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Published: January 20th 2009
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cat smoking joint
Sorry guys this was the only photo i took in Zagreb that i bothered to keep Croatians are a proud people with many traditions and an impressive nationalistic fighting spirit which has set them apart from many of the other countries in the region. Since the soviets left the region they carved themselves a nation against many overwhelming odds.
We caught a plane from one of the lesser known airports just outside of London. Will and I had arrived at the airport 7 hours early for what we claimed was a most unecessary precaution, but in reality we didn't want to fork out 30 quid for half a night at a scummy east London hostel. I slept on the floor of the airport wrapped in my sleeping bag for lack of better options whilst Will chatted with Russian student girl and a large Irish African who gave a whole new meaning to the term 'black Irish'.
The girls name was Natoiya she had come from a relatively middle class province just outside of Moscow and was currently engaged to an older Welsh man of whom she happily shared photos of. I don't recall the man's name needless to say it certainly wasn't an Irish one. He had come over to Ireland originally from Chad to
work as a taxi driver in Dublin and had impregnated an Irish girl who had just had his baby, from what I gathered a shotgun wedding had followed and he now carried an Irish passport and was now looking for work in England.
Somehow the time passed quite quickly and when the time came for us to eventually board our flight we were both feeling very groggy. While waiting to board the plane I played a little game in my head trying to pick the Croatians from the English by appearances alone then sneaking a glance at their passport as they boarded the plane. I was surprised to find this was much harder than I thought it would be, mainly because unbeknownst to me unlike their Serbian cousins to the North there are shitload of blonde Croatians and they generally tend to look more Germanic than traditional Slavic. If it wasn't for the heavy gold necklaces, big rotund hairy bellies and the women of impossibly perfect proportions I would never be able to tell the difference.
The Aeroplane we travelled in was an older model 747 lacking many of the comforts of the airline we arrived on. It was no doubt purchased from the west cheap and outdated like much of what you would see in eastern Europe. Luxury and quality is generally of little concern for a people whom would face starvation and war as realities of day to day life.
The flight was quiet and relatively fast, it was my assumption that the unnatural hour of our flight deterred the parents with screaming babies and the nervous energetic talkitive types were as dead to the world as we were.
We touched down at Zagreb international airport at approximately 8am. The Sun was rising as we exited the airport and the dry heat that came with it was striking contrast to the cool misty atmosphere of central London. We caught a bus from the airport not bothering to haggle with the bus driver, in our sleep deprived state we most certainly got ripped off not even taking into account the extra fee we paid for our luggage to be stacked away below.
We were quite shocked when we reached the Central district of Zagreb, unlike any capital city ive seen previously this one had no sky scrapers. Even the streets which would be the equivalent of the Melbourne CBD, were practically bare. It was like the entire city was only holiday. Cars and trams would come and go about their business but in such a casual way as you would expect of a country town.
There werent many people in this ghost city, but many of those we saw would cause us no lack of intrigue. An alarming amount of the men in the city were scarred or handicapped in some way, missing fingers and blindness were quite common here. After years of fighting they finally had peace but the cost was great for these proud eastern Europeans.
The women of Croatia blew my mind. No-where in my life short of a catwalk have I ever seen more criminally sexy girls in one place. They made the flamenco sinoritas of South America seem gangly and silicon in comparison. They made the english girls seem chubby and pasty, I think I can safely say there is a paradise for men on Earth and all you have to do is learn a bit of Croatian.
The hostel we found from our travel guide was rediculously eastern communist block, it was a giant shoebox filled with smaller shoebox apartment. The man behind the counter was a paraplegic and the girl he had with him was so hot I momentarily forgot English.
They were friendly and explained the situation of the hostel, which was actually student accomodation throughout the year but in between semesters it was a hostel and the inside wasn't too shabby at that. Although when we first tried to find our room we went to the wrong door and much to the suprise of ourselves, the blind man who opened the door and especially the blind mans dog; we had the wrong room. Everything turned out okay though and the room was quite snug the sheets were clean and we had our own bathroom.
We spent two days in Zagreb and on the second day after catching the wrong tram two times, we finally found someone who spoke English and got directions to the waterpark which is one of the cities main attractions. The waterpark lake was full of fish of all sizes and the water so clear you could sit on the grass and watch them in their element. During summer they hold alot of water sports events at the lake but mainly the cobbled beaches were covered with the tanned lithe bodies of young croats.
We stopped at one of the cafes along the waterfront and I ordered a litre of local beer which cost me abou $1.50 australia and was surprisingly brilliant! we could definately take one or two brewing tips from our eastern cousins. I also got to experience Chevepi for the first time, pronounced sher-vap-pi. From my experiences in eastern europe I think I can safely say this is the staple diet, a Chevepi is a kind of skinless sausage which is roasted and often served in a bun with onions. It its very wholesome and tastes great! but after several weeks of the stuff I can safely say if i never see another Chevepi again I will die a happy man.
That afternoon we returned to the bus stop to organise a bus to Dubrovnik. Still aching from our travelling the day before we got on another bus and once again got ripped off by the bus driver making us pay to put the luggage in the under carriage (*NOTE* I did check with the bus company and it really is just a scam but they all do it).
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