"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>zagreb . . . no fancy title

>so i´d been to croatia before, but i don´t think i knew how much like vienna or prague that zagreb really is. architecture and scents and breezes and faces. steeples rose up like a gift to the sky-gods. cafes and churches nestled in little nooks and small thoroughfares. outdoor fruit and veg markets with people competing to sell the sweetest peaches and the juicest cherries. although i feel like i am suffering from a deplorable lack of curiositzy. when i used to backpack three years ago, i would take bus tours, walking tours, audio tours…any tour i could find to help me learn about the place i was in…i haven´t been doing that on this trip. only once in istanbul, that´s it. granted, i haven´t seen any other city that offers something like that, tourism is so new to so many of these places. but i really have been kind of floating in and out of cities.

me, all sweaty and gross under the blazing heat of mid-june.

stages and hip hop concerts that everyone ignores.

love, scratched into stone.

seriously, this is a vienna-clone!

this funicular cost 4 kuna (about 80 cents) and took me up to the old part of the city which rests on a hill.

going up

look out there.

so many quiet streets to run down….to run away in.

i then climbed up the lotrscak tower which has a 360 degree view of the city.

that church over there has a roof decorated like the croat flag.

looks like italy. tastes like chicken.


in this video, i decided i wanted everyone to hear what i´ve been listening to on my mp3 player. so i put my earplugs up to the camera´s microphone and started filming…watch this the whole way through. i spontaneously decided at the end to lift the camera up to the heavens, and it fits with the descrescendo of the song.

http://www.youtube.com/get_player

awww…..pussy.

fountains and street lamps.

this is the entrance to the stone gate, one old entrance to the city.

they´ve turned the underpass of the gate into an altar to remember those lost in the recent serb-croat war.



names are chipped into the bricks…and the bricks go on forever.




whirling and winding streets.


this is the dolac..the fruit n´veg market. i was in vegetarian-heaven.

i bought peaches, nectarines, cherries, cucumbers and tomatoes.





in the sticky-calm of the evening, i took a bus north of the city to the mirogoj cemetery, which is reputed to be the most beautiful cemetery in all of europe. the reputation is right. all of the tombs and altars and graves were the most ornate i´ve ever seen and i could not get over the thought, care, and artistry people put into honouring the dead.


yes, that is indeed a tomb.







why is jesus doing the Saturday-Night-Fever-disco dance?





i sat with antonija for a while. i ate cherries and told her my secrets. her photo, embossed in the granite, said little. she is a good listener.

driton, who has been to zagreb before, recomended i go to a place called Jarun, a man-made lake complex, where i was able to swim with swans and bronze on the hot stones. the sun was almost laughing at me. old men in speedos, kids slurping ice cream, couple zapping, girls sunning themselves. i lay in the calm waters and floated up, closing my eyes, wishing he was with me.

(an excerpt from my personal journal as i was thinking of driton and travelling to sarajevo…)

it is a bizarre thing, being on a train for so long, but also calming. i read my book, plucked from the exchange at hostels, and i eat my peaches, sucking down on the meat, trying not to let a drop of juice spill on my chin or thighs. i listen to music i´ve heard countless times on my mp3 player and gaze out at the green beyond the window. little villages and hamlets nestle into the burrow and curve of mountains. sometimes climbing beyond where they reasonably should. the eye immediately goes to the church steeple or bell tower one will inevitably find there. eastern europe is no different from the west. churches are necessary no matter how remote from civilization. except in kosovo. there, the orthodox churches remain gutted skeletons from the war. instead, the eye from the train looks for the mosques. the domes and prayer chants rise high like a steeple. birds nest there like they would in the beams of a church. they don´t pray. birds have no religion. and they live longer than the kosovars.”

i am in sarajevo. more on that later. the 4th warzone i have been to in my life (beirut, berlin, kosovo, and now here.) bullets and motars. beautiful and mine.

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3 responses

  1. HELP! I need assistance sorting out my blog, like my boring title. You’re a writer, any ideas? We’ll discuss once you get back! Enjoy the rest of your travels.

    June 29, 2008 at 9:40 PM

  2. Anonymous

    Just wanted to let you know: you might be sweaty at times but never gross. Always stunning.And sadly, no, I’ve never slept with you. 😉

    July 4, 2008 at 7:33 AM

  3. Ante

    You mean to say vienna is clone of zagreb 🙂

    October 16, 2011 at 3:17 PM

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