italian cities on the tourist trail. Because of its close proximity to Croatia, however, I have come here to see if it would be a suitable place for me to live for the months of January, February and March, allowing me to have another cultural experience.  And, it is only an hour or so drive to Venice, leaving open the possibility to further explore my Italian roots.  So our first stop will be the tourist office.

     Driving along the harbor with the Adriatic to my right and a magnificent piazza to my left, I am finding, to my sheer delight, that Trieste is another beautiful Italian city.  Wherever I look, there are endless strings of old buildings with beautiful facades and elaborate adornments; even the columns of street lights that line the wide avenue are a work of art. Oh those Italians!

     While we wait for the other tourists I find, to my surprise, that I am understanding a lot of the Italian that is being spoken.  Is she there, whispering in my ear?  She was, once upon a time, only a short boat ride away--my grandmother, Giovanna.  I can feel the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
     A few minutes with the pleasant female agent from the tourist board confirms my suspicions that living in Italy is expensive, and renting an apartment is out of the question. I am open to her suggestion that renting a room in the historic district near the piazza might be an alternativE, so off we go to see what Trieste has to offer.

     Much to my surprise we find a beautiful, and very large room in one of the grand old restored buildings of the historic district.  Aside from the fact that it has ambience galore, it also has many of the necessary amenities, and is stunningly appointed.  I love the high ceilings and trio of tall, shuttered windows, each with its own balcony.  In short, it reeks of charm, as does the attractive landlady who is accommodating, negotiable and speaks English.       

     Trieste is definitely a place where I could live, and immerse myself in the culture.  With shopping, restaurants, cafes, the Adriatic,

plenty of historical sights within walking distance, and Venice only 101 miles to the
west, it is worthy of consideration.  

   

OH SOLE MIO

But for now, Baska Voda waits.  My driver has earned a rest, and some well-deserved pampering for all of his efforts! 

BRAVO!

FROM IVA'S KITCHEN



ROASTED RED PEPPERS WITH FETA CHEESE

6 to 8 elongated red peppers ( purchased at Harry's Market) these peppers have a unique flavor.  If you can't find the fresh, try the bottled ones from Costco....but don't tell Iva I told you this!

Fresh garlic chopped

Feta Cheese

Vegetta (A croatian vegetable seasoning similar to our Mrs. Dash) I understand it has been introduced to the U.S., if so, try it!)

Plain Bread Crumbs

Fresh Cream

Oil

Roast peppers in 350 degree oven until tender.  Set aside in a covered dish to cool.  There will be a lot of liquid.

Peel skins from peppers (tricky--peppers may break a little but that's okay since you're not stuffing them with the feta.)

Oil the bottom of the roasting dish and dust with a thin layer of breadcrumbs (Iva says this helps to absorb some of the juice from the peppers.)

Layer the dish with the drained roasted peppers.  Sprinkle them with the vegetta, garlic, a few tablespoons of cream, and top with the feta cheese.

Bake 350 degrees until the cheese is slightly brown (approximately 20 minutes)

ENJOY!

REMEMBER, ADJUST TO YOUR OWN TASTE

THERE'S MORE IF YOU WANT...JUST COMMENT!