Arrival, Trogir, & Whimsy...

My first real European vacation. Jelena has planned a trip for us that begins in Croatia, and then moves to Mostar (Bosnia & Herzegovina, but I’ve learned to just use “Herzegovina” because many of the Croatians in the region, who I will be spending all of my time with, prefer it for a mixture of reasons, some obviously not related to absolute rigor in naming one’s present location…). After Herzegovina, we’ll be heading back to the Adriatic coast for a few days to finish out the trip.

The flight to Croatia is mostly uneventful and not at all the tiresome trek that I’ve been prepared for. I think this is largely due to luck, and having a good travel companion (Jelena). I’m also greatly repaid for investing in an expensive set of noise-canceling headphones, which almost completely screen out the constant hum of the jet engines and make my iPod sound really great. Our travel plan is Seattle, Dulles, Frankfurt, Split. Upon switching planes in Dulles, I start to notice subtle differences in the make-up of my fellow "putnici" (travelers, for those not trying to learn Croatian…). There is a pleasant mixture of languages floating around the cabin of the large Airbus-made plane heading to Frankfurt. The dress is also a little different, but only in a way that I can describe as “more European looking” – and that’s from someone who’s barely traveled to Europe. Still, I feel that my categorization is accurate enough for someone from the states, just as I always knew that Jelena was from some part of Europe even before I ever heard her utter a single word. Along with the interesting/good, there is also the bad: many of the men have body odor, but we are mercifully spared from this in our immediate seating area (sadly, this would not be in the cards for me on the way back…).

Split airport is tiny. The customs check is a no-op, and we’re soon fitted with our “compact” rental car – a Hyundai “Getz.” It looks like matchbox-car toy from my childhood and probably weighs a third or less than the truck I’m forcing through the streets of Seattle back home. I feel the need to kick the ridiculously small tires once just to make sure they don’t pop, as they look like something that should be floating around in a cereal bowl to me at first glance… It’s a stick shift, so Jelena is going to be doing all the driving (yes, I know, I’m lame). The smatterings of street signs throughout the region are almost completely in Croatian, so it makes sense for her to do the driving anyway. We share a joke that I should gesticulate at every major turn as if I’m directing her, if only to keep from causing general confusion and unnecessarily setting off insecurities in the Croatian males that we encounter. Upon reaching the town of Trogir, our first destination, I see two macho guys riding together on a miniscule scooter, one with his arms hugged around the other so as to not fall off helplessly when stopping or turning. Convenient, as this vision pretty much cures any gender insecurities of my own with regards to the division of driving duties for the rest of the trip.

Trogir is what I will come to understand as a typical coastal town in Croatia. That is, it’s a picturesque mixture of new and old architecture, mostly old as perceived by a Seattleite. The buildings are stone, brick, and concrete. The roofs are almost all tiled red. And of course, the most distinguishing and remarkable feature is the Adriatic itself. Crystal clear, radiant aquas and bright blues. I’ve only looked at it on maps prior to – long and skinny. Here, in person, it looks huge and wraps all around the horizon. Even though I’m probably well-traveled compared to most Americans, I feel painfully underexposed in that I can’t quite compare the Adriatic town to anything I’ve seen. Parts of Trogir actually remind me of Zanzibar, only much cleaner. Trogir, like many Croatian towns, has an old stone town at its center. Stone buildings, some of them old chapels or perhaps monasteries, cluster at the heart of Trogir. These are the most interesting. My initial guesses at the age of the buildings are in the range of the 16^th and 17^th century, which was probably close in hindsight, however only due to the fact that Trogir was razed and rebuilt many times (like the majority of the towns in the Balkans). I would find out later that Trogir has been settled since truly ancient times, and that some of the oldest artifacts and ruins from the whole darn trip were probably right there in front of me on the first day. I wish I could go back and look for remnants of the Illyrians (or perhaps something even older?), but we were jetlagged. Instead, pizza and a hotel room (both too expensive).