The art of wine and the importance of a story

Winds blew from every direction, and the sky would suddenly break loose drenching this parched island in sheets of water.    We ran passed the swelling port and hopped over the boards at the threshold of the door, (designed to keep out the storm surge) into an old "konobo" that houses the wine store and tasting room of Vina Carić (http://vinohvar.hr) in the town of Vrbanj, Hvar.

We enjoy wine, but I can't say we are sophisticated wine connoisseurs (I may have once drank a half glass of a skunked wine commenting on what an "unusual" taste it had).   What I love however is a story, a passion, and when science mixes with art, and that is precisely what we found at Vina Carić.

Ivana, our guide through a wine and chocolate pairing at Vina Caric said: "we travel not only to see new places but to learn new stories."   I couldn't agree more and through her stories she made this unknown adventure of wine tastings and parings into a warm and inviting process. She told us of her husband, his love for wine and cooking, their adventures of winemaking, and of becoming known around the world.  She talked about the grapes, the hills, the barrels, and the vineyards. She shared the stories of the Romans, the Greeks, of pests and draughts, of struggles and successes. She spoke of creativity, and war, and communism and individuality. But more than anything, spoke about the importance of a story told by wine and about wine; how a story has to be interesting, yet simple enough to be relatable to be shared time and time again.   

She shared her stories through her words, but also through her wines.  Through these wines, she allowed the grapes to share their own stories about the weather, soil, and fermentation.  The wines spoke of how they were loved, cared for and protected as they aged bringing out their best natural qualities.

We pretended we knew what we were doing.   I learned about "legs" of wine and what this says about the viscosity of a liquid with similarly colored molybdenum compounds as an inorganic chemistry major, but that never really helped me know "good wine."  We watched youtube videos of smells and describing tastes, but what I learned from Ivana was that I had been missing the story of wine, and that is where the magic lay.

The way she set up the tasting, she allowed us to compare the wines directly, to almost speak to each other.  There were two wines, both from 2011, the same grape, the famous Hvar Plavac Mali, from the same fields but one was aged in oak, the other was not.  Everything else about these wines was identical. It was fascinating to be able to compare them directly; their taste, color, smell and be able to see and feel the influence the "home" of the fermentation process had on the wine.

I was utterly entranced, and the "blue" label PLOVAC PLOŠKI was simply the best wine I can remember tasting.

It made me think a lot about our children and nature vs. nurture.  These wines were like identical twins separated and exposed to different homes, and it inherently changed them.  Not like a cloak, or a finish, it changed the basic structure of the wine into something new, yet still holding on to its original self and its origins.  The stories these wines told made me wonder how this year will change our children, how slowly, like oak seeping into wine, this year will transform them in ways I cannot yet see or predict.  

Like the winemaker, we struggle to understand the influences of our actions and those of the environment. We merely seek to bring out the most vibrant qualities in each of our children but know they are inherently their own people and so many factors outside of our control will shape and mold them.  We are grateful for this larger world village that is helping to raise them, and like the winemaker, it is through stories we better understand where we come from and how we are being transformed.

“Wine is bottled poetry”

— Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

The girls loved the chocolates. Each chocolate was filled with a different Mediterranean herb and paired with a different wine.

Savoring the last sips of this beautiful wine.

After hours of wine, and talking and sharing little one transformed the half eaten chocolate board into her own canvas for expression.

"Jugo" and other opportunities of chance

Wind to Croatians is like snow to Native Alaskans. There is not one name, but dozens each explaining a different type, and each with a different meaning.

"Jugo" is the warm, strong southeastern winds that blow in Croatia before the rain.  It is also the wind that can make you grumpy and "not right in the mind." It can blow for weeks and reminds me of the winter Palmer Alaska winds that have blown over semi trucks, taken off car doors, and blown little one across the parking lot ice when she was little.   In fact, in ancient Dubrovnik it was the law that if a criminal act was done while the jugo was blowing, they were not held accountable.  It is the reason for many ailments, depression, and just not feeling right here in Dalmatia

It is essential to know that the "jugo" wind is very different from the "bura" wind a mighty, cold, northeastern wind that turned the Adriatic sea into large waves that took over the first floor of our place in Brac.

It is also different from the "propuh" or cross breeze in a house blamed for numerous ailments from kidney stones to inflammation of the brain and the reason you keep the windows closed and scarfs secured around your neck and I could go on.

The past few days the "jugo" has been blowing (and it is very noticeable when you live in a windmill).   The seas have grown so large boats cannot travel and waves crash onto shore making the main square a wet slippery adventure.  It may be making us all crazy but has also given me time to think about the winds of this adventure.

Tomorrow we meet a camera crew from a Croatian TV station.  They are sending a reporter, cameraman and sound recorder to spend three days with us to "see what we do."   They had heard about us because of the olive picking competition and asked if we would be willing to be a part of a TV show.   They took the opportunity to set us up with a tour from the Hvar Winemakers association to share their secrets and teach us about chocolate making with Croatian herbs.   We started to do a little research into the wine and herb history of the island and are beginning to wonder if the next two days will blow our minds like the Olive picking competition.  The kindness and generosity of the Croatian people knows no bounds, and much like the winds of these islands have taken us by surprise. 

And if we are a disaster for TV, now we can blame it on my new favorite term the "jugo."  

The girls were loving the power of the storm. It has been interesting how close these towns were built to the water and how these storm surges flood the whole town. I wonder how much of this has been affected by rising seas. It is scary to think about on going global warming and what this would mean to these communities right along the sea front.

The Jugo had its way with the abandoned tourist stalls.

Hvar - a new island, a new adventure

"I hate America" "I hate doctors" and "I hate tourist" was the start my conversation with an elegant French woman who knew nothing about me besides my accent.   Her white hair was swept into a perfect bun, her English was impeccable, and our conversion covered everything from stroke recovery, medical advances or lack thereof, art and the meaning of human connections.   That is what I love about traveling, the time to explore the "whys" of all of these statements and ask myself the same questions. By the time our boat pulled into this new port, we had exchanged numbers, heard how she and her Croatian husband meet at ages 15 and 17 on a train and "time stood perfectly still."   We were invited to see her house, a house outside of town with a "perfect trail; a trail Jesus would have walked on" overlooking the sea. She gave us advice on where the locals drank coffee and the "only restaurant that is not a total sham."

We were greeted in the city by a taxi our Airbnb host set up for us given their concern about us walking with our luggage (little did they know about our small packs) and brought to our new home - a historic windmill overlooking the ancient city of Hvar.  

The Island of Hvar is just south of the island of Brac with a fascinating history.  Archeologist have found remnants of Neolithic people on the island, and then later the Illyrians settled the area and then the Greek who build a colony of Pharos around 400 BC  thought to be one of the oldest towns in Europe. Later the Romans who left numerous buildings and then in the middle ages Croatians dominated the land. Later it was a critical Austrian port before it returned to being Croatian, then German, then Yugoslavian and back to Croatian.  It has a rich sea history between the near east and Europe. The town of Grand Hvar has dominated the Croatian tourist seen for 150 years after a physician saw the potential of the island for "relaxation" and "healing." He worked to restore many of the old buildings and encourage European travelers.  After the Yugoslav wars tourism in Croatia boomed. Hvar island especially has been the heart of this growth. Royal visits started in the late 1800's, Jackie O came in 1964 followed by Orson Welles. Jody Foster in the 1970's described it as "the most beautiful place on earth." However, what locals will tell you changed everything was in 2011 when Beyonce shared her "baby bump" with the world and named her child "Blue Ivy" (who has since received honorary Croatian citizenship) after a tree in Hvar.   That coupled with the Pope's preference for Hvar wines has landed this island and this town solidly on the tourist map.

We chose to come here at the end of the season, and are glad we did as it sounds like summer can be crazy.  This time of year, while a different restaurant closes every day were are here, the beautiful beaches are ours alone, and at night the streets are run not by party going tourist, but local kids and games of ball.  

We have settled back into our nuclear family and have spent our time getting caught up on work (thanks for holding down the fort!), blogs (thanks for still following along!), learning more about the complex and fascinating history of this region and planning for the next stages of our trip.   

Home sweet home. Living in a windmill.

Looking out at the setting sun, you can see the fortress in the background. At night this fortress is lit up and laying in the girls bed you look directly at it. I love when history can be learned and preserved by tourism rather than distroyed by it. That has been once of the other great things about local rentals rather than hotels, we are in a neighbor with other Croatians, our money goes to preserving this historic sit and we have a local contact always willing to help.

The never ending “entry” challenge. This medieval door proved stronger than our key. Our new key requires a series of climbing moves little one must preform to get the needed leverage. Always an adventure.

Dinner at a wonderful restaurant overlooking the town.

Beautiful architecture everywhere.

Exploring the fort on the hill.

A canon from the early 1800’s used to protect the inhabitants from invasions.

The girls were given a treasure hut around town to learn about this history on their own. Big one acting like a prisoner in the prison in the fort.

View from town.

Again, this water. This is completely unedited. I could have watched forever.

The girls have loved knitting and made this bag to carry her things.

I learned that “coffee with cream” takes on a totally new meaning in this town. A will have to do a whole other post on coffee in Croatia, it is a way of life.

Saying goodbye in Split

Despite our best efforts to slow down time, the day came when we needed to return the car, Mor-Mor and Far-Far were set to fly home and we were to move on to Hvar.  This felt like another big milestone in our year. How is it possible that a month with them has already passed? How could we be a quarter of the way done with our year?  We are just figuring out this travel. I still can't do 40 pushups, I have only read a few books. But there it is, time waits for no one and our time in Brac had come to an end.

Split has become this "home base" or transition point for us.  This time of the year ferries do not connect the islands and every time you move, need a car, fly out, we go back to Split and so we headed back to Split with Mor-Mor and Far-Far for one last day together as they prepared to go to the airport and we took a ferry to our next island.

Split has also become symbolic for me, like an onion every time we return we take off one more layer, see some new dimension to this city and this culture.  This time we spent more time in the fish markets seeing huge Yellowfin Tuna and swordfish being divided and sold, noticed the changing seasons at the green market and the fall harvest brings in more Pomegranates, Oranges, and nuts.  We explored an underground museum where we learn about the thousands of years people have lived in the city.

One last new drink for Mor-Mor to try (this time for my Italy running buddies I introduced her to the Hugo spritz which has made its way to the nicer Split restaurants), one final hug and we boarded the catamaran to Hvar waving like a 1940's movie to our loved ones.  

Just as the time of this trip is racing by, so is the time our of lives.  This month reminded me how lucky we are to have the gift of time. Three generations were able to spend a month sharing stories, adventures and experiences, a gift we will always carry with us.  

Under the Diocletian Palace in Split reflecting on history.

Swordfish and Yellowfin tuna were impressive to see. Lets just say, it didn’t encourage the kids to swim more.

Fish after fish in this ancient market. Reportedly there is a sulfur springs near the market which helps to keep the flies to a minimum.

These little guys are everywhere. You can see them in the ocean, order them baked, salted or friend in every restaurant or pick them up here in the market to make at home.

Green market nuts and seeds.

The green market full of the fall harvest.

Split Mesnica - one of the many things that lead to the girls temporarily declaring they were going to be vegetarians.

Our family on the move with everything we need (and then some)!

World travelers getting ready to see the city on their own after we leave.

Traveling light even with a full body float for the next island - you know, we only carry essential.

A final drink and goodbye after a great month.

Cutting for Stone

You can not come to Brac and not be amazed by the stone.  There are rocks and stone everywhere. Houses, fences, windbreaks, signs, jewelry, everything is made of stone.   Brac is known for its pure white limestone with very few veins or water impurities. This makes it ideal for carving, and it is more dense and durable as a limestone having similar properties to marble.   The pure white stone was used by the Roman and the buildings such as Split's Diocletian's Palace, one of the best preserved Roman structures, the parliament buildings in Vienna and Budapest and reportedly the White House.   (Although when I went to fact check our tour guide, I could find different information online stating it was used from everything from just the columns to full reconstruction after the original sandstone started to crumble).

The town of Pusisca is near one of the oldest stone quarries and has a stone mason school that has been open for over a hundred years.   The school hosts a three and four-year program that start at age 14. It is a boarding school that mainly has boys, but a few girls as well.  They teach the techniques and history of stone cutting with many students taking jobs in restoration after graduation. The school is adding an additional shop next year also to teach machine stone cutting given the change in technology but will continue to teach the hand techniques used for over 1000 years.

We got a lovely last minute tour from twin brothers who were sent to the school by their father. They grew up in mainland Croatia, and he wanted them to have some useful life skills, so chose this vocational school for them.   Our own private little tour included hands-on learning and life lessons from Far-Far (who was a woodworking teacher for his career) on the importance of eye and hearing protection. It was beautiful seeing their work, and like so many arts I had an entirely different appreciation for a water fountain when learned it would have taken a stone caver 2-3 years to complete and what went into making each stone column appear identical.  

The outside of the school was surrounded by hand cut sculptures like this one.

I really enjoyed this sculpture in the center of town. A teacher? A conversation? The minority and the majority talking through an issue?

Learning about the work of a stone mason.

We all had to give it a shot.

Little one can hit hard when she wants to.

Exploring Brać- #saturatedlife

Our olive picking days had come to an end and it was time to say goodbye to our new friends and move on to the next stage of our adventure, exploring the island of Brac.   It was time to see more as we had walked to almost everything we could within a 6-mile radius of the house. We rented a car to see the other parts of the island and put Mor-Mor and Far-Far's extensive research to the test.   

Sunsets, beaches, long runs, crazy google driving directions, hidden hermitages, donkeys, and paddle boards.  The days ran together in a stream of adventures soaking up the last days with family and the last rays of warmth as we continue to try to outrun winter.

Sunset from Vida Gora - the highest peak of all the Adriatic Islands. It was a beautiful sight to see; the endless shades for orange, pink, yellow and purple in the setting sun, our next island, Hvar, and other islands dotted the landscape. The girls played among ancient ruins. We ate a dinner of cheese, wine, bread and olive oil in the crisp climate above the ocean breezes.

The girls did a lot of the picture taking and editing during this phase our our trip. At one point they said we should call this #saturatedlife. I couldn’t think of a better name. They really like the “saturate” option on the phone, and like this picture, it has been in the reflections and editing of the events, as much as the event themselves that we have found color and meaning.

And then you turn, with no filter and there are even more colors.

Deep in conversation, these two have found a closer friendship. Here they are exploring Sutivan, olive bags full of supplies for the days’ adventure.

There in an old hermitage on Brac the Blaca Hermitage. There is no road here, but three different paths leading to site on a cliff. We had wanted to see the area, but also were not sure how to get there. Some online comments talked about trying for two or three days to find the place. A few wrong roads, crazy google directions and a series of hand painted signs we found our way to one path that lead us 1.5 miles down a beautiful valley to the Hermitage. Unfortunately, they closed earlier than the sign had said so we never got to see inside, but the walk, the history and the valley were well worth the adventure.

On our way back from the Hermitage, a donkey roadblock kept us from moving forward until we spent some quality time with our new hungery friends.

Even driving the car I was able to say hello up close and personally.

Beach time. The clear water in the Adriatic is like nothing I had experienced before. I would put my hand in for a sea urchin and find what looked like a few inches was feet away in this crystal clear water. The whole family got better at open water swimming the sun and downtime were appreciated by all.

The girls had wanted to paddle board since we arrived. This is them on Zlatni Rat “Golden Horn” beach in Bol. It was one of the few shops open as the man renting the boards said “everyone else will close, but if there is sun, I will be here all year. I like the sun, and you might rent my board, so why not, this is a good life.” It was hard to disagree.

It became fun ordering new drinks for MorMor. This is her, finding out how great a Mojito can be on a warm day at Zlatni Rat.

Ever turn we took on Brac, a new town, always out of stone had its charm, it church, an a beautiful history.

Enjoying the small surprises with the grand landscapes.

Friendship - a video

Little one made this sweet video of her and Sister and their time together on the trip.

Time with the world (and video of Olive Picking Events)

Before the competition, we had been focused on olive picking and getting ready as a team. During the race we worked hard, we represented our country and did well, but what I will remember the most is the other people we met and got to know along the way and the identity and pride of the people of the Adriatic.

After the olive picking competition, we took a bus to an old castle in Dol, one of the original settlements on the island and the castle has been build inland with a view of the sea to protect the inhabitants from pirates who dominated the Adriatic. A beautiful lunch was prepared by the culinary class from the high school. As we ate in the shade I listened to the hum of a dozen languages being spoken at once, but with a standard universal language of friendship. It was soul filling to be apart of a group celebrating that which brings us together.

The girls were exhausted as much emotionally as physically when we were done and caught a quick nap before the official weigh in at the olive plant. We each saw our own numbers but were sworn to secrecy before the actual awards ceremony. Our olives were combined and turned oil that evening.

The day of the awards ceremony the organizers again went above and beyond setting us up with a day full of more learning and adventures. We headed back to the museums of Skript and walked back down to the town of Dol. One of my favorite moments was when we were at the olive oil museum. We were enjoying wine, fig jam, oil, and homemade bread while the Hungary team and Spanish team gave us a crash course in the subtler points of olive oil tasting. Much like wine, olive oil is an art and science, and it was beautiful learning from these world experts.

The afternoon was free, and our family headed out for another “swim challenge” in open water (the girls are becoming quite the little fish) and waved at the English and Spanish teams sea kayaking as they explored the coast.

As the hotel lobby swelled with guests before dinner, it was clear the awards night was a big deal. The mayor, a representative from the prime minister, and journalists for numerous countries were all in attendance. The awards started with the 11th place and moved up from there. Our goal was top 10. When it was announced Great Brittan got 11th, we were ecstatic, we were not the last. Next came Spain, and we all were shocked. As they called Frances' name for 9th, we thought we were next but then came the taste testing masters, Hungary followed by Sweeden in 7th. Seeing little one's expression during the countdown was priceless. They announced last years second place team, the Netherlands in 6th place. By the time they called our names in fifth place, I didn't think the girls could hold their excitement in much longer. Everyone erupted with shouts of joy as we walked up to get our picture taken and collect beautiful gifts they gave every team. The whole competition exceeded all expectations, and we celebrated the top 4 teams in their well-deserved victories with Croatia winning for the second year in a row.

What struck me the most about the night, however, was the camaraderie among the countries of the former Yugoslavia. There were these songs that the band would sing and suddenly everyone from Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia / Herzegovina, and Montenegro would all break into song together. They were emotional. They cheered, hugged and cried. I asked one of the women from Slovenia, a kind beautiful soul who taught me so much how they all knew so many of the same songs. She told me the songs were all from the singer, Oliver Dragojević who has recently passed away. She said his music unified the countries over common themes of friendship, love, family when they were united and through the wars and he is deeply missed. He was from the Dalmatian islands and losing him was like losing a superhuman figure that defined the people of this region more than their nationality.

We walked home along the water in the darkness after the ceremony, our hands full of olive oil from the fruits we had collectively gathered. The voices of people from countries I had only know a part of a faraway war on TV before this year echoed against the Brac stone buildings. It struck me that like our oil, the voices were individual but blended into one common shared human experience that transcended nationality.

The door of opportunity opened with this compititon and on the other side were found the common language of friendship, a deeper understanding of both the physical and political world and a stronger sense of who we are as a team.

Little one on a sun dial by the museum during our adventures. The link below is one of 5 TV broadcast of the weekend events.

Our team captain watching the official olive weighing of our teams olives.

These girls can find friends with animals anywhere. This was an old castle where we had lunch after olive picking.

Enjoying the shade, company and days events.

I loved this: little one learning how to warm, smell and taste olive oils.

This moment happens all the time and I loved how their photographer caught it outside the museum. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Ok so this is totally our family. Big one walking ahead making her own path, the two of us walking along and little one dancing to her own drum in the back. Thank you for capturing our this moment. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Walking down from Skrpit to Dol and the ancient agriculture still alive today. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

These two have become our friends on the way to Dol and they love any snacks they can get. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

I love how this picture was taken by photographer and we were no where in sight. They know this area like the back of their hand now. Postira is such a peaceful, friendly place we have loved letting them just be free around here. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Homemade liquor tasting with fresh oranges off the trees and homemade breads. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Awards ceremony time! Team Solvania who rocked the competition taking third making sure their medal was real Brac stone. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Team USA taking 5th! (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

What an event! So much fun.

Game on....

After much excitement, preparation and fan fair, it was finally game time. The night before the competition we had a large group dinner where we were greeted by the organizers, the other teams, feasted on a fantastic meal and Mor Mor and Far Far got their groove on. Part of the requirements for the participants was to make a slideshow to share a bit about where you are from and why your team came to this competition. We were the only multigenerational team, with both a grandpa and granddaughter and we were counting on years of berry picking to pull us through.

On game day, we had breakfast and got the final announcements and headed up to the olive picking field at the local church grove. Part of the community tradition is anyone can pick the olives from the church, you just need to give back 15%. This competition was held on their beautiful grounds, and it made for a spectacular place to host the days' events.

Part of this year's competition was that each team got to choose their trees to harvest. After a quick look around, the teams were set up as a relay race to mark the trees they would use. I loved seeing Lily, feet shorter, but no less determined, sprint off ahead of these other teams to score the first tree.

When picking time came, it was intense. Everything else faded away beside the olives directly in front of you. The other teams, our own team, even the rest of the tree was a blur and hands raced for the next set of green, purple and black. The event was set up as traditional hand picking, so the olives had to go from your hand into the apron with no assistance and nothing underneath to collect the fallen olives. As I was still working on our first tree and part of the team had recently moved to tree two they announced Slovenia had requested a fourth tree! I couldn’t imagine going any faster, but clearly, we were up against the best.

The whole competition was only 45 minutes of picking, and then a strict stop, just olives in your bucket, not the apron would be counted. As the buckets were lined up, everyone started to size each other up, three teams had three buckets, the rest of us had two, but we would have to wait a day for the final results.

The last part of the competition was a test about olives and olive oil. We were still in race mode and raced through the test. As we turned it in and our answers were reviewed, it was the first time I really paused and reflected. As we sat together under the shade of an ancient olive tree - I was amazed at how we had become a team; a team that knew the pH of extra virgin oil and the differences in weighs between green and black olives. It made me so grateful for this world schooling experience. Win or lose, we had learned a tremendous amount.

Our coach getting the last minute details before the race started.

Getting a demonstration of the correct way to wear our aprons by the amazing head of truism in Postira. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

This is the view from the olive grove we picked at with the town of Postira bellow on the Adriatic sea and our home for the last month. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

This is one of my favorite pictures form the day. Everyone is lined up to run for the first tree. Little one is not deterred by the four big guys on her heals! (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Hard at work with my coach cheering me on in the background. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Far-Far hard at work filling up his bag! (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Our team of four working on our first tree. It looks so slow and peaceful in the picture, it felt so different in real life. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

The kids helping move our olives after the fun of picking.

Here is our load. It doesn’t look like much compared to the amazing home team - Croatia but we were pretty proud!

Team USA! (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

After picking and fun the two of us had found a place in the shade under a tree. Such a great time with these kids. One of my favorite quotes from her while we were picking was “mom: olive picking should really be a school sport, this is awesome!”

This was the amazing Spanish team (and their amazing team photo). They run an olive oil certification lab in Spain and know a tremendous amount about oils. It was a pure joy hanging out with them and hopefully our paths cross again soon. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

All of the teams at the end of a great race! (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

This was as soon as we got back to the hotel - I think it was as much emotional exhaustion as physical as they had been so excited.

Olive Picking World Championships 2018

We are TEAM USA

It is olive picking season in Croatia, and we have been seeing signs up about the second annual world championship olive picking competition.  In reading about it, one team is allowed to represent each country and what do you know, they don't have a team USA. A few emails later, we are in!  

The requirements are two men and two women representing the country of origin.  The team must have a presentation about your country and share foods at a display table for the opening ceremonies.  The team was encouraged to have matching uniforms. You can see last years competition here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vU4rI2PDKmE.   

Suddenly our family has a mission.   We walked 6 miles yesterday to purchase tee shirts, have a team manager and photographer.  We are baking chocolate chip cookies and making deviled eggs to share. We carved a squash (we could not find any pumpkins) to share an upcoming American tradition. We are putting the final touches on our presentation and tee shirts. Little one made our team logo. We are here to represent!

More to come in the next days - but tonight is the opening ceremonies, and the excitement is mounting!

Here we are with the AMAZING shirts that little one basically designed and made herself.

Everyone has their role on this team!

This one has become a baker this year. Her best batch of cookies yet! At the of the day, these were a hit!

Walking 6 miles to a town that might sell tee shirts in an effort to come up with a uniform two days before the competition.

Everyone working hard to prepare for team USA’s table of good to share.

Production time!

Love these two. Matching hair, shirts and scarfs, what fun.

Sharing our story with the other teams. (picture curtesy of the Postira tourism board)

Beauty All Around

Beauty all around

The storms have cleared, the waters have settled and our days have once again begun to merge into a peaceful blend of sun, surf, and stone.   Mornings are filled with a gentle lapping surf, warm coffee and family time. Slowly members of the family head out the door for the days' adventures; walks, runs or reading in the sun.   The water has been so calm the open water "swim challenge" has surpassed a half mile, group yoga on the deck, having time to allow a 4 mile run turn into 13.

The girls have been amazing owning their school work now that they are in a routine and have been usually getting it done in the morning so they can spend the day outside.  I am best busy but have loved having the time to read about Croatia and highly recommend Girl at War and Chasing a Croatian Girl for anyone planning a visit. The end of our time with Mor-Mor and Far-Far is going to be much busier so we have been grateful for this time together.  

What we do...

After spending the last four hours getting caught up on our blog there were a few pictures that just did not fit in any one category. However, what was striking to me is how they told their own story. They told a story of what we do each day and a reflection of this years meaning. Friendship, food, developing new skills, redefining work, time together and appreciating each day, each with their own picture. If you are still reading this blog, thank you for being a part of our journey!

Friendship: The friendship between these two is something I always knew was there but has grown and blossomed this year. Sharing a room, having only each other at times for company, they are growing into amazing girls. The other day they were having tension, so they set up a meeting, with an agenda and a time frame, for the morning so they would be in a better mood to resolve their issues. They woke up, worked through their differences and signed an agreement. I have loved watching their friendship grow.

Food: of course we have cheese with Mor Mor and Far Far in town. It has been fun getting to know what all the local like to eat.

New Skills: we have all been trying new things and working on goals. One of hers was to float comfortable. They have both become much better open water swimmers as Traverse takes them on a daily ‘swim challenge’. One of my daughters goals for this quarter was to touch her toes and be able to float on her back comfortably. It has been great to watch them grow.

Redefining work: I have probably spent too much time in this position, but it has been a gift to read, think, explore and reflect. I am not sure what this will all mean, but being able to relax with my family has been an amazing opportunity.

Time together: Whether it is warming in the sun, seeing new sights, or just being together in this crazy wonderful world, we have treasured our time.

Appreciating each day. Not a day has gone by where there has not been something that has amazed me. Our days have been ours and we get the privilege of choosing how we want to spend them. Every night I have gone to bed knowing we have done our best to make each day count, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Walking into history

Almost every day Mor Mor and Far Far have been here we end up on some 4-6 mile walking adventure.  They have been troopers with the heat, hills, and lack of transportation. Another chilly day found us in the hills exploring inland.  We had headed to the town of Skript, the oldest town on the island of Brac. A steep dirt road up the hillside in the heat was no simple task and at this time of year, we have been on our own for most of these adventures.   The trail winded its way through olive fields until at last, we reached the top of a ridge and the edge of a cemetery and stumbled our way into the back of the museum of Skript.

We were discussing a collection of old stones and wondering if they were old gravestones when the most enthusiastic museum curator I have ever met came out and started to tell us the details.     This woman has found her passion in life and we were blessed with her gift. The next few hours she showed us around the whole museum, Roman "cyclops" stones, olive wheels carved into the ground, fortress details where hot oil could be spilled on invaders, a mausoleum made with beautiful arches and Egyptian stones from 1500 BC.   She acted out the history, showed us books and pictures, let us touch see and feel the history from the beginning of the time in Brac until today. She showed us iPhone pictures of her house, posters of her uncle and made the history come alive. We were the only ones in the museum and she probably spent 2 hours with us.

The day continued to unfold magically.  We left inspired but hungry only to stumble into wine, bread, and olive oil.   Right outside of the museum was an old castle where an elderly woman whos lack of English did not slow her down in telling us every detail.   The tour ended in her winemaking basement in the castle and bottles of wine marked with gold paint pen - so we bought one and she ran to her house upstairs to open it for us.   After all, we had finished all our water.

After the castle we walked a little further and next was on olive oil museum - with tastings.  After pushing the olive wheel, asking our million questions about black, vs green, processing differences and history she lead us outside to a table with olive oil, homemade bread, cured olives, and fig jam.   Again, the only ones in the area, we enjoyed a lovely and refreshing snack in the sun where the attendant showed us a new, more comfortable and frankly lovely way back home. A paved path without cars winded down the ridgeline straight back home completing our circle through the history of this magical little island.  

The girls learning what happens next to the olives.

Making our way up the steep hillside to Skrip.

The old and the new - layers upon layers of history.

Our “tour guide”

Leaving castles with wine.

Stone everywhere on this island. This amazing stone roof.

Figuring out how the whole thing works.

This was a Roman “signature” of the the creator of the this mausoleum. I love how these small details transcend time.

Exploring the ancient architecture.

Oil tasting at the olive oil museum before heading home.

Planning or a lack thereof... and exploring Split

Planning for a year is hard.  House, dogs, jobs, where your mail goes, how do you vote.  And then there is the actual travel, how will you school the kids, phone, internet, where you will stay, let alone getting to know the culture, sights to see and details for the year.   Jobs, money all those details, I could write a post on each. What happens is that you can not plan everything, at some point you have to just let go and jump. However, what you lose in planning you make up in the extended time of the experience.

I have been reminded of that again a lot recently.  A friend recently went to Greece and I was amazed at all they saw and did in their short time while we slowly got to know each attendant of our local grocery store.  It also has struck me with Mor Mor and Far Far being in town with us. They have planned and practiced for this time. They have read the books, have notes on the different towns and areas and every day make the most of every moment, off and exploring as we get caught up on school work, blogs or homework.   

They had read a lot of the history of Split and really got no time there, so on a cool windy day we boarded the ferry back to Split and spent the day exploring with them.   Bell towers, shops, Roman actors, homemade ice cream, a fun day getting to take advantage of all of their planning.

Enjoying the time with this amazing growing girl. This was a big part of the reason we went on this year. These girls are growing so quickly and will be gone so soon. It has been such a privilege to have quality time with them.

Our well researched planners - Mor Mor and Far Far exploring Split.

Looking down at the town of Split from the bell tower.

The central court yard from the bell tower. We have been grateful for the very reasonable bustle this time of year.

Around and around up the bell tower.

Listening to Dalmatian traditional singing in the old Roman castle.

Smiles all around.

Mom = the bag holder.

This little one said this was the best ice-cream of her life. It was pretty darn amazing! little one and I found it earlier in the day, but walking in circles for sometime with the whole group trying to find it again. I was worth the long expedition.

Picking Olives

"A hand that's dirty with honest labor is fit to shake with any neighbor." ~Proverb

After indulging in eating out, beach time, enjoying the sun, sea, and grandparents, the sweat and labor picking olives with our Croatian neighbors was a welcome change.

When we inquired about learning more about olive picking, we were advised  - "just walk up the road and ask if you can help." Mor Mor and Far Far met a Croatian family and asked if we could help and they told us the following day they were going to pick all the olives in their small grove and we were more than welcome to join.   

We ventured up the road where we found friends and family gathered under the shade of the olive trees sharing beef stew, apricot cakes, and wine.  After indulging, we were given aprons and taught how to pick. Every olive goes in the bag regardless of shape or color and careful not to break the branches and off we went.     The olives all have to be taken to the factory and processed into oil that day to be considered "extra virgin olive oil"

The olive grove was a steep rocky hillside with the slabs of limestone underfoot.   The day was warm with a gentle breeze, and for the rest of the day, we picked olives, filling crate after crate until the sun started to set behind the horizon and the last tree was harvested  

I have always found berry picking meditative.  I love the repetition, the sense of providing for the family, the simplicity of the bucket slowly filling as you make your way through the tundra.   Picking olives had the same mesmerizing feel, but dry, standing and looking for the green olives in green trees instead of the deep blue. It also was more communal as we all did it together to accomplish the task before the olives started to lose their antioxidants.   It was a day of sweat, community, and the joy of work.

These little ones were great at climbing the tress to pick the top olives and not injury the plants. This was an old grove that had not been trimmed rencently. We learned that a good grove is trimmed so that you can reach the top olives but the goats and sheep can not eat the olives but can walk under the tress to fertilize the trees.

We meet this man our way to the olive grove. While it sounds as though this country gets over run with tourist during the summer, it has felt as though the country has settled back into its old ways.

On our way up to the olives we passed a group of men harvesting grapes for wine. They stopped and gave us bunches to try. Sticky, sweet and full of bees!

Lunch gathering in the shade before the real work began.

Looking down at hundreds of years of agriculture.

Little one in a sea of olives.

These aprons were key for the picking and quickly became full and heavy.

Mor Mor and Far Far hard at work… and they thought they were coming on vacation.

Fruits of our labor.

The last rays of light hitting the vineyard at the end of our day of work.

Far Far tasting local homemade brandies at the local town restaurant before our 2.5 miles walk home in the dark.

Mor Mor and Far Far come to visit!!!

The long-awaited Mor Mor and Far Far have arrived!! (The girls' grandparents).   They literally flew across the world to come to see us, and we are eternally grateful.

After a long trip across the world, Traverse met them in Split and took the ferry back with them as the girls and I cleaned up, powered through homework and generally got excited.  The waves were still high when they came, but the storm had mostly passed, and we got the downstairs cleaned up and ready to go.

We had a fun dinner and the following day headed to the fantastic town of Dol.   Mor Mor and Far Far did amazingly well on steep cobbled stone streets, and 2.5 miles to the old town.   Dol was fantastic, a step back in time, homemade local wine and cheeses, honey cakes, and church bells. The second day the sea suddenly lay flat, and so we headed to the beach for a fun day, followed by a long walk to Splitska (a neighboring town) for dinner and a star-filled night sky on the way home.

Maybe as they are here, I will get them to write a blog post!  Fun times for the next few weeks as these three generations get to enjoy the sea, sun, and history.  Off to olive picking today - we have to train up for the Second Annual World Championship in Olive Picking - coming to our little town in just over a week!

Mor Mor and Far Far! World travelers here to join us for a few weeks on our adventures!

As we waited, every car, every sound, they would open the door to see if it was really them!

Getting homework done before Mor Mor and Far Far get in town.

Last of the storm before that we were hoping would quickly pass before their arrival.

In the town of Dol looking back at the sea. This is a place of a huge underground spring that supported this and surrounding islands for centuries and the center of agriculture on the island.

Drinking from the heart of the city - the source of the water for this dry island.

Mor Mor enjoying the cool refreshing springs.

Girls checking out the old homes that then were used for shelter from storms and storage in the fields. The stones are soft here and the area is know for its masonry where the stones are cut and you never use any mortar to hold it together.

Checking out the gape vines ready for harvest.

Grapes everywhere!

More amazing history exploring this old town built on, in, with and next to the stones.

Headed home after a full, fun day eating fresh pomegranates.

Taking a break getting ready for dinner.

Having fun at dinner!

Never too big for mom’s lap!

Having fun in the sun and sea with the grandparents.

Mor Mor and Far Far enjoying the sea.

Fun at the sea!

Dinner number two. At this place they literally picked the veggies from the garden and took the meat and put it on this grill.

A beautiful night headed back to our home as the moon rises again.

Walking to dinner - little one was into getting family pictures.

The day we got flooded

Life seemed still, and perfect, and beautiful. Warm water swims off the deck, long runs, stunning views and then the wind came. Slowly at first and then all of a sudden out of nowhere, everything seemed to shift. The seas started to build, the restaurants took down their tables, and everyone ran inside. At first, the waves were small, and then they gradually grew higher and higher and higher. As you may have noticed from the last post, our house is very close to the water. By noon the waves were crashing on the side wall and threatening to hit the door. By one the first floor with our kitchen was flooded, and every new wave brought in more water and gifts from the sea. Seaweed, sand, and saltwater rolled in despite everything being completely closed up and towels under the doors. The third-floor windows got drenched with ocean spray through the storm shutters, and the whole house sounded like a machine as the air rushed through every crack the ancient building. We turned off the electricity as the water rolled in and hunkered down (and got caught up on the blog!). We used data to search if there was some evacuation warning but just high wind and lightning warnings. We will see if we can take the ferry tomorrow to get Traverse’s parents.

As I write, it is settling down a bit, and we have a mess to clean up downstairs. A big cold front is moving in and the temperatures are predicted to plummet for the foreseeable future. As it settled down, Traverse went out for a run, and said it was the most intense run of his life. At times he felt like he was running backwards with the wind pushing so hard against him, other times he was Husain Bolt being pushed along, always with the chance of ocean spray drenching him and the road.

It was a powerful reminder, watching this glass blue ocean turn into a wrecking ball, the power of nature and the unpredictably of life. Our plans change, we adjust and are grateful for the fact the floods that swamp us today are ones that can be mopped up tomorrow.

Right before we closed the storm door to seas were growing and starting to gain in height. This is from our kitchen.

The seas have started to settled back down here the following morning, but still a long way from the crystal blue of the day before.

During the storm the door screws came out from slamming back and forth as waves pounded the door.

A break in the storm, she went outside to feel the power of the storm. The sun is misleading, the wind gust reportedly were 50-90 mph.

Where wine runs in the streets - finding our new home

We each took turns planning different sections of this trip, I was in charge of Norway, Traverse was in charge of Croatia. With our busy life before, he really wanted to be near the beach and not move. Just be for a while, and so he found a place to rent on the island of Brac. It will be our home for a month, during which most of the time his parents will be visiting.

Brac is a short (just over an hour) ferry ride from Split, and our little town is another 5 miles or so from the ferry terminal. I really enjoyed Split, it was exciting and beautiful, but it also felt strained. I attributed it to a cultural change from Norway. There everyone has a more extensive personal bubble, in Split everyone was everywhere and honestly everyone seemed annoyed. You want to pay by credit card - big sigh; you don’t have a smaller bill for the ice-cream, big sigh, your kids just built a big sand castle - the teenage kids will run smash it if they want to play soccer there. (Ok quick side point on that - the girls were amazing with this one, instead of getting annoyed they quietly resisted. They built ankle spraining trenches along the walls of their fort, so if the big kids wanted to run toward their fortress, they had to do at their own risk. The younger kids noticed and hit behind the protection of the landmine fort, and our girls and their following toddler companions won out in the war over beach space as the teenage soccer players moved on to the water to play handball like everyone else leaving the little ones sand castle peace.)

I read “Chasing a Croatian Girl” to understand culturally better the difference, but then we got to Brac, and people smiled and answered a simple question, and I came to believe it must just be the difference between living and working a town overrun with tourist at the end of the busy season vs. the space and quiet of the island life.

Everywhere you go in this town there are grapes ready for harvests, olives sagging on trees and pomegranates bursting at the edges. A few nights ago as we were walking home, everything smelled like wine, and we realized it was literally flowing down the street. We later figured out they were cleaning wine barrels, but it just added to the mystery and appeal to this beautiful town. We are looking forward to our month in a new home on the Adriatic.

Enjoying our front “deck”

I can’t get enough of the view out of the upstairs bathroom. I clearly did not grow up around the ocean as I can’t believe the colors!

Our ferry to Brac. More of what I think of when I think “ferry” than the Hurtengrutin.

Loving the small old streets in town.

I have a feeling I will be taking a lot of pictures of these birds on our deck.

Little one made me dinner - fresh tomatoes with feta and flax seeds. She took a picture of it and it only added to its greatness.

Traverse going for a swim from our deck.

Ripe grapes in the setting sun.

Everyone is getting ready for the harvest.

Grapes getting ready to go in - at the beach later that day we saw a guy wash about 50 of these bags in the sea.

On a run out of town I came across this other small town. It reminded me of Nepal with the open cooking flames. Here a women was twisting meat on a stick and you could hear people singing in the hillside vineyards.

Beach after beach along the coast each with their own beauty.

More beauty at the end of the day.

Oh sweet girls, where will the future take you?

Donuts and beaches

We arrived at Split Croatia around eight am, but our new home would not be ready for some time. So we headed to the beach for a few hours. On the way our diver insisted on stopping at his favorite donut store, to welcome us to his homeland and, so that is how we found ourselves eating warm cream filled donuts on the beach of Croatia at 9 am. It was all a little surreal. As we sat at the beach it slowly started to fill with people, but instead of swimming, many just went into the water and stood there. At first, we really were not sure what was happening, dozens of mainly elderly Croatians were standing or floating in place as if waiting for something to happen. We later learned the sea to the people of Croatia is like the Sauna is to the people of the north: the magic that cures everything and they were there to heal. This was the start of what would be our next week and starting to learn the culture of Mediterranean.

Our new home in Split was a temporary affair, we had made one change late in the game leaving us a week in Split before our more extended house. Our new location was a 5-minute walk from the beach and about 2 miles from downtown. The ‘old town’ center of Split was beautiful. Built within an old Roman Empire Castle, the white stones and winding streets are like many great European cities where one can get lost in alleyways for hours. And while I have had the privilege of getting lost in alleys of history, it was a first for the rest of my family and seeing their expressions and joy exploring was priceless.

Split was full of food, beaches and time to reflect. It was also filled with odd contradictions. The first day we were there we ate at a cute little restaurant by the sea. They had beautiful garden boxes and a cat who lived in them. The place looked like it has been around for years attached to an ancient building, now used as a kitchen. It looked like a perfect piece of paradise, and then the black-hawk helicopter showed up. Armed forces with machine guns removed the whole eating deck as the owner raced to save the plants. Tourist and locals alike watched in their swimsuits, not sure what was going on and then just as quickly as they came, they left and then life went back to as it was before, standing in the ocean and playing handball. The next day, umbrellas were back up, and they were serving drinks as if nothing had happened. One day later the planters were back, and they were serving food. The Blackhawk kept passing overhead, but no one seemed to look up or give it a second glance. Reading (via google translator) the newspaper the next morning, it sounded like some issue over the improper flooring. I guess that is what happens when every generation can be born in the same town, yet with each new generation that city is a part of a different country. You just put your planters back up and keep moving on, Blackhawk overhead or not.

There was so much to see and do in Split, we got behind on almost everything, work, blog, homework. It was just too hard not to run one more mile, hang out at the beach one more hour, soak up one more sunset. There was also a vast cultural difference. I found the pace of our first week almost jarring and memorizing at the same time. Having a cup of coffee at a cafe in Croatia is a three-hour affair. People literally stand in the water for hours at a time and do nothing. I couldn’t help but laugh at this very laid back pace compared to my past life of super efficiency, “life hacks” and other ways to do more with less time. Seeing in my Facebook feed with adds like “most efficient workouts” or in my Audible account books like “Tools of Titans” it felt like these tips for a different planet, one that I vaguely remember, but that here seemed odd, and not quite understandable. Although I knew I had things I needed to do, I couldn't but help and just slowly sip a glass of wine and enjoy the sun slowly fill the stones with an evening glow.

Enjoying the beach, all….. day…. long

Welcome to Croatia!

Once you got tired of the water, time for chess. Look at the tans on those guys, that is some serious water time. We are not in Alaska any more!

Water engineering class.

Exploring old town

The bell town in the center of old town

Out along the peninsula are these amazing cave building and the church of “seven griefs”.

The cat enjoying his last day on the garden wall before the whole place was taken down.

Checking out the town on two wheels.

Headed home.

The layers of history.

Traverse needed a hair cut and we stopped by this old barber shop in town. It reminded me of my grandfathers place. The girls watched in amazement as his neck was trimmed with an open razor. The place was filled with guys catching up and the girls definitely picked up on the calendar on the wall.

Oh our way out to Brac. All packed up, with a full length float and a bottle of sunscreen added to the packs.

Passing through Finland

Leaving Norway, the sun shined brightly, and the fall colors were on full display making departing Norway just that much harder. Our flight to Croatia took us on an overnight layover in Helsinki Finland. Using the chance to see a bit more of the world, we took the train into downtown and then walked the last few kilometers to our hotel, grateful again for our small bags. The streets were packed, and the whole city had and edgy postmodern feel to it; a hipster, seafaring city vibe that felt all new, exciting and slightly sad all at the same time. Our hotel, designed like a shipping port was both luxurious, and industrial at the same time. We were directed to the “naughty burger” for dinner. Reportedly some famous chief won a bunch of awards and then opened this relatively inexpensive and noteworthy joint. Rainstorms came and went, and the little one (who was in charge of navigation) found our way to the best burger I have ever had in my life. Not sure what sort of magic was in the bacon jam, blue cheese, homemade roll, arugula thing he did with the signature burger, but it was good. Returning home the girls loved the luxury of a bubble bath, before our early flight the next morning.

The map on our wall. As the year moves on I have loved maps more and more. Just a beautiful ways to share what a place is, and so many different ways to do it.

The end of the train line, I thought I walked into Atlas Shrugged.

Little great traveling, making her way to our home for the night.

Ahh, the bubble bath!