Croatia

Northern Italy had been a bit of a let down, but now I was headed to Croatia, a country outside the schengen region of Europe, and to be honest a bit of an unknown. Croatia has turned out to be the biggest surprise of my trip so far. I had expected an eastern bloc country, with some beaches, cheap everything, and a bunch of massive guys guys whose names ended in –ic. While there were some distinctly eastern bloc aspects (they drive Lada’s!), things were cheap, and everyones name did end in –ic, Croatia turned out to be spectacular. 

I ended up visiting the cities of Rijeka, Opatja, Crikvenice, Zadar, Split and Dubrovnik, and the islands of Hvar, Korcula and Kornati national park, and they were all beautiful, vibrant and immaculate. All the cities were beach side towns perched on steep mountain faces, with red roofed and white walled houses crowding up the slopes, usually up to a castle or church of some kind. The islands were all tropical paradises, with laid back lifestyles, beautiful old city centres and the clearest water you’ve ever seen. 

The people were also great. Interestingly, for a country that makes a lot of money through tourism, they don’t really like tourists that much. Apparently they sort of got over them a few years ago when they started buying property and driving house prices up. So the service could be a bit hit or miss, but this didn’t matter as they’re all such nice people anyway that their version of rude, was the equivelant of the best service in Australia. The physical appearance of the people here is definitely unique. The men all start adulthood as the most gigantic strong strapping units, then at some point around the age of 40 they shrink by a foot, develop extremely impressive beer bellies, grow moustaches, and start donning budgy smugglers and strutting the beach with hubric levels of pride. 

Ladies, the captian is here. Climb aboard the love cruise.

But there’s something about the big fat Croatian men that is funny and respectable all at the same time. Fat people in America, Australia and Britain just seem revolting, and I think it’s because they tend to wear it with such shame. As a result what we see are unhappy pale white blobby people who sit stuffing their faces with Sundae’s which no matter how delicious and chocolatey can’t overcome the misery that is their obesity. Croatia’s fatties just say ‘screw it’ and sit proudly sunning their mighty bellies until they are dark brown, while munching on an ice cream in one hand, and knocking back a 600mL Croat beer with the other. Also they have moustaches. Maybe that’s the key. 

Yep, definitely the moustaches.

 Another unique feature of the men here involves their hair lines. Western men’s hairlines are shaped by genetics. Croatian men’s hairlines appear to be shaped by knife wounds. Nature generally doesn’t work in straight lines, but I’ll be damned if the Croatian men’s scalps don’t. 

The woman have less of a mid life mutation, and more of logical progression. The girls here are stunning. Tanned, tall, and either topless or dressed in Fluoro. All these are great things for the immediate future, less great after decades of these trends. Tanned, topless and fluorescent eventually turns into leathery, droopy and age innappropriate. But again, they love it, and strut their stuff for the moustachioed men on the beach just like they were back in their 20s again, fluorescent thong and all.

Another great/potentially dangerous thing about the Croats is their love of Grappa (probably spelt wrong). Grappa is home made liquor, which is made by fermenting pretty much anything you want. The rule is, if it’s got sugar in it, it can be grappa. It is usually flavoured with herbs or fruit, and served in extremely tasteful bottles shaped like naked women, wild animals, or my favourite: a chicken, but at the end of the day it just tastes like rocket fuel. And they love it! Here are some of the times I was offered grappa:

After a lovely meal at a very nice seafood restaurant

After agreeing to the price of the room I was renting

At a bar after the owner poured me the wrong drink

At 9am on board a ship as we headed out to see a national park

At 10am on board a ship as we headed out to see a national park

And my personal favourite, by a lady who was washing my clothes for me after the washing machine took a little too long to finish. I ended up having three shooters with her between 11:40am and 12pm, just an hour after I’d woken up, and before I’d had breakfast. 

I would have fallen in love with Croatia even if I’d been travelling solo, but I was lucky enough to have great company the entire length of my stay. The first person I met up with was my one time high school sweet heart and now very good friend Tabea. Tabea is from Switzerland, and was an exchange student at my school, and while we’ve both been bouncing between different corners of the world, and leading very different walks of life, we’ve stayed in touch, and are still great friends after all this time. Tabea was just taking a week off work to get some much deserved rest and sun, and as somewhat of a foodie, was looking to sample some of Croatia’s delicious cuisine. Here’s a top traveller tip: If you’re backpacking, meet up with friends who work with world class chefs for their job, who are looking to pamper themselves for a week. Thanks to Tabea I ate so unbelievably well during my week in Rijeka, Opatjia and Crikvenica, living off Seafood, rissottos, long island iced teas (I lived mainly off these), and of all things I tasted truffles for the first time in my life. You know you’re really roughing it as a backpacker when you’re sitting discussing the subtler overtones of the Croatian wine you’ve just been handed, and how it complements the seafood rissotto’s liberal use of truffle oil. 

Pictured: Backpacking sellout

It was a great week, and it was the first part of my trip that I would say was 100% holiday. We made a token effort at culture vulturing by checking out a castle on the first day, but after that we just sort of figured, bugger it, the locals are at the beach all day drinking cocktails, that’s just what Croatian culture is.

Some highlights of my time with Tabea were:

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       * Going to Plitvice Lakes National Park. The lakes are absolutely stunning, and the fact you can’t jump in these crystal clear tiered lakes is a shame, but unfortunately that’s the only way to preserve them. Unfortunately the only way for us to see them was with a tour group, and by tour group, I mean Germans. It kind of sucked having to walk at such a slow pace, and have to wait for the rest of the group to catch up, and it also meant we couldn’t hike the more challenging but also more scenic routes around the park. But the tour guide was cool, and quite funny, and we did get to taste some more Grappa with the group when we made a stop at a road side stall.

Tabea getting arty.

So clean and pure. Shame about the Swiss girl next to it.

       * Waiting to catch our bus from Crikvenice to Rijeka and having the Bora kick up, while a bushfire burned up wind from us. The Bora is a wind that occasionally kicks up and absolutely batters the north of Croatia. You know in movies where there are people clinging to poles and being blown parralel to the ground. You could very easily do that. It was quite cool when we got to our destination in Opatjia later that day because the town itself was quite sheltered from the wind, but the waves hitting the shore were quite huge by Croatian standards and so we got a bit of a show while we lay by the beach.

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        * Renting a room from an old lady who loved Tabea and gave me greasies every time Tabea turned her back. In Croatia there are barely any hostels, an hotels are quite expensive, so you generally get rooms of people who are renting out part of their house. You can’t book these ahead of time, so you just rock up in town, get off your bus, and there’ll be a whole bunch of hawkers greeting you as you step off, with little photo albums of pictures of rooms and beds that are usually from different places, that you haggle with and then after you agree on a price, get driven bythem to your new room for the night. It actually works quite well, and you generally can get a room for about $20-$25 a night, which is brillant when there’s two of you, and not too bad when it’s just one. The only really bizarre thing about it is that apparently there's a law dictating that each room must have a picture of a child holding an animal on the wall.

·     * Watching Tabea wrestle with a fish that had been cooked whole while we were at a fancy restaurant. Tabea had been under the impression we’d be getting fillets, but nope. Whole fish, eyes, head, fins and all. We left the restaurant with me stuffed silly, and Tabea craving a kebab.

Apart from that it was just a great week hanging out with one of my best friends in a tropical paradise, eating good food, drinking good drinks, and laughing our asses off while we slowly turned the colour and shape of the locals. 

The time with Tabea was brilliant, but unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and I had to return from the heights of being a champagne backpacker. After Tabea left, I stayed in Zadar with an awesome couchsurfing host called Boris. Boris is Zadar born and bred, and he was an absolute gentleman who showed me around, watched the olympics with me, cooked me some amazing food (first night he had like 5kg of mussels cooked in olive oil, garlic, and herbs waiting for me which we downed with some local wine), and taught me about Croatia. We also ventured out into Zadar at night to check out the local scene and he gave me some Croatian woman appeciation lessons. Once again, an amazing host who was extremely knowledgable and proud of his part of the world.

Boris and myself at the very scenic Zadar bus station.

View from Boris' roof. The juxtaposition of the world's prettiest sunset and the world's ugliest handstand.

 While I was in town, I managed to snag myself a free haircut (they were giving free haircuts on the street, what a country!) which turned out brilliantly after I told the hairdresser who spoke barely any english ‘Sexy!’ when she asked me how I wanted it cut. 

She really had to concentrate to even get close to sexxy.

I checked out the most beautiful sunset in the world (according to Alfred Hitchcock). At the vantage point for the most beautiful sunset, they have a ‘sea organ’. What it is, is a series of pipes that run from just near the water level to the pier surface. When the wash from the waves, or a passing boat hit these, they push air through and the pipes emit chords of music. It’s a simple but really beautiful idea. They also have massive lighting up disco dance floor that turns on right after the sun sets. Not quite as beautiful and simple an idea, but still very fun.

I also ventured out to Kornati national park which is a bunch of islands just off the coast of Zadar. The were seriously beautiful archipeligos, surrounded by crystal clear waters and some towering cliffs. One of the islands has a lake about 20 metres about sea level which makes for some pretty cool photo ops. I actually ventured up a mountain in my very old thongs (flip flops for the seppos reading this) in my latest edition of ill prepared hiking adventures. The view from the top was definitely worth it, but walking along razor sharp rocks with thongs that were blowing a plug every 3 steps was a bit of an ordeal, especially as I was walking through relatively thick scrub with no defined track. 

Tears

But worth it.

 One other major highlight of the day was another ‘never in Australia’ moment. The cruise ship we were on was a four story boat about 12 metres high. We were pulled into port at our last destination, a cute little town whose entire economy was based on selling ice cream to tourists. I wasn’t too keen on an ice cream, so I asked the captain if I could jump off the top of the boat. Expecting a no, I thought it was hilarious when he said ‘Yes, but only once’. When asking why only once he said ‘because if you do it multiple times you’ll get the ship wet and someone else might slip. You have to dry off before coming back on’. I love it. So simple, very reasonable, and also, really really fun. I even convinced them to let me do it twice after I dried off, and this time got a 55 year old Norwegian guy to do it with me.

The only other incident of note was during lunch when they served us their home made wine. I was sitting with a family of German’s (of course) with 4 quite young kids, aged between about 6 and 10. I cracked open the wine that was in an unmarked brown long neck bottle and gestured to the German couple, who spoke no english, as to whether they wanted wine. They nodded and I poured three glasses. The Dad then looked at me a little confused, and then proceeded to pour four more glasses for the children. I went to gesture that ‘no this is wine, they are kids’ but then remembered this was Europe and this family probably diluted their baby formula in beer. Anyway, the kids being kids grabbed it and downed it pretty quickly, especially the youngest boy. The parents then took a sip, took another sip, looked very concerned, then took another sip before quickly grabbing the glasses off the kids and glaring at me like I’d made the kids drink it as a practical joke. The best bit was when the youngest yanked the glass away from the mum as she tried to grab it, and downed the last of his glass before she could get it off him. 

From Zadar I then travelled to a couple of the Islands, the first of which was Korcula. There I was staying with a guy who I’d found on couchsurfing.com. During the summer he offered discount beds for couchsurfing members, and he said I could crash in the storage room for about 8 euro a night. The guys name was Dragan and he turned out to be a bit of a character. And by character, I mean sleazy middle aged island dude. He fancied himself as quite the lothario, and he hit on every girl who stayed at the hostel. If the girls were playing in the pool he was in there in a flash playing very physical (ie handsy) defense in water basketball, and then once he’d creeped everyone out of the pool, he’d start doing laps of butterfly to show off his skills. Tragically the pool was about 5 metres long meaning he just sort of looked like he was flapping about like a special kid. He was also incredibly shifty, charging people full price then when they got there chucking them in the broom cupboard with me. We averaged 5 people in my room per night, which funnily enough was exactly the room available on the floor. My favourite moment I had with him was one morning where he came into my room and told me ‘Hey couchsurfer, you need to clean this room up, it’s a fucking mess…..and you need to put your bag against the wall so we can clean the floor, it’s a fucking mess…..and dude…..clean your fucking feet man’.

But funnily enough Dragan ended up making the whole experience really fun. For one the hostel was packed full, and anyone who was a little precious left immediately and headed into town to pay a little more money for a lot more luxury. And he was a trooper with driving us around to different places, like to a cliff we could jump off into the sea (although we had packed about 20 people into a van made for 7 with two on the back and one of them may have fallen off a little bit). But most of all, he gave everyone a common enemy, and we all sort of banded together and quickly became really good friends. Among these friends were a group of English girls from Leeds, a mental bunch of Irish girls from Dublin, and a few Canadian and American guys, and one extremely cool Aussie girl from Rockhampton. Everyone was really cool, and we all ended up partying every night on 15 kuna ($2.50) litre bottles of wine, and generally causing hell, doing things like jumping in the ocean at night, breaking into really nice hotels so we could use their pools for a few minutes before inevitably getting kicked out, and pole dancing in the night clubs which for some reason all had multiple stripper poles. The days in Korcula were absolute bliss, and the island itself was simply paradise. 

Like I said: Paradise

Lairy Aussie

Lairy Irish girl

Lairy Poms

No, that's not a midget on the left, just a proper sized Croatian beer.

After this I headed to the island of Hvar, where I stayed with a couchsurfing host a couple of nights in his half completed beach front villa (it’s been half completed for about 20 years now, so I guess it’s completed but very very rustic). It had no running water or electricity, but when you look out over the Adriatic every night you don't sweat these sorts of things. 

You also don't sweat piling into a car with a belgium guy, two Ruskies, two Scots, an Aussie and a Lithuanian, despite the care having no suspension and barely fitting 4 normally.

 My host was a cool lad from Belgium, who was also hosting a couple from Scotland who were very cool, and also a few of his friends, and for my last night a kind of annoying couple from America. The American girl had this pearler of a quote while trying to figure out the 24 hour method of keeping time:

‘Soooo, it’s 1:30am in America time, sooooooo that makes it 25:30 right?’

I actually didn’t end up spending too much time at this place though, as the main city of Hvar (which was confusingly called Hvar) was on the other side of the island, and the crazy Irish girls from Korcula were staying there, and had invited me to come stay at theirs and attend the full moon party at a nightclub on it’s own private island. When seven completely insane but absolutely lovely girls ask you that, there’s really only one answer isn’t there. Anyway, I ended up hanging out and getting lashed with them in Hvar, and was priveleged(?) enough to witness 7 mental irish girls dissect the incidents of a lairy night the morning after first hand, which was quite an experience. It was especially fun considering that by their own measurement system, these girls were a 10 on the banter scale, and it’s nice to know that guys are actually the more innocent gender when it comes to discussing sexual exploits, at least when compared to Irish chicks. 

For a good time call these girls. Wait, not like that!...... OK, probably like that too.

Sadly after this I had to bid the girls a sad farewell, and then travel onwards to Dubrovnik for one last night in Croatia. I genuinely didn’t want to leave. I had not had a bad day in this country and could’ve stayed on those islands for months (it would’ve actually done wonders for my budget, because it’s insanely cheap). Not only had I been partying, and having a great time, I’d been swimming a couple of km’s every day or two because the water was so perfect and clear, and there weren’t any sharks to worry about, so I was actually getting some proper excercise for the first time in months, and apart from my liver was feeling fit as a fool. But I had places to be, sights to see, and so I soaked up one last night in my new favourite country. And to see off the country with Dubrovnik was like a olympic gymnast doing a flawless routine and then sticking the landing (man what a great analogy). Dubrovnik is incredibly touristy compared to the rest of Croatia, but with good reason. Its’ old city is postcard beautiful, with gorgeous limestone buildings surrounded with a huge city wall, with another dramatic coastal mountain rising in the background, and more small green islands dotted around the harbour. And the newer suburbs surrounding it were equally beautiful, and full of the same friendly locals as everywhere else in this country.

As you can guess from this blog, I’d highly recommend Croatia as a stop for anyone travelling near this part of the world. The food is great (I didn’t even mention the pastries. My diet was 50% seafood, 50% puffed pastry delights while I was here), the climate is beautiful (one windy day and then the rest of the time blue skies and mid 30’s during the day, but low 20’s at night), the entire place feels as safe if not safer than anywhere I’ve been in Europe, and the locals are comical but lovely, and on top of this it is so cheap that even a backpacker can live like a king. Anyway, after this I headed to southern Italy to see if it could make up for the disappointing north, but that is another story for another day.