Motorcycle on the Italy to Croatia Ferry

September 23, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

Ferry at the terminal in Split, Croatia

Motorcycles are a way of life in Italy. Everyone has one.

Or they have a scooter. Everbody’s immediate relatives certainly have a few. I read somewhere online–so it must be true–that Italy represents half of all registered two-wheelers in Europe. We are not talking Harleys, though we did see a few. We’re talking about Ducatis, Kawasakis, Yamahas, and of course, my favorite, BMWs. It was no surprise that there seemed to be the entire population of a small hilltop Tuscan village at the port getting ready to start a vacation with their motorcycle on the ferry from Italy to Croatia.

The level of fear I had about taking the ferry from Ancona, Italy, to Split, Croatia was ridiculous. Looking back now so many things that I genuinely feared on this journey were crazy. Travel on mass transit, as in the movement from A to B, has always given me anxiety. I am a control freak. So, I do what I can to control whatever I can. I look at lots of pictures online of the transportation we will be using. I read lots of forum and blog posts about other people’s experiences. And I usually arrive for departure stupid early.

Since I convinced myself from reading horror stories that if we were not crazy early, they would have no room for the motorcycle, even though we had a reservation, I made sure we would be first in line to board.

We were in Italy, so everyone was first to board, whether they arrived early, or right at boarding time.

You see my friends, Italians have a fantastic way of keeping organized chaos when it comes to queuing up for anything, especially transportation. Sometimes I think it’s the culturally accepted lack of personal space. Though, it probably stems from machismo. To my knowledge, I have no German genes, but I am a type A personality.

Give me punctuality and organized lines.

I expect people to listen when the gate agents say stay in your seats and not to get up until they call your boarding zone.

This is just not how the Italians are. Well, except for some peeps from Northern Italy. Their geographic location enabled German punctuality to wharf over and be absorbed.

Ancona Ferry Port

We arrived at the Ancona ferry port and checked in at the general ticket office for Blue Line Ferries. When we booked, we had two choices, Blue Line or Jadrolinja. We choose merely by which boat had the best price. They issued us our boarding passes, checked our vehicle documents, told us which terminal our ferry was departing from and what time we could go to the port. They told us in Italian, and we understood them!

You got this Jes, you are conquering the Italian language, I thought to myself.

Ferry offices and check-in at the Ancona, Italy Ferry Terminal

Camaraderie

There were motorcycles everywhere. We used our Italian language skills, and we did our best to converse with the riders. I quickly realized I was not conquering anything! We were only three weeks into class. I thought I knew what I was saying, but in reality, I was butchering the beautiful language. But you know what? It didn’t matter. They made do with bad English; we made do with nearly non-existent Italian.

The other riders told us what to expect on the boat, how to deal with the bike, what to leave behind and what to take with us to our cabin. We talked gloves, pants, and helmets, and about our sheepskin from Glengarriff, Ireland. Our blue alpine mountain goat (aka a BMW GS) was a looker, and everyone, everywhere on our journey stopped to talk to us about it.

Motorcycles just chillin’ at the Ancona Ferry Terminal

Once the conversation started, all we had to say was two things, and we were members of the cool club. It was like we were instantly invited to sit at the popular kid’s table at lunch in the cafeteria. The two things we had to say to get in were that we were 1. from NY (Ooos and Ahhhhs commenced) and 2. studying Italian in Umbria (bravas and fantasticos commenced). And then, all of a sudden a seriousness kicked in. Helmets went on, and motos took off. They dropped us. Like the kid with the bugger hanging from his nose.

We realized it wasn’t us. It was the machismo.

The drive to the port took us through the outskirts of the city along the water and over train tracks past the station. There was a mass of cars and motorcycles all over, wherever they could squeeze in, at every angle. A few traffic people in neon safety vests tried their best to yell commands–you this lane–you that lane. Horns blared, people shouted, arms flew about cutting through the air with directed precision.

This moment was the start of their vacations. As a result, they were in a rush to get on board to wait to depart. And as I mentioned earlier, it was organized chaos.

But on a motorcycle, things are a little different.

See, cars part way for motorcycles in Italy. Wherever you are (except crazy-ass Naples which is a whole different tale), they naturally move to the right or left when they see you in their rear-view mirror. The man in the car with the kids in the back seat starting his family vacation has been in your boots–riding on a hot summer day on a fully geared up stuffed pig. And someone moved over for him to pass.

All the bikes clustered together at the front. Yes, the asphalt has painted lanes, but these are suggestions. Italy is not Germany (Ok, Germany is one place that I have not been yet, it’s on my list though, so I’m not speaking from any personal experience, just hearsay). Some toughly looking Italians directed the bikes onto the boat and indicated where they wanted each rider to go–right side, left side, next level up, etc. Only half pay attention. The rest do what they want and load up when they feel like it, and park where they want.

When we took the ferry from Ireland to France, we were one of only three motorcycles on board. And English was spoken. Easy peasy. Each bike rider received chock blocks, and we were instructed to park in between the built-in clips on the floor. A guy then came over and strapped the bike to the floor clips. He was kind, made sure we had what we needed, made sure he gently but securely fastened our GS in place.

Again, we come back to the fact that this is Italy.

Italians were talking; we will say, loudly, and throwing hand gestures because we were not quick enough to get our stuff off and get ourselves situated.

My thoughts at this moment: WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!

I was starting to have a panic attack with full on sweats and a head swirly-I’m-going-down sensation. I tried to ground myself–fixate my gaze on something. I know, gross, but lick my salty, sweaty hand for taste and smell my sweaty shirt — anything to bring me to that moment, right then, and to try to stop panicking.

Daryl could see my face and calmly said take the bags and wait by the door. He knew by the look in my eyes. From 13 years of marriage, he can always recognize that when I quietly start to acknowledge my surroundings, my anxiety is through the roof. The workers strapped the bikes. Basically from one to the next and back rapidly. And I guess eventually to the clips on the floor? Well, there were over 100 motorcycles on board, probably close to 200, all parked in neat and organized rows. It amazed me to look over and see the rows after all the craziness. Looking back, I was ridiculous to think these gentlemen did not know what they were doing.

Motorcycles parked in an organized fashion on the ferry.

We headed up to the registration desk and got our cabin key. The rest of the trip was mostly uneventful except for the funny sign in the cabin bathroom. And the floor full of Italians with all their cabin doors opened singing pop songs or folk songs in unison throughout the night.

A sign reminding you not to flush chips–or your times–yes, it says times, my photo stinks, down the toilet.

Then like arrival, the hour leading up to departure was much of the same chaos.

Everyone started emptying into the general areas near the stairs, escalator, and elevator. Staff had to stand guard so people would not sneak down. Announcements were made over and over again in Italian, Croatian, and English not to go down until directed. Once directed, only motorcyclists could go down. That’s right; motorcyclists go first.

Down we went, then we loaded up. All bikes tried to exit at once because everyone had to be first. Passengers walked down and off the boat–their riders didn’t have time to wait for them to get their shit together and get on the bike. It would prohibit them from being first. Barely on, the riders would back up in a quick fit, and rush down the ramp. A woman with a stroller probably made it past one of the elevator people and got down to the vehicle level before non-motorcyclists were allowed. Seems like she had a death wish because no one gave two shits that she had a stroller and was trying to get to her car. It was like their engines were yelling at her “Lady, it’s not your turn yet!”

The funniest part about everyone having to exit first? Everyone grouped once exited and allowed each other to get in front of the passport check line. Nobody wanted to be first for that part.

Everyone has to be off first.

Truffle Hunting Istria with the Karlic Family

November 16, 2015 By Jessica McAvoy 1 Comment

Truffle in English, tartufo in Italian, truffe in French, tartuf in Croatian, gastronomic heaven in Foodie.

One of the first things I tend to eat when I arrive in Italy is something with truffles. Although we can purchase almost anything in NY, truffles are one food that are widely un-affordable to even consider in our foodie loving kitchen. I don’t care how much you love to eat, the prices are ridiculous. White truffles are so high in value, they are priced by the gram. How expensive is too expensive for my kitchen? A quick search on eataly.com shows around $168 for 4 oz of black truffles to around $965 for 4 oz of white and at that price range they are out of the question in my kitchen. Not the case in Umbria though where a mere 9 euros gets you a nice walnut sized tuber. A mere 9 euros. We were eating them almost as much as gelato. Well, ok, not quite, but you get the point.

Not being able to get our hands on truffles at home is ok as some foods are more memorable when ingested in the right surroundings listening to the dancing of a foreign language in your ear. If you have never had the pleasure of experiencing a real truffle (and I do not speak of truffle oil – most do not even contain truffles but a chemical) know this – it smells pretty much like the bottom of a laundry basket that had sweaty gym clothes festering for a few days (or even weeks – I have not had white truffles yet but have been told the smell is far more intense than black). How did I come to love the distinctive taste? On first bite it is earthy or what you would imagine eating the forest floor would taste like, but as your saliva mingles with oils of the tuber so many layers of flavorful nuances appear. Hints of syrup, flowers, nuts and honey, and time, and place, and memory…

We had wanted to go on a truffle hunt. We love seeing how and where our food comes from. We were interested in how this tuber became gastronomic gold and why in all of the large, vast, United States truffles (at least not outstanding ones) are not harvested. While we were in Italy we simply ran out of time.

Discover black truffles during truffle hunting Istria.

A black truffle discovered by the Karlić family’s newest pup.

Istria is home to some of the finest fungus in the world.

When we arrived in Istria, Croatia I spotted tartuf on the menu and quickly learned Istria is home to some of the finest fungus found in the world. Istria is a heart shaped peninsula in northwest region of Croatia, and within it lies the Motovun Forest, a perfect environment for the elusive white truffle, as well as 3 varieties of black truffle. White truffles are harvested from September until January, black truffles year round. One of our new Croatian friends told us about the Karlić family and set us up to go on a truffle hunt with them. Three generations and over fifty years of experience, this is the family for truffle hunting Istria with!

Truffles are tubers that grow completely underground in close relationship to the roots of oak, hazel, poplar, and beech trees. The human senses have no way of discovering it; for that you need a specially trained dog. The scent of the truffle develops after the spores are matured and this indicates when the taste has developed. Harvest too soon and the tuber will be tasteless. Well trained dogs (and pigs in some locations) can sniff out these tubers when they ready.

We were greeted by Kristina and she led us through the history of the family and told us about truffles and the environment needed for them to grow. We enjoyed a beautiful spread of local cheeses, meats, salsas, honeys, and all sorts of delicious truffle infused foods. Kristina showed us a platter full of shaved truffles. All of these would comprise the scrambled eggs that the two of us would be served. ALL OF THESE SHAVED TRUFFLES!!

Then the moment of wow as she brought to the table a platter of eggs with more truffle than I will ever see again in my lifetime.

Truffle hunting Istria tantalizes all the senses.

Truffles gently folded inside and mounded on top. It was hot out, I was full, and yet could not stop eating them. Then, with our stomachs bursting it was time to hunt.

Scrambled eggs heaping with fresh truffle at Karlić Tartufi.

The excitement from the dogs is contagious. Ivan opened the back of the car the dogs all started jumping for joy in their pens. For this hunt, Ivan selected two beautiful off white dogs, and a young pup of under a year old that he had been training. They rushed to the car and nearly knocked each other over to get in. We drove a few minutes down the road to the family’s private forest.

There was no need to coax the dogs to get to work. They had a task to do and as soon as the door opened they were off. We we rushed with adrenaline and did not want to miss any of the action. It was a 107 degrees out in the thick humid forest, and I can assure you we did our best to keep up but they were like lightning. Within five minutes the new pup bolted to a tree and began ferociously digging and found a nice small black truffle. Then the competition began and the two older ladies really kicked it into gear quickly finding another. Following the second find the dogs, and us, were hot and exhausted so we headed back to the house. We chatted with Ivan and Kristina about how they train the dogs.

Karlić Tartufi dogs entering the thick forest truffle hunting Istria.

Karlić Tartufi dogs entering the thick forest to hunt for truffles.

We ate a lot of truffles that day. More than I ever imagined I would have in a lifetime. Since we were traveling by motorcycle we had very limited space but managed to fit one small jar of truffle salt in the side case that I use often. As we finished up our experience that day we met a lovely family from Canada about to begin theirs. We found ourselves lost in conversation with them, and the Karlić Family, and enjoyed spending the summer afternoon in such wonderful company. Each time I sprinkle my salt I remember back to the beautiful experience and warm conversations we had on a hot July day outside Buzet. I have been truffle spoiled, and boy, my taste-buds, and memory, have thanked me.

Karlić Tartufi is located at Paladini 14 near Buzet. The family hunts daily and also has a beautiful truffle and local products shop on their property. Call them at +385 52 667 304, email tartuf@vip.hr, or visit http://karlictartufi.hr/en/ for more information.

Frescoes in Croatia: Learning the Art of Fresco

July 21, 2015 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

Frescoes are created by applying pigment to a damp wall surface of plaster (usually made by limestone or marble dust and water). They have been used during the centuries for purely decorative to the illustration of political or religious doctrine. The frescoes we viewed in Istria were created during Medieval times in small Gothic churches as a means to explain the stories of Christianity to illiterate parishioners.

When we checked into our accommodation in Bertoši located near the center of Istria in Croatia, our host asked us about our interests. To see as many frescoes as possible was my reply, of course. She made that happen, and she also connected me with local fresco artist and art professor Hari Vidović.

We arrived in Roč (Rozzo) on a sweltering afternoon and were instructed to meet Hari at the entrance gate. When we got to the town it was quiet and all shutters were drawn closed to keep out the heat. The air was stifling. We waited a minute or two and then around the corner came a gentleman in a puffy green Medieval top, tights, and painter’s cap. It was truly awesome to see him walk over dressed in full ethnic garb. Looking around our moto was the only thing in sight not ancient.

Hari was warm and open (which has been the case of every Croatian person we have met with no exception) and seemed as excited to meet us as we were to meet him. He took us to his studio telling us a bit about the history of Roč along the way. The town contains three churches from the 12th, 14th, and 15th centuries and is surrounded by Medieval walls, a Roman lapidarium, and has a cannon from the years it was apart of the Venetian empire. Hari told us a fantastic legend of a granny that saved the town from a Turkish invasion by filling the cannon with ash and setting it off making the invaders below believe there was an entire army firing down on them.

When we arrived in the studio, we began with a shot of local honey grappa, and an introduction to the materials. On the work table, there were a few tablets illustrating the different stages of surface preparation, as well as jars of pigments and brushes. It had been months since I painted and I was so anxious to get started! But, like everything, first comes preparation.

Hari walked us through the different stages and showed us our surfaces we would be painting on – ceiling terracotta tiles that were a few hundred years old. We applied a layer of gritty plaster made with river sand and water and set out to see the local church where we were given a tour of the frescoes while time worked its magic.

Hari applying a layer of plaster to the surface

When we returned, we applied another layer plaster, this time much silkier and with marble dust added. We had a few minutes while it settled and so we riffled through some images to find what would be our muse and created a template on tracing paper. We began mixing our paints and then placed our templates on top of the surface. Using a toothpick, traced the template into the plaster.

Plaster with limestone and marble dust

Working on the plaster surface was very much like working with watercolor. You start with the lightest colors and work up to the deeper and darker ones with layers. Some translucent, some opaque. After time you begin to feel the moisture dissipating from the surface. At this point, it is time to stop. If you are to go any further you must add a binder to the pigment as it will not absorb.

Pigments

We enjoyed our time with Hari in his studio creating our works of art to take home. Having a hands-on understanding of fresco creation was enlightening. Apart from the painting, we also really enjoyed chatting with Hari. He speaks excellent English as well as Italian, and we had plenty in common with him besides art!

The workshop lasted around 3 hrs or so and cost about 600 or so kuna each (about $90) and was well worth it for the experience. Daryl as a non-artist had a great time, but 3 hours of prep and painting was his limit. I could of stayed an entire day working on my fresco. If you are unhappy with your artistic creation but want a fresco to take home, Hari also has some of his own beautiful frescoes available for purchase in the studio. If you are in the area and are interested in learning more about fresco workshops with Hari email him: hari.vidovic@gmail.com.

Fresco completed during the 3-hour workshop

Key Keepers – Protecting Istria’s Frescoes

July 20, 2015 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

While we were visiting the Chapel of Our Lady on the Rocks (Crkvica svete Marije na škriljinah, S. Maria delle Lastre) located in Beram, Istria, a group of people wandered up to the church and tried to convince the woman that since they were a group, they should pay less. The entry fee is 20kuna ($2.85) per person. I found this incredibly disrespectful. Spaces such as these are essential pieces of culture and history to the respective country. They too need funding to maintain them. The roof needs to be maintained as well as the grounds kept clean.

The door is open for those willing to work to get inside.

The first few days we were in Istria I found it incredibly frustrating that everywhere I read discussed the amazing frescoes and churches and that they should not be missed, and yet they felt so inaccessible. The tourism board has a map geared towards “culture” that has about 20 sites with frescoes listed, and the first handful we sought out, if we found the church, we could not locate the key keeper or get inside.

During our fresco workshop with local artist Hari Vidović we were discussing the difficulty in finding them. Me, always a solution finder, started rattling ideas off such as a card you purchase at the tourist office for 3 or 7-day access that has the addresses of the key keepers and detailed location maps etc. Daryl suggested each of the churches having a lockbox with the key that a few different people in a town would have the code. Even the tourism board having ‘certified’ guides with keys would be a great solution as it also proved very difficult for me to find a private guide. Options are as limitless as the sky.

My feelings changed after visiting Beram and seeing this group try to haggle the price. The key keeper explained to me that her family has lived in Beram for centuries. She feels it her duty to protect these frescoes. They are the heritage of her family and their neighbors. She also feels it is important to share them with people that desire to see them enough to seek her out. She doesn’t want anyone just wandering in and leaning on the walls. She doesn’t want unattended people thinking they are pulling a fast one and taking a few quick no-one will know photos with flash.

I agree. These spaces are delicate. These spaces need to remain difficult to access. They should not be a checklist item of the casual traveler, guidebook in hand, just wanting to see them because someone said they should. I told her to keep them difficult for people to see. Keep them protected.

Instead, they need to be viewed by guests of Istria that want to know about them. Guests of Istria that want to talk to local people and want to learn about the frescoes from the very people that have been entrusted with guarding them for centuries.

People with a real passion for seeing them will find her, and the frescoes.

Frescoes in Croatia: Dance of the Dead, Beram

July 20, 2015 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

As is the case with most frescoes in Croatia, the Chapel of Our Lady on the Rocks (Crkvica svete Marije na škriljinah, S. Maria delle Lastre) is not easy to visit. You must locate the key keeper to gain access. Sometimes, as in Draguć, the key keeper hands you the key and off you go. Other times, as in Beram (Vermo), you must locate the woman with the key, then she will hop in the car with you and direct you to the church.

The entrance is 20Kuna (about $2.85) per person. Some guidebooks say this is for the time spent by the woman to take you- she told me that this is not the case and all the money goes towards the upkeep of the church. The key keeper does not speak English, but does speak some Italian in addition to Croatian. Our Istrian friend Marijana offered to bring us since I didn’t think the woman would want to hop on the moto…

We went late in the day, around 6:30 PM. The small Gothic church is surrounded by pine trees and there is no electricity. The time of day proved to be a little too late to really view the Dance of the Dead fresco which is located on the west wall of the church, however even in the darkness, the red still vibrated. The rest of the church had enough light coming in to see fairly well. Photographing the walls was not quite successful (I will not use a flash to photograph art as it damages the pigment) and I apologize for the poor quality of the photos. There are two windows on either side of the main door, and there is a second door on the south wall, as well as two windows in the nave allowing light to enter.

The key keeper narrated all the frescoes for us and Marijana translated. We felt very fortunate to be able to communicate with her as we found the story of the church and its frescoes fascinating. She explained to us that during the 18th century the original church had been expanded, the Gothic vault ceiling had been covered by the Baroque tabulas that are seen in there now, two windows were added on either side of the door damaging the frescoes of Adam and Eve, and the Wheel of Fortune, and that also during this time, the frescoes were covered up with mortar and not rediscovered until early in the 20th century.

Detail of the Baroque ceiling

As described by guidebooks and websites the Dance of the Dead frescoes are beautiful. They were created to remind the faithful that everyone is equal in their dance with death; the pauper and the elite alike – all dance together when the time comes. They were vibrant enough for us to see much of the color and detail in the dark space. There was, however, plenty of light enabling us to view the rest of the frescoes. On the north wall is a rendition of the Adoration of the Kings running almost the entire length of the church. Through incredible detail, Kastav and his assistants pay homage to Istrian landscape and seascape by illustrating native flora and fauna, and the culture of the people painted in the traditional clothing of his time.

The south wall tells the story of the life of Mary in addition to other stories from the New Testament. For me, the most beautiful of the frescoes is a rendition of Veronica’s Veil in the underside of the arch over the entrance door. I was amazed at what great condition it is in.

I found the following website which I recommend checking out if you want to see more photos and descriptions of the frescoes, as well as history of the church itself. It also contains photos of the Dance of the Dead fresco which I was unable to photograph due to the lack of light. http://www.istrianet.org/istria/architecture/churches/beram/murals-descriptions.htm

Veronica’s Veil

Frescoes in Istria Croatia: St. Rok of Draguć

July 19, 2015 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

Istria is littered with outstanding frescoes. The trick is to be persistent enough to find the key. Draguć (or Draguccio in Italian) is a tiny town near the center of Istria, Croatia. There are two small Medieval churches containing frescoes in opposite directions on the outskirts of what remains of the fortified city. When you enter with your car there is a graveyard and small church, St. Elisia (XIII c.), on your right side. You then come to an open area to park and a map of the village and its sights. Unfortunately, a few weeks prior to our visit the roof of St. Elisia fell in so we were unable to view the inside. Hopefully the damage was not to severe to the frescoes.

Finding the key to gain access to frescoes in Istria Croatia can be a challenge.

We were very fortunate to be wandering around with our new Croatian friend, Marijana, and her Bernese Mountain Dog, Misha. Marijana had wanted to take me to the newly opened House of Frescoes (which had an opening that she had read about, but when we arrived learned it is not actually opened to the public yet). She quickly started asking people she saw how to obtain the key to the church on the opposite side of town, St. Rok (aka St. Rocco, or St. Roch). We found out the key was being held at house #40 (always ask around as key responsibility shifts). She exchanged pleasantries, obtained a Medieval iron key the size of my face, and off we went!

Approaching the exterior of the church is nothing short of a fairy tale – the church is perched atop the hill with views of the valley all around. We arrived later in the day so the sun and daylight were low on the horizon. Putting the key in the door, adrenaline was rushing through my body and I could not get the key to catch! I had no idea what to expect. When the door finally opened I was amazed by the wonderful condition the frescoes were in. The door has a small window that is open to the elements with the exception of iron bars, and there is also a small open window on one side.

The Church of St. Rok with frescoes in Istria, Croatia

The Church of St. Rok located in Istria, Croatia

The frescoes inside created by Antonio da Padova are immaculate considering they date from early 16th century and exposed to the elements through this door and window. A local fresco artist, Hari Vidović, which I had the pleasure to take a fresco workshop with, explained to me that St. Roch was the patron saint called upon to protect again the Plague. As such there are many churches dedicated to his honor throughout Istria, and Croatia as a whole.

Interior view of the Church of St. Rok, Draguc, with frescoes in Istria, Croatia.

Interior view of the Church of St. Rok, Draguc, Istria, Croatia.

When we opened the door the light rushed in around us. As with any art I view, I will not take photo with a flash. I am not a photographer, so I apologize for the poor quality of photos. I hope you at least get an idea of what we saw from them.

Ceiling section in the Church of St. Roc, Draguc, with frescoes in Istria, Croatia.

Ceiling section in the Church of St. Roc, Draguc, Istria, Croatia.

Never did I imagine that the sleepy village of Draguc would still be protecting such beautiful frescoes.

We were greeted with still vivid earth tones in an almost entirely covered interior. I am not exaggerating by saying my breath was taken away and I had tears in my eyes. There were locations where time and water damage have removed the surface but overall the condition was remarkable. There were also places at shoulder height where the frescoes have been covered in graffiti over time. I tend to find the graffiti exciting to look at and a raw illustration of time and place.

Graffiti from 1623 on fresco

Yes, looking at beautifully restored frescoes can be exhilarating. But in Croatia, seeing the time worn surface of the original hand, in a church that requires a hunt, is incredibly rewarding.

Close up of one of the frescos