We arrived in Zagreb close to midnight on July 14. Brian had
booked a place called Swanky (or Swanky Hostel, I forget). And, in direct
opposition to the usual result of booking a place called Swanky, it was indeed
quite swanky, with a modern bathroom and kitchen in a beautifully modern
building. Hardwood floors and a little deck, plus a living room area with
comfortable couches, and its overwhelming cleanliness, made for a great place
to crash for the night, and a great first impression of Croatia.
Oh, might I add that to get to Swanky hostel, which is
located a bit far from the train station, we took a cab, which ripped us off
beyond belief, and a ride that should have cost 40 or 50 Croatian Kuna cost
120. But it’s ok, because it was Brian who insisted on taking the cab, so he
paid for it. On the bright side, we got a nighttime tour of the city.
We checked in at the hostel, which is located a bit far from
the city center (though it’s not a big city, so hardly an issue), in a
beautiful little neighborhood on a hill.
For food we walked down the hill to a place called Konzum
(“K Super” on the logo). It was a 24-hour megamarket, the equivalent of Walmart
– it had everything.
We picked up some cheese, bread, meat, and snacks, and
headed back to the hostel.
We dined on our meat and cheese sandwiches and passed out
around 1 or 2.
***
The next morning we got up early to take advantage of the
day.
We checked out of the hostel and, at the suggestion of our
host, we walked down the hill to the tram station (at the end of the line) and
took the tram downtown to the train station again. Here we bought tickets to
Budapest for later in the day and deposited our backpacks in the lockers in the
station.
In Kiev, Brian called train stations “Secular Churches.” I
like that. A train station has been, until very recently, the gateway to the
place you’ve arrived in. In many places, it still is for the majority of
people. This is the country’s chance to impress you right off the bat. That’s why
(in my opinion) the Soviets spent so much time and money on their train
stations and other public transit. It’s what is most visible to outsiders, and
thus gives off the best version of themselves they can portray. Zagreb did not
disappoint. The exterior of the station was in an older, more classic style,
with a Greek-style frieze above the main windows over the entrance, and
archways running along the ground level. The interior was much more modern,
probably recently built, with a simplistic and elegant design.
The previous day we had been given a map at Swanky where the
owner had marked out the important places to see. By July 15, however, we had
lost it. Well, I found it later in my back pocket, but for all intents and
purposes, we had lost it. But our collective memory of the unique things that
were mentioned, combined with a knowledge of the main attractions of every
major European city (Old Town, Cathedral/church, Castle/Fortress), and my sense
of direction, we struck off without the map to explore Zagreb.
Right outside the train station is a beautiful equestrian
statue of Kralj Tomislav. He rides with one hand high in the air, holding up a
scepter that holds a small cross on top. Tomislav was king from 925-928 AD. He
was Duke of Croatis from c. 910-925. He is credited with being the founder of
the first united Croatian state, and celebrated for the achievement.
Beyond King Tomislav’s square is the Art Pavilion, an
enormous yellow construction that was under construction. We passed it by
without a second thought, choosing instead to follow a sign we found shortly
afterwards that boasted the “Zagrebčko kazalište lutaka.” For those of you who
haven’t brushed up on your Croatian in a while, that’s the Zagreb Puppet
Theatre. We didn’t find it until later in the day, though, when we were on our
way back to the train station.
Stumbling into a handy
tourist-informational-and-directional-sign, we found something that we felt
like we had to go to. It was the Muzej prekinutih veza, also known as the
Museum of Broken Relationships. Only slightly aware of what that was, we
resolved to make it there eventually.
Our first real tourist stop, however, was the Katedrala
(Cathedral). Luckily for us, it was a Sunday, so when we entered the Cathedral
we were in the midst of some chanting for the service being conducted. So
often, when we walk into old churches and cathedrals, we forget that these
buildings were and are built to be used, and the vaulted ceilings are there not
just to make you feel closer to God, or for architectural aesthetics, but to
feel the reverberations of hundreds, maybe thousands of people chanting in
unison; a simultaneously impressive and chilling event.
We did not stay long, but soon moved on to a farmers market
that we ran into. Passing through that quite quickly, we reached a large
square, at which point I had a miniature problem. I had lost my necklace, the
one with a piece of the tree I skied into on December 29, 2008. I wear it every
day as a reminder of both my 18-year-old invincibility as well as my
overwhelming fragility. But I had left it at Swanky, where I had hung it up in
the bathroom before taking a shower. I called the hostel, and they said they
had it, so we headed back there by tram. Brian, in typical Brian fashion, timed
the excursion, to let me know just how much of his time in Croatia I had wasted
because of my carelessness. By the time we arrived back at the square, having
picked up my necklace, it had been 42 minutes and 17 seconds. I would spend the
rest of the day hearing about how much stuff we would have been able to do had
we not lost that 42:17.
Upon arriving back in the square, we walked west, in the
direction of the hostel and in what we thought was the direction of the Museum
of Broken Relationships. It was a bit of a detour, but after walking up a very
large set of steps, we found A) The best view of Zagreb, B) The Old Town, and
in it C) The Museum of Broken Relationships.
It is hard to describe the magic that is the Museum of
Broken Relationships. Brian and I both generally dislike museums, as they are,
Brian likes to say, the way the modern makes static a fluid concept. The idea I
subscribe to is that art should be displayed in its original context, as should
historical artifacts. I have seen many an amazing thing in museums, but I would
rather have seen them where they were intended to be displayed, if possible.
But this museum is a much different story. Everything in it is donated by
regular people, and each artifact is a memory in relation to some sort of
relationship that ended, or was broken, in one way or another. Their
description of themselves is as follows:
“The Museum of Broken Relationships grew from a traveling
exhibition revolving around the concept of failed relationships and their
ruins. Unlike ‘destructive’ self-help instructions for recovery from failed
loves, the Museum offers a chance to overcome an emotional collapse through
creation: by contributing to the Museum’s collection.
“Whatever the motivation for donating personal belongings –
be it sheer exhibitionism, therapeutic relief, or simple curiosity – people
embraced the idea of exhibiting their love legacy as a sort of ritual, a solemn
ceremony. Our societies oblige us with our marriages, funerals, and even
graduation farewells, but deny us any formal recognition of the demise of a
relationship, despite its strong emotional effect. In the words of Roland
Barthes in A Lover’s Discourse “Every passion, ultimately, has its spectator…
(there is) no amorous oblation without a final theater.”
“Conceptualized in Croatia, the Museum has since toured
internationally, amassing an amazing collection. Although often colored by
personal experience, local culture and history, the exhibits presented here
form universal patterns offering us to discover them and feel the comfort they
can bring. Hopefully they can also inspire our personal search for deeper
insights and strengthen our belief in something more meaningful than random
suffering.”
Some of these are hilarious. Some are quite depressing. Not
every broken relationship ended in some ridiculous way. Sometimes it was a
death that separated people. But most of the time, it was just entertaining. To
try to give any potential readers (and myself, as a memory aid) an idea of what
this manifested itself in, I will describe, and attempt to copy down, some gems
from this museum:
A hundred Swedish Crowns [it was just that, 100 Crowns]
13 April 2005 – 21 October 2007
Forli-Rome-Stockholm-Umbria
This small bill is the only thing left after a relationship
and a trip to Stockholm. He told me: “Keep it, you’re going to use it the next
time you come and see me…” But there was no “next time”.
Air sickness bags
2004-2006
Zagreb, Croatia
A range of air sickness bags as a memento of a long-distance
relationship. One Croatia Airlines, one Lufthansa, one Hapag Lloyd Express and
three GermanWings. I think I have those illustrated safety instructions as
well, showing what to do when the airplane begins to fall apart. I have never
found any instructions on what to do when a relationship begins to fall apart,
but at least I’ve still got these bags.
Fake breasts
3 years
Belgrade, Serbia
So, after three years together, my husband bought fake,
sculpted female breasts which were, of course, larger than mine and that was
the time of our biggest relationship crisis… he made me wear them during sex
because they turned him on. I was disappointed and because of those sculpted,
fake breasts I left him for good.
An unopened Candy G-string
2004-2008
Winterthur, Switzerland
This was what he thought of as “romantic”: a thong made of
candy. I laughed, but never took it out of the package. He never bought me
flowers because flowers, he said, were for boring people. Instead I got
sausages or new parts for my bicycle. I didn’t mind because I loved him. After
four years he turned out to be as cheap and shabby as his presents. He cheated
on me with a colleague from the
office and dumped me via e-mail.
A cat collar and tag
2.5 years
Singapore
A cat collar I used to wear as a choker. I engraved my
boyfriend’s phone number on the tag to symbolise submission to his ownership. I
loved cats; my loved ones always refer to me as a cat.
A can of love incense
(1994)
Bloomington, Indiana, USA
Doesn’t work.
A toy [it’s a vibrator]
June 2004-June 2009
Fun Times – I donated this because it reminded me of some
fun times we had. The bedroom was also a very intimate and beautiful time. The
years I’ve spent with you have been the best years of my life. You could say we
even had a SCREAM!!
Russian condoms
(1 year)
Bloomington, Indiana
Russian condoms given as a gift from my girlfriend’s trip to
Lithuania. Didn’t use them with her or with anyone else since.
An ex-axe [just a hatchet on the wall]
1995
Berlin, Germany
She was the first woman that I left move in with me. All my
friends thought I needed to learn to let people in more. A few months after she
moved in, I was offered to travel to the US. She could not come along. At the
airport we said goodbye in tears, and she was assuring me she could not survive
three weeks without me.
I returned after three weeks, and she said: “I fell in love
with someone else. I have known her for just four days, but I know she can give
me everything you cannot.”
I was banal and asked about her plans regarding our life
together. The next day she still had no answer, so I kicked her out. She
immediately went on holiday with her new girlfriend while her furniture stayed
with me. Not knowing what to do with my anger, I finally bought this axe at
Karstadt to blow off some steam and to give her at least a small feeling of
loss – which she obviously did not have after our break-up.
In the 14 days of her holiday, every day I axed one piece of
her furniture. I kept the remains there, as an expression of my inner
condition. The more her room filled with chopped furniture acquiring the look
of my soul, the better I felt.
Two weeks after she left, she came back for the furniture.
It was neatly arranged into small heaps and fragments of wood. She took that
trash and left my apartment for good. The axe was promoted to a therapy
instrument.
A key bottle opener
23 January 1988 – 30 June 1998
Ljubljana, Slovenia
You talked to me of love, gave me small gifts every day;
this is just one of them. The key to your heart. You turned my head; you just
did not want to sleep with me. I realized how much you loved me only after you
died of AIDS.
An under-knee prosthesis
Spring 1992
Zagreb, Croatia
In a Zagreb hospital I met a beautiful, young and ambitious
social worker from the Ministry of Defence. Love was born when she helped me
get certain materials, which I needed for my under-knee prosthesis, as a war
invalid. The prosthesis endured longer than our love. It was made of sturdier
material!
A child’s wartime love letter
3 days in May 1992
Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Escaping from Sarajevo under fire in a big convoy, we were
held hostage for three days when leaving the city. A few days before, I turned
13.
In a car next to ours there was Elma, with her mother and
some other people, I don’t really remember whom. I only remember she was blonde
and incredibly cute. I fell in love, with childlike honesty, and confessed it
to her with the same honesty in this letter. I had given her some tapes since
she forgot to bring her own music along before leaving in a hurry. As I didn’t
get the time to give her the letter, because after three days they suddenly
freed us and we lost sight of Elma’s car near Travnik, she never got to return
my Azra, Bijelo Dugme, EKV, Nirvane and other tapes…
Naturally, I never saw her again, although I just hope that
the music reminded her of something nice and cute in that whole terrible
situation.
A Galatasaray T-shirt
1 July – 2 September 2002
Zagreb, Croatia
Short but bitter. “Uzun ama aci”. A typical summer fling
which turned into a two-year agony.
Intimate shampoo
1995-1996
Split, Croatia
After the relationship ended, my mother used it for glass
polishing. She claims it’s absolutely great.
Toys (two doggies in love and a yellow monkey)
A few months in 1995
Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
It began so sweet, just like these two little dogs in love,
and it ended in pure monkey business.
A beagle stuff toy
Manila, Philippines
Pao Pao – The Fake Replacement
This stuffed animal – “Pao Pao” (meaning baby in Chinese)
was given to me a month after my beloved dog died. It was A’s way of granting
his “condolences” to me as he was not very good in death and losses. His remedy
to my “dog’s absence” was to have a replacement… Quite interesting… Later in
our relationship, in the “absence of physical intimacy,” I found him satiating
himself with a replacement… A bitch.
After the enjoyment that we got from the Museum of Broken
Relationships, Brian and I moved on, finding the center of the Old Town, and a
really interesting building with tiled pictures on the rooftop. It looked like
it could have just as easily been a town hall as a church. It turned out to be
St. Mark’s Church, the parish church of old Zagreb. It’s a Roman Catholic
construction in the Late Gothic style that was completed in the 13th
century but radically reconstructed in the latter half of the 14th
century. The roof boasts its most distinctive features, a tiled depiction of
the coat of arms of Zagreb and the Triune Kingdom of Croatia, Slavonia and
Dalmatia, side-by-side. Next to the church, as we passed by, was a group of
soldiers, 10 in all, that we believe to be the entire Croatian army, performing
some sort of ceremony in traditional uniforms. We would see them again later,
passing through town, presumably to pillage the peasantry and wreak general
havoc, as is tradition in these here parts.
Circumnavigating St. Mark’s Church, we headed towards the
direction of the train station again, down a large set of steps that opened up
onto a lively street of cafes and restaurants. We sat for a short time while we
drank some recommendation of one of the café waiters. While we sat, the
Croatian army passed through, drumming and fifing.
Next we found ourselves passing through the now-dismantled
farmers market, followed by the cathedral again. Off of this square we found a
restaurant to go to, which served some delicious Croatian food… though I still
have no idea what Croatian food is.
A souvenir shop on that same square sold us a shot glass and
some hilarious Croatia hats. We just had to get the hats.
Wandering in the direction of the train station again, Brian
and I bought a couple of cigars and found ourselves in a gazebo in the park
behind the Art Pavilion. These we smoked, relaxing in the Croatian breeze, for
about an hour. Then we headed to our train station, stopping off only to see if
we could glance inside the Puppet Theatre… but to no avail. We did get some
great ideas of what was inside from the pictures they posted outside, however.
It didn’t take long to find our train, and we boarded with ease,
headed back to Budapest, where I would be for a couple hours rest before headed
off to Bratislava, Slovakia. Croatia was a beautiful place, and in my
hypothetical future plan of driving down the entirety of the Dalmatian Coast, I
know that I will enjoy Croatia immensely again. Fortunately, Brian and I have
now seen Zagreb, so we won’t have to detour inland after passing through Split
or Dubrovnik in the future.
No comments:
Post a Comment