Long Day's Journey into Zagreb

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Here I sit in the gorgeous lounge of a history-drenched hotel in the middle of the Croatian capitol of Zagreb. A guy with a friendly smile and thinning hair is tickling the ivories, and strains of "Summertime" can be heard between bursts of Croatian from a nearby table. The lights are low, the cafe table bouquets are fresh, and the candles are flickering. I've decided to soak in the ambiance of this place and write to you all instead of going out tonight. When home is this sublime -- with columns of swirled marble and glowing art deco lamps and light fixtures -- why leave?

This hotel -- the Regent Esplanade -- is an absolutely sinful extravagance on my part, but it was the only place I could even imagine that would set my soul right after a grueling 32 hours on the train. I just simply couldn't face a shared room in a hostel after sharing a compartment with five smoking Croats.

Actually, most of the train journey I absolutely loved. The reassuring clack-clack of the tracks just makes my soul sing. For the first day or so, that is, I just loved it. I traveled north from Athens to Thessaloniki on the night train, and then caught a train that went through Skoplje, Macedonia to Belgrade, Serbia and then onto Zagreb, Croatia. Those of you looking at a map might be wondering why I would take such a roundabout route to get to Croatia. Originally I had planned to get a flight from Athens to Zagreb, except for the annoying fact that such a flight doesn't exist. You have to go through Budapest or Munich, and they charge you about 500 euros! So, then I thought I'd just take a train to Dubrovnik and travel up the Croatian coast instead of down it. The problem there was that there was no train or otherwise reliable transportation between Skoplje, Macedonia and Dubrovnik, Croatia, at least according to the ticket guy in Athens. He kept going on in broken English about how they were all "too many countries now" and that I should "call the American embassy." The gist of all this is that he didn't think it was either safe or possible to travel across Bosnia-Hercegovina/Republika Srpska. ( I was later informed that there just aren't passable roads for buses in all parts of the BiH, and that this was probably the reason) I don't know if this is true or not, but I just bought the ticket to Zagreb. In the Balkans, as in many parts of the world, the most direct route is not always possible.

The first night on the train could not have been better. I had a compartment all to myself and sat up listening to all of my Tom Waits' train songs (there are many) and watched the full moon sway back and forth across the Greek landscape as the train wound through the valley. It was like a shiny hypnotic charm, and sleep came easily.

I slept through the rest of Greece the next day, until I was woken up by a Macedonian border guard who was instantly interested in my camera. It turns out that he is a bit of technology buff and just bought a Sony video camera. We left the train so he could show it to me, and when I asked if I should be worried about the train leaving, he said, "Don't worry, it can't leave until I say it can." It turns out the guy was the head honcho out there in the Macedonian borderlands. When we parted, he gave me his Skype address (even the border guards in rural Macedonia are wired!) and a lovely yogurt concoction. I had asked if there was anything to eat anywhere. The answer was no.

What was nice as I moved further north was the fact that the words around me were gradually becoming distinguishable: the Greek was fading and the Serbo-Croatian was surfacing. Although I was in utterly unfamiliar territory, the fact that I could communicate (however clumsily) was reassuring.

About midday the journey became trying. There was nothing to eat on the train, and we didn't stop long enough in the stations for me to buy anything. I dug out some peanuts from my bag. Then, we were in areas that didn't accept Euros anyway. Note to travelers: Don't assume that trains in the former Yugo have anything approaching a restaurant car. Bring your own grub. I also desperately needed a shower and my neck was twisted from sleeping upright.

Despite my discomforts, the scenery of Serbia and Macedonia was beautiful, with sprawling valleys and hills, and roaming goats and gigantic pigs that made the scenery all the more rustic. In contrast to the California's Central Valley, which I've driving across innumerable times, these farmland crops were smaller and less machine manicured and irrigated: several times I saw farmers out there with a single hoe in hand, working their way down a line of vegetables.

Sometime last night we were all loaded onto two cramped cars, and I sat upright for the last ten hours of the journey, unsure of what I wanted more: food or a shower.

I got into Zagreb this morning at 6AM, and stumbled across the square toward the elegant Hotel Esplanade like it was an apparition that might disappear if I did not move quickly enough. My subsequent hot shower in a jade marble tiled bathroom was like liquid heaven. After the train my bed feels like I am sleeping on a cloud.

The Hotel was built back at the turn of the 20th century to serve the upscale Orient Express crowd and it has retained its old-world elegance. It has hosted diplomats, famous journalists and writers, and now, me...so its distinguished guest list is complete!

I've briefly wandered the streets of Zagreb, which are charming and easy to navigate, until you get to the narrow windy paths of the medieval town. Tomorrow I'll be investigating further.

I'm sorry to report that I think I left my camera cord at Georgia's, so I cannot download any pictures right now. Bummer!!!! I'll be looking for a replacement, but until I find one I'll have to make my descriptions vivid enough for you to imagine it without the benefit of photos.

I'll try to post again soon. I'll be touring Zagreb some more tomorrow, and then I'm off to the island of Rab on Wednesday.

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