Getting around Croatia by means of the occasional Vegetable Stand

Getting around Croatia

 by means of the occasional Vegetable Stand

(Pictures from Croatia will be forthcoming in the next post. For now, here's an amusing little story that happened to me yesterday.)

          Croatia is a hoot. Things are not quite as developed here as what we're used to.  For instance, the shelves in grocery stores are not really very full, and don't bother going looking for over the counter pain relievers in any regular store, shop, or grocery: you need a pharmacy for that.  The local bus service apparently likes to make changes at random, not only to their timetables, but also to the location of their bus stops. They do have tourist information offices, here, even in the smaller towns; I dutifully went to one because I was in fact in search of the local bus stop. 

Unfortunately, the woman who actually worked at the tourist information office wasn't really quite sure exactly where the bus stop was currently located.  She said she'd called the bus company last week, and they told her it was in front of Kamik, which was caddy corner from her office, across a traffic roundabout.  Hmmmm…so she's supposedly little more than a stone's throw from this town's bus stop, but she's not 100% sure it's where she says it is, AND she works for tourist information…very interesting. 

In fact I had just come from the establishment called Kamik because they advertised bike rentals.  Their rentals were too expensive compared to other prices I had seen online for the area, so instead I asked them where the bus stop was.  Again, a lot of shadiness on the location of the bus stop:  the girl said it used to be just in front of them, but then they put the "rondo" in (I take it that is the local word for traffic circle, because that is what I now see in front of their shop).  She said when they put the rondo in they moved the bus stop, and she's not sure where it went.  Hmmmm, I'm thinking they couldn't have moved it all that far, could they?  Maybe they decided that with all the improved traffic flow from the newly installed rondo, the citizens and visitors to Banjole wouldn't need access to the bus anymore?  lol!

Well, back to the lady at the information desk…so I told her of my conversation with the girl at Kamik, and how she'd said the bus stop wasn't there anymore…but the information desk lady just repeated that she called the bus company last week, and that's where they said it was.  Ok.  Then she said, "That's the problem here, they are always changing things. We're not very organized." I think she was apologizing.  She might have had the feeling that things weren't quite living up to expectations of visitors from other European countries, what with Croatia just having newly joined the EU.  I think they are under some pressure to get up to speed with various things, Euros being one of them. Croatia, while in the EU, does not yet use the Euro for currency.  So I had to cash in my 50 Euro note, and when I did, I got 327 kuna back!  Oh boy. I'm going to have to keep my calculator handy in order to understand how much anything costs here! The information desk lady said that the bus fare, for instance, is 15 kuna.  That sounded expensive to me, but after calculations I discovered it's only about $2.25--still kind of pricey for a local bus ticket, but I didn't have much other choice!

So, we covered bus stops, bus fare, and now I just needed the bus schedule.  Much to my surprise, again because she works at the tourist information office, she didn't have any printed bus schedules ready to go.  However, she was very quick to offer to print one for me off the internet.  Interestingly enough, after printing it, she proceeded to write a whole bunch of extra and different times on it, referencing a little post-it note she had on her desk with hand-written scrawls on it. She explained again that they have made some changes, and told me she thought these times she had written would work.  Ok! I guessed that was about all the information I could glean from Tourist Information, and off I went in search of the bus stop.

           

I walked beyond the Kamik bike rental shop to see if a bench sitting in the grass might be the bus stop.  Hmmm, no signage, and also it seemed to be on the wrong side of the road.  I figured I better cross the road and continue my search on the other side.  Directly across the way was a roadside vegetable stand with a big shade umbrella in front.  In the midday heat it was a little bit enticing.  I figured I could ask the lady there, and also, maybe buy some fresh grapes, or a nectarine or something.  The shade was quite inviting.  When I asked her if she knew where the bus stop was, she said, why yes! The bus stop, in fact, was right in front of  her vegetable stand!  Hmmmm…I looked around again, and I saw no signage or other indication that this was in fact a bus stop.  But she looked at her watch, and said, "Yeah, it should be coming soon."  Well, if she works at her vegetable stand every day, I don't think I can argue with her if she says this is where the bus stop is. So, I planted myself in the shade of her umbrella, checked my watch (11:55) and proceeded to wait for the bus.  According to the bus schedule, there should be one at 12:00 noon, plus the vegetable stand lady had also looked at her watch and said, "Yeah, it should be here soon."  So, I had some hope that I was in the right place, and would soon be on my way.  It was while waiting there that I noticed the restaurant next door to the stand was also called Kamik…..

By 12:15 there was still no sign of the bus. A couple of cars had pulled in to buy things at the stand, and each time they did, I thought to myself, "Hey! you're blocking the bus stop!" ha ha ha!  Finally, another car pulled in, a black Audi with two nicely dressed tourists.  They rolled down the window and, without getting out, called out to ask directions to Prementura.  Funnily enough, that's where I was going, so I pointed down the road, in the direction of where I hoped to be able to take the bus soon.  In the meantime the vegetable stand lady came over to answer their question too.  When they asked her where Prematura was, she pointed down the road, then she pointed to me, and put her hand on my shoulder, and said to the people, in a rather directive but friendly voice, "She's going to Prematura, you take her there."  Then she said to them, "You're Italiano?" to which they nodded, "Ahh," the lady said, "she is Deutsch (pointing to me), you take her to Prematura."  "OK," they said, looking a little befuddled, but nonetheless agreeable. Then the vegetable stand lady looked at me and said, "You go with them. They go to Prematura."  And that was that.  Even though I'm not really German, of course, and I don't know where she got that idea, it all worked out! 

           

I guess in a country where things don't always run the way they are supposed to, perhaps people get rather used to just figuring things out for themselves.  Maybe they're just so used to improvising because they often have to, and so it comes naturally to simply work out a practical solution, especially when it presents itself so readily like that.  I really liked the vegetable stand lady's attitude, and she really made my day.  I couldn't speak much with the Italians though, as they didn't speak English or French, and I didn't speak Italian or German (not being German that is!), but we had a pleasant enough ride down to Prementura.

            Once we got there, the Italians dropped me off  and went on their way to the nature reserve that's there.  It's supposedly loaded with what I read are some of the most beautiful beaches anywhere.  That's exactly where I has headed, but first I had to go to the other bike rental shop I had read about.  (I couldn't just ride with the Italians all the way to the park, because it's a large park that merits exploring, and it's crisscrossed with bike and walking trails.  Some of the best beaches are only accessible by foot.)  Turns out the Italians had dropped me off right around the corner from the rental shop.  Quelle chance!

So, I went in to rent the bike, but that will have to start the next story (and there is another story)… Turns out Croatia is full of stories!  Or rather, perhaps, Croatia is full of the ability to generate stories! That's all for today though, as I'm exhausted after riding my bike all over the nature reserve, hiking up and down to beaches, and swimming in the Adriatic sea. Until next time…

Blvd François Grosso

Blvd François Grosso

My accommodations while here in Nice have been with a French family.  We live in their condo which fully takes advantage of the Mediterranean cultural style of combining indoor and outdoor living spaces.  Most of the rooms in the house, including the bedrooms, transition seamlessly into outdoor living spaces.  It was while living here that I grew accustomed to drinking coffee in the French (also Italian) style:  a simple espresso.  Now I'm hooked!

We're lucky in this building to have access to a great outdoor space, especially since they have a dog, and it makes a convenient place to take her out regularly.  The dog's name is Ava, and she and I became fast friends.  In fact, we became such good buddies, that the family bought me this representative charm bracelet as a way of thanking me for occupying myself with her: she certainly would not have gotten as many outings this summer if it hadn't been for me.  Below, her alien eyes glow in the flash of the camera as I snapped a photo of her in her preferred place to sleep: my room! ;)

The view from the kitchen terrace. 

Coffee, the French way.

The kitchen terrace and Ava.

My gift, for taking care of Ava.

Glow-in-the-dark Ava, bedside in my room.

Eze Village

Eze Village

The village of Eze, or Eze Village, as it's known, in order to distinguish it from its neighbor Eze-sur-Mer (Eze by the sea), sits perched atop it's eagle's nest location at a stunning 1,401 ft above sea level.  Inhabitants of the area date back to 2000 BC, though the fortified village en haut was apparently constructed by members of the House of Savoy (a ruling family from Italy) in the 1300's. 

Today Eze Village is a quaint tourist stop for those vacationing along the French Riviera.  It's old stone houses have mostly been transformed, like those of other hill top villages, into shops, galleries, and restaurants.  Interestingly, however, some of the former residences of Eze Village have been co-opted by two hotels.  Thus, if you feel like staying in this eagle's nest village, you can rent rooms in what used to actually be private homes datingback to the 14^th century.  In this manner, the hotels actually own perhaps a third to one half of all the structures in the village. It's an interesting sort of arrangement because you have to walk along the old streets to get the front door of "your room." 

There also exists a walking path that connects Eze-sur-Mer with Eze Village.  It was apparently favored by the philosopher Nietzsche in the 1800's for his daily walk.  This area in the South of France, however, gets very hot during the summer, and there are parts of the trail with little shade: I for one would not walk it in midday in summer.  However, Nietzsche supposedly loved doing so, and it was during this time that he wrote his third work, Ainsi Parlait Zarathoustra.  They say it was actually heat-induced hallucinations that inspired his thinking in this important piece of work for him.  I, myself, walked his path, but only in the downhill direction.  I waited for divine inspiration to strike me too, perhaps a few thoughts on how to solve world peace….I may in fact have had some revelations, but if so, I think I forgot them after leaving the trail!  Regardless, the trail offers spectacular views on the way down, as shown below.

This is Eze Village as seen from afar.

In order to get the best views from atop the town, you have to pay 6 euros to enter the "Jardin Exotique," which houses a collection of cacti from all over the world.  I'm not sure what the connection is, but it's well worth it for the stunning views. 

A view of Eze-sur-Mer down below.

I can't help thinking I would have been friends with her,
had we been alive at the same time! ;)

Some paintings in the ancient Cathedral of the town.  I've found that many of the old religious paintings actually feature some pretty disturbing images, as that seen below.
One wonders what induced this poor soul's fate.

Views from Nietzsche's path.

Ile St. Marguerite

Ile St. Marguerite

Ile St. Marguerite, part of the island group known as the Lérins, lies directly off the coast of Cannes.  Ile St. Marguerite is a nature reserve, no cars allowed, and is home to Fort Royal, a fortress dating back to 1635.  Without realizing it, you may actually be familiar with a story related to this former prison, as it is none other than the site of captivity of the now famous prisoner known as "The Man in the Iron Mask."  Apparently to this day, the true identity of that prisoner remains a mystery.  Now a museum, passersby can walk directly into the very cell that held this poor soul, as did I.  Contrary to my imagination which had him in a dark, dank basement dungeon, he actually had a sunny cell with a view of the sea—little consolation, however, for spending the rest of your life locked up with an iron mask to boot. 

The rest of the island is hiking trails, but it's mostly flat, with little shade, and not much diversity of scenery.  Thus I found the best part to simply be relaxing at the various beaches, swimming in the crystal turquoise waters of the Mediterranean, and taking in some food and wine afterward at one of the handful of establishments on the island that must take delivery of all their supplies by boat each day.  

Looking back towards the coastline of Cannes

Fort Royal, former home of The Man in the Iron Mask, circa 1635

In case you forget you're not in Kansas anymore...

Monaco

Monaco

Any visit to Nice is not complete without a visit to the Principality of Monaco, which is just a hop, skip, and a jump away.  Monaco is really just a city, but it's a country too, owned and ruled by descendants of the Grimaldi family, who hailed originally from Italy. They first gained control of "The Rock" (the rocky promonatory which houses the castle) in the 13th century.  The 1st Grimaldi character to establish control over what was to become Monaco was a tricky fellow. There was already a walled fortress of sorts up on the rock, and he sneakily gained entry by disguising himself as a monk, only later tossing his robes aside and staking his claim.  More than 800 years later his descendants still live in the castle atop "Le Rocher," as it's known in French.  Some people are confused by also hearing talk of Monte Carlo, as if it's a separate city. But no, Monte Carlo is merely the name of an area in the city of Monaco, situated on a different hill (anyone from Seattle can understand how different neighborhoods would be located on different hills).  Also the name Monte Carlo is world renowned because of the famous casino bearing the same name. 

Monaco is tiny:  apparently it's not even able to claim 1 full square mile of area.  However, it's not lacking in money.  Lots and lots of really wealthy people live there, whether they are Monegasque or not (that's the official name for people who are citizens there).  So, without space to expand sideways, Monaco is built UP, like New York city.  When you are on a boat, cruising along the coast of the south of France, you can easily tell when you have begun to pass in front of Monaco, and when you have passed back to the coastline of France:  all of a sudden there are a bajillion high-rises from the edge of the sea, halfway up the mountainside, then equally as suddenly, the view goes back to lush green hills dotted here and there with a villa or petite village.  There's not much else for me to say about Monaco.  I visited the Palace of the Prince and the former home of Princess Grace of Monaco (our beloved American Princess), I saw her grave next to her Prince Ranier's, I saw the church where they were married, I walked around Le Rocher, and went and saw a bit of the Monte Carlo Casino.  

There were pretty neat views from the boat which bore me there.  I recommend going by "bateau" as I did. You get incredible views along the coast line on the way there and back, and if you have a guide they will also likely point out, as mine did, the various villas of the rich and famous along the way, which included (some are former owners) those of:  Bono, Julien Lennon, Charlie Chaplin, David Niven, Elizabeth Taylor, Sean Connery, Paul Allen, Elton John, Madonna, the Rolling Stones, the King of Belgium, etc. 

Monaco in all its glory.

Monaco harbor.

Monaco harbor.

The Oceanographic Institute,
spectacularly perched on the edge of the rock.

The western edge of "The Rock" and part of the Prince's Palace. Also seen is Monaco's smaller boat port.

Approaching the edge of the Rock by boat.
The side of the Prince's Palace is visible. 

A strangely modern building sits in the midst of ancient ruins
on the Rock. 

This is part of the Prince's Palace. The white flag seen flying above the tower indicates that the Prince is at home. Friendly guy!

The Cathedral where Grace Kelly married Prince Ranier.
They are both buried in here as well. 

Monte Carlo Casino

The stunning lobby of the Casino. Unfortunately,
if you're not gambling, that's about as far as you can go!

This one's for Louie:  there were some old posters on display of performances that had been held over the years at the Monte Carlo Opera House. This one, for the uninitiated, displays a scene from Afternoon of a Faun, by Nijinsky.

If you brought any little ones, you can put them on the carousel while you sit and have coffee outside the casino while overlooking the sea. Beware any who think it would be fun to ride: there's a strict upper age limit of 8.  Sorry!  

St. Paul de Vence, Cagnes Sur Mer, & Renoir

St. Paul de Vence    Cagnes Sur Mer    Renoir 

      So France, like Spain, has a lot of "perched" villages, as they are called.  They are tiny little hamlets that were built on the tippy-top of peaks in the old, old, olden days. They are usually surrounded by a stone wall complete with a gate, so you can let in your friends and keep out your enemies. (Hey, I guess that makes them kind of like an ooooold version of facebook, ha!)  Like Nice's vieille ville, these old towns have streets that are too narrow for cars. In fact, some of the streets, as you can see in one of the photos below, is almost too narrow for anyone who might have eaten a little bit too much pasta at dinner! Today, these villages are mostly for tourists and those who serve tourists.  The old 'maisons' have been converted into shops, galleries, boutiques, restaurants and bars, plus a few charming hotels.  St. Paul de Vence is one such town, perched above the hills of Cagnes Sur Mer which is, itself, just down the coast from Nice. 

     Cagnes Sur Mer is where Renoir lived and raised his children, painting and sculpting the whole time, and apparently, also hosting a steady parade of other artists contemporary to his time.  His old chateau  is now the home of the Renoir Museum.  My favorite part of this museum was a room on the 2^nd floor which held a painting of a landscape.  The landscape in the painting was of the view that could be seen out of a window in the room. The window was the one right next to where the painting was hung.  It almost made me feel like I was standing next to Renoir himself.  Here was his painting of what he saw while he looked out this window, and there I was looking out the same window.  Pretty cool. ;

A charming mailbox painted with a scene of the village itself. You can see it painted right over the slot where the letters go.

Another painted mailbox scene of the village from afar. 

Quaint streets of St. Paul de Vence

Some tourist, sitting on the edge of the town water source.
Those Americans!

Ok, this looks like a stairwell, but this is an ACTUAL STREET, with a street sign and everything. This is the one you might not want to walk up after indulging in too much pasta & wine!

One of the "main" streets, with shops and galleries.

The view from the south edge of town, at the Rampart.
Below is the cemetary (no room inside the walls!),
and in the distance is the Mediterranean. 

Renoir's painting, hanging on the 2nd floor of his old house next to the window that held this particular view. Below is the view out of that same window.