Returning to

Iceland

Francis and I had spent a few days in Reykjavik, Iceland returning back to the states from our Trans-Atlantic Boat trip. We had rented a car, stayed at a Air-BnB and conducted our own “city tour”.While we visited museums in town and drove to the junction of the tectonic plates, there were a variety of other geological features we missed. As soon as we got home, I told Bekah and G, we are going to Iceland and we are going to walk inside a glacier! Juggling open-jaw flights, our interests and accommodations for three, I threw myself at the mercy of the pros. With the assistance of an excellent and very patient travel agents a custom tour was planned. The resulting eight days were precisely our sites of interest with no fillers, accommodations in a perfectly located hotel with full breakfast and airfares and airport transfers. [FYI: We spent less than the “land only” price quoted by several well-known tour companies for the custom package including our complicated open-jaw airfares. Trudy Luizzo of Travel Junction - - highly recommended] Icing on the cake, free airport lounge entries to use during a long layover!

Iceland is renowned for the separation of the tectonic plates, with the resulting volcanic activity, hot springs, geysers and dead volcanoes. One of the heavily promoted activities Icelandic activities is a visit to the Blue Lagoon. As plane arrivals are often many hours prior to hotel check-in, transport into town offers a stop at the Blue Lagoon. Given the lengthy flights a dunk in any hot tub would be a nice break, so we took that offer. Anytime something is heavily promoted, I am dubious. About the Blue Lagoon I could not be more wrong!

Even for Iceland it is a unique combination and all the more so as it is not actually a naturally formed hot spring. Most of Iceland is powered by hydro-thermal power, often turning turbines for electricity. In this case the still steaming water running off the turbines created the Blue Lagoon. The subterranean hot spot powering the turbines is adjacent to saline sea water, creating a exotic languorous blended mineral bath. Lockers, a towel, a refreshing cocktail and a supply of mud facial is provided with your entry. For a premium, you would be supplied with a bathrobe and an additional beverage. A shower is required prior to entry to clean one's skin of possible contaminants. While the dressing rooms were gender specific, Icelandic natural sensibilities were demonstrated by a notable lack of self-conscious nudity in the changing areas. Young and old, fit or fat, apparently all were quite comfortable in their skins.

Once one completes one's ablutions, existing down a ramp is the Lagoon featuring several large interconnected pools. The water is indeed blue, an unusual milky opalescent sky blue. Not only is the water pleasantly hot and highly saline, but also concentrated with minerals. The minerals have over the eons precipitated out, coating the otherwise roughly pitted black lava rocks with a smooth pale almost ceramic glaze. Silky to the touch, the coated boulders created an attractively irregular and undulating border to the submersive pools. With 40 degree at best air temperature and 100 degree at least water temperature, it was with great reluctance that we left the shelter of the lagoon to continue onto Reykjavik.

We three were sharing a room in the 
CenterHotel Harpa. Harpa is the Reykjavik Opera house situated on the seawall. Our corner room faced towards the sea and Harpa. From one window we had a unobstructed vista along the seawall promenade. The other window faced the Opera house, which features fascinating honeycomb glass walls. At night, we discovered, Harpa is lit with colored lights which create waving patterns up and down the entire building facades. A shallow reflecting pool in front of Harpa, echoes the bright shades in reverse. Reykjavik is very walkable. We were just a few blocks from the center of town and all the downtown attractions. A perfect hotel room from our perspective.

Built on the highest point in town and towering over all of Reykejavik is the Hallgrimska Church. At 244 feet, it is the tallest building in Rykjavik and, for that matter, the second tallest in the country. Tall and grey is looks like a grim hall, as the name might imply. It was actually named after a 17^th century pastor and poet,Hallgrimur Peturson. The architect was clearly inspired by the volcanic basalt rock which forms iceland. At first glance, the church appears to be a stylized cliff and rock fall. Inside the curved buttresses evoke medieval Gothic cathedrals. Inside an immense 25 ton pipe organ with 5275 individual pipes can fill the vault with sound. The rough hewn modern exterior is in striking contrast with the traditional interior. Does this, in fact, reflect the contrast between the casual even rustic appearance of Icelandic Viking descendants with their sophisticated and enlightened attitudes?

The attraction of the Hallgrimska Church has not been missed by entrepreneurs. A number of brightly colored souvenir kiosks and snack sales carts are strategically placed at the intersections of the several streets leading up hill to the traffic circle around the church. One of these provided not only a visible inducement but also a aromatic attraction. Just around the corner from the church is a brick and mortar shop selling Icelandic hotdogs. Icelandic hotdogs had been touted as having a unique, being made with lamb and traditionally served with a variety of condiments: raw white and crispy fried onions, ketchup, pylsusinnep (a sweet brown mustard), and a tartar sauce like combination of mayo, capers, mustard and herbs. A bottle of local beer is also a traditional accompaniment. In spite of this myriad of flavors on your tongue the hot dog's taste shines though. It is not gamy as some lamb can be, but well seasoned and quite delicious. We did forgo the the bottle of beer.

Departing the airport we had met an American woman and her Daughter, in the process of returning to the states. She had lauded their time in Iceland but complained that the food prices were exorbitant. She said that an evening meal for the two of them had been $200! While Reykjavik has this reputation for being very expensive, particularly for dining out, a few inexpensive meals of the regional hot dogs could balance out the expense. Our three hot dogs were only about five dollars. Admittedly, these were carry out hotdogs eaten on the street. Perhaps forewarned, we found our dinner expenses were more expensive than at home but commensurate with many urban areas. We tend to find modest locations, frequented by residents rather than downtown hot-spots. We averaged well under $100 for two entrees plus a side or appetizer and beverages, which were sufficient for the three of us to dine.

We did not come to Reykjavik to dine. Each day we would arise and hustle to the hotel restaurant. We took full advantage of the included breakfast! As the city's streets are narrow and inner city traffic is almost always congested, excursion buses and vans collected their patrons along the promenade. After excellent coffee and varied comestibles, we hustled across the street to the seawall promenade to wait to be collected for that day's excursion.

The Blue Lagoon was fascinating and delightful enough to justify a trip to Iceland. We had a week of further equally interesting places to see and experience. Our first adventure was more hot water.

Our bus drove out into the countryside. While Iceland had once been covered by forests, now most of the landscape was bare. There did not seem to be a major impetus towards reforestation but instead flowering ground cover was encouraged. In response to my inquiry about a pervasive flower, I was told it was not native, and although technically an invasive weed, it was widely planted as it thrived where little else took hold preventing erosion. Since the terrain featured little topsoil and much basalt, the purple flowers were a good contrast and great visual relief. There were small farms, with green fields of grazing shaggy cows and small Icelandic horses. Turf did grow in spite of the rocky soil and the beasts appeared quite content.

The barns for the beasts were heated, as were the farmers homes and the city apartments, by the prevalent geo-thermal springs. The boiling hot water was piped throughout the country for heat and power. We were on our way to one of the main sources, to Gyser, the origin of the term “geyser”. Imagine a winding stream of boiling water! One which occasionally spouts 20 to 50 feet up into the air. As the air was cold and dry, the rising steam was a bizarre contrast. The roiling creek ran along both natural stream beds as well as man made canals. Disappearing off in to the distance to join cold mountain runoff or underground pipes towards the city or power plants. A walkway permitted you to explore the steaming landscape.

Hothouses nearby promoted locally grown produce. Given the weak soil and short Summer, only grassy plants, like rye and oats, can be farmed outdoors. Once Iceland had a limited supply of fresh vegetables, the geo-thermal hot-houses now enabled organic produce year round. In the medieval era the geo-thermals and fumerols were used to steam the hearty rye and oat bread, now they produce the compliment of courses for the table.

Along the way we stopped at an astounding series of waterfalls. Most waterfalls descend along a relatively narrow riverbed from one height to a lower level. The intermittent volcanic eruptions which formed and still form Iceland, have resulted in a layer cake of strong basalt with in fill deposits of softer stone and soils. Mountain melt and rainfalls infiltrate between the basalt, eroding underground rivers through the softer stone. These cascade out as a mile of horizontal waterfalls pouring into the dominant above ground river which cuts across the broken lava field. The height of Niagara or Yosemite may make them more majestic but for me there was an unexpected delight and beauty to these cascades gushing from the middle of a rugged cliff side.

The next days excursion took us from hot water to frigid ice. Enterprising Scientists and Entrepreneurs had teamed together to tunnel an ice cave into the glacier. Being inside the glacier itself permitted science experiments and climate analysis never before attempted. At the same time, the huge and wide cavern was an attraction to nature and science minded tourists as well as a venue for unique special events. The concept was intriguing. Ten years of development to create a tunnel, which due to the glaciers movement would last just 10 years. As snow fell on the glacier compressing prior years snowfalls the tunnel roof lowered, eventually the entrance would shift and the entire tunnel collapse. It would be an unusual and ephemeral experience to hike into a glacier. To reach the tunnel, we had to scale the mountain and the body of the glacier. Having reached the foot of the mountain by bus, our options were snowmobiles or a specialized ice bus, half transport / half tank. We first enrobed in snowsuits, gloves and boots, then boarded the ice-bus. It slowly trundled up the surface of the glittering glacier, passing by deep crevasses and being passed by the buzzing snowmobiles. The visual display of the expansive ice river surrounded by miles of rugged barren grey basalt, all under a unbroken blue sky was extraordinary. It made one appreciate the opportunity for the slow ride, very bumpy, ride to the tunnel mouth.

At the tunnel entrance we received the obligatory warnings and cautions, as our eyes adjusted to the dim light. Floor up lights as well as ceiling fixtures ran along the corridors. The light passed into and through the compressed ice of the glacier, exposing the layer upon layer of compressed snow from which it had been formed. Some layers, from years of heavy snow, were thick while others were thin. Snow fully compressed into ice was more transparent. The effect was walls in gentle bands of white and pale blue stretching as far as one could discern. Our guide explained the design, construction and applications of the facility as we wandered through a maze of connected tunnels. At the end of the corridor was a larger vaulted space, outfitted with ice benches. It was often used for parties, product launches and weddings. Definitely this would be a unique chapel; snow suits, boots and gloves would make for interesting wedding photos too.

Each afternoon outing began and ended with a scenic ride into the countryside surrounding Reykjavik. The landscape had a rough beauty, which due to a cave closing we were able to appreciate more closely the next day. While we had booked tour hiking through a lava tube, a rock fall at that cavern had closed the attraction. We were already on the bus and into the countryside before this was discovered, so our thoughtful bus driver and guide offered to drop us off at a public hot spring fed swimming complex while they took others up to the Glacier Tunnel.

The hot springs were adjacent to public park with a golf course and playground. How perfect, a hike through the fields along a winding stream, a soak in the heated pools and time to Gabriel to jump around in the playground? The golf course was very natural. In fact it was hard to tell where course ended and coarse land began. It seemed that for Icelandic golfers playing in the rough began at the edge of the green! July temperatures were cool and Spring-like, the grass and wild flowers were fresh from the daily gentle rain. Our short hike until the next rainstorm began led us along a rushing stream and gave us an opportunity to check out some suburban house near the gold course.

The soft drizzle did not close the swimming facilities. The thermal pools were like ancient Roman baths, with varying temperatures depending on how far the pool was from the heat source. There was a baby pool, deep soaking HOT tub and two standard size swimming pools with relatively more and less warm waters. I opted for the hottest pool, resting in the corner listening familiar families conversing in an unfamiliar language, while occasional rain drops cooled my face.

Once the rain had ceased, the playground beckoned. The most popular item for all kids from toddlers to teens was an immense bouncy ground pillow, the size of the nearby swimming pols and apparently filled with water to a central height of several feet. Children used it as slide and a trampoline, completing gymnastic flips at the apex or just jumping and rolling down the sides onto the surrounding grass. It was a grand design!

Our opportunity to explore a Lava tube occurred the following day. This was a different cavern, actually nearer to the city but no less dramatic once entered. As we had riven along each day, occasionally one would notice a three to five foot hill, alike a sandy soil's termite mound. Were they cairns, symbolic piles of rocks? Not so, these were remnants of volcano explosions, places where mini volcanoes had spouted out of fissures in otherwise solid ground. 
We were able to explore the these fascinating rock formations and get a closer look at the charming purple invasive flowers. What a contrast the nodding blossoms to the stiff stones.

The actual Lava Tube is the remnant of a major volcanic event. When masses of magna spill out of the volcano flowing down the sides, the flow begins to solidify from the cooler surface. As more hot magma subsequently flows, it melts channels through the initial layer of cooler rock, tubes within the Lava field. While ages of rainfall erode the surface lava into a uniform grey / black tone, inside the protected cavern the surfaces are the unchanged from the period during which the lava initially cooled and solidified. The varying chemicals suffused into the magma came to the surface as the tube itself cooled, creating an efflorescence of color over the base basaltic stone. These tints had been washed away on the surface but inside the tubes, the surfaces were filmed in reds, purples and blues. Not only an unexpected treat but also a reminder of the mysteries of geology. As we hiked through the lave tube marveling at the colorful walls, we looked up to discover stalactites and down towards stalagmites. These drips and piles had been building up microscopic layer upon layer over eons, I was reminded of the immense age of the earth and our brief minute on it.

Goodbye Dubrovnik, Hello Amalia

We left our hotel early for our last wander through old town Dubrovnik. Having explored the city on my arrival, I was more interested in what our guide said than seeing the town. Dina did provide an excellent resident's view of the bombings during the 1990s war. It was very hard to imagine the devastation given the present bustling and prosperous town. Good job, UNESCO! The beautiful renaissance era buildings, with their Venetian windows and Ottoman porches still caught my attention. It is a beautiful town.

From Old Town Dubrovnik we boarded a mini-bus to our boat. It turned out the new harbor was near an interesting suspension bridge I had admired from afar. In Rottendam, the citizens were very proud of the new Eramus bridge, called the Swan due to the unique and elegant asymmetrical balance of the cables. Well, not quite unique as there was an identical and equally elegant Swan bridge in Dubrovnik! The roads are so narrow with few intersections that there were no place for any motor vehicles to turn around or make wide cross traffic turns. All turns were to the right. If your destination was on the other side of the road, you would proceed to the nearest highway interchange, switchback and approach your destination as a right hand turn. It was a circuitous method but provided ample opportunities for sight seeing, passing the Swan coming and going.

Our floating home for the next week was called the Amalia. It could accommodate just 38 passengers and staff. Along with our 13 Women's Travel Club Americans, there were two Australians, two New Zealanders, a British family of four celebrating Dad's 80^th birthday and the crew of five. The Amalia featured three levels of passenger accommodations plus below deck engine and crew cabins and a roof top sun deck. Quite a contrast to the fourteen stories and thousands of passengers on common U.S. cruise ships. The upper enclosed deck was the galley, dining room and an open common area. Everyone dined, played cards or just enjoyed the passing vistas here. The next level down was passenger cabins which featured doors onto the open deck and porthole windows. Before the water line were interior passenger cabins.

It was a relief to discover our cabin opened to the deck, not much of a view but the fresh sea air was wonderful. The brightly colored but spartan room had two comfortable single beds, a tiny closet, a few storage cubbies and an en-suite shower, sink and toilet. Complete but somewhat lacking in one odd amenity - - towels. We were informed we could have just the single hand, bath and beach towel provided, although additional towels could be rented for a fee! Once our baggage was sorted to the various rooms, we met of cruise director Uri, who introduced the Captain and crew and gave us an overview of the day to day ship operation. Each day we would meet for breakfast and lunch in the dining room, Uri would outline the day's island and attractions and post a daily standing chalk board schedule. We would steam between islands during the morning and early afternoon, stop at a safe spot for an Adriatic swim, then proceed into the local port for the afternoon and night. On each larger island, we would have a quided tour and a wine tasting event. On smaller islands we were on our own to explore. Dinner was usually on our own to sample local specialties. It was a well planned but leisurely pace.

Slano

Our first stop was the small port of Slano. It was a tiny picturesque seaside village nestled at the end of a long bay. It is less than 25 miles from Dubrovnik, tourism is a major industry but the town features just a couple of restaurants and shops. Walking along the quay, restored buildings alternate with those still shattered by the 1990s war bombardment. 

Looking past the harbor area one can see houses and roads leading up into the hillsides. Having found the one grocery shop in town, I observed several teenage girls eating chips and gossiping. Some things are international. 

A thoughtful passerby told us that there was a archaeological exhibit near the church. Indeed the hidden highlight of Slano, a fascinating display of tombs and tombstones with explanations of the family history of the deceased, set within a garden and olive grove. The time of day was approaching dusk and the weather was misty. The ancient tombs set among the dusty green of the rows of olives was something from a dream

Mjlet

The next day our stop was the green forested island of Mjlet. The entire North side of the island is dominated by Mjlet national park. The island contains the park, which contains a lake which contains another smaller island in the center. On the internal island are the ruins of a Benedictine monastery; ruins which are in the process of being renovated into a luxury boutique hotel. Upon the Amalia's dockage, one walked through the town proper, up a hill through the woods, down the steep hill on stone steps to the lake, around the lake on woodland paths to a small boat dock for a trip to the monastery. At the monastery one could walk up and down the hills past a few donkeys and sheep around the tiny island, back to the small boat dock for the reverse process. The concentric landscape and repetitive activities seemed the active equivalent of a Russian Matryoshka doll. One could vary the stages by renting a bicycle or kayak or just swimming in the clear cold waters of the lake but you would still have to retrace your steps. Someday an extended stay at that secluded island retreat could indeed be wonderfully scenic and relaxing. But, I kept wondering how would they get your luggage up and down those steep narrow paths?

Korcula 

After the peaceful little town of Slano and the rural hillside of Mjlet, the island of Korcula

was bustling tourist destination. The old town of Korcula is a typical medieval walled Dalmatian town, with walls and towers. Korcula's biggest claim is as the birthplace of Marco Polo. The “new” town of Korcula dates back to the renaissance, with modern buildings added through the centuries. Walking along the harbor past pebble and sand beaches, both old and new sections were equally picturesque. In Korcula, we experienced a combined town tour and wine tasting. The town tour being that we hiked from the dockside through various residential areas to the other side of town and the restaurant hosting the tasting. Having lived in places seasonally overrun by vacationers, I wondered what Korcula's residents thought of these groups of strangers wandering around, gesticulating in wonder at common place things and speaking in tongues?

Vis

The next day we docked at the island of Vis. Perhaps as it is furthest of the Dalmatian islands from the Croatian mainland, under Tito's rule it was used as a closed military base until 1989. As a naval base, commercial development was restricted and the island remained relatively untouched. Beautiful old stone buildings dating to the early days of Venetian rule, still dominate the towns. The sailboats and pleasure craft docked in front of the old buildings alternated with pebble and sand coves. In the clear clean water, sea urchins crawled among the rocks as bathers stayed on the sandy sections. Whether gazing towards the red roofs of the old town or off to the blue seas, Vis provides a perfect vista.

The remnants left behind by the military have been creatively adapted by the civilian

population. Our second wine tasting was in a former underground bunker, a cave used by the army to store weapons and supplies. The winery used both vintage wooden barrels as well as modern steel tanks to age their wines. The vats and tasting room all housed in the constant temperature and humidity within the mountain. The cave was set midway up the mountain and our hike to reach it was as interesting as the destination. Along the way we passed another repurposed remnant of Tito's might. His barracks and offices were now the seasonal grape pressing plant. Nature had overtaken what buildings and facilities, wine production had not yet needed. Fig trees and blossoms grew throughout the area and all along the roadway, making our hike up the hill along the road as pleasant as a walk in the park. There just didn't seem to be anything about Croatia, which was to be dismissed.

Blue Cave on Bisevo

The tiny island of Bisevo was not a port but never the less concealed a unique experience. The Blue Cave, is a natural eroded limestone seaside cavern, expanded by Tito's military. The coastal cavern is sufficiently shallow that sunlight reflects off the pale seabed up into the white limestone void, washing the entire space with an eerie electric blue light. Small boats take you to the low cave entrance, ducking down the boat handler poles his way around the cavern as you marvel at the seemingly unnatural lighting.

Hvar

Hvar is the hot spot of the Dalmatian islands. It has the most sunny days in Croatia, which

has made it a major tourist destination for both Croatia and neighboring countries. While the harbors of most of these seaside towns were lined with small sailboats, in Hvar the pleasure craft dwarfed our petite cruise ship. The dockside similarly instead of a few small cafes and gift shops was full of discos and nightclubs, which all keep the beat going until the wee hours. Celebrity visitors had tweeted and posted the charms of the town, spurring the party frenzy. In Hvar our wine tasting was conducted just before dusk on the balcony of a hip dockside restaurant. After dark that evening the quiet restaurant had turned into a rocking disco. Next door was another louder disco pumping out a wholly different musical genre. Cacophony reigned in Hvar at night.

Until we arrived at Hvar, the Amalia had been among one or two similar ships rafted to the dockside. Here we were rafted seven deep. This meant the often intoxicated party goers had to negotiate crossing gangplanks from the land through each boat to the next gangplank to the adjacent boat and on and on. It was somewhat surprising that there were no cries of man or woman overboard during the night. The cruiser tied up next to the Amalia was hosting a party for their young patrons plus crew from several ships. The musical choice was retro; stuff popular in the 70's. It was quite a rave-up and several of the Amalia crew looked a bit worse for wear the next morning. While tourism was the main economy of Hvar, between the floating and landed parties, I suspected the local residents might have some misgivings about their guests.

Brac 

Throughout travels in Croatia, I had wondered whose were the hands that carved all of the limestone? In past centuries, guilds trained apprentices; who now maintained these traditions? Between new construction, normal rehab and post-war repairs, a lot of stone needed to be quarried and dressed. The source of the stone, huge dusty quarries dotted the islands. These at first glance appeared to be a catastrophic landslides but the presence of cranes and loaders made the function clearer. The beautiful limestone graces buildings all over the world including the U.S. Whitehouse. Mechanical strength replaced manual skill to obtain the base material but the delicate engraving and swirling acanthus leaves to restore medieval and renaissance buildings require an experienced sculptor. In New York City, in order to repair the St. John the Divine Cathedral, a special training program had to be developed, recruiting retired Italian craftsmen as teachers.

In the tiny port of Pusisca, a stonemason / high school program was established to meet the demand in Croatia. The school was founded in 1906, a more recent innovation is implementation of a full accredited high school certificate program. We were supposed to have a tour of the school but no one was present in the school office when the dozen of us arrived from the Amalia. While the rest of our group wandered off, I observed that someone was explaining the training process in English. I crashed their tour, no one seemed to mind.

The school used an organized logical progression of skill development. Students were presented with their tools and a rough block of stone. Under guidance, their first task was to smooth one side, then square an adjacent side, rotating the block until it was a uniform cube. That process would take the first semester or possibly the first year. From a smooth cube the student next would carve out the inside, creating a simple rectangular basin. From this stage they would progress to decorative carving and ornamentation. Completing this initial project might take a student up to three years. 

To graduate a student would design an ornamental window frame, balustrade or similar complicated project and prepares a written proposal and drafts a measured architectural drawings, obtaining approval from his tutors. The student then selects and successfully carves the item to obtain their certificate. As a journeyman carver, there are job positions available both all over Croatia as well as overseas. The professor who explained and demonstrated the program, told us he and most other skilled masons had private clients, as well as, big public projects. The school matriculated about 100 enrollees each year. The students were predominantly young men but the school was proud to announce that there were a number of young women well.

As we cruised around the island of Brac, we passed an extraordinary beach area at the town of Bol. A white sandy beach followed two sides of an exposed point of the island, creating a very popular v-shaped shoreline for sunbathers. We overnighted in the picturesque town of Makarska, where we had our fourth wine-tasting. By this time the wine-tasting, some of our Women's Group had bored with the event and the Brits, Auzzies and New Zealanders started taking their places at the table! This event was in a restaurant operated by the vineyard. It was without a doubt the best snacks if not the best vintage. Not being a oenophile, I can only say it all the Croat wines were thoroughly drinkable. We were served a white, a rose and a red. The Rose tended not to be to my liking. The whites were similar to an un-oaked Chardonnay. The reds were rich. Apparently the grapes are the progenitor of the popular Zinfindel.

Omis

In the next port of Omis, some of us opted for a little adventure. Ziplining over the Cetina river. Going downhill, no problem. Getting to the top, was a different matter entirely. We had to climb up a 45 degree goat trail on the side of the mountain, no railing. Given that I am as surefooted as goat with a broken leg, a substantial portion of the up-hill climb I was on all fours. Once we arrived at the top, it was a breeze zipping downhill. There were a total of eight zip-lines up to a mile long criss-crossing back and forth over the river ravine. It was blast. Among our group of retiree age and not necessarily physically fit women, led by two hearty young athletes, we would imaginatively translate their radioed comms to each other. Later, we found out the 80 year old Aussie and his family had completed the zip course. He was the oldest person to ever do so!

Split

Our last port of call was the town of Split. All the tour books, advise that one should see Diocletian's palace, what they don't say is that the old town of Split is inside Diocletian's palace! The immense palace was built around 300 AD. After the fall of the Roman Empire, parts of the castle were predictably dismantled to reuse materials but the majority of the structure remains. Over the centuries people moved inside the walls, sometimes building their homes with stones removed from the walls. Now there are ample remnants of the palace itself, filled with both Diocletian's collections and with medieval, renaissance and modern infill. An Ottoman empire building sets next to one built during the Venetian occupation on a plaza clustered around a statue of Marko Marulić, Renaissance humanist and writer. Marulic, the Croatian equivalent of Chaucer, is considered the Father of Croat literature and the bane of existence of present High School students.

Other evidence of modern times permeated the ancient walls. Gift shops promoting “Game of Thrones” souvenirs and an opportunity for photographs sitting on a replica of the Iron Throne. A few young men dressed as Roman Gladiators would, for a fee, pose for pictures with you. A group of men stood in the ruins of the conical watch tower, great acoustics, and performed traditional a capella folk music. Ringed around the Palace Walls ranged a variety of farmer market, flower market and flea market stalls. Anything you might need on a holiday or want to take home as souvenir, was available. 

In a large shaded park just outside the walls, a number of bistro tables and chairs had been set up facing an enormous outdoor screen televising the on-going soccer world cup. The park was packed with folks enjoying local beer and cheering on the foreign teams. Incongruously, a two story tall statue of St.Gregory of Nin stood scowling down on the soccer fans. He had strongly opposed the Pope in 900. It did appear that he approved of modern soccer fans either.

The wonders of Diocletian's Palace matched the other attractions of Croatia. It may have been a whim to go there but it certainly worked out to be a more than worthwhile experience. Popular too, the Women's Travel Club has listed a similar trip for next year. My next trip would be with the family: return to Iceland to sample the geological features.

Croatia

Why Croatia? Why not? A whim, with a nod to Nero Wolfe, the fictional detective. His mysterious roots were from Montenegro. It sounded sounded like a romantic medieval throwback. An offer for A Women's Travel club trip to Croatia and Montenegro was just irresistible. While the majority of the time would be spent cruising between ancient seaports along the Croatian Dalmatian coast islands, there would be a day in Montenegro and another to Islamic Herzegovina.

Croatia had been under the influence of the Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman, Venetian and French empires and in the modern day the Soviet empire. Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia, Herzegovina, Slovenia, Serbia and Macedonia had formed the Socialist Federation of Yugoslavia. Governed under Tito, Yugoslavia had been part of the communist bloc but had maintained independence from the Kremlin. With the collapse of the soviet empire, Croatia had desired an independent democratic government, the rest of the Yugoslav states did not concur. In 1990 – 1992 a civil war erupted between Croatia and the remaining counties, followed by internal fighting and religious “cleansing” between Bosnian and Serbian forces. Eventually NATO stepped in but not before historic Dubrovnik and many smaller cities were destroyed by bombing. UNESCO provided funds for the rebuilding of the historically significant sites but many towns were left in ruins. Influences of both ancient past and recent events are discernible in the current day.

The first impression of Croatia was “am I back in Sicily?” Steep rocky hillsides terraced down to the sea, the Adriatic instead of the Mediterranean in this case. Fig trees grew wild alongside the narrow hairpin highways. It seemed every house had a grape arbor and a fruit garden. The houses were constructed of white karst limestone blocks instead of golden tuffa limestone, but covered with similar red tiled roofs. Both island chains had been formed by the movement of techtonic plates pushing up the ancient seabed. That was eons ago and now the former seabed was building materials and the rugged mountain backdrop.

Fallen rocks & quarries

Down by the water's edge I could see a proliferation of masts. With a 1000 small islands nestled along the Dalmatian coastline providing snug coves and safe harbors, sailing would be a popular avocation. There were also larger motor vessels, some of the pleasure craft cruisers were larger than the smaller commercial cruise ships. Among the more conventional boats were a few historic replicas, masted pirate ships and multi-level corsairs. It was a beautiful setting.

The trip began in Dubrovnik, a historic walled town and an UNESCO world heritage site. Entering the walled city proper through the historic Pile gate, there is a view to the sea between the soaring city walls and an adjacent citadel. A party of kayakers could be seen paddling out for a patrol around the promontory. In land, just below the steps and stepped causeway to the Pile gate, was what had once been a moat. It was now a garden with blooming trees and a small flea market spread out in the shade beneath.

The entire city had been built of local limestone in the 14^th through 17^th centuries. The once rough blocks, now polished and smoothed by centuries of passing feet and stoking hands. The streets were so white and sleek that you might think the city was built of Carrera marble. The structures were a lovely mix of medieval and renaissance architecture housing both historic sites as well as modern businesses.

The main promenade and side squares were filled with throngs of tourists. With so many fascinating historic buildings it was no wonder. Just inside the main gate was a enormous circular fountain, adjacent to it a medieval monastery and one of the entrances to walk the ancient walls, ahead at the opposite end of the promenade was a luminous clock tower. The were of course a myriad of cathedrals and churches, most open to the public with small museums of reliquaries. Galleries, shops and cafes were tucked in between the major constructions.

While many buildings now were tourist oriented, judging by the backyard gardens and hanging laundry people clearly lived in the old city. In one of the plazas was a local farmer's market selling honey, fruits and vegetables. There were herbs, tomatoes, squash and greens, freshly baked breads and cookies, citrus, berries and unfamiliar fruits, which I discovered were medlars. While there were fig trees along every road, it was sadly too early in the season for their fruit.

It was a blazing hot day but I opted to “walk the walls”. After having my Dubrovnik in a day pass card punched, I climbed the first of the 1,080 stair steps which top the wall. Smooth, slippery, uneven and steep, it became quickly apparent that this was not going to be stroll but a clamber. Never the less the extraordinary view both out to sea and into the domestic yards made the effort worthwhile. The shimmering sun was reflected back over the turquoise Adriatic. What appeared to be commercial fishing boats were near the horizon, while closer to shore but so far beneath the cliff like walls were a few pleasure craft, primarily kayaks and canoes but someone was out in a skiff with a fishing pole. The were even a few hardy swimmers paddling along the rock face. In the distance was the citadel rotunda, grey and dramatic, as tall as the city walls themselves.

As the walls wrapped, new scenes came into view: The little island of Lokrum, less than a half mile off the coast, and the ancient harbor, now full of sailboats and cafes. Each steep flight of stairs led to a small open plaza, the top of the guard towers. Once they would have had a contingent of armed men on watch, now each housed it's own cafe or refreshment kiosk. With the exposed walls and beating sun, the sales of beverages and ice cream were brisk.

The enclosed yards below the walls were primarily residential with few cafe kitchens thrown in alongside them, judging by the occasional clattering of pans and shouted voices. Clothes lines with drying laundry waved above pocket gardens planted with fruit trees and short rows of vegetables. Recorded music wafted from an open window. Tables and chairs underneath a canopy made an attractive rooftop plaza on an adjacent house. In one small yard was a magnificent multi-story citrus tree, glowing orange orbs of grapefruits sprinkled amid the stiff verdant foliage. A wisteria vine climbed alongside the tree, lavender flowers contrasting with the green and orange like examples on a color wheel.

Traversing the majority of the walls, I came upon the last entrance/exit staircase and realized that the last leg was a 45 degree climb. Hiking around I had been constantly in fear of being jostled by the passing crowds and slipping on the polished steps. Would I be better off to tumble into some unsuspecting person's backyard, crashing through a vine-covered lanai, leaving a dreadful mess or fall over the ramparts and eventually drift out into the Adriatic? Other aspects of Dubrovnik history beckoned, down I climbed.

Wandering through the side streets towards the Pile gate, I tried to avoid the crowds. Sneaking along the smaller alleyway I came across several buildings which posted pictures of their appearance before and after the 1994 bombings and after the UNESCO rebuild. Looking at the buildings before, now and their unbombed adjacent counterparts, the repairs were indiscernible. Where did they find the craftsman to work such magic? 

Later in on the island, I would find part of the answer.

Montenegro, Kotor the bay and beach

Before embarking for the Dalmatian Islands there was a day trip and ferry ride to the walled city of Kotor in Montenegro. The Bay of Kotor has an unusual shape, like a butterfly with long hind wings or a bow with the ends trailing into the Adriatic. It seemed to be three or four smaller bays joined together. For a different scenic view and to avoid the long drive around, we embarked on a ferry. From the water the unique points of land were apparent. One maritime vista after another came into view as we passed the mouths of each section of the bay. The narrow openings between the “wings” had led medieval residents to string chains across the bay to prevent incursions in wartime.

Like Dubrovnik, Kotor was under the rule of every empire and kingdom in the region but is now most noted for the town built during the 400 years as a part of the Venetian Republic. The city walls, domestic and church architecture and plazas all reflect the Venetian influence. The walls themselves face the harbor, run along a a river front canal moat then climb up 3 miles the mountain cliff face, around the Fortress of St. John (1200 steps!) and return to enclose the city. The dramatic Harbor Gate, features an adjacent large plaque of the Venetian Lion holding a book. An open book means the walls were built during a period of peace, the city welcoming commerce, a closed book indicating a period of warfare when security issues would dominate. A smaller South gate further along the harbor has a whimsical doll seated alongside.

Kotor does seems to have a sense of humor, judging by the giant doll, the popular cat gallery and the proliferation of the errant animals, lounging around town. Being a much smaller and compact city with less modern tourists than Dubrovnik, it is easy to imagine a step back in time to the 15^th century. Constrained by the fortified walls the paved streets lead from one of four main plazas to another, interconnected by narrow alleyways. While the plaza by the main gateway was dominated by trinket shops and cafes, the back streets housed shoemakers, opticians and artisans. The sort of thing you would expect in anytown. Perhaps because of less crowds of sightseers, Kotor seemed more picturesque and less frantic than Dubrovnik. Each avenue lined by architecturally interesting houses and each open plaza fronting a church or cathedral. All in all, it was place was would like to linger. 

On the way back to Dubrovnik, a lunch stop in the beach town of Budya was more interesting for the un-repaired examples of wartime strife on the modern buildings than for the small and comparatively unremarkable walled old town. A small church with beautiful frescoes was the highpoint.

Bosnia-Herzegevenia

A long bus ride to Mostar in Herzegovenia was marked by two trips through serious border patrols and a drive through the “no-man's land” which remains as post war-buffer. The peculiar interlaced coastal borders of Croatia and Bosnia make the most direct route from Dubrovnik to Mostar, out of Croatia into Bosnia back into Croatia and back into Bosnia,with border patrols at every interval. At least they don't have some joint task force at no man's land as well. For the past ten years plans have been underway to build a bridge from the end of a Croatian peninsula to the mainland circumventing the Bosnian pass-through. The progress on this project, so far, being a single tall crane setting abandoned at the proposed site. 

Hustling out of Dubrovnik early to avoid long lines at the border, we drove through the neat limestone houses and snug gardens of the coastal Croatian suburbs to more rural inland areas. Small farms clung to the sides of mountains, with the rows of vineyards and the occasional cow or sheep grazing on narrow terraces. The checkpoints were uneventful, albeit a bit nerve wracking, handing over our stack of passports to the grim faced armed guards.

Back on the road without substantial delays, the traverse through the depressing post-apocalyptic scene of no-man's lands was a contrast to the Croatian progress. Nature was well on its way to reclaiming the landscape but the actions of men both during the war and more currently were less uplifting. Abandoned roadside towns and farms, pockmarked by bombing and decorated by faded graffiti, now had trees growing through the roofs. All along the road was trash, piles of trash, not just the occasional wrapper or bottle strewn out a car window but bags of garbage. No man's land was a dump. Our Croatian guide blamed the Russians, at least she didn't point a finger at the Bosnians. She had a point, while the highway was less maintained after the next checkpoint, it was clear of trash. Russian tourists, eh?

After a pleasant drive along the Neretva river we arrived in Mostar. The town is divided by the river into Christian and Moslem cliques. Our goal was the ancient Moslem section but we parked in the modern facilities of the Christian side. The name Mostar derived from “bridge keepers”. The dominant feature of the town is the Stari Most arched bridge across the Neretva. Originally built in the 16^th century it was rebuilt to historic accuracy by UNESCO after the 1990s war. One of the intentions of the designer, Sinan, must have been to slow invaders. The bridge is steeply inclined, paved with irregular limestone cobbles and consequently perilous for the less than sure footed. In fact all of the streets in the historic turkish style old-city had the same smooth but uneven cobbles. In the rain, a tour across the Stari Most and through town would be a double adventure.

The crowds and steep slope did not deter a spirited tourist oriented business. For a fee young men would leap from the the bridge into the rushing Neretva. Several handsome young men stood partially stripped, while an older fellow tried to drum up business. Judging from the gestural conversation, this was a standard but off the cuff event. Additional young men stopped by to see if they could join the jump; they appeared to be discussing the potential revenue with the older fellow. This afternoon they were few takers interested in paying to video jumpers. The older man waved his hands in disgust and told all the boys to get dressed. Not a lucrative day in the Stari Most high-jinks business. A few onlookers seemed more disappointed when the young fellows covered themselves up, than to have missed the immersion into the Neretva.

While the Christian side of town has rebuilt in a very modern style, the Moslem side looks untouched from the late middle ages. The narrow winding main thoroughfare is lined with small shops hawking souvenirs. The effect made me think of an open air version of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. The cobbled streets were laid in geometric and even floral motifs. Would the designs have helped travelers making their way in the dark? The decorative patterns continued into the historic recreation of a typical house in the Ottoman style.

The compound's high walls enclosed a small cobbled courtyard with lined with benches, centered around a small fountain and pool. The potted plants and fountain were familiar features seen in any traditional Turkish residence. The overhanging porch, shaded lower level lounge and airy upstairs men's room were also in evidence. Females had to make do with smaller enclosed quarters, their only respite from Summer heat would be to sit by the fountain in the walled courtyard. All the rooms featured minimal furniture. Hard benches, which like the floor, were covered in rugs and a number of small movable tables. The tables were more large ornamental brass trays setting upon intricately carved wooden folding bases. The essence of the nomadic tent recreated in the fixed structure.

A small mosque bombed during the war and now recreated for tourism concluded our tour. The small mosque had been built by the local leather workers. They had been unwelcome in the main mosque due to the lingering aroma of their leather tanning supplies. Given that traditional leather tanning is most often effected using urine and brain matter, the craftsman could have been quite malodorous. This historic factor was the most interesting feature of the site. As it had been built by and for poor workmen, it lacked the beautiful fretwork, tiles or decorative painting typical of major mosques.

As we wandered back through the bazaar-like main street, I was looking for a few small commemorative items. There were cast models of the Stari Most, spun Aluminum miniature Turkish coffee sets, even tall metal-encased coffee, spice or pepper grinders. Many textiles from paisley Pashmina knockoffs to “Mostar” on woolly caps and scarves were on display, all made of acrylic. All the souvenirs were marked made in China! Finally off to the side, I found a little shop selling tinned brass items. The elderly shop owner was engraving a small pot as I entered. While a samovar might not be either useful or portable, miniature Turkish coffee pots could be used to serve any fluid. This was more what I had in mind, clearly handmade and marked from Bosnia.

We wandered back over the perilous bridge to the Christian side of town, found a restaurant and lunched on a porch overlooking the Neretva, with the vista of the bridge and old town as a backdrop. Lovely and the food was excellent. From this perspective we could really appreciate the river. It curved and flowed rapidly with enough boulders to create attractive ripples and a bit of white water. Aside from the flashes of white, the river was a brilliant emerald green, gorgeous and distinctive. The return bus ride to Croatia was uneventful aside from a bit of anxiety at border control. The next day we would make a final walk through Dubrovnik, then board our boat for the islands.