Kristian and Frances

We are now in Hvar, which is a small seaside town on one of the many Croatian islands, all of which are remarkably beautiful. Two days ago we caught a day ferry from Dubrovnik up the coast, weaving through islands and mountains.

Hvar is a strange little town, it is small by any standard, it feels as though it is swamped by tourists, yet it does not have the horrible atmosphere of a tourist town. There are wholly and without doubt too many Australians here. In Dubrovnik the chap at the ice cream shop returned my Hi with a Gday Mate! And we proceeded to banter like old friends teasing one another, he reminding me of my manners as I place my order before Frances.

Croatia is a strange place. It is not actually strange, but I get a feeling of being in two places at once.

I feel more comfortable here than anywhere else in Europe, than in the USA, and even in some parts of Australia (I am thinking here of the rural western plains of NSW, towns like Tumut etc, which are decidedly alien). The people here, and I mean the Croatians, are relaxed, welcoming and do not seem to regard us gringos with suspicion, contempt or whatever. This is in contrast to other parts of Europe, where people were also generally nice, but I always felt observed as a foreigner with a little bit of resentment, or some such. I dont know if this is real or imagined, but it exists as a reaction within me, and on discussion, within Frances also.

Of course being relaxed isnt itself a strange thing, unless your are the kind of person who is predisposed to anxiety, but I am not. The strangeness comes about when you are reminded that this country has suffered war within the lifetime of most of the citizens, and well within your own memory, memory of politicians discussion agreements and peace deals. CNN situation maps, blurred histories of the region. The strangeness is that I can never actually comprehend this experience, but I see and feel that it is still here. It isnt like the wars of the ANZACs, distant wars in times long gone, stories from grandfathers or recollections. Something to be remembered because it has become part of the past. But the war here is still present, it seems. I am an outsider, what can I really know?

In Dubrovnik the war wasnt hidden. Quite the opposite, the memory of the seige was presented to tourists, but not as a tacky tourist feature, though it was always among those classic touristy things. Posters on the walls illustrate the damage to this building or that. A mortar shell sits at the top of the stairs at our guesthouse, a little thing of death sitting casually like a pot plant (how did I not notice this immediately?), our hosts reluctance, difficulty, refusal to recommend to a fellow guest the people of neighbouring Montenegro (My mind is momentarily calculating whether they were the good guys or the bad guys, memory delivers them as the bad guys), the war history walking tour (Franceses mother does the Intro to Dubrovnik tour, where you have to hold onto questions of the war for another tour), a map not showing tourist sites, but the locations of where bombs hit, fires burnt, buildings destroyed. There is a war memorial, but it isnt like our war memorials, it is fresh with photographs of men my age, it is telling not only a story of gratitude and respect to the fallen defenders of the city, but also the memories of the people who have just made your room up, delivered you with the best coffee in Europe, said Gday to you at the ice cream store. That is the strangeness. I cant say for sure what it is, and I have only been here a week, so perhaps I am utterly wrong. There doesnt appear to be the kind of nationalist patriotism which exists in the US, or to a lesser extent Australia, but there does seem to be genuine pride in ones country, city, history. I like that, even though I feel tourists guilt at playing a role in this semi spectacle. Those are the two worlds I feel I am passing through. The first world is the familiar, the kindness of hosts, the second is incomprehensible to me.

Tomorrow we catch a ferry back to the mainland city of Split, and from Split we take a train to the capital, and then another train to Slovenia. We shall get a chance to see non coastal Croatia. Already I am planning what to do when I come back. First stop will be the Car Rental agency!

We're in Croatia now, and it's pure joy, but first I have to talk about Italy, since we haven't really had a chance to use the internet since we arrived there, except for bursts in Florence when we had American teenagers breathing down our necks.

We arrived in Venice last Saturday and took a taxi to our camping ground, where we had probably the most satisfying meal of our trip thus far (a margarita pizza probably almost as good if not as good as the pizza at our favourite pizza place in Sydney (La Disfida in Haberfield) and twice as big and half the price. So perfect. Our camping place was called Camping Jolly and pretty much lived up to the name.

We spent one full day in Venice proper (Sunday, which meant we were never tempted to enter churches which is a great relief to me). I loved it there, although it seems fairly unliveable. The thing I loved about it most was its quiet sounds, and the care and lovingness that goes into the presentation of everything from notebooks to gloves in the windows of the shops. It just seems like such a lovingly maintained little city. We explored pretty much the entire city. My favourite thing about that day was sitting down beside the canal eating blood oranges. I think they were the best oranges I've ever had, and the oranges we had in Spain were also spectacular.

On Monday we took a train to Alano di Piave which is the village my paternal grandfather was born in. It is north of Venice about an hour past Padua. The trip was for the most part not spectacularly beautiful, lots of green fields and the occasional grape vine garden. There is something pretty familiar about most of the Italian landscape. I can see why the Italians had such a big influence on the development of more recent Australian agriculture, or maybe I have that topsy turvy! Anyway, just before we got to our train station the landscape changed, we had reached the foothills of the Dolomites, and they are very beautiful, covered in a soft haze with towns nestled between them. Alano di Piave is one of those towns, and the most beautiful of the three that we passed and saw, with a tall terracotta coloured clock tower and other beautiful buildings. It took us about an hour to walk there and is mostly uphill. I actually stacked in on the street as we walked out of the town (Fener) that the train station is inside, and somehow landed on the right side of my face and my left knee. But I walked three more kilometres after that and was fine.

When we got to Alano we were tired and hungry so we stopped at a pizza place where we ordered lunch. There was only one other customer in the restaurant, and he turned and openly stared at us (although not unfriendlylike) when we asked if the waitress spoke English. Everbody who encountered us was puzzled by us being there. They don't have a tourist industry, clearly. But it was really great to see it, it was a thriving town with an immigration program and an industrial area a very respectable distance from the town itself, and I thought to myself many times that my Italian family might have been a lot better off had they in fact stayed in Italy through the depression rather than moving to Australia, where my grandfather in particular was far from happy. Although that might have just been his nature.

The next day we took the train to Florence. I don't know about Florence, I felt while I was there that this kind of travel does not suit me, this kind of moving quickly and seeing sights that guide books dictate to me because you don't have time to just find things. I am frustrated by the fact that I have been in Italy for a week and am still reading the books I purchased to help me better understand (wonderful, wonderful) Andalusia, Spain. I prefer to have time to understand and absorb things, preferably for a long time, and my last overseas trip (where I spent two and a half weeks in one city) was much less strained. But then, now I am in Dubrovnik I feel very much settled again. Perhaps that is because I have an interest in this part of the world and its history anyway, and I felt very much detached in much of Italy, an observer, holding the cities at arms length. Which is I think is in some ways necessary when you're travelling quickly, because it takes you several days to even become comfortable in most places (especially big cities) let alone to understand them.

We were in Rome for a day, but it was only to break our journey to Bari and the ferry. Kristian was sick either with a cold or very bad hayfever or an infection caused by same. There were drifts of pollen coming down in Venice and Rome, sometimes in piles on the ground. Poor thing. Mum went to Rome and saw some things in the morning, as she likes to see as much as possible of the sites. Which is fair enough, but as Marlaina says, old things have been around a long time and will be around for a long time more. So K and I spent our time in Rome in the Camping Village swimming pool and trying to relax and recover from Florence.

Then there was a train trip to Bari (5 and a half hours) and an overnight ferry to Dubrovnik. There was some kind of kerfuffle/delay in the customs queue before we could board the boat, and there was almost a fight between a group of Italians and a group of (I think) Albanians. Kristian meantime had a raging fever and was lying on the ground on the side of the queue for most of the two hours we were waiting there. Not much fun. We finally got on the boat and went straight to sleep. I had strange dreams about the boat having arrived over and over again. It's only natural.

As soon as we got to Dubrovnik I felt somehow like our holiday, our trip, had finally begun. A lot of Italy we visited a) because mum wanted to see it and b) because I wanted to see Alano di Piave, not because I have a deep and enduring interest in the country. The same was (but is no longer) true of Spain. As soon as I arrived in Dubrovnik we met our hostel owner, Milo, by chance at the ferry station. He was waiting for someone else who didn't turn up but drove us up to Villa Klaic instead. Our rooms weren't ready so we sat on the patio enjoying the amazing view of the Adriatic.

Oh, wow.

You know that feeling when your entire body breathes a sigh of happiness and relief, when you know everything's going to be alright somehow = that was what it was like. Even though I was crusty fromt he boat trip in an air conditioned and poky cabin, I dipped my aching feet in the little tiled swimming pool and felt perfect. Milo made us Turkish coffee and Mum and I went for a walk (actually two) down the steps towards Dubrovnik/the old town. Dubrovnik is a town full of little girls whispering and playing on the steps of little churches, and cats who rub against your legs, and big coloured lizards that run between the cracks in the rocks, and little spiders, and gardens full of every kind of fruit and vegetables, and more little girls whispering and playing, and a maze of steps and streets that have no cars. I love it here, I do.

Hi, Jana, if you're reading, your country is even more beautiful than I could have expected despite all your assurances. You must miss it painfully.

Also this country has the best coffee we've had anywhere, including (by far and away) Italy.

Last night the villa owner Milo put on a barbeque for everyone staying there and we talked all night with everyone and met new people. Milo is just one of those wonderfully generous people, and I would recommend Villa Klaic (which is also extremely affordable and comfortable) to anyone.