No Dogs, No Guns, No Ice Cream

In the waning days of our visit to the Aegean and the Adriatic, time flew too quickly, and I couldn't find a few minutes to post. Let me share a few observations about the Balkans, and later in the week I'll come back to what we learned about Venice in three nights (and about 50,000 steps).

*We popped into a few fragments of Tito's Yugoslavia -- Kotor, a beautiful seaport town on the coast of Montenegro (the 192nd member of the United Nations, admitted two years ago), followed by Split and Rovinj ("ro-VEEN," or in Italian, Rovigno) in Croatia.

*You'll hear a lot about Croatia and Montenegro being "the new and undiscovered Riviera." Listen to those people. These areas feature some lovely coastlines (some of which has, unfortunately, already given way to Costa do Sol-style overdevelopment), stunning mountains (Kotor is a fortified town tucked in against a mountain that soars 2000 feet almost straight up from the sea), and fascinating history (most of Split's old town is built within the substantial remnants of the palace of the fourth-century Roman emperor Diocletian -- the only Roman emperor ever to retire, and thus to die reasonably happy)... oh, and some very good cheese (fresh farmer's cheeses seem to be a mainstay here) and seafood (if you find yourself in Kotor, grab a table at Galion just outside the city's walls on the fjord and enjoy the best grilled calamari you'll ever taste).

*Croatians are a tall people. I am accustomed to walking through ancient European tourist zones and ducking the low clearances. In Croatia, I had plenty of company -- both men and women. (I followed one rail-thin blonde for a block to try to figure out whether she was taller than me, but her gait was so fast that I'm just about certain she was -- or that she thought she was being followed.) Now I understand why the NBA has so much Croatian talent.

*One of my favorite parts of any trip abroad usually has something to do with music, and this trip was no exception. As I walked through the emperor's gate in Diocletian's palace in Split, I saw five young men in denims assembling themselves in a niche in an open-roofed, egg-shaped hall. One of them sounded a chord on a harmonium, and the men launched into the sonorous harmonies of Croatian folk songs. Some of their chords and phrasing reminded me of emotional Eastern hymns, but there were a few moments where they sounded like an American doo-wop group. I bought their CD (though I've got the feeling it may have been their older brothers, as it was recorded at the Radio Split studios in 1999), which I've added to my small collection of great street music of the world.

*My favorite signs in Croatia: three symbolic decals on the windows of a hotel with the universal red circle and slash that signified "no dogs, no guns, no ice cream."

*We were struck by the fact that as we sat at cafes by the ports in these towns, we always saw at least one middle-aged or older fellow walk by in a nicely-cut suit, with a fedora, a pocket square, and the look of someone who is ready to talk his way into someone's heart or wallet. "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," Ann joked. (Which was actually the Cote d'Azur, but point taken).

*The Balkans are (rightly and sadly) synonymous with political instability, and things are no different in the 21st century. A couple of days after we left Croatia, there were bombings in the capital of Zagreb that killed some journalists. And just a few days before we arrived in Montenegro, there were demonstrations in the capital of Podgorica opposing Montenegro's recognition of the breakaway nation of Kosovo (which wants to say goodbye to Serbia). While in Kotor, I picked up a copy of The Montenegro Times, a weekly English-language newspaper (with a couple of pages in Russian), and flipped through it to get some sense of what was on the minds of Montenegrins. I came across a story in which the metropolitan (equivalent to bishop) of the Serbian Orthodox Church warned Montenegro against recognizing Kosovo, despite the fact that the EU is inclined to do so. If you don't appreciate how deeply the passions run about religious, ethnic and political matters in the Balkans, take a deep breath and read the following paragraph (quoted in the Times) from the metropolitan's letter to the leaders of Montenegro:

"You have the historic responsibility to decide whether, following the path of St. Petar Cetinjski and King Nikola, you will save honor and preserve the dignity of Montenegro, its righteousness and freedom, which our country rests upon, or, God forbid, you will set a mark of disgrace on its face, and adorn it with such shame and humiliation that has never been seen in the centuries-long history of chivalry and strong character."

Makes our rhetorical brawls back home look pretty tame.