Zagreb
I thought that after several sleepless nights I will finally sleep, when being beside my man. But the hopes are just the hopes. After seeing my trouble sleeping during the first half of the night, M gives me sleeping pills which are deemed to pull into sleep anyone. Voila, they do not work for me! The underlying stress has me in its hold.
The next day fills up by itself: walk though Kaptol (my favorite part is the Park Josipa Jurja Strossmayera), several coffees (and Aperol spritz). Sitting nearby the marketplace, while observing the people, customs, communication, and Wolt meal delivery bicycles. Seems there are only few tourists, but it is hard to estimate.
At one point Mr. M points out that the central streets of Zagreb remind him of Lisbon. Something of a southern influence is palpable in the architecture. The residential buildings seem to create a feeling one could enjoy also at not far from la Rambla in Barcelona (the simplest part of it, though). The temperature has risen above 30 (at least in the sun), which further on enhances the impression of a city of Southern Europe. After a slight wandering (me being the guide and not using google maps and leading us tiny bit astray), we reach a park situated in between two streets, which is a place I can finally admit being almost beautiful (Seems that the damned depression does not allow me to enjoy the beauty of Zagreb at its fullest).
The next day fills up by itself: walk though Kaptol (my favorite part is the Park Josipa Jurja Strossmayera), several coffees (and Aperol spritz). Sitting nearby the marketplace, while observing the people, customs, communication, and Wolt meal delivery bicycles. Seems there are only few tourists, but it is hard to estimate.
At one point Mr. M points out that the central streets of Zagreb remind him of Lisbon. Something of a southern influence is palpable in the architecture. The residential buildings seem to create a feeling one could enjoy also at not far from la Rambla in Barcelona (the simplest part of it, though). The temperature has risen above 30 (at least in the sun), which further on enhances the impression of a city of Southern Europe. After a slight wandering (me being the guide and not using google maps and leading us tiny bit astray), we reach a park situated in between two streets, which is a place I can finally admit being almost beautiful (Seems that the damned depression does not allow me to enjoy the beauty of Zagreb at its fullest).
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Somewhere here we must cut the walk short (even if we had wanted to continue sweating in the midday heat) as Mr. M has to take videocall from the office. After the call we start looking for the place for dinner. As all: the TripAdvisor, our host, and a distant acquaintance from Zagreb suggests Batak Grill – a grill place nearby (#8 of 865 in Zagreb), we go for it. Apps say this place is usually busy, but here we can see the real face of covid – there are just few tables occupied, including ours. We try local stuff: different kind of grilled meat. But at no point I would say it something exceptional. Mr. M takes mushroom soup and also says it is ok, but he does not faint in ecstasy. The waiter is nice and offers us rakija few times and when we consistently refuse, he brings two glasses “on the house”. Omg, I would not pay for that, yikes.
To be absolutely frank: only later, when I was writing about this experience, I found that there are several Batak Grills at Zagreb and the one we visited is somewhere in the #600th place with only few reviews. Live and learn, and check addresses? |
After the dinner (feeling full of meat) we take a stroll to the Maksimir Park. We pass a number of street bars and cafes, located in the backyards of platenbaus and on the streetside of a busy city street. People sit outside in boroughs that are is no way “beautiful”. Not blighted yet, but kind-of very basic, almost like having grabbed a beer with a neighbor (which could be the case), and enjoying the evening.
All we know about Maksimir, is that it is “nice” and we had several suggestions to visit it. We have no expectations, and the part turns out to be a nice surprise: Maksimir park offers not only walkaways are shadowed by the trees (the cool breezes from the nearby ponds make the heat more bearable and I somehow remember the first lines of Master & Margarita, about the heat hitting Moscow and Patriarch pond), but also a cafe on the hill, overlooking the central walkaway. Here a waiter offers us a cocktail (but not a menu, as they are not allowed to hand them over; "Some people have died from touching the menu," he jokes), and the offer is being keenly accepted. Overlooking the green park, feeling a slight buzz from the Aperol spritz, feeling a hand of my beloved around my waist and being able to lean into him, feeling the proximity - this is the moment I finally start to relax, to breathe, to live.
I make a selfie (and Mr. M, who usually evades having been photographed, smiles into the camera, later asking for a copy of the picture; as a reminder), in the selfie there are still dark circles under my eyes, and these circles will fade away through the next days, slowly, slowly).
On a way back to the apartment we meander the smaller paths running around the ponds, finding and passing the zoo. Maksimir park reminds me of Mezaparks in Latvia: forest-like park, full of old trees, the zoo amplifying the similarity.
The way back through the streets is unadventurous (which may be good news), and I return at the apartment hoping for a dreamless night of deep sleep. When the sleep keeps evading me, I finally realize that the AC on the living room is to blame, as it makes a sound reminding a dentist's drill. After having retrieved the earplugs, I finally fall into a much-needed sleep. Who would have thought?
I make a selfie (and Mr. M, who usually evades having been photographed, smiles into the camera, later asking for a copy of the picture; as a reminder), in the selfie there are still dark circles under my eyes, and these circles will fade away through the next days, slowly, slowly).
On a way back to the apartment we meander the smaller paths running around the ponds, finding and passing the zoo. Maksimir park reminds me of Mezaparks in Latvia: forest-like park, full of old trees, the zoo amplifying the similarity.
The way back through the streets is unadventurous (which may be good news), and I return at the apartment hoping for a dreamless night of deep sleep. When the sleep keeps evading me, I finally realize that the AC on the living room is to blame, as it makes a sound reminding a dentist's drill. After having retrieved the earplugs, I finally fall into a much-needed sleep. Who would have thought?
Batak Grill: https://batak-grill.hr/ But be carefull about locations! The good one is this: https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g294454-d7855476-Reviews-Batak_Grill_Cvjetni-Zagreb_Central_Croatia.html
Maksimir park: https://croatia.hr/en-GB/maksimir-park
Maksimir park: https://croatia.hr/en-GB/maksimir-park
