Visiting Zagreb: Knowing Shatterhearts

“I’d make a decent human if I was better at bonding with them.” – Old Sean

Stumble Swiftfoot

The rate of my journey has sped up considerably. In Northern Europe, I was spending a couple days at a time in each location, sometimes three or four in major metropolitans.

During my time in Ireland, my pace was slow, almost restorative.

While exploring France, Spain, Portugal and Italy, I gave myself some wiggle room each day.

Now, however, I’m zooming around, spending only a day or two in major cities, effectively walking my feet off.

With my time in Budapest done, I worked my way into Croatia.

Rain Greetings

For nearly four months now, I’ve been rolling up a thin, blue jacket of minimal warmth which hasn’t seen any use beyond a lopsided pillow on extended bus rides. 

But while visiting Zagreb, I was finally vindicated after stubbornly lugging the extra layer along.

My day visiting Zagreb was cold, wet and rainy.  It’s the first time I legitimately felt as though summer was making its exit and autumn attempting a debut.  The trees were tinged with orange and red hues with a smattering of yellow leaves plastered on wet stones.

It’s odd how certain, small features can surge at memories, dredging up half-forgotten impressions. Leaf colors made me sharply nostalgic.

I haven’t seen a proper autumn for years now. My time in Asia kept me mostly in the sub-tropics or sub-zeroes, where leaves never shifted to bright, fiery colors.

So now, as I wandered through a foreign city in Croatia, I was hit with the disconnected feeling of being homesick.

I don’t become homesick easily, since craving chocolate chip waffles and Chipotle doesn’t count. For me, the road has treated me well, and my mind is largely occupied it. I miss family and friends certainly, but it rarely manifests in a forlorn ache; it usually manifests in a dozen emails and some Skype calls.

Regardless, I had Zagreb to enjoy. I fondly glanced at the colored trees, pulled up my hood, flared out my umbrella and got started.

The Construction Contingency

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I appear to have visited Europe during an inopportune year. 

Once again, it feels like a third of everything I wished to see had some form of construction overlaying it. 

Does Europe sync up their repair and restoration budgets?  Was there a sudden windfall from the European Union archeological commission allowing for a burst of refurbishment?  I’m unsure, but Zagreb was no exception.

The most iconic attraction of the city is the twin-spired Zagreb Cathedral. 

Europe cleverly puts screens around a construction area with a print of what the completed feature would look like. I like it, as it gives me a chance to exercise imagination instead of staring at a black, watertight canvas.

Additionally, I’m amused since it seems like the kind of thing Wylie E. Coyote would have done to outwit Roadrunner during vacations.

Currently, the southernmost spire is overlayed by an approximated-image screen. I sighed as I snapped my photo.

Visiting Zagreb Through Memories

Thought I walked far, Ban Josip Jelacica Square was effectively closed due to the rain, as was Dolac Market. 

Zagreb is largely divided into a low town and high town. The main transport going between the two is the Funicar, a short mechanical transportation which can be skipped by a mere six minutes of extra walking. 

I opted to walk, lingering at the edges of walls for a time. The view of the city from “high town” is beautiful and the pink-tiled roofs of Zagreb make a nice backdrop to a contrastingly cloudy sky.

Eventually, I turned around and enjoyed the preserved buildings, lit softly in the dull, midday light. I made my way to a peculiar museum called “The Museum of Broken Relationships.” A short line extended outside, so I ended up waiting in line for half an hour.

Afterwards, I entered the museum, which contained a collection of mismatched, time-defying items. All displays were connected to an emotionally poignant story depicting the end of a profound relationship.

I initially assumed I would grow tired of reading about heartbreak during my visit, but I was wrong. 

The perceptions are diverse, the writings are thunderous and the objects are untouchable due to the profound spiritual weight found behind them. 

Lovers, friendships, lost parents, estranged siblings and a web of somehow-constructive agony fills each room.  It was so odd to watch people wander through the confessions, wiping their eyes and clutching crumpled tissues at the sight of a well-traveled deck of Uno cards, a therapeutic axe, a stuffed caterpillar with chubby legs removed and an owl locket I didn’t dare breathe on for fear of breaking it.

Heart Spent

I was a bit woozy when I left, feeling strangely drained.  The rainfall and cloudy skies seemed far more appropriate at that point.

I continued on, reminding myself I still had an itinerary to complete and a couple of interviews that evening.

I passed the Crkva sv Marka (St. Mark’s Church) which has an interesting pressed-roof-tile pattern depicting crests and shields which Europe seems fond of. 

Then I dipped downward, passing Stone Gate (also currently under construction) before hopping a barrier and entering Park Ribnjak. Here, I spent a moment talking mildly with dogs while impolitely ignoring their owners for the first minute of contact (because I have priorities). 

The rain intensified, and my weak, little, consumerist umbrella wilted and leaked under the storm. At this point, I was forced to wander back to my hostel. 

Onward Day

At the hostel, I changed, took a bus to my meeting point and conducted the interviews my company was interested in. Afterwards, I was still feeling eerie and sluggish, so I returned to the hostel once more.

For whatever reason, I couldn’t shake my distance-sensation.

Ultimately, I decided it was time for a drink. I recruited a kind couple from my room. As a personal rule, I never drink alone because I’m a depressing person, not a depressed one. I suspect solo-drinking while felling melancholy is a recipe for self-perpetuating bad habits.

During my easy night out, my companions and I chatted about nothing-things for an hour and a half while I nursed a blonde craft-ale and relished a cheesy pasta dish of Croatian descent.  

To be frank, I can’t remember what we discussed, and honestly I doubt it matters.  The company was nice.

After dinner, we wandered home and I called it a day.

Coast-Seeker

The following morning, I woke up early to find rain still pattering. I walked around the block and had a quiet breakfast of concerningly unhealthy pastries while reading a book.

Afterwards, I checked out of my hostel, hiked to a bus station and found my ride. My time visiting Zagreb is done and I’m now en route to Split.

My company listed Split as an afterthought, mentioning it was fine for me to skip if I desired. But the coastal city is tied to one of my favorite Roman Emperors, Diocletian. Additionally, the Croatian coastal town is mentioned as a setting in a book I read some time ago.

So for now, Split it is. The clouds are breaking up overhead and I’ve missed the Mediterranean.

So until then,

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Written August 26th 2018

Want to read more about visiting Zagreb? Check out the Leftfade Trails Destination Info Page

Affiliate Disclosure: Leftfade Trails contains affiliate links, so using services or products through these links supports the website, at no extra cost to the user. All links are to tested services and products designed to aid travelers on their journeys. Some links specifically connect to Amazon. As an Amazon Associate this website earns from qualifying purchases.