Bucks
Croatia
Dear Friends,
Good morning. Mighty Betsy and I just returned from a ten-day sailing trip to Croatia, thanks to our daughter Anne’s generosity. She gave us this vacation to mark our 70th birthdays.
Just as she did several years ago, Anne selected Wilderness Travel for our excursion. Previously, she’d sent us on a hiking tour from Rome to Florence. We’d walk between 10 and 20 miles each day, ending on the cliffs of a hillside town. We’d examine its history and sample the food and wine of the Tuscan region of Italy. It was the only vacation that I lost ten pounds.
But this trip was different. Three other couples joined us to sail the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia on the Adriatic Sea. Our twin masted sailboat was 80 feet long and 21 feet wide. A crew of three and a tour guide plus a Wilderness photographer took very good care of us. All aboard were perfect strangers.
Looking back on those 10 days, I’m uncertain about which was more stimulating…sailing among the archipelagos, hundreds of islands within sight of the Croatian coast…visiting the quaint towns and villages and their 500 year old history…the castles and museums…listening to and seeing dancers and musicians…or participating in the frank discussions on the boat each day.
Those conversations were lively because the topics revolved around religion, politics, literature and the performing arts. We ignored the famous advisory…stay away from politics and religion.
The four paying couples made for an interesting religious and philosophical mix. There was an agnostic couple from California. The husband was educated by the Jesuits and would have made an excellent priest. Another California couple was Jewish; one couple from Massachusetts was Unitarian; and the fourth were Pennsylvania Quakers.
Raised as an Anglican, the Wilderness tour guide was British. Our photographer was Jewish and hailed from California. Like 95 percent of the Croatians, the three crewmembers were Roman Catholics and in their late twenties. Everyone joined the controversial conversations during meals.
And speaking about meals, one of the three was a gourmet cook. His galley kitchen was tiny…about three feet square. The fish and muscles came from the Adriatic each day. The fruit, vegetables and wine were from local farms and vineyards.
Croatia was one of seven states in Yugoslavia (southern slavs). It gained independence from its Serbian masters ten years ago, taking a bloody civil war to do so. Evidence of artillery shell marks and bullet holes punctuate its castles. Within the walled city of Dubrovnik, a museum is devoted to the young men who died defending its citizens from the Serbs. It’s a very sobering experience. While hiking across one of the islands, we saw two cleared mine fields…the sinister signs warned of the recent peril.
It’s always the same isn’t it? Older men start wars while young men and women give their lives for the cause.
Coincidentally, during our trip, Montenegro was the last of the Balkan states to declare its independence. But it’s still too early to determine whether its people will be able to avoid another civil war.
One of the highlights of our journey was hiking around the waterfalls in the Krka National Park. The towering cliffs and raging water reminded me of a miniature Niagara Falls.
The unplanned visit to the island of Zadar was special. We found the singing steps…man made steps carved into the sea wall. Engineers installed pipes of various lengths and diameter so that the rush of water creates airflow and the pipes play…constantly. Moments later we heard a student orchestra rehearsing a Mozart symphony in a Byzantine cathedral. Zadar was a fairyland.
All in all, the trip was magical…and positively stimulating. Every Croat under age 30 speaks English. They love Americans…especially former President Bill Clinton…but not our present commander in chief. No surprise.
Friends, here’s my advice: Gather your children and grandchildren together and determine who should be responsible for sending their aging parents on trips. Thank you Anniepie!
Sincerely,
Charles Meredith