Pula Amphitheatre - A Mix-up with Dates

We thought the 115 related to the time... 15 minutes past 1 PM. No... it related to the year... 115 years after the birth of Christ... so we were a little late. The 30,000 crowd had gone home... lions and Christians had been shipped onto the next centre of entertainment... the material providing shade cloth had been rolled up. The structure was still there... nearly 2,000 years after the scheduled date... the underground compartments for animals and Christians was still there... all 200 metres of it... the sense of excitement still lingered... just the size of the site provided excitement. The amphitheatre is one of the 6th largest ones remaining... we've mining a golden seam of Roman antiquity and we haven't even reached Italy.

No doubt, the Romans were exacting masters. However, there is enough evidence to show that Pula did well under them. Pula was conquered early in the era of the Roman Empire. It was settled by Romans who established a productive economy based on wine and olive oil growing. In fact, Rome grew dependent on Pula providing these goods and invested heavily in good roads and good defense for the town.

But Rome also brought the future. They brought engineering... we travelled on old Roman roads that went for 30 klms without a curve... we saw aqueducts bringing water from distant springs... and the multi story buildings were undoubtedly the marvel of the age. Romans brought in slaves... not an ethical position by today's standards... but was a basis for organising labour and allowing specialisation of skills... that would have been copied in other employment arrangements. If Pula and similar towns had remained isolated, it is difficult to imagine them developing as quickly.

Pula was given a Temple to Augustus... and this one building has been used in Pula for every important announcement or occasion for the last 3,000 years. Today, it was being used to house a glass art exhibition... perhaps not its finest hour... but it is still being put to practical use.

Our Balkans stage is drawing to an end... just 2 days remaining. If later stages can maintain the same level of interest, we will be well pleased.

Lion Meal one day - a Saint the Next

Those of you familiar with the history of Split will remember the famous Emperor, Diocletian, who started off loving the Christians... but when their vibes started to interfere with reading chicken entrails... he sorted the problem with a bit of ethnic cleansing... killed Christians in large numbers. When passing through Chalcedon he came across a young lass called Euthemia who turned out to be a little stubborn about her religious beliefs. Diocletian gave her the choice of renouncing Christianity... or being thrown to the lions. Just to make the choice a little easier, young Euthemia was tortured... put on the wheel. The lass chose to be lion meat in preference to changing her religion.

So, come the next big festival... big enough to warrant the entertainment of throwing Christians to lions, there was Euthemia at the front of the queue. The biggest lion quickly killed her... but didn't eat her body. The local Christians preserved her body. Diocletian didn't realise all the bother that would follow his cruel act. The Persians conquered the town in 602 and the body was transferred to Constantinople for safe keeping. Emperor Constantine (you recall, he converted to Christianity) was so taken by the young girl's saintliness that he constructed a huge lavish church to her memory in Constantinople. All went well for a couple of centuries... until the 'icon-slashers' took power in Constantinople. They wanted less worship of saints and more reading of scriptures.

This is where the spooky bit comes in. There are some documents recording that Euthemia's sarcophagus was destroyed... but others report seeing it rise like a phoenix in fire and float in the air towards the horizon. On July 13, 800 people of Rovinj saw the sarcophagus floating in the waves just off the beach. The men tried to pull the sarcophagus from the sea... up the hill... where they were going to build a cathedral in her memory. But the men couldn't move the big stone sarcophagus. One of the young lads of Rovinj heard Euthemia's voice asking him to move the sarcophagus. He went out and found two small calves... that is all he could find... went down to the beach... hooked up a couple of ropes and hauled the big stone sarcophagus up the long steep hill... all on his own. The people of Rovinj thought it was a miracle... they built the church to the St Euthemia that stands to this day. Euphemia's Day is celebrated on September 16 each year. Many visitors come to Rovinj to participate in the grandiose celebration with a rich program which takes place on the main square in Rovinj. Traditionally, on St. Euphemia's Day people eat mutton with sauerkraut... having tried that dish... there is not much celebration built into the menu.
Now, here is the point! Who performed the miracle? Euphemia... nice girl that she most certainly was... did not perform any miracles. She chose death over renouncing her religion... as have hundreds of thousands of people over the ages. The young boy did not perform any miracles. He heard voices... they have pills to treat such conditions today. No... the real miracle was performed by the two calves who hauled the heavy sarcophagus up the steep hill... where is the church commemorating their miraculous feat? Why aren't we feasting on St Calves ' Day. Just a thought.

Piran - A Town without Cars

We are spending our second day in Piran... it occupies part of the precious 45 klms coastline that Slovenia holds. It's a pretty coastal town... Venician origins... walled city... medieval streets narrow enough to share a cup of coffee with your neighbour without the bother of going downstairs and walking across the road. Initially, the narrow streets were a defence tactic to slow down invading armies... so you could drop stones or hot oil or other welcoming gifts on top of your new friends.

City authorities have opted for a car-free town... at least as far as tourists are concerned. You park your car at the city limits and walk your way in. Alternatively, they provide free shuttle bus services for the frail... like us. Sounds sensible... perhaps a touch idealistic. But the benefits are very clear. We found that many more young kids were playing on the streets unsupervised. Parents still had to worry about older kids speeding their push-bikes around blind corners and wiping out the toddlers. The feeling we had was that the kids felt that they owned the streets. There was less concern with stranger-danger. The openness and friendliness of young adults was a point of difference.

We were sheltering from the rain in a cafe when 20 schoolchildren aged 12-13 barged in... all shouting to each other as is the want of young teenagers. The cafe owner... fearing they would upset his customers... tried to hunt them away. The young kids cornered a group of geriatric cruise boat people... who were only too pleased to have the attention of local youths. Joye and I listened to the delightful conversation... the kids were respectful and interested to learn about life on a cruise ship. The kids explained with great enthusiasm who was related to whom... who was good at particular activities. The cafe owner was a character in his own right... he demanded the kids had to buy something if they intended to loiter on his premises. That demand gave rise to another round of excited conversation as they sorted out who would buy what to satisfy the minimum of the owner's demands.

How do you account for the charm, confidence great social skills of Piran's youth... it may be a long stretch of logic... but I put it down to a 'car free' town... where children grow up feeling that they own their community.

Lipica Horses - Slovenia's Pride

I know Oscar and Tilly will be interested in this story... Oscar went horse riding on his birthday... so even at 4 years old, he knows quite a lot about horses... and Tilly has a long standing interest in horses and hopes to get a job brushing down horses at the dressage school around the corner near her  home.

Those of you uninterested in history, skip this paragraph! We take up the history of the Lipizzaner breed in 800 AD. Yes, we'll skip the first 5.5 million years of horse history... its origins in North America... its evolving change of shape... particularly its teeth and feet... you will need to do your own research for those details. The immediate ancestors of the Lipizzaner breed can be traced to the 7th century when "Barb horses were brought into Spain by the Moors and crossed on native Spanish stock" ... in the 16th century, when the Habsburgs ruled both Spain and Austria, a powerful but agile horse was desired both for military uses and for use in the fashionable and rapidly growing riding schools for the nobility of central Europe... in 1562, the Habsburg Emperor Maximillian II brought the Spanish breed to Austria. In 1580, his brother, Archduke Charles II, established a Lipizzan stud at Lipizza (now Lipica where we saw them) located in modern-day Slovenia, from which the breed obtained its name. The Slovenians have been improving the breed ever since. Here endeth the history lesson.

Tilly and Oscar, the horses are not really white horses... they are brown horses... their skin is brown... at birth, their hair is brown. However, their hair turns grey. So, if Mummy starts finding some white hairs on her head, you can ask if she is related to a Lipizzaner horse.

Every military invader anywhere near Slovenia seemed to make tracks straight to the horse farm and took as many horses as they could. Napoleon Bonaparte was not averse to a bit of horse stealing... he found the farm... liked the look of the Lipizzaner and stole the lot... including the breeding records... and set up his stud in Austria. The horses stayed outside Slovenia until the end of WWII... when USA's General George Paton found a large mob of Lipizzaner in Croatia... and via Austria, repatriated the breed back to Lipica. The USA soldiers rode them, put them on trucks and trains... but managed to get enough breeding horses back onto the original farm to form a breeding group. The Slovenian government funded the establishment of the breeding farm and it has operated as a national park ever since.

We saw many horses tied up inside buildings staring at blank walls. We enquired if the horses objected to the lack of stimulation. We were told to watch horses in the wild. They move when they need more food or water... or are involved in breeding and leadership tussles. Otherwise, (we were told) they stand still. Feed them... let them lie down every few hours... let them roll around to scratch their backs... and they are as happy as a pig in mud. Do you have evidence to the contrary? It sounds strange to me.

Good breeding requires a tight meritocracy system. If you are a male and show lots of talent, you will be trained in dressage and allowed to compete in international competitions... perhaps the Olympic Games. If you win lots of medals in competitions, you will be allowed to be a stallion and sire folds... through artificial insemination only (Oscar, get Dad to explain what that means). If your dressage talents are a little lacking, you will be gelded and given a chance to be trained and compete in carriage events. If your talent still doesn't come up to standard, you will be gelded and hired out to pony club and participants. If you are a female, and come from a good breeding line... you do not have to show any talent... you have won the lottery of life... first prize. You will be put out to pasture and after your fourth birthday, you will be allowed to breed. If your foals look good... move gracefully... and your sons qualify for dressage training... you will be treated like royalty and allowed to breed for another decade. If you don't make the cut for the top class, you will be tested to see if you should be trained for carriage competitions... if you fail this test, you are confined to pony club work... an utter disgrace to the breed.

In the 1950's an Australian imported Lipizzaner horses onto a stud at Billinudgel. This stud has continued to satisfy registration requirements. Now, Australia has over 10% of the world's registered Lipizzaner horses.

Skocjanske James - Inspiration for The Hobbit

We have just done another cave... perhaps Joye was wanting to test her claustrophobia... to make sure there was no permanent damage from the blackouts at the Postojna Cave. Today's cave had recommendations from UNESCO and Sue... and that was good enough for us. As it turns out, the two caves were very different... delivering delight in entirely different ways. If you trace the water through its underground travels, its the same river that creates Postojna (upstream) and Skocjanske. Skocjanske doesn't have stalactites and stalagmites to rival Postojna... Skocjanske has been formed by a raging river... the caves are younger and subjected to more vigorous treatment. Where Skocjanske gets its excitement comes from the gigantic halls/cathedrals that have been carved from the limestone.

Have you seen the film 'The Hobbit'? Harry has. Those lucky enough to catch a viewing will recall a number of battle scenes occurring in caves. The goodies (the Hobbits) found themselves running around cliff walkways high in the walls of cave cathedrals... being chased by the baddies (those guys that used to ride wolves... I forget their name). Well, that's where we found ourselves today... 90 metres up the side of a cave cathedral with a raging torrent racing through the bottom of the cave. Just like in the film, we walked over a bridge way up in the cathedral... but for us, the rope holding the bridge didn't break with us on it. The cave lighting dramatised the setting... not that extra dramatisation was needed. We were not being chased by baddies... in fact we were moving very slowly... making sure each step was placed on the path. Our guide said that a section not yet opened to tourists had a cathedral with a height of 190 metres.. high enough to house St Peter's basilica. I wish all the grandchildren could have been with us today... the experience would have made film makers out of each of them.

Our walk covered 2.5 klms... but the river goes underground for some 35 klms. The river runs through Slovenia and provides good tourist income for the country. The river enters the sea in Italy... and they have no quarrel with the river's use. Its underground journey takes it through Croatia and a lot of the water comes from Croatian streams. Croatia gets relatively little benefit from the river... which makes the Croatians somewhat unhappy.

Climbing a 1,500 metres high pass to visit the Doctor

Today, we awoke to clear blue skies... headed to Julian Alps.. .. to see if we could get some good photos of the mountains in the clear conditions. The Julian range separates Slovenia and Italy. We supposed that the Julian in question must have been the all conquering Big Julie Caesar... that needs to be confirmed.

We stopped to read the information boards... and discovered that the best viewing base for the mountains was at the top of Vrsic Pass. We started our climb and near the top noticed that each hairpin bend had a number indicating the remaining hairpins before you reached the top. We noticed when there were 21 remaining... there are 50 in all. We were told that Vrsic Pass has a long history... people in the adjoining Slovenian valley would walk over the pass to see their doctor. The pass has an altitude of 1,600 metres... anyone with a serious medical condition was not going to make it. The doctors must have had an impressive success rate with their medical treatments... provided you didn't count the fatalities along the track.

A large part of the road over the pass was built by Russian prisoners-of-war during WWI. Apparently there were 10,000 employed on the job. An old wooden chapel sits along the side of the road as a memorial to the Russian soldiers who died on the job. They built wooden walls to provide some protection against avalanches... but not always successfully. One avalanche took out 300 of them in one go! Much use of the pass was made in WWII... but there was no benefit to the Russians.

Alpine countryside in spring is always a hive of activity... the growing season is so short. We talked to a cyclist... a crusty old 65 year old... who said he had photographed 16 different species of orchids in flower that day on the mountainside. We saw fields of yellow and blue and red... very special.

The 'Haves' and the 'Have Nots'

Today is our last day in Croatia... in the Balkans! What an enjoyable experience we have had. We will be surprised if the scenery in Europe is as good. Touring in springtime added freshness and colour to the countryside... kept the crowds in the museums down to a minimum... and gave us extra attention in cafes (more often than not, we were the only patrons). Everywhere we went the tourist industry was optimistic that this summer will bring a return to the big crowds of pre-GST days... throughout our whole month, the mantra was "The season starts in 8 days... we must hurry to get ready"... throughout the whole two months, the 8 day estimate remained static.

Value for money is so good in Balkan touring, you sometimes feel you are exploiting their current conditions. In some of the poorer countries, our restaurant bill was the equivalent of $15-20... for two meals and half-a-litre of wine... in places offering unique views and excellent food.

So let's look at the ethics... Australians have average income per household of about $4,000 per month... not bad by world standards... but far from the best... Switzerland's average is $5,600. So, we wealthy foreigners land in the Balkans and start spending our money in a manner that will deliver the locals an average income that is sometimes less than one-tenth of ours. Comparison of figures is difficult because some countries are not good at identifying income... or counting... or have political motives in mixing up the arithmetic. Taking Wikipedia as the source of truth (always a dangerous step) we get comparative figures of average monthly incomes as follows:

Albania 264 (average monthly income of 264, some one-fifteenth of Australia's average)

Macedonia 443

Bulgaria 414

Serbia 489

Romania 474

Bosnia and Herzegovina 558

Montenegro 618

Croatia 959

Greece 1250

Portugal 1164

Slovenia 1311

(It is interesting to note the bad press handed out to Greece for its inability to manage its national debt and balance its budget ... but on a comparison of average income, it is far from the worst. These figures reflect conditions prior to the GFC... so Greece may have a current position much worse than shown.)

So, we waltz in with our privileged Australian income, consume the food and services of the poorer host country... and leave a 10% tip. The income earner in the poor country is most appreciative... without your custom, he/she would be worse off. But in our own country, we would happily pay twice or thrice the amount charged by the poorer country. Ethically, are we exploiting the unfortunate circumstance of the poorer host country? What would Gandhi say about this situation... what would Mother Teresa have to say? These ethical issues are not new. Under the current rules of the game, we can do most good by following self-interest and holidaying in poor countries in larger and larger numbers... put the supply of such services under pressure... thereby leading to an increase in prices... thereby leading to a resolution of ethical issues... its a long bow to draw... this will not happen quickly. So, having pondered the issue, the call to action to resolve it is... plan your next holiday in a country with a low level of average income... when there, live like a king... double the size of your normal tip... speak quietly... complement them. OK, you do that already (I could have saved my breath).

Our next phase of our holiday is in Italy. Its average monthly income is $2368 (pre-GST). We'll find prices much higher than the Balkans... people are likely to be a little less appreciative of our custom... the queues in museums will be much longer... but the coffee and the bread will have more flavour. So much of Balkan history arises from the activities of the Roman empire... the Byzantine empire... and the Venician empire. So much of world values are based on Europe having been ruled by Romans in one form or another. It will be exciting to visit the seats of power that have shaped our world.

A Tale of Dare-doing

Slovenia has the Romantic Period stamped all over it. The forests are of the deepest green... just right for knights to gallop their white steeds at breakneck speed along narrow tracks... passing cascading waterfalls... high on the mountain pass. Many castles were started in the C12th when defense was the prime concern... white castles now hang from the edge of cliffs... perfect for damsels to signal distress and seek rescue from the knight on his white steed. Slovenia gives a match between romance and the actual history of some of these castles.

This morning, we visited Predjama Castle outside of Postojnska (only 4 consonants in a row... not the elusive 5). The history/legend of this castle is set in the second half of the C15th... when a local rascal called Erazem was out of control. Because he is local, he is the hero. His argument was with the Austrian emperor Frederick III who was trying to short-change Erazem's mate, the Hungarian king, Mattias Corvinus. Erazem stepped onto the wrong side of the law when he had an argument with the Emperor's representative... that resulted in a death and Erazem being put on the lists for mercenary killers to execute. Erazem took to his country estate... from which he organised bandit raids on passing caravans belonging to the emperor. In response, the emperor sent the army to sort out young Erazem.

Here comes the interesting bit. Erazem had his country estate built so that it was based in a cave and a drawbridge could offer very good defense. The Austrian army tried in vain to attack the castle... and ended up deciding on a siege... trying to starve him out. What the Austrian army did not know was that the castle was joined to a 12 klm cave system that offered numerous exits to the region well away from castle. Hostilities continued over a long period... the Austrians catapulting rocks against the raised drawbridge... Erazem's troops pouring boiling pitch on Austrians if they came too close. However, in between attacks the Austrians were pleased that no food or water was entering the castle. Erazem, the inveterate show-off, would periodically lower from ropes casks of wine and hampers of cherry pie. This would upset the Austrians no end.

The siege did not end well for Erazem... the castle toilet was high on the wall facing the enemy. One night when Erazem needed some private time, a spy gave a prearranged signal and the Austrians bought up their new improved catapult... threw a mammoth sized rock at the toilet and scored a bullseye. Erazem died with his pants down... not the end he had planned.

The army went away... the maidens in the local village took his body and buried him outside the local church... and planted a tree over his grave as a symbol of growth and hope. The tree is still alive today... just!

What is the lesson from this story of courage and dare-doing??? hard to say... except that indoor flushing toilets have made fighting wars so much easier.

Torture for a Claustrophobic

Tonight, we are in Slovenia... exiting Croatia for a few days... to see one of Europe's prettiest countries... Slovenia. There are multiple reasons to visit this pretty country... but I asked Joye to include it in our itinerary for a very 'base' reason. My friend, Graeme, claims that Slovenian blonde girls show remarkable talent in the way they... wear blue jeans... walk down the street... and chew gum all at the same time... with a style unsurpassed by girls in any other nation. I know Graeme is a connoisseur in such matters... but I wanted to double check his assessment. This afternoon it was raining... further research is needed.

We arrived in time to visit one of Slovenia's leading tourist attractions... a giant cave... Postojna Cave. You think you know caves... how about one that is 22kms long... how about one that has a major river running through its lower level... no my friend, when it comes to Postojna Cave... you have to think caves again... from basic principles... with your imagination restrained.

Family members will be aware that Joye carries a touch of claustrophobia... manageable in most situations... but can bubble to the surface in extreme circumstances. Today, we had extreme circumstances. We had a crowd... we were put on a train and taken 2.5 klms underground. We were offloaded... we congregated into language groups... the English group had over 150 people... outnumbered by the Japanese... and the Germans also put up a good showing... for the 3 PM tour, there were probably 500 people in a congo line shuffling through the cave. We saw caves that were quite spectacular... stalactites and stalagmites aplenty... columns and veils and cathedrals... the works. Shuffling along in a queue was a little off putting... but otherwise, a great experience. Then blackness... utter blackness. All the lights went off.... and there we were 2.5 klms underground wondering what to do next. Joye knew what to do... she gripped my arm with vice strength and started to move forward. I suggested that 2.5 klms was too far to walk in utter blackness and that we should wait for an electrician to sort out the problem. No sooner than I offered such advice... the lights came on again. "Whose idea of a joke was that ", we asked. We trudged another 0.5 klms... starting to relax once more... and guess what??? the lights went off again... Joye seized my arm again... this time more gently... the tourniquet on the blood circulation was not complete this time. Again, after a couple of minutes, the lights came back on. We suspect the first blackout was a fuse failing on the prime system... causing the reserve system to kick in... followed by a replacement of the fuse... and a switch back to the main system. All in all, Joye was not amused.

Slovenia appears quite prosperous... roads are excellent... houses are bigger and better maintained... life looks more relaxed. We knew we had exited the Balkans when we saw our first Aldi store. We didn't need any provisions... but couldn't help ourselves.. .. we stopped for a short period of retail therapy.

Plitvice - Walking the Rapids

Not all waterfalls are the same. Today, we experienced spirituality in a waterfall... here in Plitvice... one of Croatia's top tourist destinations... and that is saying something, given the large number of top ranking sites. We felt the spirituality in spite of 1,000 tourists blocking the path... so the vibes must have been strong.

The start to the walk through the rapids could have been better. The path was narrow and steep. At one of the more precarious spots, I was tackled around the legs, in a style reminiscent of Steve Menzies defensive skills. A Japanese lady... mid-fourties... tripped in her high heeled boots. To save going straight over the edge, she choose to grab my legs... presumably with the thought that if she was going down, she was taking with her as many as possible. Fortunately, reflexes developed during years of training for school boy rugby league, clicked in. I was able to palm-off the tackle and execute a high speed side-step... those of you familiar with Kenny Irvine would have recognised the style. All ended well... the lady fell without going over the edge and didn't hurt herself... I stayed on my feet on the path.

The start had one more incident. We were behind another group of Japanese tourists... one was very keen to get an early shot of the waterfalls... he set his tripod in the middle of the path... went about the intricate business of focus, aperture, white light, etc. He seemed surprised when others waiting behind him tried to hurry him up. "Walk around" he seemed to be saying (in Japanese)... even though we would need to step into the water to do so. He received advice from others in his group that convinced him to move his tripod. Self awareness and tourist groups are mutually exclusive!

The congestion at the start of the trail soon sorted itself out and we were able to focus on the unique landscape of Plitvice... correction... it is not unique... it was very similar to that at Krka. The lakes are built through action from algae and moss. The process is something like this... water seeps through limestone and becomes saturated with calcium or is it calcium carbonate (I'm not sure)... carbon dioxide is absorbed from the atmosphere to form a dissolved calcium carbonate... one type of algae loves this dissolved calcium carbonate... it has some symbiotic relationship with the moss that grows at the water's edge. Together, they convert the liquid calcium carbonate into a deposit secreted at the feet of the moss. Over time, this deposited calcium carbonate builds one meter after another... reaching heights of 15 metres... to such an extent that lakes are formed. The water tumbling over the edge of the lake makes waterfalls that have a very manicured appearance.

The tourist authorities have done a great job in building the pathways in the park. For 7 klms of pathways, you wander amongst the rapids and waterfalls... getting very close to nature. The walls of the valley are steep and high... covered with beech trees. The overall effect is magic... yes, a spiritual experience.

The Wetlands of Croatia

Today, we drove through drizzling rain to the wetlands that lie along the rivers Sava and Una. The health of the ecosystems looks to be A1... birds... insects... frogs... all in abundance. There were two surprises for us in the area.

First, we stumbled upon the Jasenovac concentration camp from WWII. Again, displaying our ignorance, we didn't know Croatia had a concentration camp. This evening, we looked up Wikipedia, and its recount of history is set out below.

"Jasenovac concentration camp was an extermination camp established in the Independent State of Croatia (NDH) during World War II. It was the only extermination camp that was not operated by the Germans, and was among the largest camps in Europe. The camp was established by the governing Ustaše regime in August 1941 in marshland at the confluence of the Sava and Una rivers near the village of Jasenovac, and was dismantled in April 1945. It was "notorious for its barbaric practices and the large number of victims". In Jasenovac, the majority of victims were ethnic Serbs, whom the Ustaše wanted to remove from the NDH, along with the Jews and Roma peoples.

Jasenovac was a complex of five subcamps spread over 210 km2 (81 sq mi) on both banks of the Sava and Una rivers. The largest camp was the "Brickworks" camp at Jasenovac, about 100 km (62 mi) southeast of Zagreb. The overall complex included the Stara Gradiška sub-camp, the killing grounds across the Sava river at Donja Gradina, five work farms, and the Uštica Roma camp.

During and since World War II, there has been much debate and controversy regarding the number of victims killed at the Jasenovac concentration camp complex in its more than 3½ years of operation. Gradually, in the 15 years after the war ended, a figure of 700,000 began to reflect conventional wisdom, although estimates ranged between 350,000 and 800,000.[7] The authorities of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia conducted a population survey in 1964 that showed a far lower figure, but kept it a secret; when Vladimir Žerjavić published such lower figures in the 1980s, he was criticized by Antun Miletić among others, but his research has since been considered trustworthy by authorities on World War II. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM) in Washington, D.C. presently estimates that the Ustaša regime murdered between 77,000 and 99,000 people in Jasenovac between 1941 and 1945. The Jasenovac Memorial Site quotes a similar figure of between 80,000 and 100,000 victims."

We visited the Jasenovac Memorial Site and read some of the moving stories from survivors... stories of acts of courage and perseverance. The Croatian government is funding improvements to the memorial and a large area has been set aside for the monument.

The second surprise was the Storks. They migrate up from East Africa for their summer breeding. In Croatia, they favour nests built in the wetlands, and search out electric light poles... chimneys in houses... never anything as simple as a tree! The ones we saw were building nests or sitting on eggs. They were right into turning their heads to the sky and making a 'clacking' in noise with their beaks. The houses in this area are special as well. There are lots of 'Renovaters' delights'... 100 year old dwellings that have never seen a scrap of paint... with a giant stork's nest sitting on the roof... the home is certainly not short of atmospherics.

Putting aside the grim history of Jasenovac, this part of the world offers an ecology that is in excellent shape... and has communities that reflect the old way of living.

Did I just slaughter the last of a Species

We, as kiddies, were all raised to admire the courage of St. George and despise the creepy old dragon. We made George a saint... put him on a couple of national flags... he got the royal treatment. Now in the mature years of your life cycle, you may wish to revise the emotional commitment you have made to George. Today, this important issue became front of mind when looking at a couple of statues the good citizens of Zagreb have raised in memory of St. George.

The first statue creates the child image (see photo below). There is George sitting high in the saddle... well out of harm's way... wielding his giant sword... cool as a cucumber... not getting his hands dirty. The horse is putting in the hard yards... straining every muscle in its body... terrified of those giant claws and gnashing teeth. The dear old dragon has defeated eyes... it already knows its fate... poor thing. You can almost hear it saying, "I knew I should have practiced the fire breathing yesterday. Oh well, too late now". Who is the hero in this scene. Perhaps if George had not stacked the odds against the dragon, he may have been in the running. If he got off his horse... threw away his sword... and attacked the dragon from there... perhaps, then he could claim hero status.

In Zagreb there is a second statue to St. George... one I like better. (A photo of it is also shown below.) It shows George sitting on his horse after the battle with a rather regretful look on his face. He has taken his helmet off... not a hair out of place... no sweat or other signs of exhaustion. The horse looks done in... ready to collapse. The poor old dragon is bad news... just a blog of melting matter oozing into the rocks. The expression on the face of George seems to be saying, "Did I just kill the last dragon left on earth? Am I personally responsible for the extinction of an animal species?" With the benefit of hindsight, we could have said, "George, you cretin... you have just wiped out one of the world's most exciting animals... a lizard that could fly... a lizard that could breath fire... a lizard that was smart enough to put up a good fight with a knight, in a suit of armour, mounted on a horse and armed with a very long sword." We could say to him, "George, you cretin, you had better scoop up some DNA material... keep it on ice until stem cell science becomes sufficiently developed, so that others can reverse your stupid mistake."

Just as well it is only a fairytale... otherwise you could get worked up over such stupidity. However, to be on the safe side, you are encouraged to express your outrage to those nations (regions) of the world who glorify St George in their flags, including : England, Italy (Bologna, Padua, Genoa, and most notably Milan), Canada (Montreal), Georgia, Sardinia, as well as states within the Nordic countries. But, dear reader, do not become too complacent... our first task is to remove George from the flag of New South Wales! For the sake of the kiddies, we can't salute flags that honour a cad!

Zagreb - Vitality and Style

We spent most of today covering 375 klms to get us from Krka to Zagreb. It was a pretty journey... alpine scenery at its best... there were remnants of snow on the mountain peaks... the leaves on the beech trees were fresh and shining... the sun was shining at the right angle... the air was reasonably clean. More on our trip later.

Let's get to the highlight of the day. We were in Zagreb Square just on sunset... there was lots of hustle and bustle as the citizens of Zagreb hurried to make their way home. The street workers were in full force... selling their trinkets... their tours and their entertainment. One ballad singer was in full flight... not attracting a large number of tips. Weaving his way through the crowd came one individual who was very much taken with the quality of ballad singing. We watched him listening... he was well under the weather... which accounted for his weaving ambulation. He took a swig of wine from his bottle cunningly disguised in a paper bag. But generosity got the better of him. He wanted to show his appreciation for such a fine performance. He took his half-drunk bottle of wine out of the paper bag and placed it into the tips hat that the balladeer had lying on the pavement. What greater sacrifice can be made by man. The balladeer was half way through his song... and thought it bad form not to complete the number. But he could see what was happening and knew that a half-drunk bottle of wine in the tips hat would not entice further tips. He started waving his foot to get the gentleman to remove the bottle. The gentleman interpreted the foot waving as a sign of appreciation. With exaggerated gestures that only inebriation can create, the gentleman made it abundantly clear that he thought the half-drunk bottle was only a modest gift in the face of such balladeering talent. So the foot-waving and the humble gesturing continued until the completion of the song. I haven't laughed so much for ages.

As regards the best tourist destination, you are probably aware that Greece established an early lead and has held off a couple of competitive contenders. Yesterday, Croatia's coastline put in a 'diamond' performance... probably edging ahead of Greece in the coastline category on account of Croatia having cleaner air on the day. Today was competition in the alpine category. Greece was pitting its rugged excitement against the gleaming cleanness of Croatian beech forest. We are not comparing apples with apples... and whatever the result there are likely to be protests. So the judges have decided to keep the result of today's competition a secret until police support can be organised.

Krka National Park

No... this is not a spelling mistake... it's just that the Croatians have an economy drive on 'vowels' when it comes to spelling... only to be used as a last resort. We spotted words with 4 consecutive consonants... but we have not given up hope of spotting the elusive 5 in a row.

We left the historical fascination of Split and headed up north 75 klms to enjoy scenic beauty at Krka National Park. Our hire car a VW Golf, had 10 klms on the clock. All our previous hires were purchases from the Japanese second-hand car market... so to 'luck-in' with a brand new vehicle with the latest technology bought a smile to our faces. The drive along the coast excited the senses. The air was reasonably clean... uninterrupted sunshine... the sea radiated its aqua blue... the rugged hills and the stone cottages with terracotta tiles provided a colourful backdrop. Early on in our Balkan adventure, I challenged any countryside to beat Greece for natural beauty. The Croatian coastline puts up a good challenge... in a more polished and manicured fashion. We'll have to see how the Croatian countryside (non-coastal) shapes up.

The crowd-puller in National Parks is at Plitvice... we are visiting it on Saturday. When we enquired about Krka, the locals said, "It's OK... but why would you want to do both?" So we started out walk this afternoon not expecting too much. However, we discovered a surprise that gave us lots of pleasure... we discovered clean water... they must have gigantic filters upstream to remove all particles. I'd love to know why the water is so clean. Either it must come from spring water where sediments have had centuries to settle... or the absence of soil on the hillsides of the canyon through which the river flows must explain the low particle count. My friend Johnny has a special skill for seeing fish under cloudy water... his skill comes from a lifetime of chasing salmon. Today, Johnny's skill would be of no value... everyone could see the fish as clear as crystal to depths of 5 metres... but bad luck Johnny, no fishing was allowed. The ecosystem of the river was in excellent shape. Plenty of frogs... always the ultimate test... dragonflies... a few birds... but lots of fish. Goodness knows what Plitvice will provide to live up to its rating.

Diocletian was a Great Politician

It's on the second day of a visit that you start stumbling upon surprises. Do you know anything of the story of Diocletian? All I knew was that he built a great palace in Split... that's all. Wandering around the palace ruins today, and reading the information boards, it turns out this fellow had a very interesting life story. Apparently, he was a local boy... and that is why he chose to die in Split. He became emperor near the time when the Roman Empire was at its strongest. Diocletian didn't conquer the territory... a lot of that credit goes to big Julie and his arch rival Pompey. However, during his 19 years reign, he consolidated the empire and left it in such good condition that it prospered many centuries following his death. Early on, he realised he would need to decentralise. He appointed a senior co-emperor and split the empire into two administration regions. My grandson is named after the co-emperor... Maximilian (and Doug has a daughter-in-law named after Diocletian's wife (Prisca)).

Diocletian planned his retirement by building his palace in Split. The Palace had unusual cellars that followed the same layout as the building above ground level. With the passing of time, the cellars became full of debris and were abandoned. Succeeding civilisations renovated the area above ground, but left the abandoned cellars in tact. Late last century, archaeologists discovered the cellars and cleaned them of debris... leaving us to see the best preserved Roman ruins... certainly the best preserved in this region... and perhaps the best in the world.

During his reign, Diocletian discovered that he was a descendant of the god Apollo... that must have made his day. Early on, he was tolerant of all religions in the empire, and tolerated Christianity. However, in later years, there was troubled reading the entrails of sacrificed chickens... and upon seeking expert advice, found that it was the growing number of Christians that were disturbing the 'vibes' and clouding the ability of oracles to foretell the future. There was only one thing to do... slaughter and torture the lot of them... Christians that is, not chickens.

Diocletian retired... the first Roman emperor to voluntarily vacate the big seat. Years passed... and following a 6-year retirement focused on cabbage growing... Diocletian died (at the age of 66). He had a mausoleum already constructed in the centre of his palace. Lovely position right next to the portico of his living quarters. More time passed. .. Constantine had a go at being emperor... took a fancy to the Christian religion... and allowed freedom to practice within the empire. In Split, the Christians got to rule this region and decided to build a church within the palace. Diocletian's mausoleum was an elegant building in just the right location. They incorporated Diocletian's mausoleum within the church. So the irony of the situation is that Diocletian's bodily remains lie in close proximity to a couple of saints and a pope. He would not be pleased... him being a descendant of Apollo and all.

Secret to Delightful Touring

Many of our fellow tourists have yet to discover the secret of happiness on the tourist trail. Now you can obtain these secrets for your future holidaying pleasure... but you must be prepared to absorb mind expanding thoughts... like 'Zen' on steroids.

Please understand that the brain is addicted to surprises... pleasant surprises. It is like 'crack' to the brain (or so I've been told). It is addictive... stimulating... euphoric. Take a little... you'll want more. The secret to delightful touring is to organise your itinerary to maximise the chance of surprise. There! You have it. Now you know.
Let me give you an example of how the absence of surprise can reduce the delights of touring. Today, we are taking a ferry (high-speed trimaran) from the island paradise of Korcula to the busy tourist centre of Split. We have read the Lonely Planet guide and know that the Roman ruins at the Diocletien Palace are the dominating feature within the city of Split. We know where it is... have seen pictures of it... know its historical perspective. We will turn up this afternoon... with too little time to make discoveries. There will be a minimum of surprise... and because of time pressures, we will miss out on hidden delights. Of course, we must visit the site... it is important in the whole fabric of Balkan history... it was built in the 7th century AD by Roman emperor Diocletien who was the only emperor to voluntarily vacate the big chair.. but will it be as delightful as Korcula?

How do you plan for a surprise? An example is our stay on the island of Korcula. Its history reflects a smaller version of Dubrovnik... and that is what we expected. Tourists. .. pushy merchants... poor quality food. We were surprised and delighted to discover the opposite. First, we were surprised by the host of our apartment. She met us at the terminal... insisted on carrying Joye's luggage... did our clothes washing... and even ironed the underwear. (Joan, you are not alone.)

We were delighted by a man pulling over from his drive to ask if he could help us. We explained where we were planning to walk. "No", he said, "the best walk is up this hill.. turn left and left again... etc". He opened the car door. "Hop in. I'll drive you to the top of the hill... it's not far out of my way."

We were delighted to discover that Croatian men lower the tone of their voices a couple of octaves when talking to other men. With other men, their gestures are very precise but in a very narrow range. They don't smile... but move their hands just slightly to give recognition... express thanks... emphasise a point. When in mixed company, they are indistinguishable from Italians... raised voices.. facial muscles as malleable as plasticine... arms waving in all directions.

We were delighted to see Croatian women with their children. They always seemed to be having fun... discipline and supervision seemed to be the last thing on their minds.

We were delighted to have a coral concert staged in the hall located beneath our apartment window. All the fine citizens of Korcula turned up in 'black tie' dress to listen to chanting from a quartet of youthful male singers. The place was packed.

We were delighted to take the local bus to anywhere and discover the little villages along the island's coast. Each had its own personality. At one village we wanted to see a cave where Neolithic bones have been discovered. We needed to pick up the key in the township to unlock the site located high on the hill above the town. The custodian of the key didn't even ask for Id!

I'm not sure who discovered the secret to delightful touring... it was certainly discovered before the time Simon and Garfunkel recorded their songs. The secret is written into the lyrics...

"Slow down, you move too fast, you've got to make the morning last
Just kickin' down the cobble-stones, lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy"

Family Matriarch Passes On

My aunty passed away last night. In our family, she was the last survivor of her generation that was born in the decade 1910's to the 1920's. This generation gave birth to the baby boomers... so lets call them the pre-baby-boomers. As a baby boomer, what do you think sets apart our parents generation from our (and succeeding) generation?

It's a struggle to pinpoint the charm of the pre-baby-boomers society... but let's generalise. They were less mercenary... willing to give you more of their time... more willing to trust you at face value... less ready to be critical... at least in public... less likely to draw attention to themselves... more likely to know the neighbourhood in which they lived. They spent more time in their homes... knew their children and neighbours... looked for opportunities to help. Is this a 'Pollyanna' view of 1950's society? (Definitely yes!)

Do you remember the last time you saw a man walk around the car to open the door for a lady? Ladies, when was the last time you wore gloves, a hat with artificial flowers pinned to the side... a freshly pressed floral dress... pointy sun glasses... hairspray that gave your hair the strength of steel... called your neighbour by his surname (hello Mr. Surname). Some of these customs and fashions now appear juvenile but strangely comforting for those of us who grew up in such surroundings. There seemed to be a little more 'us' in their values and a little bit less of 'me'.

You wouldn't want to freeze societal change... we need change to allow each generation to own their society. The pre-baby-boomers created lots of change. They saw aeroplanes take to the sky... saw other forms of transport transformed into mass efficient systems that radically changed the shape of our economy. They saw wireless enter the domestic home, followed by television and YouTube and computer games. They saw real family incomes more than double... saw the two income family become the norm... and saw families sacrifice their leisure time to chase the almighty dollar. They saw politics become front page news almost every day (it used to concern them only one month before the triennial election) ... they saw political leaders move from revered to ridiculed. They saw the art of entertainment shift from developing personal skills (music, storytelling, comedy, painting, etc) to the skill of being able to buy the best seats at the cheapest price. They saw theology and the church shift from being our prime moral compass to being held accountable for crimes committed by their rogue element.

The pre-baby-boomers should be criticised on a number of fronts. Largely, they took cigarette smoking to every household all over the world. They created the atomic bomb... discriminated on the basis of religion, skin colour, sex and sexual orientation... cleared a lot of old growth forest... polluted a lot of waterways.

But putting aside the hard facts, to my mind, they were nice people... really nice like my aunty.

Korcula also has a long and colourful History

Today, we made our way to the other end of the island of Korcula to a town called Vela Luka, to see the discovery site of some of the oldest bones of Neolithic civilisations in the area. The bones have been dated as 7,000BC - 6,000BC...pretty old by most measures... perhaps not the measures used by Mongo Man in outback NSW... his bones are supposed to be 40,000 years old. The archaeologists have yet to finish their digging... there appears to be plenty of artifacts at layers deeper than 7,000BC.

We went to the Tourist Information Centre and asked for the keys to let us into the cave... then we trudged up a steep path behind the town and located the cave. We could understand why Neolithic man used the cave... very large... very cool (today's temperature was in the high 20's)... and probably quite warm in winter. The town of Vela Luka has the same charm as Korcula and Lumbarda (the other large towns on the island)... the uniform colour of buildings in the town... the neat little harbour filled with small fishing boats... birds fluttering overhead... small fish nibbling at the mooring ropes that secure the boats. After our strenuous walk, we enjoyed our beer and studied these details intently.

Earlier in the day, we had visited the museum in Korcula and brushed up on more recent history. The cast of conquerors is long and varied. The Greeks made money trading in the waters and eventually settled on the island very early on. The Romans sent them home in 35BC... also using the island's strategic position for coastal shipping. The island became part of the Byzantine empire... and when that civilisation had run its course, the Venetians took over. Because it was close to home and strategic for coastal shipping, the Venicians held onto the island for a long period... 300 years... and this accounts for the Italian feel you get walking around the villages.

The Venicians had designed a few towns before they got around to taking a greenfield site (in this case it would have been a 'greenrock' site) and putting these talents to work to build Korcula. The main street is angled to collect the maximum sun (especially in winter)... for defensive reasons, it is the only east-west street permitted in the old city. The side streets had a clever feature... they were not set perpendicular to the main street... but set at an angle producing a 'fishbone' effect. The benefit of this design was to stop the cold winter winds blowing straight through the city.

Why don't our modern town planners think of these things?

After the Venicians called it a day, there was a rapid succession of foreign rulers. Even England had a go... only for two years... but in that short period built a defensive fort around the old city... good on you England.

At least in the 1990's Balkan war, Korcula got off relatively unscathed... we were told a few shells fell but there was relatively little damage.

Korcula has a history that is not as bloody and violent as most of the big cities in the Balkans. Is there a Balkan city that mirrors Sydney's history... Can any of them say, "We conquered the land at a cost of many deaths amongst our indigenous citizens. Thereafter, there have been no deaths from military conflict on our soil... but some citizens have suffered deaths at sea in our territorial waters while on military service". Korcula and hundreds of Balkan cities would give their eye teeth to have their history the same as Australia.

Korcula - Linger Longer

You have the high profile tourist destinations... with the glitz and glamour... with the unique features... with the cruise ships... and the people. These are 'must see' destinations... written up in all the tourist books. But with them comes the crowds... inflated prices... poor quality food and service... the hustle and bustle from merchants and tourists. You go there... you 'tick' the box... you move on.

Every now and again, you 'luck' upon the treasured destination. The weather has to be right... there are no crowds... you find some features that capture your interest... a couple of good restaurants pop up (often not mentioned in the travel books)... everything clicks! This is what has happened to us in Korcula. Upon arriving at the bus terminal our host met us and walked us back to the apartment... lovely place... lots of room. We enquired about facilities to do our clothes washing... "Yes", she says. "I'll do it for you." "And the charge?" we asked. "No charge" was her reply. "OK", we say... "we'll stay for two nights". We took a walk around the old city of Korcula... hardly a tourist in site. We had an early dinner... loved the food... and prices... and service. Coming back to the apartment, we meet our host in the street. "We would like to stay for a third night... is that possible?" "No problem" was the reply.

This morning we have another day of brilliant sunshine... no crowds... and the merchants are as polite as yesterday. We took a local bus to the second biggest town on the island... and were once more struck by the natural beauty of the place. We walked narrow roads between vineyards to a pretty beach... visited the local church... walked around the wharf area... had a refreshing ale.. and came back to Korcula. We immediately emailed our host and asked for an extension into the fourth day.

We know we will have run out of exciting venues before the fourth day... but we will be relaxed enough to find micro-topics of interest to keep us amused. So don't expect shattering headlines for the next three days. We'll try and convey the karma that a quiet Croatian island can add to your holiday mix.

Leaving Sophisticated Dubrovnik for the wilds of Korcula

We have left Dubrovnik... we have left our touring group. After 2 days of walking the wall... dodging the boat people.. sipping coffee in the alleys... looking at churches... but mostly looking at people, we finally called it a day. We were not tired of the experience... there is something hypnotic about the place... even the cruise boat people started to look human... but new adventures called... time to get back on the road again.

We caught a 3 PM bus up the coast to the island of Korcula. We have had Croatian islands recommended as a holiday destination... and Korcula has been recommended as one of the nicer of these. As we have already experienced, the best things often arise from unplanned circumstances.

Take for example our entry into Korcula... another example of bus drivers belonging to a separate species of hominids. Our bus came upon roadworks and waited for the temporary traffic lights to turn green. On the change of lights, we crept forward around a hairpin bend. Half the road we were turning into was closed. We got halfway around the corner, only to find that oncoming traffic had occupied our lane of road. OK, have you got the picture? The question now is, "How do you resolve the issue?" Should our big 50 seater bus reverse back through the hairpin bend... or should the oncoming traffic reverse back and let us through. Croatian drivers break road rules as naturally as breaking wind... so road rules are of no use in such cases. The lady driving the vehicle at the front of the oncoming stream waved her hands, opened the window and explained (we think) that she could do nothing because cars behind her had locked her in. Our driver called out advice... and just to make sure it was clearly understood, increased the volume to maximum. The lady could do no more than shrug her shoulders. That, apparently, was a mistake. Our driver jumped out of his seat and raced to the offending car. He swung open the door. (I thought" Crikey, that lady won't need to buy mascara for a while.") He pulled her out of the drivers seat... jumped in, started the car and raced on the inside of the hairpin corner. Once onto clear road, he jumped out of the car and started racing towards the next car in the queue. The message didn't take long to get through. The next guy, gunned his engine and followed the car tracks set by our driver... as did all other vehicles in the queue. What a hero... hearts swooned in every young girl on the bus.

As for Korcula... it rivals Dubrovnik in some ways. It is much smaller... hasn't had billions of UNESCO's money spent on it... so it doesn't glisten so brightly in the sunshine. But it appears to have suffered little damage in the Balkans War... it isn't over-commercialised... it has a quiet confidence... a softer gentler countenance. And it was the birthplace of Marco Polo... no matter what those Italians tell you.

Memo to Council - Use these things More Often

Dubrovnik is a gem... spoiled by tourists. We were walking around the fort walls this afternoon when we saw a cannon pointed at an approaching cruise ship. (You can see the photo below.)

When climbing onto the fort wall, we passed a council ticket collector. We pointed to the cruise ship and commented that he must feel positive in seeing so many more tourists approaching his ancient city.

"No", he said. "Cruise ship tourists arrive in town... walk the fort wall, buy a souvenir and a cup of coffee... then leave." "Well, that can't be too bad", we said in a positive tone. "It would be, except they chase away other tourists who support the local economy much more", was his reply. His words rang true for us. We had just battled the crowds in the old city and decided to cut our stay in Dubrovnik to just one night. The sense of discovery is difficult to feel if you are being bumped and jostled by a tour leader with 50 followers... all wired up with their radio receivers... all pushing to take the same photo at the same time... all talking too loudly... all stopping to have a chat in the middle of a bottleneck in the pathway. Their only saving grace is that Joye and I know that we will be one of them in another 10 years. When climbing down from the wall of the fort, we reminded the ticket collector that the cannon is in the right position... if he wanted fewer cruise ships, the solution to his problem was readily at hand.

Dubrovnik was shelled extensively in the 1990's Balkan war. It has been quickly restored... and the job has been done very well. I guess if you lay marble footpaths between sandstone buildings of uniform colour with deep red tiled roofs... it's pretty hard to go wrong. The place looks light... bright... ancient but alive. The history is similar to many of the city states of the Balkans... familiar players... familiar destructions... familiar sad stories of individuals.

One of our tour travellers made an interesting point... we are told that unless we remember our history, we are bound to repeat it. However, some Balkan citizens seen to remember their history so vividly... you have to ask if remembering history binds some of them to repeating it.

Mostar - when is too much history Not Enough

Today, we are still in Bosnia Herzegovina... this time in the Herzegovina province. Mostar is like a smaller version of Sarajevo... beautiful old city... racked by war damage... crystal clear river racing through its centre... surrounded by dramatic mountains. The sad part about Mostar is that the war damage was done very near the end of the war. Mostar is small and it takes only a few bus loads of tourists to fill the streets to overflowing. We are hoping that after dinner... when all the buses have departed... we can get a strong sense of medieval ghosts creeping out from between the rocks... a bent over Turkish Iman with a long white beard touching the ground... a strutting Austrian twirling his waxed moustache ... Jewish girls selling pastries along the market streets. You don't believe in ghosts? You haven't been to the Balkans!

Mostar lies on an important trade route.. the Ottomans used the town as a regional administration centre... invested in infrastructure... even provided funds for the construction of orthodox churches and schools. When the Austrian-Hungarian's siezed control, they also used Mostar for its important geography. The three wars of the twentieth century are as messy and confusing for Mostar as anywhere in the Balkans.

Take a look at the bridge in the photos... some 24 metres above the river. For a charge of 30 Euros you will be allowed to stand on the side of the bridge and dive into the rapidly flowing river beneath. What happens to the 30 euro charge? That covers the cost of the 'frog-men' who will fish your body out if you happen to break your neck... drown from becoming concussed... or generally die from doing such a silly thing. For a lesser cost, you can throw money into the hats of the young men... when they have collected 30 Euros, they will wave to you to let you know its time to take a photo... then they will stand on the side of the bridge and dive down the 28 metres.

Tomorrow, we move onto Dubrovnik, Croatia... the last day of touring with the Tucan group (6 other people). We have enjoyed the luxury of a tour leader worrying about logistical issues. We have enjoyed the company of a terrific group of fellow travellers. In spite of these advantages, we are looking forward to setting our own pace... stopping for a photo whenever we please... travelling at our own pace... and making decisions without too many compromises.

After your country has been ravaged by war - What do you do Next?

We all watched Sarajevo's 'sniper alley' with citizens running from one street corner to the other... it made great TV coverage. The bullet holes in the buildings remain as a reminder of a sad period in Bosnian history. The fighting is over... memories are still too fresh and painful to forgive... but new generations push through with motivation and optimism. Each side of the conflict can provide a simplified history that allows blame to be allocated with a broad brush. If you take a long term perspective of history, people movement and the pattern of resolving differences in the past, the issues being resolved by breaking up the Yugoslav state were never going to be settled by politics alone.

After the war... how do you survive? What Bosnian had in large supply was spent ammunition shells. Those with an artistic bent found clever ways to make works of art from items of destruction. Would you like a pen fashioned from gun shells used to kill civilians going about their daily routines? How about a milk jug from a rocket launcher that blew up the local library? Coffee grinders... salt and pepper shakers... there is no limit to the imagination. Of course, the tourists bought the items in large volumes.

One way to add realism to the Sarajevo experience is to get the tourists onto the battlefield... or in our case, under it. Our guide (Adass) took us to a war museum where we looked at memorabilia... sat through 15 minutes of video depicting the war... and then we were sent to walk in a tunnel only 1.5 metres high and 1 metre wide... that ran for 800 metres under the airport (we walked only a few metres. Adass said it took only 4 months to build the tunnel with no digging equipment... but it has taken the post-war government 15 years to build its first motorway. Adass took us to the ancient Jewish cemetery where Serbian soldiers were positioned to fire at the civilians shopping in the market below. All this is recent history... we are not taking millennia... we are talking about history less than 20 years old!

Sarajevo is doing it tough at the moment... 30 percent unemployed... wages already low... no export opportunities to develop... a population that is conservative and likely to resist a period of rapid change... and a lingering doubt about whether there are scores still yet to be settled before the long chapter on Balkan conflicts can be closed. The young are seeking employment opportunities abroad... hopefully to gain experience and new perspectives that they can bring back to this beautiful city.

Australia... you don't know how lucky you are!

Bus Drivers - a Special Breed

Today we passed from Montenegro to Bosnia Herzegovina. It was a long drive in a minibus hired by our tour group (of 9 passengers). We traversed numerous ravines... up and over mountain passes... and down the other side... before finding the next ravine. I did envy the driver today... tackling such a challenging route... but I certainly don't claim to have his skills.

To give you an idea of Sasha's (the driver) skills, I need only recall the drive down the mountain from the Ostrog Monastery. Ostrog Monastery is one of the three most visited religious destinations on earth... its a miracle built by nature and human interaction... carved almost in its entirety in a vertical positioned mountain cliff... and is visited by a hundred thousand pilgrims from around the world and of travellers of all religions... every year. (Being Easter for Orthodox Christians there was a special service in progress visited by senior clergy - judging from the size of their hats).

Back to Sasha... on the drive up to the monastery, our tour leader told us how lucky we were to have Sasha as our driver, because he is so careful. This was of comfort to us... because the road was dangerous... if you went over the edge, there was nothing to break your fall for 1,000 metres... not that it matters after the first 100 metres. The hairpin corners were so sharp and the road so narrow, Sasha had to resort to three-point turns on numerous occasions. I was quite relieved to step off the bus when we reached the monastery.

However, Sasha showed his full range of skills on the way down. No sooner had we started the descent, than Sasha's mobile phone rang. He answered it in the manner of all Montenegro drivers... holding his cigarette in his teeth... talking at top volume. For some reason, he had to hold the phone in his right hand. To do all the gear changes and three-point turns, he had to hold the steering wheel with his legs while he reached between his legs to grab the gear lever to change gears. This was the guy our tour leader had singled out for praise for his low-risk driving. I felt a little safer when he had smoked his cigarette down to a stub and was able to find time to spit the but out the window. When talking of safety, all things are relative!

Nothing can compare to mountain driving to get the adrenalin pumping and cameras clicking. Sitting on a minibus for 9 hours does not sound like fun... but Joye and I loved it.

Tonight, we are in Sarajevo... a lovely city still showing the scars from its 1990's war. We will get a closer look at its history tomorrow.

Unbalkanising the Balkans

In Australia, from time to time, we have had regional areas engaging in wild talk about breaking away from their existing State and setting up an 'Eldorado' that they would run things 'properly'. Usually, this talk only gains airtime late at night... down at the pub... when your footy team has lost 5 games in a row... and the stock market has fallen 100 points in the week. If things look like getting worse, you may even talk about seceding from Australia... the Commonwealth... the United Nations. It's when you are down on your luck that 'going it alone' looks most attractive.

We are currently staying in Montenegro... a Balkan state of only 640,000 people. The following 'rant' is my personal opinion written in an attempt to clarify my own thoughts. I am not attempting to change anyone's opinion... I know that minds far greater than mine have struggled with these issues for decades. In fact, if you have well developed thoughts on Balkan politics, I suggest you stop reading now.

Why would so few Montenegrens want to chance their luck in the big wide world? They share a border with Albania who has only a little more than 2.5 million people. Macedonia, only a few hundred kilometres away has only 2 million. Bosnia and Herzegovina have 3.8 million people. Many commentators would think that states with so few people are not sustainable... that within a few decades, there will be some union amongst the smaller states.

However, for the time being, they want to remain separate from each other... each state has its own reasons. All of them suffered stifling rule under the Ottoman empire. Like most empires, the Ottomans did not want significant changes within its colonies... if your colony gets smarter and richer than you, all sorts of trouble will follow. To some extent, the Balkan states got used to rejecting change... it was easier than managing it. After the Ottomans came a period of establishing recognised borders, involving... inevitable disputes... inevitable skirmishes. Then came WWII when they were invaded by the losing side (Germany)... most Balkan states didn't pick a side... but history dealt the region more turbulence and another knock to self-confidence. After the war, the big geopolitical carve-up left the Balkans under communist influence... perhaps a good number of states were attracted to the ideology at any rate. Again, the Balkans picked the wrong option (when will their luck change?) After the fall of the Berlin Wall and Yugoslavia broke up, there was a concerted effort to fit the pieces into the right groupings... taking into account history, language, religion and geography. Not everyone was happy... no political solution has that outcome. Montenegro was put in with Serbia and that grouping seemed to work until the 1990 Balkans War. Montenegro didn't like the approach Serbia was taking on certain important matters... they felt they had again been dealt a bad 'deck of cards'.

So image how Montenegro citizens felt sitting in the pub late on a Friday night. Everything their governments and the world powers had organised for decade after decade had proved hopeless! Of course the citizens would have said, "We can organise things better than these foreigners". The accountants amongst them would have said, "You can't have a nation with only 640,000 people!" The blokes down at the pub on a Friday night would have replied, "We can't do any worse than the experts have done for the last 50 years!"

After the 1990s war, Montenegro absorbed large numbers of refugees. What they saw as their unique culture was being put under tremendous strain. As a new State, they felt insecure financially. Europeans and Russians were offering to buy into the new State at prices that removed economic worries. This property boom (of sorts) has continued up until today. Montenegro is one of the most wealthy Balkan states. What will they do for income once the property sales have subsided? There will always be tourism. This place has remarkable beauty. But as we are reminded each day, one certain way to spoil beauty is to crowd the place with tourists!

So, next time you are in the pub late on a Friday night... talking about your local government and how hopeless they are at organising the real issues, spare a thought for the good citizens of Montenegro and the run of bad luck that has lead to a nation of just 640,000 people.

A True Blue Hero

Albania is too small to offer much on the world stage. It has yet to win the Euro Song Competition... an Olympic medal,... a Nobel Prize (except for Mother Teresa who didn't live in the country for long)... or membership to the EU. True, it has provided the birthplace for:

Mother Teresa
James and John Belushi
Both parents of Sandra Bullock
Pope Clement XI

and perhaps a few others that slip the memory at the moment.

But the outstanding hero of Albania is no other than Skanderbeg (6 May 1405 – 17 January 1468) born a 15th-century Albanian lord.'Hero of Christianism' he initiated and organized the League of Lezhë, which proclaimed him Chief of the League of the Albanian people. Without putting too fine a point on it, he was the point of resistance that stopped the Ottoman advantage in the 15th century... his castle guarded a strategic valley linking Europe and Asia Minor... without our good friend Skanderbeg, we would now be speaking a different language and perhaps worthshipping a different god. Arguably, Skanderbeg saved Christendom from annihilation!

Here is a potted history of Skanderbeg.

He was born in Albania during the time it was controlled by the Ottomans.
He was taken from his family at an early age and put into the Ottoman army. His training was in Constantinople where he advanced quickly to take up a senior position in the army.
In his 30's he escaped from the Ottomans and became a freedom fighter amongst one of the Albanian tribes.
He unified the tribes of Albania (for the first time) and established the concept of a nation. To achieve unity, he fought opposing leaders (so his history is a little tarnished... but not greatly... given the times in which he lived).
The hold of the Ottomans on Albania became stronger and they had plans to expand further to the north. But they wanted to secure their hold on Albania and that meant taking the castles controlled by Skanderbeg and his sister.
Once a year, for 25 years, the Ottomans attacked Skanderbeg's castle at Kruja. Each year, Skanderbeg was able to withstand the attacks.
The Ottomans put their expansion plans on hold during this period... a period when Europe was not united and not well placed to withstand a major conflict.
We visited Skanderbeg's castle high on the slope of a mountain. In fighting the Ottomans, he certainly had geography on his side. He cut a wild sci-fi image... straight out of 'The Hobbit'. His standard bearer flag (eagle with two heads) has been adopted as Albania's national flag... it also appears on other nation flags... indicating a conscience of looking to the east as well as looking to the west. We particularly liked the goat head he put as part of his helmet.

Arguably, if Skanderbeg had capitulated, the Ottomans would have taken Europe. Skanderbeg delayed the advance during a critical time when Europe was making advances in technology that unified the whole region (more in the political sense than militarily). But the technology discoveries gave Europe bargaining advantages over the Ottomans and gave greater confidence to their efforts to reorganise their military capacities.

So, three cheers to Skanderbeg and four cheers to Albania... the country that saved Christendom.