Post by Anja on Aug 2, 2003 23:54:53 GMT
travel.guardian.co.uk/saturdaysection/story/0,8922,1010467,00.html
Croat of many colours
Ian Wylie offers an A-Z guide to Zagreb
Saturday August 2, 2003
The Guardian
If I talk to any of the locals in Zagreb, the Croatian Airlines in-flight magazine assures me, they'll tell me this story: God creates the world, but forgets to give anything to the Croatians. After a Croat speaks up to complain, God grudgingly gives Croatia the beautiful piece of land he's been keeping for himself.
None of the locals that I spoke to had heard that story, but seven years after the Dayton peace accords ended hostilities here, Croatia is slowly repairing its relationship with travellers prepared to judge for themselves whether God or Croatia got the better deal.
Zagreb is a chaotic mix of Italian, Austrian and Balkan influences, a mishmash of medieval and modern. And while Prague bar owners feel the need to put up signs saying "Please, no groups of drunken British men allowed", Zagreb is an affordable weekend break destination for travellers who fancy a thingytail of central European culture, Hapsburg architecture and Mediterranean weather without the stag parties.
Although Zagreb is an amalgam of old city (Kaptol and Gradec) and new town (Donji grad), it has a compact city centre, hemmed in by the slopes of the Medvednica hill to the north and Sava river to the south. (Locals call the suburbs over the river the "sleeping room" because of its dearth of entertainment.) It's small enough to cover on foot, and most locations are central.
In terms of pace and rhythm, this is a city where people like to stroll, even during rush hour. "As soon as the sun comes out, the cafes with outdoor tables are mobbed. I don't know how any work gets done," says Ida, a young Croatian who has returned from studying at LSE to help run her father's construction company.
The city's population of 800,000 people seem a very friendly bunch, but centuries of conflict, occupation and domination, and persecution have left Croatians with low self-esteem. Locals readily admit their victim complex, but are desperate for tourists to experience the warmth of their welcome. There are many parallels with a city like Belfast - Irish and Croatian football fans, I'm told, get on famously when their teams play.
Don't come here expecting Prague. The hangover from war persists. Anti-Serbian graffiti is rife. There's still a heavy police presence (albeit the kind of policemen who lean up against walls and chainsmoke). And restaurants still feel the need to paste "No guns" notices to their doors.
But Zagreb somehow manages to combine the restlessness of a cosmopolitan city in permanent transition with the intimacy of well-manicured boulevards, concealed courtyards and steep cobbled streets, where Communist-made Yugos bounce up and down with little or no suspension.
Croat of many colours
Ian Wylie offers an A-Z guide to Zagreb
Saturday August 2, 2003
The Guardian
If I talk to any of the locals in Zagreb, the Croatian Airlines in-flight magazine assures me, they'll tell me this story: God creates the world, but forgets to give anything to the Croatians. After a Croat speaks up to complain, God grudgingly gives Croatia the beautiful piece of land he's been keeping for himself.
None of the locals that I spoke to had heard that story, but seven years after the Dayton peace accords ended hostilities here, Croatia is slowly repairing its relationship with travellers prepared to judge for themselves whether God or Croatia got the better deal.
Zagreb is a chaotic mix of Italian, Austrian and Balkan influences, a mishmash of medieval and modern. And while Prague bar owners feel the need to put up signs saying "Please, no groups of drunken British men allowed", Zagreb is an affordable weekend break destination for travellers who fancy a thingytail of central European culture, Hapsburg architecture and Mediterranean weather without the stag parties.
Although Zagreb is an amalgam of old city (Kaptol and Gradec) and new town (Donji grad), it has a compact city centre, hemmed in by the slopes of the Medvednica hill to the north and Sava river to the south. (Locals call the suburbs over the river the "sleeping room" because of its dearth of entertainment.) It's small enough to cover on foot, and most locations are central.
In terms of pace and rhythm, this is a city where people like to stroll, even during rush hour. "As soon as the sun comes out, the cafes with outdoor tables are mobbed. I don't know how any work gets done," says Ida, a young Croatian who has returned from studying at LSE to help run her father's construction company.
The city's population of 800,000 people seem a very friendly bunch, but centuries of conflict, occupation and domination, and persecution have left Croatians with low self-esteem. Locals readily admit their victim complex, but are desperate for tourists to experience the warmth of their welcome. There are many parallels with a city like Belfast - Irish and Croatian football fans, I'm told, get on famously when their teams play.
Don't come here expecting Prague. The hangover from war persists. Anti-Serbian graffiti is rife. There's still a heavy police presence (albeit the kind of policemen who lean up against walls and chainsmoke). And restaurants still feel the need to paste "No guns" notices to their doors.
But Zagreb somehow manages to combine the restlessness of a cosmopolitan city in permanent transition with the intimacy of well-manicured boulevards, concealed courtyards and steep cobbled streets, where Communist-made Yugos bounce up and down with little or no suspension.
