NORMAL LIFE: Greetings from Chicago

Just two days after returning from Croatia (which included an eye-opening one day trip to some of neighbouring Bosnia's notable sites), I headed off on a business trip to Chicago. Check out my photo of the Chicago skyline, taken during a brief break (note the grey sky) in the oh-so-humid summer weather!

Updated on 2nd August: As America experiences soaring temperatures setting countless records, click here for their coverage.

HUMOUR #5: The Lunacy That Is English (Part 2)

Living abroad, I'm amazed at just how many people in the world are speaking my mother tongue. However, do they really understand it? I mean, do you they really understand the complexities of English, it's many exceptions and it's versatility in terms of expression? Here's some examples that you can test your foreign friends with:-

Some reasons to be grateful if you grew up speaking English:

- The buck does funny things when the does are present.
- A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
- To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
- The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
- After a number of Novocain injections, my jaw got number.
- Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
- I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
- How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?
- I spent last evening evening out a pile of dirt.

- "If you have a rough cough, climbing can be tough when going through the bough on a tree!"

- "There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple".

We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend?

If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wiseguy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm goes off by going on!!

The first Lunacy That Is English entry was here

NORMAL LIFE: Bosnia & Back To Base (Croatian Summer, Part 4)

Day 8 - Dubrovnik to Zagreb via Bosnia

After breakfast, we bathed in the sun for the last time on this trip before setting off at midday. As we left Dubrovnik, we passed the Bosnian border town of Neum once again before entering Bosnia at Metkovik. As the border check receded into the distance, the landscape changed completely; on a man-made level, abandoned buildings dotted the roadside with old adverts peeling away from billboards. On a nature-level, the route towards Mostar was graced with tree-lined hills to the right while a river gushed by on the left.

As we reached the outskirts of Mostar, a few raindrops hit the windscreen, adding to the mood as we passed yete more abandoned houses with walls that bore bullet holes. We drove through the streets of Mostar, trying to find the famous Old Bridge that Bree had heard about. Originally built in the 16th Century, the Old Bridge of Mostar was reputed to span across the River Neretva, link two sides of Bosnia and Herzegovina's fourth-largest city. In an ethnically divided town, it reached across the river to connect the Croats on the West Bank with the Muslims on the East.

During the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina (1992-1995), Croatian secessionist forces turned against Bosnian government forces, and destroyed the bridge on November 9, 1993. It had already been damaged from Serbian bombardment in 1992. Both Serb and Croat nationalists saw the bridge and old historic area around it as part of the Bosniak and Islamic culture, and it was often targeted during their bombardments.

A project was set in motion to rebuild it, and the new bridge opened on July 22, 2004, its reopening ceremonies were based on the idea of reconciling the Bosnian communities, even though bad blood and suspicion remain evident. Now listed as a World Heritage Site, the bridge was rebuilt under the aegis of UNESCO.

It took a while for us to find the bridge, but in the meantime we searched for a restaurant, our tummies rumbling for food! Perhaps not so surprisingly, nowhere would take credit cards for our lunch and, since we didn't have local currency, we figured we would just take a drive round the city, find the bridge and then move on. Suddenly, however, I noticed the sign for the bridge and we took a sudden turn to the left and pulled into what resembled a newly renovated part of town. Ahead lay a cobble street of eateries and tasteful souvenir stores.

A bit further on lay the bridge, spanning across the river in bold defiance. We had arrived just in time to watch a young man dive 20 metres into the no doubt ice cold water of the River Neretva. Well impressive!

Having noticed that all the stores were trading in Euro currency, we stopped for soemthing to eat in a nearby restaurant. Whilst eating, a young girl approached me, her yearning eyes begging for money. For €20, we managed to buy two courses of food, which included beer for Bree, coca cola for me and coffee with our desert of Baklava, a flaky pastry containing honey and nuts. What a bargain!

We continued on our way, a vast mountain range emerging on our left; the land was a surprising mish-mash of forested lowland with rocky, towering cliffs. Directly ahead, we noticed a police car's lights flashing before our eyes focused on the amazing sight before us; as luck would have it, a huge rock had fallen from high overhead and landed on a vehicle.

As we were guided around the car by police officers, we drove through a landscape typical of a peak district, complete with beautiful railways bridges and expanses of rich greenery. Every now and then, a mosque made an appearance, serving as a reminder as to the many muslims who live here. We passed through the small town of Jablanica, passing another mosque and a cemetry full of head stones, each one bearing the sign of Islam, the crescent and the star. As we turned off towards Prozor, a road sign indicated that Sarajevo, the capital city of Bosnia and Herzegovina which underwent the longest seige in modern history during the Bosnian war, was just 80km to the west.

After passing Prozor, we rose high into the mountains and, as we coasted during the downhill sections therefore gathering speed, we were stopped by the police. Apparently, we were doing 72km/hr in a 40km/hr area; the bizarre thing was that the road was steeply downhill (who would brake) and the road was rather straight with no bends. There was a disagreement between the two police officers, but the offer was we would pay €40 if we wanted paperwork or we could pay €20 without the paperwork. In other words, they would let us off with a cheaper fine if we didn't demand do things the official way. What corruption, I thought to myself. Naturally, we opted for the cheaper option and drove away from the scene.

Before long, we entered another village which contained many homes and watch towers splattered with bullet holes. By now, it was 6.30pm and Bosnia had been an insight; the devestation this beautiful country had seen was still apparent some eleven years after the ending of the Bosnian War. It started to rain, the weather reflecting the mood as we discussed what we remembered from the media coverage of the war. The sun struggled to penetrate the thin blanket of cloud overhead. During a downpour, we passed the town of Jajce, set in a valley with mist swirling down the hills above. This fortified town contained many graveyards and also featured a number of buildings bearing bullet holes.

The road to Banja Luka was dotted with towering cliffs on both sides and tunnels running alongside a procession of rivers. Later, we came to a beautiful meander in the river far below us. It was at this point, as we headed towards Banja Luka, that the road signs began to appear in the Cyrillic Alphabet; this made reading the map near impossible so it was important to double check the signs and map for possible similarities just to keep on the right route.

The Cyrillic Alphabet is an alphabet used for several East and South Slavic languages including Belarusian, Bosnian, Bulgarian, Macedonian, Russian, Rusyn, Serbian and Ukrainian. Many other languages of the former Soviet Union, Asia and Eastern Europe also use the Cyrillic Alphabet. With the accession of Bulgaria to the European Union of January 1, 2007, cyrillic became the third official alphabet of the EU; Latin and Greek were the existing alphabets.

We reached Banja Luka at 8.30pm, amazed by how poor the people looked while a string of brand new mosques graced the surrounded countryside. The second largest city in Bosnia & Herzegovina, the streets seemed well maintained, with trees gracing the roadsides and a series of rapid waterfalls cascading pass the town on our right. As we neared the northern part of town, the road opened up into a dual carriageway littered with flats and buildings of a newness we hadn't seen in what felt like ages.

We sped onwards towards Gradiska which is located on the Bosnian-side of the Bosnia-Croatian border. There, we were greeted by border guards on both sides. However, on the Bosnian side of the border there was a ridiculous queue of trucks and we ended up getting lost when we tried to find a way to push past the queue of trucks. We approached a couple holding hands as they walked along the pavement and we asked if they could tell us how to get back to the border. The young girl, no older than 20, fluently instructed us on how to get back to the border check.

One hundred and forty kilometres along the highway and at 11pm and tired and cranky, we ended up at hotel Central, right outside Zagreb's main railway station opposite Tomislavov Square. We parked our car in a nearby underground parking facility and bought sandwiches from a 24 hour supermarket. Back in our hotel room, we drank Bacardi, ate sandwiches and what was left of the crisps while we watched US National Security adviser, Condaleeza Rice, batting her eyelids at the officials in Lebanon. In bed at 1am.

Day 9 - Zagreb to Helsinki

Our last day. Bree gently woke me up at 9am before proceeding to lick my ears. It made me grin! After breakfast, we returned to the room to wash before going for a walk into the same town we had visited on the first and second day of our trip; we were just passing time really until we needed to be at Zagreb Airport at 1pm.

When we arrived at the airport, we returned the hire car, checked in and then headed to the bar where we stayed until it was time to board our flight to Budapest. We boarded the executive-styled Bonbardier Jet for the short flight. We were served hot sandwiches, a chocolate bar, coffee and juice; once again, the service was amazing given the very short flight time.

We had two hours at Budapest before our connecting flight to Helsinki so, during that time, Bree read his book while I undertook some serious tax-free shopping; I bought booze, some deodorants, a Samsonite Laptop bag and a Universal plug set for my upcomng trip to Chicago (read about that here).

At 7pm, our Malev Boeing 737 flight headed towards the skies. I rested my headed against the window, looking out at the city below; very similar to Zagreb, Budapest's landscape was dotted with blocks of ugly, high-rise flats. But one thing for sure: this part of Europe had proven to be a land of contrasts. The north of Croatia bears no similarity to the Mediterranean of the Dalmatian Coast, which is rich with old world charm and tasteful tourism.

The detour back to Zagreb via Bosnia was an experience and added to my appreciation of what I had seen of the former Yugoslavia. It's shocking to think that not so long ago, this region had been the scene of the Bosnian War, but I felt honoured, as a tourist, to visit a country so close to home where every place seemed to have a story of its own. Like Italy, Croatia is a country of such rich cultura and I'm absolutely sure that tourists will flock in ever-increasing numbers to enjoy what it has to offer.

NORMAL LIFE: Dubrovnik (Croatian Summer, Part 3)

Day 6 – Split to Dubrovnik

By far the weirdest wake up in a long time with Bree licking my ears….followed by the best breakfast this week, which included rice pudding! We left the hotel just before 10am, bound for Dubrovnik; the mood turned sombre as we navigated along the busy route to Dubrovnik at a frustrating snails pace. The traffic was bordering on ridiculous, making a trip around London’s M25 feel like a daytrip; in the first hour, we had driven less than 30 kilometres.

It was clear that, like most places in the world, Croats are selfish drivers as some of the antics were nothing short of shocking. Imagine this: there’s a queue of motorists as far as you can see and then some prick overtakes us all until forced to rejoin the queue he had left by oncoming traffic. Understandably, people don’t want to let deviants like these back in the queue which delays matters for both queues. Frustrated, we decided to turn off before reaching a town called Miz; according to the map, we had turned off onto a scenic/panoramic route, whatever that meant! In time, I realised I would some of my hubba-bubba gum to stifle my whimpers.

As we approached the small town Blato, a small forest fire raged in the distance. Over a period of two hours, we passed many isolated towns, which left you wondering what people do out here. We arrived at Vrgorac, quite close to the Bosnian border, but continued toward Metkovic; at this point, we were running low on petrol and, in Metkovic, we filled up with petrol. Nearby stood a significant road sign – to the left, you could go to Mostar and Sarajevo, significant locations from the Bosnian War while, taking the right, we continued our trip to Dubrovnik.

Ironically, the roads were much better this close to the Bosnian border: wider, allowing for overtaking, and in better condition. Back on the main road we had turn off from at Miz, we soon entered Bosnia via the cliff-top check-point. Just before 3pm, we passed the touristic town of Neum, Bosnia’s attempt at attracting a slice of the seaside tourist trade for itself in the small pass. Within minutes, we had re-entered Croatia. We heard a beep and, after checking his mobile phone, Bree had received a ‘Welcome to Bosnia’ text message. How odd!

We continued along the road to Dubrovnik, passing Ston, a salt-producing settlement protected by a 5.5km fortified wall, the longest in Europe. Shortly afterwards, we reached the Pejlesac Peninsula, the stretch of water which would be with us all the way to Dubrovnik. We had planned to take in the island of Korkula, visible over the water, but there just wasn’t time on this trip.

We reached Dubrovnik just after 4pm, crossing the huge white bridge which would lead us to street-after-street of palm tree-lined avenues, a true contrast to Zagreb in the north. I had to call the hotel as we had difficult locating them, but before long we pulled into the Hotel Komodor, our hotel for the next two nights. After checking in, we went straight to the pool area to sunbathe – it was the best pool I had been in on this trip so far and, in hindsight, it surprised me just how few swimming pools there actually were in the places where we had stayed.

About 7.30pm, we got a cab into town. The taxi drive dropped us off at the ‘pile’, so called for the pile of taxies that are always waiting to offer their service. On foot, we entered the pedestrian-only Old Town of Dubrovnik, traversing across a strong wooden drawbridge to pass the thick stone, fortified walls, which have protected Dubrovnik for seven centuries.

Caught up in the civil war of the former Yugoslavia, Dubrovnik was bombed in 1991 and 1992, bombarded by more than 2000 shells, damaging an estimated 68% of the 824 buildings in the Old Town. Nine historic palaces were completely gutted by fire while the Sponza Palace, Retor’s Palace, St Blaise’s Church, the Fransiscan Monastery and the Amerling and Onofrio fountains sustained serious damage. Using traditional techniques, an international brigade of specially trained stoneworkers and support from the international community, Dubrovnik was restored to its former glory and the tourists were once again back in droves.

We ambled onto Placa, the main cobbled street dotted with stores. At the very end, you could see the Clock Tower, which told us that it was nearly 8.30pm. The search was on for a restaurant; we passed many in the main squares, but they were so crowded and we wanted something a little bit more relaxing. Distracted by the sites, we ended up outside St. Ignatius Church, enjoying the view far below back into the old town and the Dinaric Ridge beyond, separating Dubrovnik from Bosnia and Hercegovina.

We traipsed along the narrow streets, which glowed in the last of the days light. It was still considerably warm and, having entered a really narrow alleyway, we were enticed by a deserted restaurant, the unimaginatively named Marco Polo, in a tiny enclosed narrow courtyard. We had arrived just in time for, as I ate my Spaghetti Bolognese, the place soon filled up. Afterwards, I ate a Mixed Grill, washed down with dry white wine! Yummy!

It must have been after 10pm when we finally left the restaurant. At this time of night, there were still thousands of people wandering around the town, some of them locals but that vast majority of them clearly tourists. We wandered to and fro, checking out the stores on both sides of Placa, grabbing an ice cream as we left the Old Town. I could feel my bed calling me although it was only around midnight – another day of travelling, combined with the heat from the afternoons bathing session had left me once again absolutely knackered. After a customary bacardi on the balcony, we hit the sack!

Day 7 – Dubrovnik

After breakfast, we sunbathed until about midday. I returned to our hotel room and had a nap before we headed into town once more. Driving into town, we parked at the top of the hill, quite close to the Minceta tower, one of the most impressive of the old town's fortified corners. We had enough coins to buy a one hour parking ticket and, rushing down the many steps to the old town's entrance, we shared a large pizza and ambled along the tateful souvenir shops in the cobbled backstreets. We found a store where you could buy personalises t-shirts, first selecting a t-shirt of your choice and positioning your favourite transfers just where you want them before a woman iron them onto place.

Quickly, Bree took our souvenirs and rush to the car to make sure we didn't get a parking ticket. Meanwhile, I waited for him at the main entrance and, when he returned, we paid the KN50 fee and spent most of the day traversing along the fortified walls of the Old Town; the views were amazing with the photos speaking for themselves.

When we returned to the point when we started, Bree descended down the steps and washed from the Onofrio Fountain, which was built in 1438 and managed to draw water from a well some 12kms away. Already sweating, we headed up that hill to return to the hotel.

Already late afternoon, the sun continued to beat down strongly. I remember dozing on the sunbed, at one point jerking away suddenly, as if though I had just fell out of bed. It was then that I glanced over to Bree and saw him starting to a nice golden tan. God, he's handsome, I thought to myself. After 6pm, we returned to the hotel room. As Bree showered, I poured us both a drink with lots of ice and, on the balcony, we wrote our postcards. Taking a break, I leaned back against the chair and glanced at the amazing sunset that was in progress, the disc of the sun steadily slipping behind the hill across Lapad Bay.

On this evening, we took a cab into town, leaving us both to enjoy a nice drink with dinner. A very crowded Sunday evening, I popped into a book store on the Old Towns main street, Placa, where I bought a lovely hardbook illustrated book of Croatia. We moved onto the Old Harbour, where we dined at a seemingly exclusive, but affordable restaurant. We drank a sweet Rose, perhaps the best wine since arriving in Croatia. We ate Dalmatian Ham (very similar to Parma ham) with Cheese, followed by a shared platter of beef, chicken, bacon and sausages with French fries and salad. Stuffed, we settle for an easy-to-digest ice cream and coffee for dessert.

After dinner, in need of some exercise, we ambled along the now-familiar, history-rich cobbled streets. The evening air was humid, distinct differently from the cooler north of the country. We made our way down Placa and onto the Pile, flagging a taxi to take as back to our hotel. We were in bed, having spent a while for the day ahead which was sure to be a long one!

NORMAL LIFE: Sibenik & Split (Croatian Summer, Part 2)

Day 4 – Daytrip to Krka National Park

Breakfast this morning was an ordeal; it seemed that all the neighbouring hotels in the resort descended on one food hall that was dispensing the usual fayre, as well as sausages and french fries. When we finally got seated, we were surrounded by people tucking into plates of chips. Even the kids were being encouraged to eat chips. For breakfast! Bizarre! After breakfast, we got into the stuffy heat of the car and headed to Krka National Park, just 15km east of Sibenik. On our way, we soared over the city of Sibenik. Once we drove over some kind of ridge, the scene ahead of us was the remnant of a forest fire with blackened and lifeless tree stumps dotting the landscape.

We arrived at the somewhat modest car park supposedly being the entrance of a 'spectacular' National Park. We bought the entrance tickets and waited for the bus to take us to the attractions which, even though I had seen some basically promotional material, still eluded understanding. As the bus departed, we headed down a narrow gravel drive and, over a slight hill, we entered an awesome canyon, which featured pots of water far below. Soon, those ‘pots of water’ would in fact be huge lakes.

According to the Lonely Planet guide, the 72.5km Krka River and its waterfalls define the landscape of Sibenik-Knin county and are the focus of the region. The river water formed a deep canyon (up to 200m) through the limestone and bought with it calcium carbonate. Mosses and algae retain the calcium carbonate and encrust it in their roots. The material is called tufa and is formed by billion of plants that grown on top of one another. It is these growths, apparently, that create the barriers in the river which produce waterfalls. Among the possible excursions was a visit to the Samostan Visovac, a Monastry located on an island in the centre of one of the lakes, but we set off instead along the delightful nature walks which offered wonderful views of the gushing waterfalls.

After we while, we emerged from the humidity of the densely forested nature trail replete with lizards, newts and all other kinds of creep crawlies to see Skradinski Buk falls, the trademark 800-metre long cascading waterfall of the Krka National Park covering 17 steps. Packed with tourists, we let some time pass before we attempted to enter the rock pool; we grabbed an ice cream in the shade. I could feel my skin tingling, the onset of sunburn. After a while, we took it in turns to enter the rock pool while the other guarded our possessions. The bed of the river was truly rocky, sharp in places, but eventually I managed to get into the cool water amidst the crowds. I took a moment to sit on the rocks and, in the silence without being able to wear my hearing device in the water, watched in wonder at the awesome mini-Niagara endlessly spilling tonnes of water nearby.

When we moved on, we crossed the river, taking one last glance of Skradinski Buk. As we left the wooden bridge, we came to a series of deserted water mills which had been tastefully refurbished to house a number of souvenir stores selling t-shirts, postcards and the like. Nearby was a blacksmith demonstration with two men in traditional dress working to create horseshoes. As we continued our walk, we were given one last view of the gushing waterfalls further up the Krka River.

Later in the afternoon, we got the bus back up to the car park; it was far too hot (more than 30ºC) to contemplate walking back up the canyon! We got back to the hotel about 3pm. Bree went to the beach to catch some late afternoon sun while I stayed in the room to give my sunburnt skin a rest. I pampered myself with a long shower, and a close shave before slumping into bed. I woke up at 7pm to find Bree snoozing beside me. I pulled myself closer for a hug and, gradually, we got ready to head into town.

About 8pm, we order a taxi to take us into Sibenik. The driver dropped us off at the southern end of the promenade, close to the modernist statue of Kresimir IV, ruler of Dalmatia (1058 – 1074). The sun was an hour away from setting and the warm orange glow graced Bree’s handsome features. We walked along the promenade, nearing a huge massive boat registered in the Cayman Islands, clearly the possession of some wealthy businessman. Crowds gathered, hoping to catch a glimpse of the affluent occupants.

On this Thursday evening, the bars and restaurants dotting the promenade were deserted. Meanwhile, the sun was sinking every second, nearly reaching contact with the land on the other side of the Sibenik Channel. We found the restaurant recommended by the taxi driver, Peskarija, where I ate Crapesce Salad followed by a huge Fish Platter of king prawns, grilled squid, octopus and a a fillet of fish, which we shared. Surpringly yummy! We then had ice-cream, but it was clear they were running low as there was so little of it! The waitress was fantastic however, visibly embarrassed by the lack of ice-cream and rushed off her feet.

As the day came to an end, we walked through Sibenik’s old town, determined to return in the morning to take in the sites properly. We slumped into bed just after midnight.

Day 5 – Sibenik to Split

After another breakfast in the food hall full of miserable people stuffing their faces with chips, we headed straightaway into the Old Town. Sibenik has had a turbulent history, with it’s first mention recorded in the 11th Century. The city was conquered by Venice in 1116, but was tossed back and forth among Venice, Hungary, Byzantium and the Kingdom of Bosnia until Venice seized control in 1412. At the end of the 15th Century, Ottoman Turks burst into the region as part of their struggle against Venice. As we parked up in a narrow street of the old town, we visited one of the forts built by the Venetians to defend the city which still towers high above the Sibenik Channel.

It was a roasting hot morning and, as we ascended the steps to the St. Ana Fortress, I broke into a sweat. At the top, we admired the views over the City and the nearby masses of land, now able to visualise the inlet that lead to the Adriatic Sea and, beyond, Italy. Upon our descent, we made our way back into the old town, taking in Sibenik’s crowning glory, the Cathedral of St Jacob, reputedly the most magnificent cathedral on the Dalmatian Coast. We passed the miniscule Church of St. Barbara before reaching an ornate square similar to that of St. Marks in Venice albeit on a much smaller scale.

It was necessary for us to move on as we wanted to reach Split before the evening. We located the car through the many narrow streets and drove to the nearby Jolly Shopping Centre to buy some food for the afternoon. We passed various towns, accompanied by Annie Lenox’s album, Diva, arriving in Split just after 3pm. Lost in the city, we pulled up to a street-side kiosk and, without leaving the car, I asked the young girl if she could tell me where our hotel was. In perfect English, she gave clear instructions which, on this occasion, took us to our intended destination, the unimaginatively named Hotel Split. The hotel itself, however, was wonderful, gracing something I wanted more than anything: a swimming pool

We stayed by the pool until 6pm. After a swim, I continued reading the Finnish epic, The Unknown Soldier. In our hotel room, we drank what was left of the litre of Martini Bianco we had bought at Budapest Airport before sharing a bathtub of steaming, soapy water. At 7pm, we grabbed a cab from reception, bound for the impressive Diocletian’s Palace (a UNESCO World Heritage site), named after the Roman Emperor of the same name reknowned for his persecution of early Christians; he spent his retirement here from 295 to 305.

We arrived just outside the walls of the Old City and, as we got out of the taxi, were stunned by the crowds of people swarming through a nearby market. Split is the second largest city in Croatia with a population of nearly 180,000 people, and is protected by countless islands located in the Brackt Channel.

We waded through the crowds, soon immersed in the some 200 buildings within the palace's boundaries which still houses some 3,000 residents as well as shops, cafes and restaurants. Apparently, the marble was imported from Italy and Greece while columns and sphinxes were imported from Egypt. The Emperor clearly spared no expense in the building of the 31,000 sq metre site, which served as a military fortress, imperial residence and fortified town.

Before settling down for dinner, we scaled the tower of St. Domnius Cathedral to take in the views of Split, both its bustly interior as well as its pleasing harbour view, complimented by rugged islands.

Sometime later, we had settled into Restaurant Kanava in one of the bustling, ornate marble squares. We were fortunate to have a table outside so that we could watch the world go by while eating a Seafood Plate, a Mixed Grill and Cream Caramel. Throughout the meal, Bree and I joked about the four Swedish people sitting nearby. When they entered the bar, they looked so orange and there’s something odd about Swedish men for they always seem to be wearing some kind of make-up. Heaven forbid somebody should see any lines on their faces, eh? Anyhow, the four of them resembled models in a waxwork museum.

After dinner, we walked through the remainder of the market stalls that were open, before settling down amongst the crowds to enjoy the breeze offered by the harbour. When I talk about breeze, it’s more of a whiff as you can smell the sewage, a kind of rotten egg smell! Yuk! Back at the hotel, we had a drink on the tiny balcony and stared out at the blackness of the sea. Bacardi in hand, I took a deep breath, truly starting to enjoy the holiday now that the worries of normal every day life were starting to become a distant memory.

NORMAL LIFE: Zagreb, Plitvice, Zadar & Sibenik (Croatian Summer, Part 1)

Day 1 – Helsinki to Zegrab via Budapest

Our trip to Croatia started with a breakfast-time flight from Helsinki to Budapest, where we waited for three hours for our onward flight to Zagreb. We boarded the brand new Malev Airlines Bombardier CRJ200, which looked more like a private jet than a vehicle for transporting tourists like us: with 4 seats abreast and with just enough capacity of seat 50 passengers, the thirty minute flight was surprisingly comfortable and the service onboard was great. We landed just after lunchtime, waiting more than one hour for our hire car – we arrived an hour earlier than expected, but surely there must have been a car or were they just making us wait out of spite?

That hour, spent sitting on the terminal building floor outside the Alamo car hire store, went quickly and the minute we were given the keys to our Ford Fiesta Turbo Diesel, we were on our way to the city of Zagreb, 17kms away; on the way, we witnessed a car accident during which a car had overturned in front of our very eyes. A little bit unnerved, we proceeded with caution, wondering whether this was just unfortunate or if car accidents were common here. Out of the blue, a sign appeared for the Palace Hotel, our accommodation for the night. One pleasant surprise was the parking was included in the price of our overnight accommodation; this is very unusual in capital cities the world over.

Zagreb is Croatia’s political, economic and cultural capital. Croatia’s largest city, covering 631 sq km, we spent the late afternoon visiting the main square of Trg bana Jelačića, the Cathedral of the Assumption of the blessed Virgin Mary in the Kaptol region of the city before wandering up many hundreds of steps into the Gradec District of the town, which appeared deserted.

As we ambled through the vicinity, we passed the Sabor (buildings of the Croatian parliament) built in 1910 on the site of 17th and 18th Century Town Houses and the Viceroy’s Palace, which now serves as the Presidential Palace. As we headed back towards the main square of Trg bana Jelačića, we passed the imposing St. Marks Church in Marko V Trg and the ornate Jesuit Church of St. Catherine. Walking along a street named Radiceva, I noticed an image that appears in the Lonely Planet Guide to Croatia, which illustrates the contrasts of the old and the new in 21st Century Zagreb.

I’ve mentioned the word 'Viceroy' a couple of times, but specific attention should be paid to Josip Jelačić. An unlikely ‘hero’ of Croatia, Jelačić was born in Serbia in 1801, was educated in Vienna and made a name for himself in a daring raid against the Turks in the Serbia-dominated Krajina region. Far from leading the charge for independence, Jelačić fought for the Habsburgs (the ruling House of Austria at the time, which lasted for six centuries) against revolutionary movements in Hungary and Vienna. Having successfully quelled the uprising, Jelačić and the Croatians expected that their demands for greater self-rule would be met by a grateful Austria: it was not the case. A new reactionary government in Vienna clamped down viciously on Croatia, closing the parliament and suspending the constitution. Jelačić’s presence in Zagreb’s main square is testament to the fact that he was the one who sounded the death knell for Habsburg rule.

We got back to the hotel about 6pm and, sipping a Martini Bianco, I relaxed in a hot bath laced with foam bath before we headed out for dinner about 8pm. We walked the short distance back to Trg bana Jelačića and once against passed the towering Cathedral of the Assumption of the blessed Virgin Mary. We dined at Kaptolska Klet, a restaurant recommended by the Lonely Planet guide. The restaurant was lovely, with very fluffy comfortable seating in an enclosed courtyard so close to the main square, but feeling quite far away. After our arrival, it started to get very busy and one thing I noticed is that the men in Croatia are very tall, very much like the Wimbledon Tennis Champion, Goran Ivanisevic. For dinner, I ate a prawn cocktail to start, following by Duck with grilled vegetables and sautéed potatoes. For the two of us, the two-course and a bottle of house wine cost KN385 (EUR55/GBP37), a bargain considering the quality of the food.

We made our way back to the hotel via the Medieval Quarter, strolling down Tkalčićeva with its many bars and restaurants. Above us, you could see the stars, a rare site in Helsinki these days due to the bright summer nights. In bed before midnight, I happily went to sleep – it had been a long day, the perfect start to what was sure to be a perfect holiday!

Day 2 – Zagreb to Plitvice via Karlovac

After a buffet breakfast, we went for a stroll to the south of our hotel, touching on the Lower Town which we hadn’t visited the previous day. We passed the five star Esplanade Hotel by the railway station, admiring the hotel’s rather impressive fountain. At 11am, it was already quite warm, heading for the late twenties. We backed on ourselves, strolling across the lawns of Tomislavov Square, named after the first ruler of the region who was crowned in AD 925.

A bit further on, in the distance, we could see the Art Pavilion (picture above), followed by the Strossmayer Gallery which houses a collection of art donated to the city by Bishop Strossmayer in 1884. As we entered Park Zrinjevac, a very nationalist-looking statue grabbed my attention, signifying some kind of comradeship of yesteryear.

After sitting for a while in the leafy shade afforded by the trees that towered above us, we headed back to our hotel just across the road. We quickly checked out, loaded up the car and headed towards the A1 – our destination was Karlovac. The journey was an interested one during which I made many conclusions; the people here love to speed on the motorways, there’s a significant number of road tolls and the motorways are designed in a way to provide very boring views of the landscape. We stopped at some point to ask someone to point us in the right direction and, once we set of again, we passed a number of villages that contained houses which appeared to have been sprayed with machine gun fire during the Bosnian war; these remnants serve as a reminder of the fighting that broke out in the region less than 20 years ago.

A little bit further along, we parked along the side of the road, wishing to take in the view of the river that meandered deep below to our right. Nearby, was a roadside ice cream stand selling, as well, local cheeses. We tasted some of them, but settled instead for an ice cream; it was warm and I was thankful for the air conditioning in our car.

Below us, we could hear the crash of the waterfalls and the splash of the rapids. When we continued, the car drove over a bridge where a sign indicated that the small picturesque village below was called Grad Slunj.

Shortly afterwards, the landscape become very forested and, just after 1pm, we arrived in Plitvice. We checked into Hotel Jezero, in the heart of the Plitvice Lakes National Park. The national park covers an area of 19.5 hectares of wooded hills enclosing 16 turquoise lakes linked by cascading waterfalls. Wooden footbridges follow the lakes and streams over, under and across the rumbling water for 18km. In 1979, UNESCO proclaimed the park a World Heritage Site, guaranteeing the preservation of the lakes.

We spent the whole day ambling along the well-crafted walkways, listening to the constant flow of water and marvelling at being able to see the bottom of the lakes awash with fish. It takes a while to get used to the numbering of the various locations in the park, but we took the bus to ST4, the highest point in the park, and then walked down to P2, took a boat to P3 and walked to ST1 via the biggest waterfall. It was a blisteringly hot day and, wearing a vest and shorts, I had to cover up my shoulders to prevent overexposure to the sun. From ST1, we took a bus back to the hotel. Back in the hotel room, I was relieved to take off my sandals, which were admittedly not designed for the kind of walking we had done. After a hot bath and a nice shave, we headed downstairs for dinner in the on-site restaurant.

The restaurant, packed with elderly travellers, is a stopping point for day-trippers as well as those staying in any of the few hotels in the area. Otherwise, the area is tastefully undeveloped, ensuring that the nature itself remains the focus. For dinner, I ate Smoked Ham, followed by Sautéed Pork and Fruit Tart, all washed down with a bottle of Croatian Rosé. Lovely!

We had an after-dinner drink in the bar before heading to bed around 11pm. As I moisturised Bree’s dry feet, we chatted about the trip so far; I felt like I had been away for a week already because we had seen so much in such a short period of time.

Day 3 – Plitvice to Sibenik via Zadar

Since we had covered the whole of the National Park’s routes the previous day, we decided to continue with our journey after a breakfast of cereal, sandwiches and fruit. As we passed the somewhat deserted town of Korenico, we saw many homes with bullet holes; it seems that the owners have still not returned to their homes.

As we emerged from the forested hilly region, the landscape gave way to sprawling planes stretching for as far as the eye could see; this reminded me of an early morning view of the planes in South Africa a couple of years ago (read about that trip here), the strands of grass swaying in the wind. The roads were in surprisingly good condition; with houses still bearing the scars of machine gun fire, one would be forgiven for thinking that the condition of the roads might be substandard. Speeding along the A1, we entered a series of tunnels, the longest of which was some 5.6kms long, a fantastic way to get to our intend destination faster rather than navigate the hilly terrain.

We arrived at Zadar just after noon, the main town in the northern Dalmatia region. People have lived in Zadar since the 9th Century BC, becoming a Roman municipality in the 1st Century BC. The city wasn’t an important one for the Romans, but when the Empire divided, Zadar became the capital of Byzantine Dalmatia. During the 6th and 7th Centuries, the city was settled by Slav migrants and Zadar eventually fell under the authority of Croatian-Hungarian Kings. As we wandered through the picturesque Old Town, you can sense the grandeur of it’s history; in the stifling heat, we scaled the many steps to the campanile linked to the Cathedral of St. Anastasia. From the top, we took in the view of the mainland, the footbridge onto the old town as well as the nearby islands of Ugljan and Dugi Otok. Pleasure cruises passed through nearby Jazine Bay and it occurred to me just how many churches, cathedrals and monasteries there were in Zadar. If you closed your eyes, you could visualise a street scene of poor migrants passing through the market town during Roman-town Zadar.

When we returned to the bottom of the Cathedral, we took in the Old Town on foot, passing the main entrance to the Cathedral of St. Anastasia. Bree went inside for a quick tour – I wasn’t able to because I was wearing a vest and shorts, hardly the appropriate attire for entering a church! In the meantime, I stood in the shade offered by the towering cathedral while tourists rushed to and fro. When Bree returned, we continued our walk around the north of the island, passing the Franciscan Monastery and church. Soon, we reached the Western side of the city, which provided a combined view of the Forum in Zeleni Square as the Cathedral of St. Anastasia’s Campanile as a backdrop.

As we left the city, we grabbed some sandwiches, settling down on the harbour-side of Jazine Bay. Heading off one again, we took the semi-coastal route towards Split, bound in fact for Sibenik; The route was interspersed with scenes comparable to the industry-based towns of northern England and roads touching the very tip of the ocean just like that of the Overseas Highway to Key West in Florida. A huge bridge stretching high over the Sibenik Channel leads you to the city of Sibenik, from which people were bungee jumping. We pulled into the car park just before the bridge, and watched someone take the plunge. By god, it was something to see!

When we continued driving, we arrived into the city just before 4pm. We drove through the Old Town, which led us to the Solaric Resort, which is located just 3km from the city centre and graced its own beach, outdoor restaurants and entertainment venues across a number of different accommodations suitable for all types of holidaymaker. Before heading back into the Old Town for dinner, we bathed on the pebbly beach and I braved the cold water of the Adriatic Sea twice, a welcome relief from the late afternoon heat. We walked around the resort, returning to our room just after 7pm – I made a round of Bacardi and Coke and watched a documentary about Sibenik on TV, which was being to the hotel residents, featuring lot’s of aerial views and flyover footage…it was beautiful!

We arrived at the on-site Dalmatian Village, a restaurant set in a block-paved courtyard in traditional style with an outdoor fireplace and table-side singers setting the mood. All the staff dashed around taking orders and delivering food and drink, dressed in traditional wear. We order the Sword of Sibenik, an assortment of meats grilled and presented on skewers in a crossed-swords formation, which we ate with french fries and salad together with a bottle of Debit, a local dry white wine. Lovely!!

After a desert of ice cream, we walked in near-darkness to the Palm Beach Bar, an outdoor feast of live music where, like in Estonia, people danced like crazy to the likes of I’m So Excited and Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff. After a bit of wander, we found our way back to the apartment, ready for nothing but sleep after another hot, long, but fun day.