Time for Pix....

Sundown in Cavtat. That's a water polo net in the foreground...very popular here.

Croatia's been and is beautiful, fun and warm. I'm having the time of my life and somewhat concerned that as I start to see vacationing as work, what's it going to be like as I return to full time employment? I'll worry about that later (good ol' Scarlett). For now I'm just gonna post some pics and will write about about my impressions about being here later...honest.

The mainstay of every small town across Christian Europe, the village church.

Leapin' of the rocks just outside Dubrovnik's walls.

Damned if I can remember the name of this fort. It's right beside Dubrovnik. Damn.

Napolean built this puppy in the seventeen hundreds and the dubrovniki consider it their last line of defense. It sits on the hiil overlooking the city.

I climbed the mountain behind Dubrovnik to see what was on the other side...

OK, you decide. Black and white...

or colour?

Also at the top of the mountain were the remnants of the tram that took revellers to Napoleans fort.
The fort was a restaurant/disco. The tram's a war victim.

The Balcony People

There’s been plenty of times but it’s the fireworks I remember with the greatest envy. At five feet, six and three quarter inches I’m somewhat less than the average male altitude; I struggle to see and be seen. Seeing the parade, the movie, the whatever is always a challenge. Bigger people tend to use their size and bad manners to their advantage as they barge to the front, obliterating the view for the vertically challenged. I don’t envy them, I just don’t like them. But they’re happier thinking it’s envy, it negates their guilt.

The people I’ve envied are the ones on the balcony or yacht or other choice location to see some public display. You don’t need to be tall if you’re rich or lucky. You just buy the best seat in the house or, as we did for this past week, rent it.

When we booked our apartment for our gathering in Croatia we had no idea what it looked like, where it was located or even what was going on in town during our stay. Serendipity stepped in. We’re in two magnificent, recently renovated apartments with three bedrooms, two kitchens and one outstanding balcony.

It’s a large patio actually but it’s located on the second floor and in the center of town, directly across from the harbour. I start my days with a coffee out there and watch the yachts slip in and out. Other than the church bells summoning the believers and the jets screaming the arrival of the latest planeload of tourists, it’s a quiet spot to enjoy the sun and view. Cavtat is touristy but smaller than Dubrovnik and the road is used more by pedestrians than cars. So our balcony is a perfect place to sit quietly and watch the world flow by. Until last night.

Last night it rushed past with a crash and a boom. It started with a marching band followed by a guy on stilts. The girls spinning their batons came next and stopped to show off their best moves right in front of our balcony; Summer Carnival was under way. Fire spinners, belly dancers and pirates snaked by celebrating the height of the tourist season and some of the ground-level onlookers looked up. I recognized the look on their faces. Envy.

We eventually filled our glasses and went down to join the revellers, oohing and ahhing at acrobats and jugglers. We tapped our feet to the rythyms of the ethnic band then shook our booties to the rocking rythyms of the dance band before retreating to our balcony to reload and relish our good fortune.

It’s taken me fifty-two years to look down instead of up. I’m here by good fortune not good planning but I’m glad I don’t feel guilty...because tonight there’s going to be fireworks.

Major Bummer Domo!

I can"t get my computer to cooperate and I"m struggling with a Croatian keyboard. Can"t upload pics or find the apostrophe key. Maybe they don"t use them in hrvatski.

Ah well. When I figure out how to make it work again I"ll share the pix and tell you a story about being balcony people.

Moved from Dubrovnik to Cavtat two days ago and loving the slower pace. Not as much to see, just great weather to do nothing in. Nice weather has a way of evaporating my desire to write so I"m logging off and going to go find my first beer of the day. More later.

Zhivjeli!

We left the “Land of My Fathers” for the last time and flew to the land of my father for the first time. As we were giving the car that had served us so well to my cousin (once removed) Kathryn , she suggested she follow us to the airport. Or was it her mom, cousin (not at all removed) Dreda, that made the suggestion? Don’t matter, it worked well as we were able to load up all the luggage as well as all the detritus of a year abroad (luggage goes with us, detritus goes with the car) and head out without having to squeeze our collective self and accoutrement into a bus.

In fact, we were able to stop at cousin Bren’s enroute for a hasty lunch and howdy-do. It was the first time we’d met (maybe) and he was not only a gracious host (there was food for an army) but an apt navigator as he took us thru the English countryside to Luton airport. Thanx, cuz!

After a year of travelling what I’ve come to expect is that the best laids plans rarely go as planned. But this was the smoothest click, click, click we’ve done. The checkin was fast and easy, the plane left on time and arrived sooner than anticipated and a guy with our name on a sign met us after we got through customs in Olympic time. All travelling should be so easy - it was like a tv commercial.

Our driver delivered us to Zlatan who met us in the street outside Rock Palace apartments. It’s essentially a big house which he’s redesigned to accomodate two suites on the top floor, him and family on the middle and two more on ground level. I thought it was named Rock Palace because of its setting in the rocky mountainside but no. Zlatan played guitar in a rock band ‘til the war broke out in ‘92 and his suites are named after rock heroes; we’re in Ziggy for David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust and the walls are decorated with his album covers. Love it.

Zlatan helped us carry the cases up and up and up the stairs to his home and up and up to the suite. We’re not far from the old city but it’s ten thousand steps to get there (ok, maybe 9,000) so the calfs are toning. The view from our suite is panoramic and the deck has become our favourite spot to watch the sun fall into the ocean.

I’ll have to tell you more about the city next time (we’re now on day three) because I can hear the city calling. I have to get out and roam the streets my father roamed as a child and strain to hear the sound of his voice echoing of the ancient walls. Or maybe I'll just sit at a cafe and raise a cold glass of Karlovacko to his memory...Zhivjeli!

Lines Written Many Miles From Tintern Abby

The hills surrounding the Abby are still forest

“No Dad, PLEASE, no more ruins!”

For our last available weekend we decided to go site-seeing to a nearby site; Tintern Abby. It was immortalized in poem 200 years ago by William Wordsworth not because he wrote about it, but because he mentioned it in the title - “Lines Written A Few Miles Above Tintern Abby”. I hadn’t read the poem since high school and in re-reading it, I don’t think I got much more out of it now than I did then.

“C’mon, son, it’ll be fine. You can bring your soccer ball AND they have a souvenir shop”

But the mention in the title has turned this 12th century abby into a tourist destination ever since he wrote the poem. It functioned as a Cistercian abby for 400 years before it was abandoned in 1536 and went into steady decay until 1800. A good job has been done maintaining the structures since then and although scaffolding ruins pictures, without the constant restoration there’d be nothing but piles of ivy covered stones to visit.

“Ah, Dad.” “Get in the car son. And I’m going to pay you one pound for every smiling foto”

The weather was grudgingly co-operative and while it wasn’t warm and sunny the sun peeked out from behind the clouds often enough to make our jackets unecessary. It didn’t take long to see the site, it was, after all, just a roofless cathedral and remnants of the outbuildings. But as witth all the ancient sites we’ve visited in the last year, if you listen closely you can hear the sounds of its previous occupants. The thrum of the big bell, the murmur of monk’s chants could be heard if you breathe deep, close your eyes and let your imagination go. There’s been little development in the area so it’s still surrounded by forest which supplies the necessary quiet for listening.

“Dad!”
“Huh?”
“Kick it over here”
“Ok, ok”

So much for listening. Still, a wonderful connection to the distant past unavailable in North America. This is our history too but the tangible evidence of where we’ve been is across that big pond so while North Americans are unencumbered with the weight of the past they’re also disconnected from their roots. This trip has given me an opportunity to glimpse our history and make me feel I really am part of something, that there is a continuity to our lives.

“Can we go now?”

It sits on the banks of the river Wye. I say "Wye not?"

A good place for soccer practice

One pound

Two pounds

Three pounds...hard earned money

Sports Day

You know the school year is done when it's time for sports day. I've a ton of memories to share on that but not today. Today I'm just posting some video of Luka and another of a friend's child. I'm not up to speed on how to easily send it as an email or something (Yahoo won't accept anything over 10MB) so I'm posting here instead. Enjoy!


Well, I've never posted video before so it was a little more challenging than I'd anticipated. Initially I sorted the clip into its own movie in iMovie and chose it in the 'browse' feature to upload but that ran for several hours and... nothing. So then I dragged the clip onto the desktop and found it with the browse and, son-of-a-gun, it loaded.

Psych sendoff

I staggered home from the pub and in the barley haze reflected on how lucky I am. I smiled. I’d just spent the last few hours with some people I’ve had the pleasure of working with at Whitchurch Hospital. It was a beersy send-off after our brief working relationship and the conversation was never lacking. Not that I could understand most of what they said, but why start now?

I started at the hospital last November and was very fortunate to get a full time position in spite of the fact that I only intended to be there until now. It was the interviewer’s opinion that people come and go all the time and just because I knew I would be going and when, that shouldn’t preclude me from getting the job. Kool. “Oh, and I have lots of holidays planned. Is that a problem?” Turns out it wasn’t. And that was cool too because everyone here starts a fulltime position with 25 paid holidays plus bank holidays plus weekends. So I stuffed them all into 7 months and got paid while I flew to Tunisia, Amsterdam, Belgium, Egypt, Ireland, Scotland, Spain and France.

But that wasn’t the luckiest part. The best part was being able to work in psychiatry so I didn’t entirely lose my skill set while spending a year abroad. I’m on a leave of absence from my position in Vancouver. I'll be returning there shortly and while there’s a lot of things I do there that I haven’t done in the last year, staying in regular contact and assessing clients with the same illness has been invaluable. I’ve even seen alternatives we haven’t used back home and a gentler, interactive style used with violent clients. I’ve learned lots.

And I had the privilege of working with some outstanding staff who are passionate and dedicated to the work they do. Thank you to all of you for you friendship, guidance and patience (aren't you glad you don't have to repeat everything now?). I’m going to miss you all.

Ta-ra.

Weekend Retreat

To celebrate our tenth anniversary and to see more of our host country before we leave, we spent a weekend at St. David's, a former pilgrimage site on Wales west coast. Today the pilgrims are tourists who come to enjoy the well-preserved heritage in this tiny village. The biggest bit of heritage is the functioning cathedral which was started in 1181 and built on the site of St David's monastery. I don't know much about him but they say he lived to be 147 years old and became the patron saint of Wales. Bet he had a lot of wrinkles.

Beside the functioning cathedral is the no-longer-functioning palace. It was built by bishop Gower in the mid 14th century to augment his other real estate holdings and was financed by the 'donations' from the steady stream of pilgrims. Kinda like having the parking concession to Niagra Falls or something. Apparently two trips to St David's was equal to one trip to Rome. The remnants of a huge stone wall surround the cathedral, palace and grounds and was meant to keep out the ne'er-do-wells (those that couldn't pay the pilgrimage fee) and the Vikings. Not so successful at stopping Vikings, though, it got sacked a couple of times.

A beautiful place for a walk

But it wasn't the Vikings that did the place in, it was that damn Reformation. People started to be able to read and interpreted the bible for themselves, and in a local context. They began to doubt what the learned clergy were telling them and couldn't help but notice their accumulation of wealth. Going on pilgrimages became less fashionable and pretty soon the lead roof was peeled off for scrap.

Restoration has been ongoing for the last few hundred years. They've most recently added 'cloisters' for the education of new priests and a gaggle were being ordained when we visited.

Downtown St David's


The Grove. Our funky-fabulous hotel in St David's


On our way home we decided to take the backcountry roads and stopped at Newgale beach. Nice, huh?

From the trail above Newgale

We happened across Tenby, a very popular tourist spot for boating...

...and beaching...

...and strolling.

We also happened across Pembroke which, like any self-respecting medeaval town, has its own castle.

Pembroke in B&W

In all, a great weekend of great food, great scenery and great company. But our time here is ticking down, we fly to warmer climes (Croatia) in less than two weeks...better start packing.