Croatian Chronicle (Part II)

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 (Day Four)
Much of my suffering during this day could have been avoided had I known how hot Dubrovnik is, and thus taken appropriate precautions such as a hat, sandals or flip-flops, and enough water to drown a thirsty camel. The heat climbed into the high 90s today, something I in my casual Innsbruck outfit (button-down shortsleever, jean pants, and comfortable brown casual shoes) neither expected nor was prepared for. Couple that with carrying around a camera back and bulky backpack, and you have a recipe for pure and unrelenting misery. Despite this, I still think the day was a good one, and well-spent, but had I known what I was getting into I think I would have enjoyed it much more.
Day began at around 5:30, with my disgruntled and reluctant awakening, followed by a truly glorious buffet breakfast at 6. The hotel provided eggs scrambled with ham, sausages, thick rashers of bacon (each no less that a quarter-inch in breadth), plus all of the usual Continental staples, all washed down with freshly squeezed orange juice and strong black coffee. I was feeling understandably pleased when we took the ferry back to the port of Dubrovnik, followed by a bus to the outskirts of the old town. This feeling vanished promptly when the sun climbed high into the sky, the clouds vanished, and the stones began to warm to the day’s beginning.
Our time in the Dubrovnik old town began with a history lesson, followed by a walking tour, then lunch, then a tour of the city walls, then more free time, then a lecture, and finally our return to the island. Since I assume that you, dear reader, are pleasantly unaware of the history and layout of Dubrovnik, allow me to inundate you with that information like a bucket of cold water poured over the head.
Dubrovnik began its life as a Greek colony, Epidoros, which was taken over by the Romans in the 1st century BC and Latinized to Epidaurum. It was at this time that the city began to acquire its first Croat inhabitants in the form of native workers hired to help expand the city. It acquired Christianity in the 4th century AD, and evolved over the course of the Dark and Middle Ages into the Republic of Ragusa, which was not really a republic, more of an oligarchy, and a maritime trading power which rivaled Venice and Genoa. The city acquired its fortifications at this time: thick city walls and moats, two fortresses built into the walls, and two outside the walls. In the 17th century an earthquake leveled most of the buildings inside the city, which were rebuilt in the Baroque style. At about this time, Ragusa reached the height of its power, its dockyards churning out warships and merchantmen, and its trading fleets reaching far into the Indian Ocean and South China Sea.
Like so much of Europe, Ragusa was snatched by Napoleon, and after the end of the Napoleonic Wars was assigned to the hegemony of Austria. It was later integrated into Croatia, and became part of that nation in the late 19th century. It fell under siege during the Croatian War of Independence in the 1990s, when the Serb army occupied the mountains nearby and bombarded it with rockets and artillery fire for about four months. The city’s fortifications, though, remained steadfast throughout the ordeal, and Dubrovnik was never captured, while the Serbian army withdrew to shell Sarajevo and massacre Bosnians.
The old town of Dubrovnik is limited on all sides either by its walls or its harbor. The walls are immense, although not constructed on quite such an epic scale as those of Valletta in Malta. The walls and battlements of Valletta are easily three times as thick as those of Dubrovnik, but Dubrovnik’s are respectable set of fortifications nonetheless. Ragusa had the good sense to remain neutral the conflict between Europe and the Ottomans, and thus never needed to repel a Turkish expeditionary force of tens of thousands.
The interior of the city is laid out in a grid, with an east-west axis of the main street. There are three squares, several churches, and an infestation of overpriced restaurants and souvenir shops. All in all Dubrovnik’s old town reminded me strongly of Malta, especially Valletta, although the stone used in Dubrovnik is white rather than the Maltese tan.
Our tour began outside of the western gate, then crossed over the bridge and drawbridge and into the forecourt, where we inspected a map of the damages caused by the Serbs during their siege. Then we were through the forecourt and into the Square of the Fountain. The fountain here dispenses cool drinking water for all comers, an amenity I was to take advantage of throughout the day. Nearby is the main street and a Franciscan monastery which is now a museum. It wasn’t yet open, so we walked down the main street to the Square of Orlando, so named after a large statue of the legendary knight erected on a column in the center of the square. If this is confusing, it’s only because a map is a wonderful guide to understanding, and it’s impossible to communicate a map through the written word. I’ll try to include one in the webalbum for the day.
Our tour went down the main street, to the Column of Orlando, a place where in medieval times criers would stand to proclaim the news, and to which heretics were tied to be burned. Nearby the church, and our next destination, is the Church of St. Blaise, the patron saint of Dubrovnik. It’s said in local legend that in the Middle Ages St. Blaise appeared to a local priest in a vision, warning him that the Venetians had launched an invasion fleet. The priest went to the town governor, who readied Dubrovnik’s navy, which then defeated the Venetians in a bloody battle. Thereafter the city of Dubrovnik was dedicated to Blaise.
After the Church of St. Blaise we visited the Cathedral, a tolerably Baroque structure, which nonetheless pales in comparison to similar churches like the Innsbruck cathedral. The Dubrovnik cathedral contains an impressive collection of relics and reliquaries, which was assembled over the centuries by Ragusan traders, priests, and monks. Highlights include the requisite piece of the True Cross, the arm and leg of St. Blaise (naturally), the jawbone of St. Ursula, and the swaddling clothes of the infant Christ.
Next stop was the harbor, followed by the Jesuit Church. This church is built at the top of a staircase remarkably like the Spanish Steps in Rome, because the Dubrovnik Jesuits hired the same architect to duplicate the steps in the local stone. The church itself was built by Andrea Pozzo, the architect of the Jesuit Church in Rome, and the two share a great deal of similarities: the same size, same facade, same ornately decorated interior. Apart from that, nothing much to remark upon, except for the church’s relieving, cool interior (the result, along with a moisture problem, of a reservoir built underneath the church).
The last stop on the tour was the Franciscan monastery I mentioned earlier. Only the cloister, its frescoes, and the pharmacy museum are open to the public. This last is contained in the space where Dubrovnik’s first apothecary was located. Some of the old apothecary has been preserved: two work-desks, shelves full of porcelain jars, old instruments of alchemy (alembics, retorts, calcinators, and so on), and the window through which customers would name their symptoms and receive the appropriate cure.
This was the end of the first phase of the tour. We had a half-hour, which I spent eating ice cream in the shade of a tree near the fountain. The second phase of the tour wasn’t so much a tour as it was a walk around the city walls and fortifications. As I’ve said before, the defenses are not quite as impressive as those of Malta, but they are rather better preserved. The walls encompass all of Dubrovnik without exception, dipping in elevation along the length of the harbor but otherwise remaining at a towering height. They are punctuated by two fortresses, the fortress of St. John on the edge of the harbor, and a tower whose name I didn’t catch on the one fully landward corner. Each wall is built in the fashion of 17th and 18th century citadels: not particularly tall, but thick and massive, to resist cannon fire. The walls are punctuated, periodically, with bastions for artillery.
Of the tour of the walls, I’ll not speak overmuch. I did take a goodly deal of pictures, but since I was quite dehydrated and hot I don’t actually remember much of it. I’m content to let the pictures speak for themselves.
The rest of the day after the walls was a period of mostly free time, with an interruption around 3 to hear an elderly Croatian diplomat talk about the history of Croatia. Most of the details I already knew, having researched them for my paper, but it was nice to ask him some of the questions I hadn’t been able to answer for myself in the course of my work.
After the lecture I read for awhile in the shadow of the fountain, and then returned to the island for a lot of water, a shower, and dinner. I wrote for awhile in this very journal, and then went to sleep.

Thursday, May 21, 2009 (Day Five)
A day of blessed relaxation, although you’d not have guessed it from the way I spent it. I rose late, at around 8am, breakfasted, then hiked around the island of Koločep until 4. It was a long and at times grueling hike, made worse by poorly marked and inadequate trails. Once again, I’m going to let my pictures do the talking, since they can explain the stunning beauty of this place far, far better than I can.

Friday, May 22, 2009 (Day Six)
Another day, another crushingly early wake-up time. We got the ferry back to Dubrovnik, then took our bus north along the coast toward Split. All the students fell asleep as soon as they settled into their seats, much to the disappointment of my history professor who wanted us all to experience the landscape. We all woke up when we reached Split at about 11:30am. Split (don’t ask me to explain the name, I don’t know) is an ancient city dating back to the late Roman Empire when the entire city was the palace of the Emperor Diocletian. After he died, the locals took over the palace and inhabited it, gradually expanding outwards and building their own apartments, palazzos, and houses, although the palace walls remain as they were, along with the Mausoleum (now a church) and the Temple to Jupiter (now a baptistry). The city was under Venetian domination for a long while, which explains much of the Italian architecture in the newer parts of the city.
We took a tour which lead us through the basements of the palace, then through church and baptistry, in and out of the maze of streets which join the former palace to the city, and finally back to the waterfront. One thing I did find quite pleasing about Split was that the city seems to have amassed a collection of sculpture by Ivan Mestrović, a 20th century Croat sculpture who taught at Notre Dame for a great deal of time. The most impressive sculpture by far is that of Bishop Gregory of Nice, which is at least 20 feet tall and terribly imposing. The good bishop seems to look more like Gandalf the Grey than a Catholic cleric.
The next part of the journey ran us up along the coastline to Opatija, the last stop. Opatija is a tourist town, plain and simple. It began that function under the dominion of the Habsburgs and continues in the same way today. It is filled with hotels, bars, and restaurants, all over-priced with a tendency to seediness. The hotel we stayed the night at rather unwisely boasted its two-star rating (goes to show you the opinion ND has of the Innsbruck students), a badge whose existence was swiftly validated by the hotel’s bland, tasteless food, rooms which smelled alternately of cigarette smoke or sauerkraut, and a horde of visiting Russian youths who seemed to think that it was a capital idea indeed to consume large quantities of vodka and smokes, and then shout and sing all night so as to blast their voices into the next millennium. I will not dignify the hotel with further description, save to say that I shall never set foot within its premises again.

Saturday, May 23, 2009 (Day Seven)
The last day. We woke up at the usually early time, broke our fast on the expected bland mix of granola, bread, and lunchmeat, then drove north all day. We stopped once or twice in Italy, but made good time nonetheless, and arrived back in Innsbruck at 4:30.