Rachel's Croatia article and photography to appear in the Los Angeles Times Travel Section on 4/23/06

I'm super stoked to announce that one of my stories about traveling to the Mediterranean-like island of Hvar in southern Croatia will be published in the travel section of the Los Angeles Times this coming Sunday, April 23rd.
If you don't have a subscription, pick up a copy of the paper at your local bookstore—it's sure to be a collector's edition :)—or go to www.latimes.com/travel on Sunday to see an online version of the article.
The great thing about getting a hardcopy of the article (nudge, nudge!) is that a few of my photos will be published along with the feature article.

Thanks to twenty years of travel, five years of typing until my fingers bleed, three years of writers' conferences, two years of graduate school, and boundless persistence that runs like a blessed curse through my family, some of my hard work is starting to finally pay-off!

Stay tuned for more exciting news: One of my humorous travel stories, "Mama Chihuahua: World's Fiercest Traveling Partner," will be featured in the May 2006 book, "What Color Is Your Jockstrap?" (writers...I know this should be italicized but I'm having formatting issues with blogger this morning) along with other short stories by Susan Orlean (author of "The Orchid Thief" and inspiration for the Nicolas Cage movie "Adaptation") and Tim Cahill ("Jaguars Ripped My Flesh").

Other upcoming news: My official website will be officially launched on May 1, 2006.

"From The Inner Walls Of Dubrovnik"
Dubrovnik, Croatia (Dalmatian Region)
Wednesday, June 2nd, 2004

We're retreating from the rain inside a Croatian Bar listening to an odd mix of Bruce Springsteen and Muddy Waters in the old city of Dubrovnik. There seems to be no genre distinction on radio stations here in Hrvatska.

Not to be cliche, but Dubrovnik is probably one of the most gorgeous cities in the world and reminds me of walking through the inside plaza of "The Venetian" in Las Vegas. (It's disgusting that the only cultural and architectural comparison I can make to it in the United States is in downtown Las Vegas). The entire city, situated on the edge of the Adriatic, is surrounded by the world's third largest wall (The Great Wall of China being the first) and yields its secrets only after entering the giant gates where a drawbridge once stood. The car-less streets are all made of marble and the buildings and alleyways are solid carved stone, lanterns swinging above each corner. The sky on most days is painted blue and cloudless, sparrows screeching in circles overhead like bats at sunset and hundreds of people from around the world passing below the clocktower and circling the fountains, sipping coffee and eating pastries along the sidewalk cafes. children chasing pigeons and shouting in Croatian, French, German, Italian...how amazing that they can understand each other. Even the cats seem to "Meow" with exotic accents.

We walked the length of the fortress walls earlier this week and let me tell you, it's a long ass wall. It felt like we were walking the Great Wall of China only it was super hot and everybody was speaking Croatian and German.

Yesterday we took a boat to a local island named Mljet (named "Honey" by the Greeks for all the delicious sweet stuff gleaned from its shores) and honored by National Geographic as one of "The Top Ten Most Beautiful Islands in the World." The writer must have traveled there on a sunny day.

We spent much of the day sheltering ourselves from the rain under tiny umbrellas and sipping cups of hot chocolate with a sassy Australian named Kat. Bad weather often yields the funniest and most unforgettable moments. Though we saw very little of the lush island, the lunch we had there will forever stand out in my memory...

Deprived of t.v. and radios, slow days and bad weather leaves my mother and I to our only tool of entertainment: my video camera. We sat at a small cafe on the edge of the sea playing with a catsup bottle, a giant rainbow-colored beetle, and a rather greasy french fry. I began doing impressions of the "Crocodile Hunter" in a rather shoddy Australian Accent: "Behold how the ravenous pomme fritte-eating poison Croatian Beetle stalks its' food and descends upon its prey with its' fearsome mandibles, Behold how its' prey (we shake the french fry) quivers at the siight of its terrifying predator." To our surprise, the beetle stepped up to its role as a deadly french fry-eating insect and began devouring the french fry and fighting me for it in an unfairly weighted battle. Two uptight French Sailors at a table next to us sipped on their soup and tried to ignore us.

Moments later, a rather boisterous French and Croatian-speaking Family stepped off their sailboat and walked into the restaurant.

What followed in conversation will go down as the greatest linguistic social faux pas in the history of the civilized world. Thanks to my mother.

Now first, a little lesson in the language in Croatian or Hrvatski. My mother and I have prided ourselves on learning a couple of phrases in the language regarding food, daily greetings, and directions. We pride ourselves on it. "Doberdan" means 'good-day.' "Dobertek" means 'Good Eating' or enjoy your meal. And we've found that there's a rather crusty local pastry here called a "Super Dick Man." Yes, you heard it right. A big chocolate covered creamy marshmallow in the shape of a peacock turd called a "Super Dick Man." Back to the story. It's very important not to mince your words.

The father of the family that entered the restaurant began to greet us in Croatian. He threw his arms out as if to embrace the sky and to bless our meal, he continued to talk in fluent and exuberant Croatian as if we were the first people they had seen in many days.
Mom, feeling it her duty to represent our small group and receive their greeting, stepped forward and proudly said, "Dober Dick!"
Cat and I choked on our drinks.
The father looked at mom blankly, completely silenced. His children looking rather frightened by this promiscuous American Woman.
"Dober Dick!" she again said proudly. She still hadn't realized what she had said.
Instead of 'good day' she had said, "Good Dick!"

Mother looked quite dazed and confused when she sat down at our table. The Croatian family had retreated to their table and was avoiding our glances. Cat and I were laughing so hard we were wiping tears from her eyes. "What?" she asked me. "What did I do wrong?"

"Mom, what did you just tell that guy?"

"I told him "Dober Dick!" her face slackened and she slid down in her chair. "Oh my god, oh my god."

"Don't worry mom, it doesn't mean 'Dick!," I laughed.

Since yesterday, she hasn't been able to say "Dober Dan" or "good day" to a single person she's so traumatized by the incident.

She'll never attempt another Slavic language again she tells me.

Tomorrow, we head out on a boat which will travel for twenty-four hours along the length of the Adriatic to Northern Croatian where we'll travel by bus or train to the Alps of Slovenia.

We're ready for a change of scenery and look forward to hiking through the mountains and traveling by sea once again. We'll check out a photography exhibition on the Yugoslavia War this afternoon before heading out for afternoon tea with an American Friend up the Coast.

And yes, we've done many other cultural things besides drinking hot chocolate and laughing at each other at cafes. We've attended a film festival, eaten dinner with a Croatian Family, lingered with a Dalmatian Jewelry Maker, hiked national parks, and avoided large bands of ice-cream laden, gremlin-like children practicing pole dancing on the upper decks of our ferry. But these things are not nearly as much fun as the other stuff.

It's curious what we remember about our travels...

Hope you're all seizing the day and the love of one another and laughing as much as possible!

"Basking Along The Adriatic Sea"
Hvar, Croatia (Dalmatian Region)
Thursday, May 27th, 2004

“Sea rovers here take joy.”
Homer

Doberdan,

Island life here is leisurely and occasionally punctuated by moments of impulsive physical activity. Like walking, shopping, or eating. This is truly a magical island; our veranda opens out onto the scent of orange blossoms and a garden of roses and blooming geraniums and a stunning view of the sea. Poets have surely been inspired by these waters for millenia.

That which doesn't glitter or sparkle in the Adriatic shimmers in tones of sapphire, cobalt blue, and turquoise until it melts into a translucent jade where the sea meets the rocky shores. The water's surface ripples like a wet peacock's feathers ruffling itself in the wind and sun.

We rented a boat and hired a local Croatian named Matko whose parents have a lavender farm on the other side of the island. He and his girlfriend from Singapore sell sachets, soaps, and oils made of lavender during the summers, Christmas postcards in December (fittingly so, for what good would they do in July?) and bags of freshly popped popcorn in January.

As travel between the islands in his small fishing boat, he lulls the motor for a moment and finally turns it off. The sun is striking the surface of the water around us and illuminating the sea bottom below us. It is said that the water is so clear here that one could read fine newspaper print from the bottom of the sea. I have no doubt you could.

“Listen,” he tells us, “there are two important things in this life,” he counts on his fingers, “the first is peace and the second is your health. I travel many years and work in Northern Europe and I finally come back. I say 'no more!' I tear up my passport into sixteen different pieces. This is where I am happy. I live in paradise!” he laughs and gestures around us to the sky and sun. I have a boat, my dog, my girlfriend. I go fishing when I want to eat. I do not work, selling the lavender is pleasure for me. If I do not take pleasure from it, if it is work, then I do not do it.”

Mom and I smiled serenely, for how easy is it to relax in someone else's land and how difficult to feel peace inside ourselves when we work? There is much wisdom to be gleaned from island life.

We had lunch on a small island where the trees and prickly pear cacti and agave opened up before us onto a small vineyard. In the middle of nowhere came a group of people from Ireland, England, and Croatia. It's so surreal sometimes.

We drank fresh lemonade and sweet locally made white wine. I dined on a hot dish of fresh artichokes baked with fava beans, garlic, and olive oil while Mom and Matko shared a heaping bowl of octopus salad with fresh bits of apple, tomato, garlic, and olive oil. And of course, fresh crusty bread dipped in all the juicy sauces.

We arrived at 'home' last night feeling quite tired and grabbed food at the store to dine in bed. We snacked on slices of fresh pear, gouda cheese, salami, crusty bread, and Croatian cookies filled with ground walnuts and honey and read our books until midnight when a crescent moon rose over the dark surface of the Adriatic.

This afternoon we're taking a ferry, a bus, and a taxi boat to a small village on the island of Korcula. We'll be staying on a farm and vineyard for a couple of days. Perhaps we'll finally get some exercise schlepping our bags around public transport.

Hope you are all feeling some level of peace in your lives, it's always a daily challenge!

much love and dovidena!

Rachel and Karen

"Tall Tales From Croatia"
Hvar, Croatia (Dalmatian Region)
Monday, May 24th, 2004

We've landed safely and traveled by boat, ferry, tram, and airplane to and within Croatia.

Where to start...We're working on our Croatian vocabulary and haven't made it much further than _Where is my mother,_ _I'm hungry,_and the always imminent _where's the bathroom, please?_ The North of the country is hilly and verdant, resplete with stone houses, steep tiled roofs, and turquoise rivers shooting through narrow canyons. We visited Plitvice National Park which is one of Croatis's crowning glories. Wandering along lakes and waterfalls spilling out from lush vegetation...the water so clear you can see hundreds of orange-throated trout swimming between the reeds. We ate lunches of apple strudel and fresh goat cheese (okay, so the combination is a little strange) at the edge of a lake the color of cobalt blue rimmed in sea glass green.

We stayed with a Serbian Family who have recently returned since fleeing Croatia during the War (1991-95). It was a bloody mess. Croatians killing Serbs, Serbs killing Croatians, Croatians and Serbs killing Muslims, and so on. It's still difficult to get a handle on the complexities and underlying issues which fueled it but Milosevic definitely orchestrated this ugly time and played all of the people against one another. Boba, the woman who rented us a room, cooked a giant stew of fresh ham and beans with beautiful slices of fresh local cow and goat cheeses. She kept pouring us their homemade plum brandy which tasted quite like sweet hairspray that's been mixed with fruit. Over dinner she shared stories about the war, they were chased out of their home by the Croatian Army towards the end of the war. Homes all along the countryside where both Serbs and Croatians have lived were burnt to the ground, they still stand today as a reminder.

Boba's father was stabbed to death one night by his neighbor. Another elderly couple across the street was remaining in the area so they could see their daughter regularly who lived onlz 40 km away. One night towards the end of the war, two young boys in their early twenties (their mother and father were Croat and Serb) broke into the house, stabbed the couple to death, and then burnt the home down. The daughter didn't find out about it until she tried to visit them and their house was gone and they were dead. No one in the village had told her.

But enough about sad stories. There is healing throughout Croatia. Buildings are being restored, people are moving back, and to their fortune, not as much of their country was consumed by the war as was Bosnia. The countryside is largely unspoiled by industry and the public transportation is incredibly efficient. We have also felt very safe here. It's strange to imagine a place so peaceful being the site of such violence. I think it took everyone by complete surprise.

From the North we traveled South to the Adriatic Sea and landed in Split home to a Roman Palace dated back to the 4th century A.D. Actually quite young for this part of the world. We had a bit of a drama finding a room when we tried following an older grandmother to her place for a room. A drunken, possibly schizophrenic man in his 70's who looked like he'd been living in his sailor suit for a fortnight began harassing the grandmother we were following. He kept shouting in German and Croatian, _All is not good in the world! She is not good! Do you hear me?_She asked for help from a policeman who ignored her, us, and the drunk man walking straight past us along his merry way. When we arrived at her place, her key didn't work so we were stuck in the alley with a non-English speaking sweet old woman and a schizophrenic, drunk, sailor intent on making her day a living hell. He began shaking on her apartment doors yelling, _idiota policia, idiota policia, alles ist nicht gut!_ Perhaps she and he were lovers we wondered. How could anyone be so hostile? He grabbed her by the arm and made a motion to hit her in the face. I moved towards the door speaking to him in German and Croatian (incredibly inarticulate) trying to distract him. We had no idea what either one of them were saying. He became distracted and began pacing back and forth again.

A few moments after she called someone on her cell phone, a 6 foot ten rather fast Croatian man in gold chains and a white tank top came flying around the corner and in one swift movement had grabbed the old man by his shoulders and thrown him into the door. I'll leave the rest out due to the violent content but needless to say, mom and I were a bit shaken.

Moments later, we pleaded with the young man to leave the old man alone. _I am so sorry, I am really sorry, she is my grandmother, I just get a phone call and didn't know what was going on...I thought my grandmother was dead. If anyone hurt my family, I kill them._

He was indeed her grandson and he ended up being a college basketball player studying in the U.S. He'll be playing with Chicago State and may be with the NBA one day.

I have seen so much violence in my life on the movies and on t.v. but seeing it in person towards another human being is another thing. I can't imagine that violence can ever lead to anything good, though I do understand the need to protect one's family. The grandmother was traumatized by the old man, the old man was traumatized by the young man, the young man was traumatized by his own anger and fear, and we were traumatized by the whole thing.

We're now in a much more peaceful place. We took a ferry to an island in the Adriatic Sea named Hvar. It has passed through no less than the Illyrians, Greeks, Austrians, Romans, Venetians, Austrians, and the French in the past 1400 years. I can say with all honesty that I have probably never been in a more gorgeous town in my life. The landscape and architecture evokes Venice, the colors and light evoke the mediterranean. We walk along small streets carved from limestone, shuttered windows the color of rose and turquoise, flowering geraniums spilling out from the windows. Our room has double doors which open out onto a garden of grapes, lettuce, roses, and lemon trees. The lemon tree blossoms scent the air in the afternoon when the air warms up. We can look across the town across the shimmering azure sea and watch sailboats traveling between the islands. A wide promenade carves around the town where sailboats bob up and down with the water and people roams along the plaza a dusk. The buildings are all bleached from the sun and of the same limestone, worn slick and smooth from centuries of merchants and travelers.

It's absolutely stunning.

Tomorrow we will rent a moped and travel up through the lavender fields. Tonight we'll buy a cheap bottle of Croatian wine, goat cheese, fresh bread, and chocolate.

It's rough but somebody's got to do it.

Much love to you all, so many of you have been in my heart. You are all here with us!

much love, Rachel and Karen