Medvedgrad Memories

by Brett Cliffe (Australia)

A leap into the unknown Croatia

I was woken by the enthusiastic wide-eyed thick-accented Indian dude who I had spoken with at length about our mutual passion in cricket. He told me it was 8am and I almost cursed at him before gathering myself and remembering I had actually asked him to wake me up. “Thanks” I muttered, dreary eyed. I jumped up and composed myself rapidly, deciding the best way to tackle this day would be to go straight for the free breaky in the hotel a few doors down. It didn’t let me down! A complete spread buffet for which I overlooked my recent vegan tendencies, justifying it to myself by saying I was feeling tired yesterday after almost a week of strict vegan eating. After breaky my walk to Medvedgrad began with a stroll down to Britanski square where the usual farmers market was well underway. It was chillingly cold with the farmers wives billowing steam from their mouths and noses in the lingering morning shade, supervising a few tables that had been set up with an array of fruit and veg. A large lady with a kind of gusto about her was happy to sell me a few pieces of fruit for a few kuna (the local currency). The cost was worked out using an old set of beam balance scales; pitting the ripe apple and orange on one side up against blocks of metal, of which she had an assortment of different sizes. These blocks of metal had apparently determined that my two pieces of fruit were worth 4 kuna, which to me seemed a bit steep but I didn’t complain. The bus up to Sestine could be caught a few minutes up the road from the market. I met an Argentinian couple who were heading the same direction but didn’t seem too interested in making any friends so I left them to it. After waiting about 10 minutes my bus, the 102, cruised around a corner ahead unexpectedly, so I chased it down. Just as I reached it I noticed the number change to 103. It had tricked me. After having a quick discussion with a driver who didn’t understand a word I said I jumped out of the bus to be greeted by another two buses. From no buses to 4 buses in one minute! Sure enough one of them was my bus. I helped an old lady onto her seat and received a thankyou in Croatian, which just so happens to sound a lot like ‘voila’, a fact that always put a little grin on my face in saying or receiving it. It made me want to give even more enthusiasm into my thankyous somehow, to which the Croatians would generally just stare coldly like they do, seemingly impregnable to my fervor. We were in Sestine before I knew it after passing a little pooch scratching himself and a snippet of a lovely view over Zagreb through some houses and trees. I set off promptly for the church as my scrunched up paper guide was suggesting, and boosted on solo up and onto the trailhead which was easily found. Only a few hundred meters up the trail I heard a distinct tapping sound. A woodpecker! It only took a second for me to locate where this beautiful bird was going about its absurd business of trying to dismantle a tree trunk with its head. Clambering round and making similar attempts in different spots on different trees, it seemed to be making absolutely no progress at all, but who was I to judge. This species had clearly adapted to have such specialized behaviour for one simple reason. It worked. So I stood gazing at it for an extended period, even following it from tree to tree before it awoke from its self-induced concussion and became conscious of my presence, flying away. A group of other mini woodpeckers were darting about with extreme aerial accuracy and making their own seemingly futile attempts to smash their heads into tree trunks and throwing dead leaves about. Where are the ornithologists when you need them! I continued up the trail, following target like markers for an hour or so before the main attraction....