Croatia  | 2005

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A seven hour overnight plane ride from New York to Frankfurt, then a quick change of planes and another 1 ½ hrs of flying and we had touched down in the Capital of Croatia, Zagreb.  The group of trekkers numbered 25, while the supporting cast included mentor Reed Hoffmann, trek organizer Michelle Cast, and Steve Shepherd Associate Publisher of Popular Photography.  Jill Enfield, a fine art, editorial and commercial photographer specializing in hand coloring and often a mentor in the trek series, was aboard as well.  Meeting us at the airport was our step on guide Anja Cuznar, and Vlado Buhin, our adept bus driver who revealed during one of the stops that in 25 years of driving, he had never once fallen asleep at the wheel.  Well, that’s reassuring, especially with all the single lane, hairpin turns and twisty roads we would travel!  With that, we loaded up in the Mercedes-Benz bus (our ride for the duration of the trek and with its highly polished slick leather seats, a huge challenge in staying seated and not sliding off) and headed into the heart of this historic city.   The bus pulled into the elegant and gracious Regent Esplanade Hotel, our lodging for the first two nights.  Had we never left our deliciously appointed rooms and massive breakfast buffet, the stay here alone was worth the trek. The Regent was off the scale of 1-5; I personally gave it a 10. The hotel was celebrating its 80th anniversary, so fresh flowers were everywhere, as were baskets of a pepper cookies, bowls of fruit, and locals dressed in period costumes and happy to pose.  The Regent set a very high standard of expectations on our lodging, but alas, we would discover as we traveled down south, so did the quality of rooms.

Reed, no doubt, played a pivotal role in making the trek highly successful.   He inserted his “energizer bunny batteries” when he stepped out of the plane and onto the bus and those batteries never died or appeared to ever need re-charging.  An excellent mentor, Reed was up for teaching and sharing on the bus, off the bus, at dinner, late evening, over drinks, whenever.  The long bus rides became a perfect venue for napping, which all the trekkers did, save for Reed.  He kept on talking and teaching and talking and teaching to drooling, bobbing heads, or maybe he was talking to Vlado, our driver who never falls asleep at the wheel.  Reed was a walking/talking camera manual, a techno wizard whose knowledge of every feature, button and custom setting on today’s new digital cameras was greatly appreciated by every student. Reed’s “Boy Scout” enthusiasm, coupled with his folksy sense of humor, earned him the affection and respect of all.

Anja, well versed in English, was not only a very knowledge guide, but was “supermodel” material, with legs that reached to the heavens, so she often posed for the trekkers. She explained that in Croatia and the neighboring country of Montenegro, the locals were known for being very tall, apparently a result of drinking sour milk. Ummm….  Early on, she translated all of our names into Croatian, explaining that each name had six versions. The trekkers happily adopted their Croatian names for the remainder of the trip.  Reed became Ride, (pronounced Re-Day), Mark turned into Marko, Steve became Stiffek and Michelle equated to Misa .  Mastering the Croatian language requires two skills; 1) being able to purrr like a cat and 2) the ability to roll your tongue.  Trekker Ruth was extremely skilled at the “purring”, leaving us to wonder what she did with this talent back home.  If you don’t possess these skills to master the language, better to point and gesture your way through the countryside, although everywhere we traveled, the Croatians spoke enough English to make communicating easy.

Day One (Saturday) of shooting in the countryside around Zagreb found the land dressed for spring…. tulips everywhere and the trees starting to bud.  The photos came easy—stately castles, colorful market shots, weathered faces of flower vendors, kids feeding the birds, the red/white/blue Croatian flag fluttering against historical buildings.  A Sunday morning tour of the majestic Mirogoj Cemetery, followed by a visit to the market and a suggestion by Anja to try burek, a Croatian specialty, akin to a spicy meat filling wrapped in flaky phyllo dough, rounded out the morning.  By 1 pm, we were settled into the Benz for a rainy, 3 hr. drive south to the coast.  Those first views of the Dalmatian coast were magical, with red-tiled stone houses stacked up and into the hilly coastline. Our base for the next two days would be the beautiful coastal city of Opatija and the Millennium Hotel.  If the Regent was 10 stars, then the Millennium rated 7.  The grounds of the hotel were impeccable and lead down to the sea and a beautiful promenade along the water’s edge.

Trekkers wasted no time to head out and shoot, despite the misty conditions. Later on, several of us would gather for dinner at an oceanside restaurant and during a tasty meal of local fish washed down with several bottles of wine, we witnessed a rattling of the tables and clinking of glasses.  We all looked at each other and mumbled the word “earthquake?”  We had no personal experience to go on, so we decided that yes, we had all just survived our first quake.   Was the tsunami to follow?  After all, we were barely 20 yards from the sea.

We woke to a rainy Monday but made the best of it, touring several local sites, including the 1st-century Roman amphitheatre at Pula. Tuesday’s drive took us to Plitvice Lakes National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site and rightly so. The park consists of a series of sixteen lakes linked by a host of waterfalls.  You can literally walk through the park, on a series of dirt trails and three-foot wide boardwalks without any handrails that literally are built over the water.  Spray from the falls is close enough to wet you and the camera.  Paying attention is the key to avoid ending up in the drink. I chuckled to think that this type of walkway would never pass in any US National Park, where we’re much too safety conscious for fear of being sued. It was a real thrill to be dangerously close to the water at times on the slippery walkway, as we wandered and shot to our hearts content. The day ended in the city of Zadar and the Kolovare Hotel, ranking now about  “4” on the scale.

The roller coaster ride down the coast on Wednesday afforded sensuous views of the Adriatic Sea, with tiny clusters of picture postcard villages clinging to the coastline. The setting for these villages is fairly consistent.  Most have a main square, punctuated by a notable church or statue, lots of outdoor seating from small cafes, always filled with folks enjoying a kava (coffee) or beer, and then a maze of streets heading off the square like spokes on a wheel. These narrow cobblestone streets (walking only, no cars) turn and twist incessantly, and are flanked by towering stonewalls anywhere from two to four stories high.  Look up and always, always, there is a window worth photographing, either strung with laundry or brightened up with a window box filled with flowers. The photo ops oozed out at every turn. The beauty of this trek was allowing for ample time during most stops for trekkers to wander on their own.

Wednesday night found us in city of Split at the Marjan Hotel, situated along the waterfront, where rooms were complete with individual balconies and a beautiful view of the harbor.  Based on view alone, I ranked the Marjan a “5”.   By now, everyone had settled into Croatian life.  Steve (Steffik) and trekkers Jamie, Ruth and Claire had settled into a foursome that seemed to enjoying shopping as much as photographing.  Michelle and Anja were on a kava trail, although Michelle was entering “frantic mode” at the thought of returning home without a souvenir. Maxine was attentive to the stuffed cat and dog she bought and was busy shooting her critters “on location.”   We had the joy of a father and son combo( Steve and Mark) and father and son-in-law duo( Paul and Rick)on the trek, who during one of the days, swapped dads just for fun.  Jeanne was traveling with her friend Tom, who inadvertently forgot to mention that Jeanne was using the bus bathroom when we unloaded and started a walking tour and the bus pulled away with Jeanne locked inside.  Jeanne wasn’t happy.

Most importantly, what we didn’t have were any whiners among the group.

Thursday we would head further southeast to the incredible medieval walled city of Dubrovnik, no doubt the “gem” of this trek.  Lodging with the city walls is very limited, so we bunked down at the Grand Hotel Park, some four miles from the city center, but with lovely views of a serene bay from our balconies and beautiful sunsets.  The room deserved a “5”, but the view and private balcony bumped it to a “6”.

The next two days in Dubrovnik would find us wandering the medieval streets, walking the city walls for spectacular views of the harbor and rooftops, and in general, immensely enjoying ourselves.  Early on, we learned from a mask shop that later in the day, there would be a display of people in masked costumes for television filming, and we were welcome to come shoot as well.  Oh, we were excited and made plans to come back late in the afternoon. Once at the city walls, we unloaded and made the 10-minute walk to the square where the masked marauders were posing for photos, slowly and deliberately moving, pausing and posing for us. 

On our last night of the trek, Reed had wanted to take us on an evening shoot, up above the walled city of Dubrovnik.  He claimed to have scouted out an ideal spot that involved a short walk up a steep hill, but only one way, as he had arranged for the bus to pick us up at the top.  Like sheep following the Shepard, we lined up behind Reed and started marching. It was a beautiful night…stars were out and the temperature was pleasant.  About a mile later, when several awesome views of the city had come and gone, we started to question Reed.  “Oh, it’s just up around the bend.  After all, I’m going to teach you folks the meaning of treks.  You thought those few hours of trudging around town is a trek?  Not with me, it isn’t.”  Reed laughed at us and at himself for assuming the new role as the drill sergeant.  Finally, some 35 minutes and what seemed like five miles later, we reached the “perfect spot”, which really wasn’t perfect at all. But like good sports, we applauded Reed for getting us there, chatted a bit and headed down to the bus pickup spot, only to see the bus drive off as we approached.  Okay, Reed, now what!  As it turned out, the bus made another loop and our faithful “not asleep at the wheel” Vlado had returned for his trekkers. 

The final slideshow revealed what we all had hoped for. Collectively, we had captured the essence of this beautiful country through our work. And we had all netted a marvelous set of friends passionate about photography in the effort.  You can’t ask more from a photo trek than this.