Tag Archives: croatia

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: THE MUSEUM OF BROKEN RELATIONSHIPS

Posted on by

“A museum about you, about us, about the ways we love and lose”

We stumbled upon it one warm September afternoon in Zagreb’s Upper Town, a sign so intriguing we crossed the road to take a closer look. A museum? For broken relationships? One where the artefacts are contributed not by historians or professional artists, by those involved; the heartbroken, the newly released, the despairing and the ever hopeful.

Zagreb may be the museum’s permanent home but it also has a virtual presence and outreach exhibitions. And anyone can contribute, either by sending their item to the museum or one of the exhibitions, or by filing their story online. Indeed you can upload a story that no-one else will see; it can remain your personal testimony until you are ready to share it, or timelocked until a date of your choosing.

The idea behind donating is this: “Recently ended a relationship? Wish to unburden the emotional load by erasing everything that reminds you of that painful experience? Don’t – one day you may regret it. Instead, send your item to our museum and take part in the creation of a collective emotional history!”

Photo credit: Museum of Broken Relationships/Sanja Bistiric

And which of us has not been there? The decision to part with (or not part with) a possession so intrinsically wrapped into a relationship that is broken beyond repair is one of the toughest. We have lost the person (for better or for worse). Would it be cathartic or even more heart wrenching to lose that birthday card, that pair of boots, that book, that kitten… Please don’t sent the museum the kitten – a photograph will do very nicely.

So what sort of things does the museum receive? The answer is anything and everything and the collection is growing so fast that only around a tenth of it is ever displayed. But it is all carefully curated and kept, seeing the light of day for themed exhibitions and when new space becomes free. Online contributions, in the form of pictures and stories, are published to the museum’s website within a few days.

The Museum of Broken Relationships began in 2006 as creative art project conceived by Olinka Vištica and Dražen Grubišić. Even now the fundamental idea behind it is to pull creativity, rather than destruction, from grief by giving something to the museum. The idea is a sound one. I remember many years ago hearing a rabbi on the radio say that if you make a mistake, rather than fret about it you should wrap it up in a beautiful parcel and make a gift of it to your god. Unlikely as it sounds, it worked for me.

Photo credit: Museum of Broken Relationships/Sanja Bistricic

If you visit the museum or one of its exhibitions you could be confronted by anything so do so with an open mind. Everything is displayed anonymously, with the dates and place the break up happened. A drawing, a doll, a dildo… a piece of belly button lint. Everything has a place here and a story. But one of my absolute favourites is a toaster. The toaster of vindication it’s called, the label pithy and brief: “That’ll show you. How are you going to toast anything now?”

To visit, contribute, browse, or support the museum by buying something quirky or hilarious from its shop, check out its website at https://brokenships.com/

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: DUBROVNIK SYNAGOGUE AND JEWISH MUSEUM

Posted on by

I would never have even realised Dubrovnik had a Jewish Museum if I hadn’t been researching the city’s Jewish community during the Second World War. As it happens, their story – and the museum itself – became an important part of The Collaborator’s Daughter.

I tracked the museum down online first. There are walking tours of the city with a Jewish focus that appear to be aimed specifically at the cruise passengers, and through this I discovered the heart of the Jewish community in the old town. The name of its location, Zudioska (Jewish) Street might have given it away if I’d thought about it.

As with many medieval trading cities the Jewish community in Dubrovnik were important and the synagogue is one of the oldest Sephardic ones in Europe. It is on the top floor of the rather anonymous building and is a beautiful and calming sacred space even today. The dark wooden seats are rich with age and the Wedgwood blue decorations on the ceiling reminiscent of the Mediterranean sky.

Even more interesting to me was the museum that takes up the floor below. It is tiny but showcases the community’s history so well, from the fabulously embroidered vestments and ornate fourteenth century torah scroll that represent the Jews’ proud history, to a second room with chilling artefacts from World War Two.

Compared to other parts of Europe, overall Dubrovnik’s Jews suffered less because initially at least they were under Italian control. While Croatia’s (and yes, it is correct to use that term for the period) home grown fascists persecuted the faith with even more vigour than the Germans, in this small enclave they were safe. For a while at least, and their numbers grew.

Then, in 1942 the Italians were told the clamp down. Curfews were imposed, yellow armbands issued. All the awful paraphernalia of ethnic hatred. Finally in the November the eighty or so members of the community were interned near the harbour at Gruz and on the island of Lopud. Eventually they were moved north to a larger camp at Rab, and during the chaos resulting from the Italian surrender the partisans took the area and a majority were saved. In all twenty-seven of the Dubrovnik Jews died, many more moved to Israel, and the community never recovered.

Although the synagogue is rarely used, helpful volunteers are available to show visitors around and to talk about the artefacts and history. The museum is open all day, every day, and is well worth half an hour of anyone’s time.

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: ROMANTIC FICTION

Posted on by

In celebration of the #RespectRomFic campaign, today I’m sharing some ideas of how you can visit Croatia from the comfort of your own armchair – and perhaps even fall in love.

The classic summer read: The Getaway by Isabelle Broom

This sun-drenched holiday book is set on the island of Hvar, loved by international jetsetters and backpackers alike.

When Kate’s life falls apart in a spectacularly public manner she joins her brother in Hvar to disappear from the world and lick her wounds. But then she meets Alex, a loner with a secret to hide. As he shows her the beautiful island she begins to have feelings for him that seem to be reciprocated. But will he ever be able to confront his demons and move on? And can Kate be there for him if he does?

 

The romcom: The Secret Cove in Croatia by Julie Caplin

Many people’s first experience of Croatia is on a cruise around the islands, and one of these small luxury boats setting out from cosmopolitan Split is the setting for this book.

When no-nonsense Maddie Wilcox is offered the chance to work on a luxury yacht for the summer, she can’t say no. She will be waiting on the posh guests, but island-hopping around Dalmatia should more than make up for it – especially when Nick, her best mate’s brother, is one of them. In this will-they won’t-they romance, sparks fly when they meet on board and Maddie can’t believe self-entitled jerk Nick is really related to her friend. But in a secret, picture-perfect cove, away from the real world, Maddie and Nick discover they might have more in common than they realise.

 

The biography: The Girl Who Left by Debra Gavranich

Set in a small rural village on the island of Korcula during and after the Second World War, this biography is a love story too.

The author’s mother Marija’s Yugoslavian childhood was tough but happy – until first the Italians, and later the Germans, arrived to occupy their island. Her older sister fled to join the partisans and she was left, frightened and hungry, to cope with the rest of the family when she should have been in school. After the war her best chance of a bright future was to travel to Australia as a proxy bride, married to a man who had emigrated from the village years before, but who she had never met.

 

The dual timeline: An Island of Secrets by Eva Glyn

The smallest of apologies for including my own book, but I would so love take you to the island of Vis in Dalmatia, and in particular the small fishing town of Komiza.

In 1944, British commando and SOE operative Guy Barclay is stationed there alongside Yugoslavian partisans. Not only does his war change when he witnesses a brutal execution, but he meets and falls in love with local fisherwoman Ivka. But can their love survive the war? Seventy years later Guy sends his investment banker granddaughter Leo to the same island. Battered and broken by a loveless marriage and her desire for a baby, she meets local travel agent Andrej. But are their worlds too far apart for their love to have a chance?

 

 

#RespectRomFic is a movement started by publishing luminaries to try to assure that romantic fiction is given the respect it deserves, and that matches its importance in readers’ lives – and its commercial value in the book market. For far too long the contribution to the literary landscape of the books written by the authors writing in the romance & saga space has been at best ignored, at worst dismissed. Show your support by using the hashtag to talk about your favourite romances.

 

 

 

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: KOMIZA

Posted on by

I knew, when I started to write the book that would become An Island of Secrets, that I needed to visit Komiza, but as it was during the lockdowns of 2021 it seemed like an impossible dream. Then, in the summer, everything opened up and we booked a small apartment, took our covid tests, and headed off.

It was a bit of a journey, and that’s one of the reasons the place remains low on the tourist radar, despite being the main filming location for Mamma Mia II. We flew into Split and after an overnight stay on the mainland took a ferry to Vis (the island and the town), where a taxi met us and dropped us on Komiza’s harbourfront.

This was our first lesson about the town (not a village, a town, and the inhabitants are intensely proud of that fact) – there is no vehicle access to much of it, certainly not to the narrow streets and alleys heading up the hill from and surrounding the harbour. But as we strolled along the waterfront in the late afternoon sun, past restaurants, coffee shops and an ice cream parlour, I sank into the sort of peaceful joy that only the Mediterranean gives me.

There are plenty of places to eat and drink around the waterfront, and a small supermarket if you prefer to actually self cater. A surprising amount of stock is squeezed into its narrow aisles, but it’s worth fighting to the back to the deli counter. The staff were delighted we wanted to try different local cooked meats and cheeses.

There are several tiny beaches near the central harbour, but the main one, Gusarica, is to the right as you face the sea, perhaps a five minute walk down Ribarska Ulica, the street through the old fishermen’s quarter. On either side are beautiful old stone houses, a few of them little more than tumbledown ruins just crying out to be repaired.

I swam from Gusarica’s pebbles every morning (don’t expect sand in Dalmatia); the sea warm and the backdrop stunning. Komiza is wrapped in the arms of a wide bay – thus its long and rich tradition as a fishing port – and watching the sun creep along the peninsular, making it glow golden, was incredible. Behind the beach is one of the pretty churches I feature in An Island of Secrets, with a beautiful incense-filled interior that’s well worth peeping into.

Along the harbour there are many boats offering trips to the famous blue cave on the nearby island of Bisevo and other gorgeous destinations. Alternatively, if you want something different, chat to the ladies selling them; although they’re in competition they do work together. I just wanted a trip along the coast to spec out some locations for my book and was able to negotiate a late afternoon bespoke trip for quite a reasonable price.

There are a plethora of restaurants to choose from, but we started with Konoba Koluna on the harbour – look for the red table clothes – and didn’t feel the need to go anywhere else. The staff were super-friendly and the food fresh and homely; just the way we like it. I suppose we were rather lazy, there were other places we would have liked to have tried, including Konoba BAK that specialises in peka (it was just too hot!) and Konoba Jastozera near Gusarica, which has fabulous views back across the harbour.

Admittedly Komiza is special to me because it is so central to one of my books, but if you want a quiet, traditional Mediterranean break in a warm and welcoming place then look no further.

 

 

 

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: THE SIXTH OF DECEMBER MIRACLE

Posted on by

I remember the Balkan war in the ‘90s. The horror of it all; of Sarajevo and Srebenica, of genocide and ethnic cleansing. I remember the Siege of Dubrovnik too, almost the place where the fighting began, but I didn’t understand why. I still don’t to this day.

We stand next to the Amerling Fountain, Mato and me, and we look at Mount Srd, beyond the belching buses and their fumes, above the terracotta tiles of the Pucic family’s elegant summer residence,  beyond the houses stacked behind, and on to the mountain itself,  sentinel as ever above the city.

My eyes travel upwards, following his pointing finger. Above the luxuriant leaves of cypress and pine, above the scrubland strewn with rocks, steep and ever steeper, up four hundred metres to the grey bulk of Fort Imperial perched on top. The fort that saved the city.

The Serbs and Montenegrins attacked from the south, sweeping a wave of refugees before them. The attack on the mountain began on 30th September 1991 and a day later the communications centre was captured and the power cut off. No electricity, no water, would reach the city below for months.

Pockets of resistance remained. Mato’s own family home was fought over bitterly, changing hands several times as desperate local defenders staved off an army. By the middle of November the invaders had taken all of Mount Srd. Everything, that is, except the fort.

And then Mato tells me of the greatest act of heroism of all. How thirty-eight men saved the city. And it happened in front of us, at the top of Mount Srd. The miracle of 6th December 1991.

Thirty-two men manned Fort Imperial. Exhausted men, hungry and thirsty, the enemy surrounding them on almost every side. An enemy with tanks and weapons that hadn’t been made in a converted broom factory. And ammunition. The men in the fort had nothing left at all, so under cover of darkness they started to creep down the mountainside.

Meanwhile, in perfect safety, the politicians were negotiating. The Serbs and Montenegrins had one demand. Give up the fort and we’ll stop shelling. Somehow, somehow, the message got through to a detachment of men climbing Mount Srd with ammunition. They met the shattered defenders coming down. The enemy thought they were still holding out. So they turned around and crept back.

Thirty-eight men with basic guns and not enough ammo. Thirty-eight men against an army. But what could they do? They went up to the roof and used them. As Mato explained, a man defending his home will fight like a tiger. An army of conscripted attackers is not so brave.

The fighting became hand to hand, the defenders desperate men, believing themselves as good as dead. But eventually they had to retreat inside. All felt lost, so they kept up their spirits by singing.

Most say it was a miracle, but Mato told me the fort’s unusual acoustics helped. Their voices filled the barrel vaults, swelling from shattered windows and walls. Sounding like a thousand men. Men the invading army were not prepared to fight.

We walk through the cool shade of the Pile Gate, into the main street, Stradun. In the walls of the buildings, on the glossy paving stones, the bullet holes are everywhere, once you know how to look. On the morning of 6th December alone almost 700 missiles landed in the old walled city; some from ships out to sea, the rest from Mount Srd.

Like the men in the Fort, it buckled, but it did not break. The world watched as smoke blackened the skies, a bombardment so heavy that finally, finally, the world condemned and the tide of the war turned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: THE LOCAL TAKE ON CAVTAT

Posted on by

How on earth, I hear you ask, can somewhere like Cavtat be hidden when it’s in every tourist brochure? I mean, why wouldn’t it be so popular? It’s all of ten minutes from Dubrovnik’s airport, has a few super-large hotels of the sort typically favoured by package operators and plenty of options for drinking and dining along its extensive waterfront.

But, like any resort, there are hidden parts and I’ve teamed up with my friend and collaborator on my books, jet-setting tour director Darko Barisic, to sketch out a perfect day in the place he calls home.

It’s important where you wake up, for sure, and I really do prefer not to be in a big hotel or in the middle of things. I like a quiet enclave, preferably with a view, from where I can easily walk to restaurants and bars. So clearly an apartment actually called The View sounded pretty ideal and it was. Perched on the hill between the main road and the resort, from the balconies (one from the master bedroom and the other from the living area) you can see right across the bay to Dubrovnik and the sunsets are spectacular. The furnishings are supercool, it has every home comfort, and is available through Airbnb.

So after waking up, my next priority is coffee, which necessitates a stroll down the hill into town. In terms of shoreline, Cavtat is the gift that keeps on giving. First is the beach in front of huge Albatros hotel, but following the coast to the left takes you into the first of two bays, past a tucked-in angular harbour into the town centre with the supermarket and cash point machines. Walk through this and into the second bay, which is so much prettier, and where there is a run of cafés, starting with Bakery Peco with a stunning view right down the water. But the coffee’s good in all of them.

Next decision could be beach, a boat trip to Dubrovnik, kayaking, or simply strolling around one or both of the peninsulas. It was very hot when we visited so we simply pottered along the waterfront from the coffee shops to enjoy the incredible views and shade of the trees. Then for me it was back to work – it was a research trip after all.

Darko’s favourite way to spend the day is far more active, with a hike on Snijeznica Mountain, which dominates the whole area. A good starting off point is the village of Mihanici, because you can take a bus from Cavtat to there. If you’ve hired a car you can start higher up, at Kuna, a mere two hours from the top. The views are beyond stunning; over the sea, and inland to Bosnia & Herzegovina, but do take plenty of water. And in places you’ll need a pretty reasonable head for heights.

After that you deserve a decent meal and the locals’ recommendation is Konoba Galija. To find it, carry on from the coffee shops in the second bay, but turn right just in front of the old Franciscan monastery instead of following the coastal track to the left of it. The restaurant has a pretty garden with views of the harbour and fish and meat are cooked on the open grill. The fish platter is apparently second to none.

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: ON TOP OF MOUNT SRD

Posted on by

Anyone who’s been to Dubrovnik will quite rightly question why I would call Mount Srd hidden Croatia. After all, it stands proudly four hundred metres above the city, a wall of rock protecting it from the outside world.

But that’s the point; we see it, but how well do we know it? The majority of visitors who actually venture up there do so by cable car, to admire the spectacular views for half an hour, perhaps drink a coffee, certainly take any number of selfies, then head straight back down again.

To discover Mount Srd properly you need to hike, bike (neither recommended in the height of summer), take the bus, or even better book a knowledgeable driver or small group tour. Because it’s what the majority don’t see that is so very fascinating.

To say we got lucky with our choice of driver is an understatement. We were staying in Cavtat along the coast so decided booking a car was the best option, and I’d ‘met’ Dubrovnik 4 U Transfers on Instagram so chose them. Kresimir is an absolute gem with a knowledge of, and a passion for, his city rarely seen in the UK. But then in the UK we haven’t had to fight for our homes.

To me that’s what Mount Srd was all about. It was certainly the focus of my visit there. I was in Croatia to add the final touches to my research for next summer’s book, where one of my main characters is a veteran of the Siege of Dubrovnik and I wanted to visit the Homeland War Museum in Fort Imperial that sits on top of the mountain.

But there was somewhere Kresimir wanted me to see first. The village of Bosanka that had been raised to the ground by the aggressors (Serbian and Montenegrin troops) during the autumn of 1991. Of course much of it has been rebuilt, but there are some ruins left amongst the trees, and a roadside picture board in Croatian and English, making sure that visitors understand what happened here.

In fact almost the whole of Mount Srd was taken. Everything except Fort Imperial and that was to make all the difference to the survival of the city below. How it held out against all the odds on 6th December 1991 is a miracle in itself, but that is a story for a few months hence.

The fort was built by Napoleonic troops, a long, low slab of the grey-gold rock of the region, almost blending into the hillside beneath it. Even now much of it is in a semi-ruined state, but a number of rooms have been turned into a museum where visitors can learn about the Homeland War. And if you want to understand Dubrovnik and its people, you have to understand what happened here thirty years ago.

There was a sepulchral silence as we wandered through the barrel-vaulted rooms, stunned by the images of destruction displayed on their walls. The museum tells the story more or less chronologically but it is the images that hit home the hardest; iconic sights in the city below in ruins or in flames, the faces of the refugees. You don’t have to read a word of the commentary. You just have to look to understand.

But deeper understanding comes from talking to someone who lived through the conflict and Kresimir shared his memories freely. For the first time I knew what it had been like to live in that city under siege; no power, little water, even less food. People dying around you.

After our visit to the museum he took me out to the viewpoint, where there is a memorial to 6th December 1991 and a Croatian flag. I watched him take a photo of it, his pride heartfelt and genuine. To me, that said it all.

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: NOTES FROM A SMALL ISLAND

Posted on by

It is a matter of great debate how many islands Croatia has. Some say over a thousand, and certainly they dot the coast like so many green jewels, set in an azure sea. In practical terms, only around fifty are inhabited although others offer inviting day trip getaways.

Last month we visited Sipan. It’s easily reached from Dubrovnik and its airport – in fact we were in our hotel room less than two hours after our plane landed – so it isn’t remote. But the joy of it is that it feels like it.

At the time of writing there is just one hotel on the island, the other having closed during covid. There is no doubt that Croatia’s economy suffered badly from the lack of tourism. It’s evident in marginal locations especially, with boarded up premises and half-completed building projects. But on Sipan at least construction has restarted and there were two enormous cranes perched above the harbour in Sudarad, the village where we stayed.

Although we were primarily in Croatia for a research trip for my summer 2023 novel, it was the kind of place we’d have chosen for a relaxing holiday. Small and quiet with a couple of narrow shops to buy supplies (despite the dearth of hotels there is plenty of self catering accommodation), and four or five bars and restaurants.

As for beaches, Croatians have rather different views on them. Sand is generally not favoured by the locals (and in truth there is hardly any, although Lopud, the island opposite Sipan, does boast some sandy beaches), pebbles are tolerated, and swimming from rocks – or concrete swimming platforms – is generally preferred. And there are plenty of these in and around Sudarad and the water is crystal clear.

The unseasonable heat limited our desire to wander, but we quickly discovered the best restaurant, Tri Sestre, was next door to the hotel anyway. It was everything I adore about Croatian restaurants; friendly, family run, views to die for from its terrace, well priced local wines and fabulous meals. We mostly ate seafood because it was so fresh and simply prepared, normally with a side of potatoes and chard, which is traditional. At Tri Sestre all the vegetables are grown by the owner – he told us that in summer he gets up at four in the morning to tend them – but the results are definitely worth it. I can quite honestly say I’ve never tasted tomatoes like it, and I grow my own.

Growing things; market gardening, olives and grapes, is the mainstay of Sipan’s economy as it has been for generations, and on a slightly cooler day we did venture out into the countryside. We love Croatian olive oil and wanted to buy some to take home. Just outside the village we found a small producer selling from the terrace of their house. But there was nothing homespun about the oil or the bottle and a great deal of effort had gone into both.

On the opposite side of the road was a wine producer. Agricultural machinery lined the drive and a small sign directed us past the vegetable garden to a table set out under the trees. A woman emerged, having just finished hanging out her washing, and brought two wines for us to taste. No unfamiliar local varieties here, one was cabernet sauvignon and the other merlot, again in some of the smartest bottles we’ve seen. And the contents were of truly international standard too – delicious and meticulously made.

In fact the produce we found in its countryside echoed Sipan itself; high quality and small scale. Definitely a hidden corner of Croatia worth a visit.