Meltdown

I spent most of my half a day in Rijeka, Croatia sitting in the local McDonald’s before finally catching a bus to my real destination of Rab Island. As you may remember, I had figured out in Slovenia that I wouldn’t be able to make it all the way to Rab Island in one day given the poor and rather limited transportation options from Ljubljana to Rab. Luckily, I had been able to adjust my travel schedule and leave Ljubljana on Sunday night instead of Monday morning so that I could catch a bus from Rijeka to Rab the next morning.

I had looked up bus schedules from Rijeka to Rab Island the day before and had decided on the 10:30am bus given 6:00am, 2:30pm, and 5:30pm as other options. I arrived at the bus station to buy my ticket around 10am that morning, having just checked out of my hotel and dragged all my things across town in the already uncomfortable heat to find out that the 10:30am bus doesn’t really go to Rab Island. It only goes to Jablanac where you then have to catch a ferry and another bus to get to Rab town. Worse, the bus doesn’t even go all the way to Jablanac but just drops you off at a bus stop off the main highway from which you have to hike three kilometers down the side of the mountain to actually get to the ferry port. No thanks! I went with the recommendation to wait it out for the 2:30pm bus which would take me straight to Rab town accepting that I’d just have to kill four hours until then which is how I ended up in McDonald’s. Sometimes you just can’t beat a fountain diet Coke with ice, air conditioning, free internet, and decent bathrooms.

It was finally time for my bus to leave and after fighting my way on (you really have to get a little aggressive with the older Croatian women who consistently push their way to the very front of every line, apparently uninformed about how the concept of a line usually works), I settled in for my first of many Croatian bus rides. It took us three hours to go 120 km (75 miles) given the winding and snaking two-lane highway along the rocky coast. I had heard that Croatia was rocky but I hadn’t expected it to be so desert-like. The coast was mostly brown with rocks and small stones and had only small patches of green bushes scattered throughout, not really the lush landscape that I was expecting to find. The Adriatic was as I expected though…absolutely gorgeous blue, almost black, fading into turquoise near the rocky coast. It was really very beautiful if also very different than what I had expected.

Rab island itself was also very unique, starting out with brown desert on the south end where we arrived by ferry but then gradually becoming greener and more forested as we drove northwest to Rab town. Because of the way the island is shaped with a large mountain in the middle running northwest to southeast, the western side of the island gets and “holds on to” most of the rain and is protected a bit from the intense sun which results in a milder climate and more vegetation. Unsurprisingly, Rab town sits at the most protected central cove and is not only in a gorgeous location but is a treasure when it comes to old towns (and, believe me, after this trip I think I may qualify as an old town expert).

Rab town is famous for its four picturesque bell towers which rise above the city and extend along the narrow peninsula on which the old town sits. The old town itself is very compact and largely intact, seemingly unscathed from the WWII and Bosnian War bombings which decimated some of the other cities I visited. As with many of the old towns once under Venetian rule, the city “streets” are made of shiny marble and the homes, restaurants, and shops create a lovely labyrinth in which to get lost. I spent most of that first day roaming the Rab town streets and taking pictures. This is definitely one of those places where just when you think you’ve seen the most beautiful thing ever you turn the corner and see something that trumps it. It was really gorgeous and besides the German and Austrian families who vacation there every year, it was not nearly as crowded or touristy as I was expecting.

I was pretty hiked-out at this point given all I had done in Slovenia and really wanted to see more of Rab Island so figured I would rent a bike to go exploring. The entire island is about 60km long from end to end and I was really only interested in seeing the northern half (the southern half being the dry, desert moonscape), more specifically some of the more remote beaches and coves and another city called Lopar in the most northern branch of the island. I took off that morning and my first plan of attack was to ride to the highest point on the island to check out the views of the mainland and of all the neighboring islands. I started pedaling up the mountain roads and they just continued to get steeper and steeper…to the point that even standing on the bike on the lowest gear I wasn’t able to turn the pedals. I kept trying for a while but then couldn’t bike any more, it was just too steep. I got off the bike to walk it for a bit thinking that this might just be a very steep section and I could get back on a bit later but, no, the only option up was the steep road which just got steeper and the hiking path which was a long series of steps. I thought about carrying my bike but then thought that would sort of defeat the purpose so decided to bag the highest peak for the time being and save it for later when I wouldn’t have to climb in addition to carrying my bike. Needless to say, the ride back down was much easier (and more rewarding – I finally felt like I was getting somewhere!).

I started pedaling northwest along one of the main island roads and besides the fact that there was a decent amount of traffic, the ride was amazing. This part of the island was lush and diverse and I had a view of the sea and of some neighboring islands as I rode. I ran into a Franciscan monastery on the way and took a short break to take some pictures before heading on toward one of the more remote branches of the island. I kept cycling until I reached the end of the road, literally, and then walked my bike for a few kilometers around the farthest end of the peninsula I was on, around which there was basically a small sidewalk built right on the water. Families were sitting on the decks of their vacation homes enjoying coffee and fruit, playing in the shallow, turquoise water, and napping under the cover of trees on the walkway. I walked around the peninsula, winding my way and my bike around all of the sunbathers, until I got back to the other side and met up with another road. It was really great to get off the road for a while and see how vacation is really done on islands like these. I only wished I was staying at someone’s home on the beach instead of at my hotel in town!

I hopped back on my bike and got back on the main road, now making my way north to Lopar which supposedly had one of Rab’s nicest beaches and also a very nice nudist beach which I wanted to check out. (Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, right?) Before I could even think about beaches, I first had to get up and over the large mountain that runs along the length of the island. Thankfully, there was a bike path for most of the ride and it was a bit less steep than my first ride that morning so while it was a lot of work, it was a fun and rewarding ride. There were also some amazing viewpoints along the way from which I could see islands in every direction. After a good, long climb up I got to the top and then coasted in to Lopar and headed for the main beach.

The beach was very crowded and at this point I was starving so decided to break for lunch before figuring out where I might be able to camp out for a bit. It was hot and I had been biking all day so while I was hungry I didn’t want anything warm or too heavy. I settled on a Greek salad and then as I was ordering I noticed a bowl of fruit in the café refrigerator. I asked my waiter how much the fruit was and he told me, “Oh, no. Fruit is not for sale. That is only for to be put into desserts.” Ok. Strange, but whatever. He then said, “But we can make fruit salad. You want fruit salad?” All I wanted was something fresh and healthy and I didn’t care a bit if they cut it up, so I said, “Great! Yes, please bring fruit salad too. But no ice cream on it, right?” (They put ice cream on almost everything with fruit.) He said, “No, no ice cream. Just fruit salad.” Perfect!

I got my salad and it was great – wonderful tomatoes, fresh feta cheese, and crisp cucumbers. It was perfect. Then they brought out my “fruit salad” which I think might have actually contained some fruit if you could wade your way through the mountain of whipped cream and strawberry sauce to find it. Needless to say, it was definitely not what I expected. The “only for to be put in desserts” comment came back to haunt me as did the “just fruit salad” assurance. Don’t get me wrong, the whipped cream and strawberry sauce didn’t stop me from eating it but it wasn’t exactly the light and refreshing mid-bike expedition snack I had anticipated!

I rode up and down the boardwalk a couple times and decided that the beach was too crowded for me, and the water too shallow (which is why this place is perfect for families with small kids). I decided to try to find this remote nudist beach which I had read about and was another bike ride and a hike away. It took me a couple attempts to figure out which random, remote, residential road to take but I finally found what I thought must be it (still requires a bit of faith as nothing is marked) and muscled my way up another steep hill. I got to the top and ran into a sign pointing me to Sahara Beach – I was so excited and surprised that I had actually gone the right way for once that I didn’t know what to do with myself! I locked my bike to a tree and set off for the 30 minute hike down the back side of the mountain. This hiking path was actually relatively well marked and after 30 minutes I popped out of the forest and stumbled onto a rocky beach to find a rather large middle-aged woman’s butt staring back at me from a beach towel. I know, I know. What was I expecting?! Still, it was a bit unnerving!

The beach was on a secluded cove which you can only get to by hiking through the forest or by boat so was pretty low key. The beach goers ran the continuum from nude to “normal” (for an American) and included every possible variation in between which I will refrain from describing. There were old couples, young families, groups of friends, single travelers, you name it – every shape, size, and age was there. My impression after going was that topless is fine. You avoid the bad tan lines and uncomfortable neck ties and everyone seems happier for it. But bottomless, I’m not quite such a fan of. Babies have cute buns but besides a handful of adults who have managed to keep good looking derrieres (most of whom are employed by Victoria’s Secret), the rest of humanity really should keep it covered up. Think about what the skin on your face does as you age…and then translate those effects…do you really want that on display? Secondly, and I thought of this as I noticed a middle-aged man standing front and center in the middle of the cove in water up to his knees happily flashing the entire beach (for quite many continuous minutes – clearly quite the exhibitionist), Speedos are bad enough and the removal of them is worse. Keep your junk covered up! Joking aside, nobody looks at or cares about anybody else’s naked buns in Europe and I was able to spend a couple great hours relaxing and reading on the beach before heading back up the mountain. The obvious question I get about this is, “What did you do?! Did you get naked?” and all I can say is that you’ll have to check the photo albums to find out. (Just kidding!) Some things are better kept between me, the Rab island locals, and the Austrian tourists.

I had had enough of the sun (and of the nakedness) and also had to return my bike so jumped up to make my way back to Rab. I was supposed to return my bike by 5pm, it was already nearly 4pm, and I had a hike plus a decent bike ride back including a long climb over the central mountain. I grabbed my things and headed back up the trail. It was very well marked in comparison to other trails I’ve been on but while it would point me back in the direction of Lopar very clearly when I came to fork in the road, it would often leave the other path unlabeled which drove me crazy. What if the other path was really the “much cooler hike to Lopar for locals” and I was just on the boring one for tourists? While curiosity killed the cat it (thankfully!) only gets me lost but at this point I am very aware of this fact so, for once, I stuck to the main trail. Subsequently, I had an uneventful if successful trip up the mountain and back to my bike and was on the road in no time.

It was now 4:20pm and I had about 15 kilometers, mostly a single, long climb, to do in 40 minutes if I was going to return my bike on time. I was much more confident going back as I knew the island and the roads much better this time so I just went for it and besides nearly getting bumped off the road by multiple cars, made great time and had a really fun ride (I love long, steady climbs!). I came screaming into town, cut off a couple cars on my way back to the rental office, and hopped off my bike at 5:10pm. I arrived hot, a little sunburned, and a lot dirty but very happy after such a fun day of exploration. I returned my bike (they didn’t even look at the time) and left for the showers. I knew that my normal face was under all that salt, dirt, and sweat somewhere!

Finally looking and feeling like a normal person again, I had a great dinner of cuttlefish stew (an island specialty) and then spent the evening enjoying the old town again which included many more pictures and, of course, more sladoded (Croatian gelato). The weather was perfect and the main square was packed with people listening to live music and eating street food as part of some sort of festival. It was a great way to end my stay in Rab before I left the next morning for Zadar.



In keeping with the bizarre transportation schedules and bus routes which I have come to associate with Croatia, the only way to get 120 km south to Zadar was to first go 60 km north, and to leave at 7:00am. Ugh. I left Rab on the 7am bus and was in Senj, Croatia by 8:30am. I sat at an outdoor café for a couple hours eating a Croatian cottage cheese pastry and coffee before catching my next bus at 10:30am which would take another three hours to get to Zadar (retracing my path south again). I loaded my bag into the hold and then boarded the bus, found an empty couple of seats and settled in. An old Croatian woman boarded the bus and started talking to me in fast bursts of Croatian which I was finally able to interrupt with, “I’m sorry, I only speak English.” She said a couple more sentences then shrugged and sat down in the seat in front of me. Her friend then boarded, there was an intense discussion between the two of them in front of me, and then the friend started babbling / yelling at me in Croatian, pointing to my seat and then to the seat numbers above and then to the seat she was sitting in. I said again, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” and she just kept right on going. It became very clear that they thought I was in their seats (which was interesting since there were no seat assignments, no luggage, purse, or even magazine there to hold the spots, and plenty of other empty seats) and realizing that this was an argument I was not going to understand let alone win, I grabbed my things and we switched. I rolled my eyes as I took their seats and they took the pair that I had been sitting in. All I can figure out is they had been sitting in those seats for the previous portion of the trip and wanted to sit in the exact same seats for the rest of the way. Thankfully, my switching with them seemed to bring harmony back to their world and the frantic Croatian ranting stopped. They were happy until I leaned my seat back into them and tried to nap part of the way…I hate to say this but you asked for it when you made me move in front of you, lady. Sorry!

I arrived in Zadar in the early afternoon to find even more scorching heat and my first task was to lug my things a couple kilometers into the old town where I was staying. Zadar is an “up and coming” Croatian hot spot, mostly because of its beautiful old town, proximity to more modern cities and nice beaches, and its vibrant night life. The old town here is especially tiny and as I looked for my “hotel” for the night, I felt like I was going down hallways instead of streets. I missed my street the first time I walked by as it looked like a tiny back alleyway. A couple “streets” later I realized that everything in this little city was a back alleyway. I dumped off my things, was ecstatic to find a fan in my room (I’ve learned to take what I can get and smile about it!), and headed out to check out Zadar.

Zadar is also a beautiful old Venetian town of marble streets, gorgeous stone architecture, and lovely bell towers, churches, and towering clocks. It is also famous for its one of a kind Sea Organ which is literally an organ which has been built into the promenade on the water. There are different lengths of pipes built into the promenade which fill up to different levels as the water ebbs and flows beneath them and then make beautiful, almost hypnotic music as the wind blows over the top of the pipes. I had heard about the organ and was walking along the promenade looking for it, thinking it would be some ornately decorated instrument built into the side of the walkway with tourists surrounding it. It took me a few minutes to realize that the reason I could hear it but not see it was because I was literally standing over top of some of the organ pipes (holes in the promenade). I camped out near the organ for a couple hours and jumped off the cement promenade into the Adriatic with the locals for a while before heading back within the city walls.

Zadar was also great and, again, much less touristy than I had expected. There were certainly tourists and vacationers around but not in overwhelming numbers. It also helps that there are very few places to stay within the city walls so while the old town is bustling at night, most of the tourists have to go to one of the neighboring cities to sleep. I had another great night of good Italian food (this coast was under Venetian rule for hundreds of years after all!), loaded up on some snacks for the next day (I tried to buy a handful of apricots from an old Croatian man at the street market and had a lost in translation moment and ended up with the whole tub – oops!), and rounded out the night with my new staple food group of sladoded.



I woke up the next morning for a day trip to Plitvička National Park and, as there was only one outgoing bus for the day at 9am, hurried to get to the bus station early that morning but got a little sidetracked (what else is new?) and got there around 8:40am. I wanted to be sure I got a seat on the outgoing bus but, even more important, that I got a return ticket for that evening as again there was only one option and I didn’t want to get stranded at Plitvička if I could help it. There were three windows with three women manning (womanning?) them with a cluster of confused tourists standing in a blob in front of them. Seriously, has no one in this country ever heard of a line? Getting used to the European push your way through to the front mentality, I elbowed my way through to one of the desks. The Croatian woman behind the glass took her sweet time acknowledging me at which point I blurted out (thinking they might be sold out already), “I’d like a return ticket to Plitvička, please!” She slowly looked up at me and scowled, “You want ticket to Plitvička?” “Yes, a return ticket, please.” She shook her head, “No return ticket here. You must buy on the bus.” Um, ok, but that seems a little risky given there is only one bus per day and that it could be full from Zagreb before it even reaches Plitvička. I clarified, “I can’t buy a return ticket here? I can only buy it on the bus?” She nodded. “Ok, then I’d like a one-way ticket to Plitvička.” She pointed to another woman at another of the three desks. “Tickets there. No tickets here.” Are you kidding me? I had happened to go to the “information” desk instead of the “tickets” desk, between which there was absolutely no distinction, and she refused to sell me a ticket. Ugh. I said a sarcastic, “Thanks.” as I made my way into one of the other desks.

I had the same conversation at the next desk just to verify that I really could not buy a return ticket and the woman there confirmed that I could only buy it from the driver when I boarded the bus. I said, “But what if there are no seats?” She shrugged and said, “You must buy from bus driver.” Great, thanks so much for your help. Guess I’m chancing it! I got my ticket to Plitvička, boarded the bus, and camped out for the next two and half hours. (Of course, I was now going 90km back north to get to the park – the bus routes in Croatia really are baffling!).

We arrived at the park at 11:30am and the bus back to Zadar was at 5pm. I wanted to make the most of the short time I had in the park so I practically ran to the ticket office. I bought my ticket and there was a kid there, maybe 18 years old, helping everyone decide what route to do that day. They had multiple routes up on a board ranging from basically a day of bus and ferry rides (i.e. little to no walking) around the park to the “intense” route K which was a full tour on foot. Of course I didn’t look at anything else but the “intense” route and started asking the boy about it, “How many kilometers is route K?” He replied, “I would recommend that you do route C if you only have five hours. It is a very pleasant tour and you begin with a bus ride around the northern part of the park…” I interrupted, “I’d like to do route K. How long is it?” He replied, “Route K is very aggressive and takes from 6-8 hours. You need the whole day to do it and you only have five hours before bus. I would recommend route C if this is your first time in the park…” I repeated, “How long is route K?” The woman selling tickets next to us jumped in, “It is very long. It is 23 kilometers. Route C is much better; it is only 8 kilometers of walking.” I looked at her and blinked. You expect me to do only five miles in five hours?! I’ll finish that in one hour and then what am I going to do?! I repeated myself again a bit more forcefully, “I’m going to do route K. Does it start down here?” I pointed down the path. The boy responded with, “To begin route C, you should wait here in the parking lot for the bus…” Good grief, this kid was driving me nuts! We were having completely separate conversations and this was going nowhere. I started walking away before he was finished saying a quick, “Thank you!” as I went the opposite way he was pointing and went to find route K myself.

The park was extraordinarily well marked and it wasn’t difficult to find the path for route K. I started off on a trail around one of the lakes and was thinking 23 kilometers of flat lakeside walking is nothing. Those people are loco! The path was pleasantly shaded by the trees and the water was so perfectly, sparkling blue it was practically incandescent. It was also so clear that you could see every twig, the scales on every fish, every pebble in the bottom – it was really pretty amazing and I got a little camera happy. I was amazed at how many pictures I had at the end of the day of water!

I wasn’t worried about the time or distance but knew that I’d have to keep moving at a decent pace to get back in time for the bus so was stopping to take pictures and enjoy the park but was moving at a pretty good clip. My flat lakeside walk turned out to have quite some major changes in elevation along the way…I probably should have looked at the map a bit more closely before I started to notice the major waterfalls which route K took you all the way up to while the other routes just stayed at the bottom. I was happy though that I had picked the route I did, it was definitely the best for the viewpoints and I’m always happier when I’m seeing beautiful things and getting in a workout at the same time (very efficient!). Choosing the hardest routes also has the added and very important benefit of keeping most of the other people away which I greatly appreciate. Nothing stresses me out more than the madness of hoards of tourists!

Unfortunately, route K merged with some of the easier routes for a few kilometers and I was back in the thick of things with every other tourist in Croatia and his grandmother and child and wife and…you get the picture. I was in an absolutely stunning and unique national park and every time I tried to snap a picture some Croatian man would send his wife or daughter to stand exactly in the middle of my picture. The other people on the hiking paths were slow, loud, and would stop without warning in the middle of the path, blocking everyone else from passing (usually so that no one stepped into the middle of their precious pictures). Every time I thought I found a beautiful, serene place to break a tour group of Germans or a Croatian family would come barging in, shattering my tranquility with their loud voices and loud feet. It was driving me crazy.

I got to one of the main gathering areas with food, bathrooms, ice cream, ferry connections, and suddenly got overwhelmed with all of the people and languages and pushing from every which direction. Some little kid slimed me with his ice cream on my leg at the same time an old woman stopped cold in front of me and wouldn’t move to the side just as a man ran into me from behind and nearly knocked me over, all the while the cacophony of loud German, Croatian, Slovenian, Italian conversations was drowning me in place. I was sick of being hot, of being bumped into, of hearing things I didn’t understand…basically, I was suddenly overwhelmed and sick of everything! I was about at the point of stomping in a circle with my fingers in my ears (tantrums apparently aren’t just for toddlers anymore!) when I finally broke free of the crowd. When I finally looked up a few minutes later I found myself standing smack dab in the middle of everything, as far away on average from every other person in the little park as I could possible be. There I was standing in the middle of a grassy field while all the other people were sitting at the surrounding lunch tables, licking their sladoded, staring at me, and wondering what in the world that girl was doing standing there in the middle of everything with that crazed look in her eyes?

I stood there until I figured out where I needed to go next (I wanted to be sure to minimize the likelihood of being pushed, slimed, bumped, etc, before I made a move anywhere) and made a beeline for my trail. Five minutes later I was back in the solitude of the park and on a more difficult hiking path which was keeping the riff raff (a.k.a. all the normal tourists) away. Thank goodness! That situation (or maybe just me) was about to get ugly!

I spent the rest of the afternoon making my way around the gorgeous park, being sure to always choose the highest and most difficult paths, and had a fantastic time. The last half of the trip was also the most impressive with hundreds of waterfalls, beautiful pools, crystalline streams, and stunningly blue lakes to explore and enjoy. This also meant that this is where most of the people were congregating but I had gotten a grip and was able to enjoy myself and make it through without “mistakenly” hip checking anybody into one of the lakes. I took the five minute ferry back across the lake to where I had started and arrived at 4:15pm. I looked for the kid who had told me I couldn’t do it on my way through the gates but he wasn’t there – bummer! I was ready to give him a wink and an “I told you so!” smile.

The bus from Zagreb was supposed to pass through at 5pm but the bus schedules are always a little suspect so I wanted to make sure I got back to the bus stop a bit early, also to make sure I was one of the first in line in case it ended up being crowded. I arrived at the bus stop at 4:30pm and went to check the posted bus information. Of course, the only information posted was when the bus came through in the morning, not the evening bus I needed to catch. There were probably another eight or so people already waiting and they were all in the same boat as me…first off hoping that the bus actually showed up and then praying that there would still be room. I had just sat down on the grass for what I expected to be a long wait and potentially a fight to get on the bus when a mini-van pulled up. A couple and their daughter had ordered a taxi to take them back to Zadar and the rest of us just watched jealously as they got in the vehicle. The driver then started wandering around and approached one of the couples waiting for the bus. He asked, “Where do you go? Zadar?” They looked at him a bit confused and ignored him. I recognized what this was – a possible ride home – and jumped up. “Are you going to Zadar?” I asked. He said, “Yes, Yes. Zadar.” “How much to ride to Zadar?” “100 kuna.” (About $20.) The bus was already 120 kuna so this was even a deal. I said, “Great! Do I pay now?!” The others waiting for the bus watched this and then jumped in too. We filled up that guy’s mini-van in about three minutes and were happily on our way back to Zadar in five.

Not only was I able to catch a ride five minutes after showing up for the bus but it was cheaper, faster (no bus stops so got back in 90 minutes instead of the 2.5hr bus trip), and as the lone single traveler I got to sit up front with the driver which was huge for me not getting motion sick. (The bus rides were pretty tough for me!) It was definitely the icing on the cake of a great day. The bus driver was a very cute little old Croatian man missing some teeth (endearing in a Croatian mini-van driver but not usually in anyone else!) and attempted to speak to me in broken English for most of the ride. I pulled out a pear I had stashed in my bag and he almost yelled at me, “Bon appetite!!!” and then gave me a huge, proud smile. I laughed. Later, when he was fiddling with the radio he changed stations and the volume suddenly went to max which blasted the rest of the van awake with a jolt. He hurriedly turned it down and said, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Radio ka-put! Radio KAPUT! KAPUT!” I was cracking up. How did “kaput” end up being one of twenty English words this guy knows?



I spent a great evening in Zadar at an outdoor café eating Italian food, drinking wine, and writing about Slovenia (these blogs have to get written at some point!). I was heading to Split the next day and was really looking forward to finally staying at a nice hotel (those hotel points from consulting do come in handy!) where I was positive there would be air conditioning, a good bar, and a great, private beach…basically some relief from the heat and the tourists! After my meltdown in Plitvička, I figured I might need to take a bit of a break for a day before I made a fool of myself or hurt somebody!

(FYI - there are three photo albums this time, all on the blog. Hope you like them!)