I’m in a strange mood. I have this knot in my stomach, a haunted visage in the mirror, and a general sense that something is amiss. Part of it stems from the email notifications of the bills piling up back in the US as I traipse through Europe. It’s all covered – auto-pay is on and those not set to handle themselves automatically, those pending invoices I can either pay through an electronic check or deal with when I get back in nine days (or is it eight? Seven? I’ve lost track). Yet the numbers keep going up – I swear my internet and phone bundle has risen not just on an ad hoc semi annual rate hike thanks to those communication monopolies, but seems to be arbitrarily priced regardless of my use (or non-use as this past month would be). The phone is solely so my home security alarm can call out in the event of an incident, something that recently happened at the start of the summer thus I can’t just cut that out. But the $30 a month for that on top of the monthly security monitoring takes a toll. And then there are all the baffling taxes that go with that. As for the internet, well, that lifeline can’t be cut. I’ve gotten rid of cable TV, cutting the cord in favor of an HDTV antenna and a Windows Media Center retrofit. They gutted that from Windows 10 but you can still get it to run unofficially if you install the right patches. No doubt that soon will implode. However will I know what happens on my stories?
In any case, I’m feeling oddly isolated and alone. Maybe it’s the accented alphabet here in Croatia. There are symbols and pronunciations I butcher; I struggle with the pronunciation guides in Webster’s for my native tongue. I’ve got no clue what I’m doing with this language… or really ANY other language. I’m a poor traveler, the loud obnoxious American who thinks speaking English slower and with more volume will somehow help break a language logjam.
Every decision I seem to be making at the moment seems to lead to the wrong outcome. I’m having a sense of failure and shortcoming and I feel guilty for not taking better advantage of these opportunities I’m afforded; I’m lucky and I know it and I’m feeling guilty for messing up my shot.
As a sightseer I’m feeling stereotypically clichéd and a disappointment. One of the reasons I try and bundle a marathon with these trips is that if I do miss major sights or understandings of a place, I can always fall back on, “well, I saw 26.2 miles of the place at least….” I do try and see things, to appreciate the place I’m in, the people, the culture. I try and be respectful and usually that means I highlight my own self-deprecating inadequacies and shortcomings. I hope it doesn’t come across as snarky… well, actually, yeah, it is snarky but not in a bad way. I hope it doesn’t come across as dismissive or superior. That’s NEVER my intention or goal… though I suspect my poor writerly skills fail to convey things well more often than I’d like.
I was especially feeling my failings as a traveler and pseudo documentarian for runkevinrun.com today. As I wandered the streets of Zagreb and tried to think of how to capture the vibe and feeling of this place, every time I clicked a photo or jotted down a note to myself, it all felt so… phony. So underwhelmingly ill prepared. It’s true I didn’t do Belgium or Paris or Bali or countless other places justice. But I really am feeling a failure today at writing up the journey of many a mile that begins with one foot step outside my Airbnb.
There’s a lot of history to this place. There’s a Roman connection but for the majority of the historical record it’s perhaps best to cite the founding of Kaptol and the Zagreb Diocese in 1094. Much has happened in the intervening 1000 years and I’m skipping over most of it in this little blog post. I’ll try and put in some context for a few of the historical sights I saw but as I’ve tried to make abundantly clear, I’m a pretty lousy documentarian. I seem to focus on the wrong things and miss the big pictures and only muddy the waters. But hopefully there are a few little snarky asides along the way.
I started the day trekking up to the Mirogoj Cemetery.
I’m really not one for cemeteries and death and yet I seem to frequent them when I’m on these runcations. Usually it’s to see a tomb or grave of some renown – be it a famous person or an infamous design or something inbetween. This cemetery is an open art gallery and park that was designed by Hermann Bolle.
Strolling along through the place I could see why folks would come here. It was a little odd seeing roasted nuts sold just outside the graveyard gates.
I kept singing to myself as I walked:
Take me out to the graveyard.
Take me out to the graves!
Buy me some roasted nuts and rue.
I don’t care if we ever come back alive…
So it’s root, root, root
for the dead team.
If they don’t rise they aren’t zombies.
Aahh.
For it’s one,
Two,
Three strikes you’re dead
At the old graveyard!
***
There’s apparently a fort called Medvedgard that has spectacular views of the city and the surrounding landscape. When I google mapped it, it was a couple of kilometers from the cemetery so I figured I’d walk it. I got to the spot and only then realized there’s a difference between MEDVEDGARD and Medvedgard Castle. It’s the castle I wanted to see – and it was another 6 KM up a windy road. It’s nestled halfway up the mountain in fact and I thought maybe I wouldn’t go up there the day before a marathon. I figure I’ll do a full hike up on Monday as a recovery ploy. But it just goes to show that even when I think I’m right, I’m often wrong.
***
I approached Crkva sv. Marka or St. Mark’s Church from the wrong side. I apparently came at it from the rear and thus couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. It was a nice church, sure. But people had been fawning over it since the 1300s. Hell, Little Europe had a diorama of it for crying out loud.
It was only after I circled around to the front that I saw the multi-colored tiled roof that elicits “oohs” and “aahs.” The Croatian, Dalmatian and Slavonian Coats-of-Arms are displayed on the roof, as is the Zagreb City Emblem. Unfortunately, a slew of natural disasters mean little of the original building from the 14th Century is still there but it’s the thought that counts.
***
Zagreb features a Funicular that’s steep but not all that far. I was too cheap to pay the 4 HKR to ride the thing and thought why not just take the stairs. Considering the wait time to actually send the cars up or down the slope, I think it was faster to hoof it anyway. Still, neat to see this sorta Angels Flight style city convenience. And honestly, perhaps after the marathon or really even before the marathon, that ride up or down the hill might be totally worth the 63 cents American.
The Stone Gate is an original piece from 1266 and today serves as “the most significant oath site in Zagreb.” The history is kinda fascinating and I’ll just post a link to it here as I’m too lazy to summarize it. I’ve run into all kinds of trouble uploading photos and thus am taking a lot of liberties and shortcuts to just get this up so I can drift off to an excessive food intake coma before tomorrow’s late-ish marathon.
***
Zagrebačka katedrala or The Cathedral of Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, is as most Zagreb guide books and guides will tell you , seemingly perpetually under reconstruction. I always find the printed banners of famous places hung over the scaffolding to give an approximation of what the thing looks like. Why not just embrace that there’s scaffolding? Does that paper print out really fool anybody? I guess it’s nice to see what it’s kinda, sorta supposed to look like. But it all feels so fake. Why not just take a photo in front of a photo?
Built in the late 1200s, the twin spires are visible almost always throughout Zagreb. Plus, unlike St. Mark’s, they didn’t charge a ticket fee or “donation” to get inside and look around.
Say, I’m a former Catholic. Is this a thing? Do they do “baseball cards” for MVP church figures where you collect their card from their home “field?” Is that what’s happening here?
***
Finally, here are a few shots of my walkabout Zagreb… complete with a few snarky comments just because.
I assume the streets were too narrow to have cars park on both sides… so they just have them park partially on the sidewalk.
I thought this guy looked more like a latter day Orson Welles or Marlon Brando. Geniuses all, so no disparagement. It’s actually a statue for one of the great Croatian writers, Miroslav Krleza. He wrote “On the Edge of Reason” which I’ve heard of but never read.
This is what I had for lunch. Pizza from the Fries Factory. But ya know what? Really good pizza at the factory.
I would’ve thought the Museum of Torture and the Museum of Broken Relationships would be the same thing. ZING! Note: There’s a Museum of Broken Relationships that opened in Hollywood a few months back that I run past when I’m in town there. This is the original. It’s a small world.
I think Willie Nelson has the same name for his “garden.”
And my favorite Croatian — Nikola Tesla.
This has been a letdown of a post. Zagreb really is a lovely place and the people have all been friendly… except for that one guy in his car at the cemetery who reversed and nearly ran me over, making me a permanent guest of that haunted hillside. Other than that guy, though, lovely people.
The drinks are a bit pricey. But maybe that’s because I ordered some fru-fru cocktail. I’d call it a mocktail as though it promised vodka it felt like the weakest fruity Kool-Aid drink ever.
Now, though, to bed. For tomorrow there are 42.195 kilometers to be run. Hopefully this weird ennui and sense of pudgy misdirection will give way for a few hours so I can, as I said in the prior post, shall such and work.