THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 27, 1994 TAG: 9411250384
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY STEPHEN HARRIMAN, TRAVEL EDITOR
LENGTH: Long : 305 lines
THERE WAS THUNDER in the night. Loud crashes and distant rumbles and flashes of ghostly white light in the sky. No, it was thunder and nothing more. I told myself that as I walked to my hotel-room balcony to look out. It could not POSSIBLY be artillery.
And yet I was in Dubrovnik in the newly formed - and politically troubled - Republic of Croatia. It had happened before. Just a couple of years ago, in fact, Serb shells rained down on the city.
But, no, the sound is not the same. If you've heard the crunch of cannon or the clump of mortars, you know that. Still, when the sound awakens you in the middle of the night, for a heart-stopping moment you cannot be sure.
In less time than it takes to recount now, in less time, I think, than it took to stagger from bed to balcony and see in the flashes of light that Dubrovnik, the beautiful medieval city, lay within its stone walls in peaceful slumber, I became aware of the magnitude of the public relations problem that bedevils the city and the entire fledgling nation.
I had allowed myself to fall victim to an erroneous mindset.
Same mournful song, different verse earlier this past week. NATO warplanes attacked a Serbian stronghold in Croatia. Here's what that means: Militant Serbs have continued to occupy portions of this nation that is about the size of West Virginia since it declared its independence from the former Yugoslavia in 1990.
The Serbs have refused to recognize the sovereignty of Croatia, although the world has since Jan. 15, 1992, when it joined the United Nations; the Croats appear to lack the wherewithall to toss them out.
I had a curious conversation with a Croat. He had been telling me, proudly, that during the more than four decades of Marshal Tito's communist regime the country (Yugoslavia) had never been occupied by Soviet troops - as had almost all of the other socialist puppet states at one time or another.
``But,'' he said, ``what's worse is we have Serbs. Still have them. They occupy about a third of the country.''
How long, I wondered, had this occupation been going on? Was there an invasion that I had missed?
``Ages,'' he answered in obvious disgust. ``They've been here for centuries.''
In other words, they don't BELONG, no matter how long they've been here, because, quite simply, they are not like us.
I believe history will record that Tito's most significant accomplishment during his dictatorship was that he managed to subordinate these tribal passions.
The perception, I'm afraid, continues to exist that there is a war going on in Croatia. I did not see any such thing. The war - no, let's be up front about this: the ethnic slaughter carried out by historically contentious people - is NOT in Croatia. It is next door in Bosnia and Herzegovina. At the moment, at least.
This perception causes a problem for Croatia; 80 percent of its economy is tied to tourism.
I traveled extensively through crescent-shaped Croatia, along the spectacular Adriatic coast from south of Dubrovnik to the Istrian peninsula in the north and eastward across the mountains to the capital city of Zagreb.
All was quiet of these fronts.
Yes, I did see soldiers in uniform, both Croat nationals and United Nations troops. But I have seen more assault weapons in uniformed hands in the airports of . . . let's see, Tel Aviv; Malaga, Spain; Milan, Italy; and Casablanca, Morocco.
I suppose I came closest to the ugly residue of war in the little 6th century town of Cavtat near the southern tip of Croatia. I was standing outside a small grocery market with a camera around my neck when a woman came up to me and said, ``You're a tourist, aren't you? Well, what do you think?''
I told her I had not been there long enough to think much of anything except that the market carried good yogurt. She then began to tell me what she thought.
``I'm British and I live in France. You haven't got time for me to explain that,'' she said. ``My husband and I first came here in 1966. We've been coming back every year since - although I'm alone now that he's dead - at the same time every year, staying in the same room in the same hotel.
``And you know what? I'm the only guest in that hotel now. They saved my room for me. All the rest are refugees - 400 of them. And in the hotel next door there are 500 refugees. No guests.
``Isn't it tragic what is happening?''
Indeed, war is tragic, but that is NOT what I saw and learned in Croatia.
What I saw was a largely unspoiled coast of incredible beauty, tranquil resort areas with an abundance of hotels that boast amenities that should please the most discerning Western traveler, sandy beaches and yacht-filled marinas, historic sites of great significance that I never knew existed, and a vibrant 900-year-old capital city, bursting with life, that looked far more like a Vienna (perhaps with a few rough edges) than some dowdy Third World bureaucratic center.
Does this sound like a war zone?
I ate delicious food, especially seafood and shellfish . . . and I experienced octopus for the first time.
I learned that a Croat, Slavoljub Eduard Penkana, invented the fountain pen and ball-point pen in 1906, and that Croatians are responsible for the necktie, although the French deserve part of the blame.
Croatia sent some soldiers to France in the 17th century for the Thirty Years War. A neck scarf was part of their uniform, which the ever-fashion-conscious French thought was just adorable. They adopted it and called it a ``cravate'' probably from how they heard the Croatian word ``hrvat'' pronounced. (In the Croatian language, Croatia is spelled Hrvatska.) You could look it up.
Did you know Marco Polo was from Croatia? He's from the island of Korcula (pronounced Kor-chew-la), but in his time the Republic of Venice controlled that part of the Dalmatian coast, so it's natural, if technically incorrect, to think of him as a Venetian. Dalmatian dogs - white with black spots . . . the famous firehouse mascots - are from here, too.
Diocletian, the Roman emperor, was a native of Croatia. He quit the job while he was still alive and returned home to build an incredible retirement palace. More about that in a minute. Another famous native son was Nikola Tesla, who discovered the rotating magnetic field, the basic of practically all alternating-current machinery.
The people of Dubrovnik seem always to have been a particularly interesting and enlightened lot. By 1347 the city had a municipal old people's home, by 1432 an orphanage; the slave trade was abolished in the 15th century.
Also as early as the 15th century they had a sanitation system, and citizens caught throwing their garbage or other, uh, ``stuff'' in the streets were fined. The significance of that, particularly to those of us who learned world history with an Anglo spin, is that in London, well into the 18th century, people still were tossing the contents of their chamber pots out into the street - sometimes with the warning shout ``gardy-loo.'' That's from the French ``gardez l'eau,'' which means ``bombs away!''
Dubrovnik also had a law on the books as early as 1272 that proscribed the building of wooden houses inside the walls - to protect against fires - but this wasn't rigidly enforced until after a massive earthquake and subsequent fires in 1667 destroyed about two-thirds of its buildings.
In the reconstruction, the law was followed to the letter, and the result was magnificent stone houses, churches and buildings that are a living museum of 16th and 17th century architecture. Lord Byron called the old orange-roofed city, jutting out into the purple-blue sea, the ``jewel of the Adriatic.''
Much repair work has been done to the buildings damaged by the three Serb bombardments - Dec. 6, 1991, and May 29 and July 15, 1992 - but the reminders of these unprovoked attacks still are evident: pock-marked walls here and burned-out shells of buildings there.
Officials have estimated that restoration will cost $273 million in materials and labor. No monetary figure can be placed on what was lost in historical value. The U.S.-based Rebuild Dubrovnik Fund (see story, Page Ex), is helping with the restoration.
There was a particularly moving exhibit of photos by Miro Kerner in the State Archives buildings showing Dubrovnik under attack - churches, buildings, homes, even boats in the harbor on fire, dead animals in the street.
The best way to see Dubrovnik, a UNESCO world and cultural heritage site, is the 1 1/2-mile walk atop the 11th century walls with their three forts and 15 towers - perhaps one of the most spectacular strolls anywhere in the world.
From Dubrovnik, I boarded a Russian-built hydrofoil for a high-speed cruise up the remarkable island-dotted coast of Croatia. These islands and islets are stark white stacks of layered limestone - some barren, some with a scattering of scrub bushes, some covered with tall, dark evergreens. The crystal-clear water surrounding them picks up hues ranging from azure blue to turquoise depending on the depth. Stunningly beautiful.
During a lunch break ashore one of the locals described the area, with obvious pride, as ``a pretty woman who doesn't talk too much.'' Here, it apparently just doesn't get any better than that, but one of the women with whom I was traveling did not think that analogy met American political-correctness standards.
George Bernard Shaw did the best job, I think, of describing the largest archipelago in the Mediterranean:
``The gods wanted to crown their creation, and on the last day they turned tears, stars and the sea breeze into the isles of Konnati.''
These stops along the way were of particular interest:
The small town of Korcula, on the island of the same name, juts out on a peninsula, as does Dubrovnik. It was a favorite of the Greeks 2,000 years ago, and it remains so today for holiday makers. Down a narrow shaded alley I saw a sign on a stone house that proclaimed it the home of Marco Polo. This island was Venetian when he was here; the one just over there was Croatian.
But the big show here is a sword-fighting pageant called ``Moreska'' that has been performed only by sons of the island for more than 400 years. Well, sons and one daughter.
The story, acted out in a sun-splashed piazza in front of a church, is that the bad guys, dressed in silver and black sort of like the L.A. Raiders, capture a local girl and enslave her. The good guys, dressed in red and gold costumes, come to her rescue. There's a lot of prancing around and some SERIOUS sword fighting. These guys, with short, heavy, sharp-pointed swords of steel in each hand, are really WHACKING at each other. Finally - this seemed to take an inordinate amount of time, given the shallow plot - the good guys win. The girl marries the king of the good guys and they live happily ever after.
OK, it's sort of a tired story, but they take it seriously. There was a lot of sweating and a number of bent swords. Nobody got stabbed, though; the show must go on.
Split, a university town, commercial center and international port, grew up around an immense retirement palace the Emperor Diocletian began in 295 A.D. - 1,700 years ago next year - while he was still running things in Rome. It was ready 10 years later when he decided to pack it in and return home before somebody stabbed him or poisoned him. It covers an area of 9 1/2 acres on the palm-lined waterfront promenade and is awesome.
The basement with vaulted ceilings remains virtually intact and is the largest preserved Roman ruin in the world. Today it is used for art exhibitions and contains stalls where very up-scale and stylish arts and crafts are sold.
The palace above has been transformed into the heart of the city. The narrow passages have become streets. The emperor's mausoleum in the heart of the old palace was converted into a cathedral in the 7th century. It contains Gothic, Renaissance and baroque architectural elements.
Part of the palace has fallen into ruin. In a strangely isolated area not far from the busiest part of the city I climbed down about 50 feet in a large hole, stumbling over crumbled Roman brick and rubble, down through 17 centuries of time . . . only to find the bottom littered with modern-day debris. I don't know what I was looking for exactly, but not that.
Just outside the walls of the old palace is an interesting sprawling market with hundreds of stalls selling everything from food to clothing to souvenirs. The Croats have been marketing their wares here, in just this way, for centuries.
Opatija, protected by high mountains to the north, sits along a wide bay known for its gentle sub-tropical climate. The aristocrats of the Austro-Hungarian Hapsburg Empire, perhaps tiring of taking the waters at Bad-Something-or-Another and in search of some rays, began coming here in 1844 to conduct their affairs - of state and otherwise. It became their ``Riviera.''
Now celebrating its 150th year of tourists, Opatija's streets are lined with elegant hotels and casinos, formal gardens and tropical trees, and fine shops that retain a 19th century flavor.
Have you ever heard of the famous dancer Isadora Duncan? Do you know what set her apart? Here's a secret she revealed after spending some time in Opatija in 1902. ``Under the window of our villa grew a palm tree which fascinated me. I had never before seen a palm growing free. I watched it every morning, as its beautiful leaves trembled in the morning breeze, and I copied from it that slight trembling of the shoulders, arms and fingers.''
It's still that dreamy, another-era sort of place.
Pula is a town of great antiquity. Legends say the Argonauts, Jason and Medea, once fled here. Illyrians and Romans came later, for sure. The town is dominated by an a 1st century Roman coliseum that once seated 23,000. It is one of the largest and most intact in existence. It has held up much better than the one in Rome. Today it is still used for theater productions and concerts.
Other Roman structures include a delicate temple dedicated to the Emperor Augustus from the 1st century and the 4th century Hercules gates. During the time of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, this was the home of the empire's fleet.
Zagreb, the capital, in north-central Croatia, celebrated its 900th birthday this year. The Pope came and held services at St. Stephen's Cathedral, and that was very big in this overwhelmingly Catholic country.
About a quarter of Croatia's nearly 5 million citizens live in this very cosmopolitan city . . . plus countless refugees from war-torn regions of the Balkans.
Actually, there are three fairly distinct ``cities'' here: the Upper Town, mainly buildings dating from the 13th century and including not only St. Stephen's but also St. Mark's with medieval coats of arms in mosaic on its tile roof; the Lower Town, built largely during the 19th century with Austro-Hungarian architectural flourishes and narrow streets that were perfectly adequate for horse-drawn carriages; and the New Zagreb, mostly across the River Sava with drab modern, institutional high-rises in shades of concrete gray.
I'm not sure what I really expected to find here, but I'll have to say even the name Zagreb sounds to my ears both clunky and exotic. What I did find was anything but a Third World, ex-communist city struggling to achieve affluence.
Zagreb is a really exciting place. It's clean, there are well-dressed people everywhere, in and out of smart shops - cosmetics, perfumes, fabrics, fashion, electronics - the streetcars and buses are packed, the cafes are filled with people smoking and sipping coffee, and newsstands and book stores are thriving.
This is a place very much alive with late 20th century attitudes.
But it is the 19th century charm and grace of the Lower City that I think I like best. Much of the grime and neglect of socialism has been banished from the ornate buildings, exposing the colors of the baroque Hapsburg palette: a color the natives call Maria Theresa Imperial Yellow . . . plus other pastels such as ocher, russet, rose, pumpkin, a green the shade of a lime pulp, and even a gray that has appeal. All of this is set off copper roofs and red and blue flowers planted in lawns of deep green.
There's culture and sophistication here as well. The baroque-styled Opera House is a thing of beauty, and the Mimara museum has been called the Balkan Louvre. The latter contains an overwhelming number of Byzantine and Russian religious icons as well as paintings by Raphael, Michelangelo, El Greco, Velazquez, Goya, Rembrandt, Rubens, Renoir, Manet and Degas. I hope I haven't left out anyone important.
No, the ``old ideology,'' as they say here, is gone, perhaps forever. This is a very Western-looking capital of a nation that has fully embraced Western ideals of liberty and an open economy.
And a very pleasant place to visit. MEMO: IF YOU'RE GOING
Getting there: Croatian Airlines does not fly intercontinental
routes. I flew Czechoslovakian Airlines (CSA) non-stop from New York to
Prague - very pleasant - and changed to Croatian in the Czech capital.
Contact a local travel agent for all your options or contact CSA in New
York, (212) 765-6545.
For more information, contact:
Croatian National Tourism Office, Illica 1, 41000 Zagreb, Croatia.
Phone: 011 + 385 + 41 + 456-455; fax: 011 + 385 + 41 + 428-674.
Atlas Travel Agency, Pile 1, 50000 Dubrovnik, Croatia. Phone: 011 +
385 + 50 + 44-22-22; fax 011 + 385 + 50 + 41-11-00. ILLUSTRATION: Color photos by Stephen Harriman
Political slogans mar the walls of the 1,7000-year-old retirement
palace of Diocletian in S;lit, Croatia.
Right: An Egyptian sphinx lies beneath a Roman arch at Diocletian's
palace. The Roman emperor was a native of Croatia.
Above: One of the villains enters the fray during a sword-fighting
pageant called "Moreska" in Korcula.
Right: a boy sits on a statue in a waterfront park in Cartat,
creating a tableau of Croatia past and present
STEPHEN HARRIMAN photos
The walled, medieval city of Dubrovnik has magnificent stone houses,
churches and buildings.
The first-century Roman coliseum in Pula is smaller but better
preserved than the one in Rome.
by CNB