On a nostalgic railway journey across Croatia and Slovenia, Roderick Eime recalls the heady days of Cold War Yugoslavia.
It was the autocratic, Soviet-aligned Marshal Josip Tito of post-war Yugoslavia who can be credited with developing the comprehensive railway system that bound the quarrelling Balkan republics into something of a unified nation.
The charismatic Tito may have ruled with an iron fist for almost 30 years, but he managed to keep his country at arm’s length from the overbearing Kremlin while at the same time keeping a lid on the always-simmering ethnic tensions between the restive republics under his control.
As a young man, Tito travelled and worked widely across Europe, learning engineering and several languages as he went, so it was of no surprise that one of his pet projects in rebuilding Yugoslavia after his triumph over the occupying Fascists in WWII was the construction of a robust railroad network that stitched the country together like steel threads on a tattered coat.
The grand Marshal would travel about the scenic landscapes on his magnificent ‘Blue Train’ that quickly became a symbol of his power and influence. Guests aboard his luxurious private express read like a ‘who’s who’ of world dignitaries and included Haile Selassie, François Mitterrand, Yasser Arafat, Jawaharlal Nehru, Sukarno and even Queen Elizabeth II.
Travelling through the former capital of Belgrade in 2015, I saw one of the early Hungarian-built JŽ class 11 steam locomotives laid up next to the main platform, still resplendent in its vivid, if flakey, powder blue livery. In 1976, just four years before his death, Tito celebrated the opening of the 476km Belgrade to Bar (Montenegro) line that passes through 254 tunnels and over 435 bridges.
While some parts of the network have fallen into disrepair after the country’s violent disintegration in 1992, the restored Yugo-nostalgic Blue Train can be chartered for private trips taking travellers to Bar, Montenegro’s main port, slicing through some of the most spectacular mountains and canyons in southeastern Europe.
Now, four years after my first railroad foray into the former Yugoslavia, I am back again. This time my incursion is from the northwest on an Austrian ÖBB train from Villach, having begun my journey in Bolzano, Italy.
The familiar cry of “Fahrkarte Bitte!” (Tickets please) is one I will always remember from an eight-week Eurail journey I undertook before my final year of high school, only this time a pair of fully-armed guards, one Austrian, one Slovenian, patrol with the conductor as she scrutinises tickets and passports at the border crossing. With so many countries condensed into such a small landmass, rail travel in Europe is the obvious choice, bypassing the increasingly onerous procedures at all the world’s airports.
For this journey, as in 1977, I am clutching my Eurail pass, a delightfully anachronistic paper document that must still be hole-punched and scrawled on by grey-uniformed attendants, some of whom take momentary delight in chatting about your journey, while others remain poker-faced and disdainful, gesturing in abrupt sign language should I be too tardy in producing my documents.
Introduced in 1959 and continually refined, the Eurail Pass currently allows access to the networks of 31 EU and non-EU countries and even some ship and ferry lines. It’s a breeze to plot your course across Europe, much like Napoleon or Genghis Khan, as you tick off the capitals one by one, stopping when the mood takes you.
I travel through the night with just a nod to Slovenia and her glamorous capital, Ljubljana. “I’ll see you on the way back, I promise.” and I arrive in Zagreb just as the city is getting ready for a working day.
At the front of the main railway station, the 1892-built Glavni kolodvor, workers, commuters and wide-eyed, map-clutching tourists gather at the adjacent light rail stop, jostling politely for space on the bright Tito-blue tramcars waiting to take them somewhere on the city’s 120km network. My lodging, the 110-year-old Hotel Palace is just a schlep up the road and looks more Parisian than Croatian with its ornate art nouveau frontage, facing out toward the neatly manicured Strossmayer Square park where a food festival is underway. This green space stretches from the station all the way to the city proper.
All checked in to my comfy ‘palatial’ room, I head out past the portraits of Sophia Loren and Orson Welles hanging in the foyer to meet Doris Kunkera, my Intrepid Urban Adventures guide for the next couple of hours. There’s a lightning history lesson on the succession of Slavic monarchs and Catholic primates as we tour the colourful street markets and historic hidey-holes, but at the end of it all, I discover Doris is a big fan of the famous Croatian journalist, editor and writer Marija Jurić Zagorka (pen name Zagorka) whose statue adorns a tiny patch of lawn at the end of the busy strip of boutiques and restaurants on the unpronounceable Tkalčićeva Street.
“Sometimes I dress in an old costume to take my tours,” Doris confesses after revealing her secret admiration for this much-adored women’s rights activist and novelist who passed away more than 60 years ago leaving a treasure trove of immensely popular historical fiction.
I fill the rest of my time jumping on and off the tramcars, ascending the funicular and enjoying a local Zmajska ale and all-day breakfast with Zoran, a minor celebrity chef at Otto & Frank, a hip, sunken bistro within Zagorka’s gaze. I imagine she would have approved.
My next leg is south to the Adriatic coast and the famous port town of Split, the second-largest city in Croatia. A small, two-carriage train winds through the mountains and thickly forested hinterland on the six-hour journey. It’s easy to see how Tito’s plucky partisans were able to hide for months on end in these dense woods, wreaking havoc on the German occupiers.
The strategic port of Split kicked off as a Greek colony more than 2000 years ago and is best known for the UNESCO World Heritage-listed Diocletian's Palace, built by the Romans during the 300s by order of the emperor whose name it bears. The fort now forms much of the old city and is the prime drawcard for tourists who, most recently, have been drawn to seek out filming locations for the smash hit HBO series, Game of Thrones.
Here in Split, GoT fans will find Daenerys’ Throne Room and the dragons’ lair in the old palace basement. The labyrinthine streets were also used to film scenes, and today, every corner seems to host a souvenir boutique complete with Iron Throne, ready to take your dollars for that ‘must-have’ selfie.
There is no train to Dubrovnik, so I opt for the ferry over the bus, cruising among the much-vaunted islands of the Dalmatian coast in a fast, if noisy Jadrolinija-operated catamaran. This 5-hour ferry ride is not covered by your Eurail ticket, so be ready for about 28 euro, one-way, cash or card.
 |
| Dubrovnik: the perfect movie set (supplied) |
For many reasons, Dubrovnik has become the poster child for Adriatic tourism, and I’m glad I came in September because at the peak of summer, temperatures, prices and crowds are at their maximum. Even so, Croatia is not a cheap destination and a walk around the famous fortress wall - the location of many crucial GoT scenes - will set you back around 30 euro. Just watch out for flying dragons.
I retrace my route all the way back to lovely Ljubljana, where I am staying at the Cold War-era Hotel Lev, now ‘funked-up’ into a hip inner city property and shining like a new pin. It’s an easy walk to the city centre and even to the famous eponymous castle where I take in the expansive view from battlements at the summit. Ancient Ljubljana certainly has a charm that has not been spoiled by unfettered modern development, thanks in great part to the controversial but popular mayor, Zoran Janković, who had much of the centre remodelled. Many of the original, low-rise buildings remain, some renovated, and the parklands and river add a healthy air, especially on this bright autumn day.
As I wander the streets, my hunger draws me to the Monstera Bistro where young master chef Bine Volčič has made a name for himself with his wholesome, sustainable menu. The braised beef cheeks with potato and parmesan puree and black truffle oil are a particular hit, especially when washed down with a local Malvazija red wine. In fact, it’s not a stretch to label Slovenia a ‘foodie’ republic when you include the likes of Ana Roš, the world's best female chef of 2017, who helms the kitchen of Hiša Franko restaurant in Kobarid, to the west of the country. And on Fridays, the old town transforms into the Odprta Kuhna (Open Kitchen), a gourmet extravaganza of local cuisine.
There’s just time to take the rattly elevator to the top of Nebotičnik, the 1931-built, 13-storey skyscraper for a final view of the city so beloved by Marshal Tito. Still one of the tallest buildings in the city, the rooftop was recently restored to include a restaurant and bar with, of course, an observation deck.
As I ride the ÖBB out of Slovenia, I recall that the beloved, benevolent dictator, Marshal Josip Broz Tito, made his final journey aboard his iconic Plavi voz (Blue Train) from Ljubljana after passing away following surgical complications in 1980. It was just as he would have wanted it, and I’m sure the famous Croat is riding his Blue Train still.
 |
| Originally published in MiNDFOOD Magazine - November 2021 |
No comments:
Post a Comment