Zagreb

Croatia passes by the window in green fields and forests. It was raining when I left Zagreb.

I got lucky in Zagreb, where the weather held out for the day I there. I arrived in the evening and ended up staying out late with a group of other travelers from the hostels, including two girls from Poland, one boy from Germany, and one boy from Australia. It was fun to go out; I really haven’t since I’ve been to Europe. I slept in until 9 or so the next day; by then, the weather was a little cloudy, but not rainy.

Maybe because of its size (which feels small compared to many capital cities I’ve been to) or its traditional culture (which, it would seem, involved knitting, crocheting, and sewing), Zagreb seems like the city that “quaint” was coined to describe: it’s cobblestone streets run through down meanderingly, and here and there you’ll find a farmer’s market or hobby-craftsman selling jewelry or knitted tablecloths. The motif of a red heart (sometimes paired with a boy and girl) is everywhere: the reason, it would seem, is this:

There once was a boy who loved a girl very much. As a gift, he gave her a red heart with a mirror on it, so that every day she could look in the mirror and know that she was the only one the boy loved. Now the heart, sometimes with the mirror, is everywhere: on knitted clothes and painted saucers, jewelry boxes and keychain charms. It’s lovely, cute… quaint.

The cobblestone streets lead to old buildings and churches, too—I think Zagreb Cathedral may be one of the most intricately-decorated churches I’ve ever seen, small but impressive. St. Mark’s is also lovely and very distinctive with its tiled roof.  As afternoon began to wear me out, the streets led me to the botanical garden, lush with flowers and ferns and trees.

Now I head toward the city of Split, enjoying the mountainous, arboreal, quaint beauty of the Croatian countryside through the window of a slow-moving train.