2026 Zagreb, Croatia >  Vienna, Austria > Bari, Italy

Sunday August 31

On the one hand we sit at the gate comfortably early, having breezed through check-in and security. On the other hand we sit at the gate wondering if we could have done anything differently to maximize the use of our time and not have to waste four hours waiting for our flight to leave. At different times, having been the beneficiary of perfect timing and also the victim of poorly timed decisions, we agree this is the better side of the options, but still there is something sucky about sitting in an airport just waiting for an eventual boarding call. I think we are the first people present for our flight, arriving at the gate early enough that the mob forming what passes for a boarding queue are waiting for the flight parked at our gate before ours even arrives! We settle in for the wait, each scattering to procure whatever snacks and beverages they need for this time.
So, what are we doing? A couple of months ago I saw that Judas Priest had announced a European tour and quickly glanced at the locations. Rewind back to 2022 when El and I lived in Bari, Italy for two months. It was a great experience, for sure, but we were just barely coming out of the Covid-era and even though we were able to navigate society with relative ease, it would be a mischaracterization to say that everything was opened up and back to “normal”. Now, Bari, from my research, is not exactly a metropolis that would expect to find its way onto many tour itineraries, but being close enough to Covid, even the bands that would play there, weren’t. Mostly it was Italian bands that played there anyway, but even they weren't playing there. It wasn't for missed opportunities, there just weren't any during that time. That said, I had to do a double take when the city of Bari showed on the current roster of Judas Priest concert dates. I asked El if she would consider the idea of visiting Bari once again and of course I had barely gotten the proposal from my mouth before she had signed on. It didn't take but a few minutes for us to start considering the possibility of hitting one of the Balkan countries and heading into Bari from the east- possibly by boat. It took a few days to hash out a plan that included the first couple of days in Zagreb, the next few in Austria, since getting to Bari is easier from Vienna than from Zagreb. As things started to fall into place, the more exciting it was becoming. Eventually, as we discussed our plans with friends, the prospects of traveling and maybe seeing a band that ordinarily would not be on any one of their itineraries, was sounding intriguing and they asked to get in on the trip before the planning stages had passed the point of no further inclusion. Before I knew it, I was buying five tickets for Judas Priest at the Fiera Del Levante in Bari, Italy! The next step was buying plane tickets. No direct flights from New York to Zagreb, so after plugging in several options we booked our flight to Zagreb via Munich which posed its own challenge. If you were making that trip what would you do? There is option one with a 1h30m stopover or option two with a 5 hour stopover. I took into consideration that we do not check bags, and that we were buying two leg ticket on the same airline that would see us arrive and leave from the same terminal without having to meet luggage before passport control. But, still 90 minutes is not a long time when you factor in weather delay possibilities or arriving behind three full flights of people forming the line under the “non-EU passport” sign at immigration. Against my better judgement I chose the 90 minute stopover rather than the 5 hour, mid-trip rest in the Munich airport seats. My palms have been sweating since I clicked “purchase”. Did I make the right decision? Would the others be OK with my decision? What if there was a passport issue with one of us…or all of us? I suppose all of us having a problem, at least we would all be in the same boat to decide how to move forward, but what if it was only one or two of us that needed more than 90 minutes to get through immigration? Then what? I expressed my trepidation to El a couple of weeks before our jaunt, and she immediately began researching things like “immigration and passport control at Munich Airport”, “is 90 minutes enough time to get to a connecting flight”, and “what are the options if you miss a connecting flight” and immediately, the comments actually started making me feel better! So, it turns out that the European Union is rolling out a new passport control program called ESS. where the premise is that the system will collect biometric information from all visitors which will essentially make the process faster each time more information is collected. Basically, fingerprints, passport scan, and facial scan are what they are compiling and then next time you enter or leave the system, with all of that information in the database, you should be able to breeze through by just looking at the camera. There’s probably more to it, but that seems to be the goal. You still have to stop at the immigration booth, but they already have most of the information they need to speed the process and get you on your way. One of the comments that El had found was someone saying she had a 90 minute stopover and got through passport control with enough time to get to her gate, go to the bathroom, and quietly enjoy a cup of coffee before the first boarding announcements were even made and not to sweat it. The Europeans are on the cusp of making the worst aspects of international travel much more streamlined and user friendly and I was quietly banking on their process. Once you get off the plane you have to head to a kiosk and scan your passport, the screen then tells you to proceed to passport control booths. We were through in 20 minutes, though it appeared that some of the people with checked luggage were confused about when to collect bags vs when to see the agents. I wasn’t going to let that worry me as we didn’t check any bags. Our flight from Munich to Zagreb is completely uneventful and an hour later we are touching down in a new country for us. Our plane arrives between 1:00-2:00pm. We are told the options for getting to the hostel are taxi, shuttle bus, Uber, or a public bus/tram combo that could be our opportunity to figure out how the public transit system works, and do it at a fraction of the cost of the other options. It’s about a 20 minute wait for the next bus, though being Sunday, it might have been more regular during a weekday. We are all tired, achy, in need of showers, and now standing in the sweltering heat of the plexiglass bus stop. This gives us additional time to review our directions once we get to the city center as we know we will have to transfer to a tram at the end of the bus line. It takes a few minutes to figure things out, but the bus arrives as expected. There are few of us on the bus and we are not sure which stop to get off. We know it is the end of the line, we just aren't sure which stop that is. Once we hit the stop though, the driver gets out of his seat and goes to exit the bus through the front doors, he looks back and sees us and gives us the “end of the line” gesture. We find ourselves on the sidewalk, following directions to the closest tram stop. The directions are spot on and within minutes we are checking in at the hostel. Carol and Bill have decided to stay at the same place as us for Zagreb, which makes it easy. Our rooms are ready and we all check in at the Stay Swanky Hostel. We all take our first minutes in town to shower and rest up before exploring the neighborhood on our first afternoon. We have a walking tour set for tomorrow morning and it makes sense to find the meeting spot. Turns out the main square is only a few blocks from the hostel, so it takes only minutes to find our spot. Next up, I need to find an ATM at a bank branch. While, I think in America, most ATM machines are indoors, in Europe, it is not uncommon for the bankomats, as they call them, to look outdated, without a bank’s name, and have it freestanding at someplace that doesn’t look so savory. I find a bank off the square and take a withdrawal. However, I hit a snag since the ATM does not ask me which account I want to take it out of (checking or savings) and once the cash is dispensed, I am on a mission to figure it out to prevent overdraft issues later on in the trip. Turns out there is a metal bar about 50 meters from the ATM and we walk up to Valhalla. 

I walk in to check it out, passing a few sidewalk tables on the way in. As I move from the front bar towards the back of the bar, there is a room with tables in the back, but I am immediately struck by the thickness of the cigarette smoke in the air. The front room smells of stale smoke, but in the back room, the cloud is thick. It is times like these that give me an appreciation for how needed the anti-smoking laws were needed. Being a non-smoker since those laws went into effect it takes moments like these to realize what side of that argument I would have been on. Nonetheless, I make the suggestion that we grab a seat at the outside table even though there are no speakers outside to allow for us to enjoy the music. But the beer is cheap at 3.5€ per pint, cold, and drinkable. We are already getting the sense that Zagreb, the city center at least, is not a very big area, making everything within walking distance...we just have to find it. We need to start thinking about dinner. Today, we settled on strukli at a place called La Struk which is just a few blocks from where we sit. Strukli is a traditional Croatian pastry made of thin, hand-stretched dough filled with a savory or sweet mixture of fresh cottage cheese, sour cream, and eggs. Not knowing the size or just how filling the dish is going to be- we play it safe. We order two for the table of five of us. We order one from the savory side (plain) and one from the sweet side (apple and cinnamon). Depending on the place, it takes between 20-30 minutes to bake a strukli, so they made sure we were OK with the wait. They arrive looking like lasagna made in shallow bread loaf pans. The waiter, sensing our novice status with the dish, recommends that we let them both sit for at least five minutes to allow the cheese to set, otherwise every cut piece would result in what was left behind in the crock to ooze into the negative space. We heed the advice and slice each strukli into five equal slices so that we each could sample a sweet and a savory example and decide if we wanted more while we were here. Everyone likes what they ate, I preferred the apple version to the plain version, but nothing was labeled a failure. 

I probably don’t need to order it again, but would certainly not turn down the chance to help someone else finish theirs in lieu of taking leftovers to go. Off to a good start as we are in town for a total of 3 hours and we are already checking off food places and watering holes. Today is Sunday and it turns out most museums are closed on Mondays, so we will have to keep that in mind for tomorrow. We are all tired and will probably make it an early night. We start heading back to the room, making a detour and pit stop at a corn on the cob cart. No butter, just salt. Char grilled, but even though it looked great, it was obviously grilled quite awhile ago, and was cold and starchy. Easy to carry and eat, but not very tasty or palatable. I ate half before deciding to use my calories elsewhere and tossing it. We stop at a rooftop bar called Out, near the hostel for a nightcap. It takes us about eight seconds to know this is not exactly the place for us. With drink menu names like ‘Pussy Power’ and ‘Panty Dropper’, it seems like more of a younger crowd kind of place. Our waitress disappears and so do we. We move on to the rooftop bar at the hostel and cash in our free shot coupons that we received at check-in. It is a local schnapps type drink called rakija that comes in a cherry or herbal variety. I opt for the cherry flavored, višnjevac, which they say has less alcohol content than the herbal one called travarica. It’s not too strong, but does taste like Robutussin cough syrup. It is tasty enough, but without a piece of chocolate cake, one is enough. I also get a gin and tonic, but everyone is visibly fading and I am not sure I will even finish it. We plan our morning meet up and all go our separate ways for the evening.

Monday September 1

After breakfast at the hostel we go back to the room to get our stuff for the day. We regroup on the sidewalk and while we wait, Lisa and I head across the street to buy a coffee and a bottle of water. I could have bought my water at the coffee shop, but it’s half the price at the tobacco shop next door. At this hour the clerk scoffs at my 20€ note and demands coins. Luckily, I have the amount in my ziplock bag that doubles as a change purse. As I order my coffee I see “kava s mlijekom”. Croatian is an eastern european language that uses the latin alphabet, but most words are not recognizable to us as English speakers. But, what I am noticing is how much I do recognize from Russian. Certainly, not enough to converse, but it comes in helpful when I spot the cognate and know I am ordering coffee with milk. We head for the meeting spot for our walking tour. As typical, I arrive way too early and find ourselves walking around, exploring the area that we will probably be walking on the tour. We make our way through the farmers market that reminds me of Ukraine where every stand is selling practically the same things, with very little deviation. After checking out the market and walking around the block, the tour is about to start and we head to the meeting point. Our guide’s name is Darko and he is one of the better guides I have had in recent memory. As usual, he is a local resident who is very proud of his country, city, and it’s history and it shows in the way he presents his tour. Over the course of the next two hours, the tour hits the highlights of the downtown area and most of it is in the upper town. The city has an upper town and a lower town which are separated by a reasonably steep hill that can easily be walked in either direction, though I wouldn’t want to do it in the icy winter! During the tour we pass by some of the spots we saw last night and get better explanations of things we didn’t even realize we passed. 

As the tour progresses, Darko tells us that he will be periodically checking his watch as he has a surprise stop at a specific time…noon. At about 11:50 we find ourselves passing the Museum of Broken Relationships and see that it is open today! We make a mental note that since most museums are closed today we should probably knock this off the list while we are in this part of town. The tour ends a few steps later as Darko tells us that at exactly noon we will witness a daily occurrence as a cannon will fire from the watchtower that we stand at the foot of. The tour does not go up the tower, but we are told that you can pay to climb the tower and be rewarded with one of the best views in the city. We make another mental note. Darko keeps a countdown and tells us at 11:59 that he will announce the one minute mark, the 30 second mark, and ten seconds, but that there will be no further countdown. We are encouraged to break out earplugs if we have them or plug ears with fingers at the very least as the blast is military level volume. We get the 10 second mark and mentally count the next 10 until, right on cue, the cannon in the window blasts to alert the city of the top of the noon hour. I can’t remember if the noontime marking had any other significance (like telling businesses when to open or offices to close for lunch or anything), but it does signal the end of our tour. Darko has a prepared list of recommendations of several things like bars and restaurants that he offers up for photos before we break. He also mentions along the way that if we would like more detailed information about some of the sites that he gave cursory remarks about, that are related to the wars that Croatia was involved in, he runs a war and history walking tour that is scheduled for later today at 3:00pm. The five of us confer and agree that there is interest for four of us and we press Darko for details before heading off to visit the Museum of Broken Relationships. Turns out you pay at the end of the tour, so, even though we are verbally committing now, it’s not like we lose a deposit if something better comes up in the meantime. During our lead up to this trip, El and I did a bit of research to find out what others were saying in regards to things to do in Zagreb. In addition to reading travel bloggers, we have also begun to watch vlogger episodes on YouTube. While both have their pros and cons, only one is good for watching while we eat appetizers before Saturday dinner. It begins to give us a visual for the place we are travelling to, but in reality it is not like we remember most of the stuff presented or visited, but it at least plants seeds for us to consider. One of the universally recommended spots in the city is the Museum of Broken Relationships- it’s also an entry in the Atlas Obscura that we consult before any travel we do. I don’t remember much of what was said specifically about the museum, but I do remember most characterizing it as a must see when in Zagreb- I do believe the most popular museum moniker may have been used for it as well. With all of the praise heaped upon it, this was a no-brainer for us. I admit that I was a bit surprised to see and hear Carol and Bill’s not casual, but adamant rejection of a visit to said museum. To each their own, I suppose, I was just taken by the staunch dismissal of a place none of us knew all that much about. As it were, Lisa, El, and I head to the museum and arrange to meet up with Bill and Carol afterwards. Not knowing exactly what to expect, it didn’t take long for any thoughts we had to go out the window- replaced by the reality of the contents of the museum. As you walk into the exhibit space you learn that this started off as a relatively small art project that toured parts of the world and as people would see the exhibit, they would offer to add their own story to the contents. For the most part, it looks like most other museums of objects (as opposed to art hanging on the wall), most items were displayed in plexiglass boxes. I approach the first box, well lit, sitting on a pedestal at chest height. In the box, is what appears to be, a broken, make that a very broken, cellular phone. Not an iPhone, but a straight-out-of-20-years-ago Motorola cell phone. On the right side of the pedestal is a narrative written in both English and Croatian. It gives a title, the city that the donor lives in, and a few paragraph description of what we are looking at. This one read- basically, that an ex-boyfriend, upon their breakup, had given the donor this particular phone, his cell phone, so that she could never call him again! At the same time funny in its cleverness and sad in its illustration of how a relationship can end with that level of acrimony. It is unclear if he gifted the phone in better condition that was then trounced by the bitter giftee, or if the phone destruction was an added level of bitterness handed to his ex-girlfriend. Either way, the phone was destroyed and today sits in a lightbox highlighting the final disappointment in a relationship that ultimately did not work out for whatever reason. As you make your way around the rooms you realize that they are not all boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife splits, not by a longshot. Some are funny- specifically, the person who wrote a breakup letter to a box of pizza flour breaking off their lifelong relationship after a recent gluten allergy diagnosis. Some were sad- like a record. It looked like any other vinyl record and without the story next to it, it’s just a piece of junk. But the story gave it a life unlike any other specific record. The donor’s grandfather was an aspiring opera singer in the early 1900’s. He was then drafted into a war and before leaving, went to a studio and recorded himself singing an operatic piece to his girlfriend, that he gifted to her before shipping off. While he eventually returned home after the war, he suffered a wartime injury to his throat that would prevent him from ever singing again. Even though he and the girlfriend broke up, she held onto the recording for her entire life and when she passed away, her family gifted the piece of vinyl back to his family who then donated it to the museum as an example of loves lost and taken away. While others were downright heartwrenching to the point that you could hear muted sobbing as people quietly filed past exhibits so you either knew what was upcoming, or could relate if you had already seen the stop. A most memorable was donated by the sister who went grocery shopping with her brother who didn’t know what ginger was, but needed to buy it for his recipe. They bought the ginger together. The next day, the brother was a passenger in the sister’s car when he was killed in a car accident and while she lives with the guilt of her role in his death every day, weeks later she found the withered piece of never used ginger at the bottom of her refrigerator and donated it to underscore one of the most heartbreaking broken relationships we would see all day. One was a real estate lawn sign, you know, the ones that realtors plant on the lawn of a house for sale. Well, according to the story, (let’s say the real estate firm was Jack-Jill Realtors) the donor was married to Mr. Jack who then wound up leaving her to pursue a relationship with Ms. Jill, his business partner. So, the last thing she wanted to see in her garage was a bunch of these signs that advertise “for sale” to everyone else, but remind her of the person her husband left her for. You could imagine the rage and anger when presented with a VHS tape of a wedding that had been smashed with a rock, shot by a gun, run over by a car, and melted by flame, before being donated by a family whose evil stepmother prevented proper end of life care for their terminally ill father in order to preserve her inheritance to the point that zero of his family members attended his funeral just to avoid his wife. 

After the museum, we rendezvous with Bill and Carol and head off to find beer. Sadly, we will quickly learn that most places either do food or drink, but not both. I mean, you can still get a beer in a pizza restaurant, but when you go to a bar, a kitchen is not a thing. So, we pivot to find food instead of diving right into the drinking. We find ourselves at Nokturno, a place with pizza and strukli...but they also have beer, so we eat and drink until we need to meet the next walking tour at 3:00pm. The pizza is decent and afterwards we head straight for the tour which also meets at the city square like this morning’s tour. Bill has decided not to join the tour and heads off to occupy himself while the other four of us join it. The group is about 20 and this is called the War Tour with a focus on the history of Yugoslavia and its country components from 1914 to 1995. Our guide, Darko, from this morning is the guide on this tour as well. He tells us right off that since he was born in 1992 that he has a perspective that differs from a lot of his fellow countrymen. The tour lasts about 2½ hours and there is very little overlap from the tour this morning. He is engaging, concise, and informative, but not too much so. It’s a very good balance. We see statues of people important to Croatia’s history and hear stories about their untimely demise, in most cases. If we learned one thing from the tour it was do not ride in a convertible car if you are a politician as it will probably not end well for you. We saw places where important buildings used to stand before they were burned down. One place that was kind of interesting was Grič Tunnel, a pedestrian tunnel that runs underneath the historic neighborhood of Grič. 

Built during World War II, the tunnel was originally intended to serve as a bomb shelter and transport link through the hill of Gornji Grad. It measures 350 meters long and up to 5.5 meters wide, connecting Mesnička and Stjepan Radić Streets. The war ended before the project was completed, so there were some parts of the design that went unrealized. Darko tells that they have Christmas markets inside in wintertime and they even had a rave that was locally legendary. For the most part it seems like just a shortcut from one street to another. The tour ends with us being led to a downstairs room that is sparsely decorated with some specific photographs and artifacts that Darko was able to describe and tell stories about. Eventually, the group is asked to sit and watch a video that ended with a poignant documentary style film that described the fight for Croatian independence. As the film finished you could really feel the emotion Darko was feeling and trying to communicate to us. It is a time that I will admit to knowing very little about and it is tours like this that help me to understand some of the world history that didn't get the attention in my nightly news that it most probably deserved. As we walk through the streets with Darko, I spot a bar on my list called Alcatraz. After the tour we need to meet up with Bill. The four of us head to Alcatraz and sit with the drink menu as we text him the address. The music is not what I am expecting in a rock and roll bar. I think I heard a cover of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” at one point. Not a bad song in general, but not a rock and roll song by a longshot. We start perusing the menu and the banner reads “Confusion Bar”. The door says Alcatraz, but also Confusion. I am confused alright. What is going on? I speak with the server and ask if this is Confusion or Alcatraz, and if it is Alcatraz, where are the rock tunes I was expecting? He explains…there are two Alcatraz bars. One is a dance club that opens at midnight and is located downstairs from where we sit. The second is a dive bar that plays heavy metal and is located across town...and probably the one I want. I concur. He finds the alternate bar on my Google Map and we set off to find it. It doesn’t take too long for us to walk there. Sadly the music sucks here too. We are the only people in the bar as we order our beer from the nice bartender. “Can we change the music to a better station,” I ask, only to be shot down as this is what the owner wants played during these hours, but later the music will get heavier. “No exception could be made for the only people in the bar?” I ponder. “No, I am afraid”, he replied. So am I dude, so am I! As we sit, El realizes she left her phone back at Confusion Bar and she and Lisa retrace their steps to retrieve it. Carol leaves to meet Bill realizing some of these street addresses are a bit tricky to find even with Google Maps. Once we are retrieved and regrouped we drink our bottles of beer. This place is rated a bust, save the friendly bartender, so I find another place on my list that I hope will trump this one. It’s called A’e Bar. We follow the directions, but wind up in what can only be described as a residential neighborhood. With no signs to act as a beacon as we make our way up the street. Only an address as we pass apartment building after apartment building. We find the address we are looking for and there is a sandwich board set up in the doorway assuring us we have actually found a commercial spot amongst the residential expanse. The place is described as a “rooftop bar with one of the best views of the city" We walk down the hallway presented with a door on the left, a door on the right, and stairs leading down. None look particularly telling as to what we will find shall we continue in any direction. I try to open door number one and it is locked. Door number two is now my guess for the path leading to a "rooftop" bar. However, door two is also locked. With our only options to abort mission, knock on either door, we opt for the third which is to follow the downward steps. Once at the bottom of the flight a quick look around reveals a waitstaff carrying a tray of drinks and a terrace with an almost capacity crowd all enjoying their libations with a view overlooking the city below! We have indeed found the “rooftop” bar we were looking for and if you look at it this way if two buildings are constructed on the side of a hill, one building is going to be above the other, so essentially we entered through the upper building and walked down to the rooftop of the lower building, so it turns out all perspectives were correct at this moment, in this space. The place is bustling, with a high top with 5 seats the only empty spot in the place. We grab a seat and order our drinks. I get a gin & raspberry cocktail and it is very good, though I probably won’t need a second. El and Lisa take some photos and we enjoy our drinks. Eventually I ask for the check and our waitress who returns with the bill, but also standing alongside the bartender. In addition to the credit card machine her tray is carrying five shots. She explains as she sets the shots in front of each of us that this is complimentary drink of slivovitz actually made by the bartender's grandfather. While this sort of thing would never fly in America (consuming homemade alcohol in a bar) I smile and brace myself for what I expect I will not appreciate. Slivovitz, if you don’t know, is a grappa-like alcohol made from distilled plums and I find it incredibly unpleasant. Not wanting to offend, I drink the shot, wince as expected and muster a smile of thanks. We pay and agree we probably should make our next stop a food stop. We had gotten a recommendation earlier in the day from Darko of a Croatian restaurant called Stari Fjallah. It is around the corner from the hostel and we find it with no issues. We walk into the mostly empty room and ask if he has room for five of us. He grimaces and tells us that tonight is only open for reservations and since we don’t have one maybe we would like to make one for tomorrow? Knowing we have plans for tomorrow, we decline and agree to press on. We agree to wander with our eyes out for a food place. About a block away from the hostel, we found it! As we walk into Gablaona, we see an order cook running a one-man show behind a fry grill. It takes a few minutes for us to figure out the menu and we get a couple of cherapi. The owner, Borlan, has a great personality and chides us for ordering only a small sandwich- the kids size, he called it. I think it was as big as my head. The food is perfect drunk food- though we are not, it totally hits the spot. We end the night once again at the bar in the hostel, a convenient last stop and we are all back at the room by 11pm, with plans for meeting in the morning.

Tuesday September 2

We meet at 8am, with the first stop being coffee across the street at Ziggy’s, followed by a stop at a bakery for a croissant. We have dinner reservations tonight, so I need to plan my food intake wisely today. We map out our first stop, the Mirogoj Cemetery which is a short bus ride, but way too far for my interest to walk. The bus rides are .53 cents each way which is obviously the most economical way to get around. We find and get into the cemetery with minimal delay. As expected, unless you are Croatian, you probably won’t know even the most famous of those interred here. The closest for us is the German architect who designed the Cologne cathedral as well as St. Mary’s church here in Zagreb. Beyond that, there are past presidents and popular culture figures whose names are no more than random family names chiseled onto the plot’s stone. The cemetery is supposed to have 100,000 graves with upwards of 300,000 interments. However, besides the sheer size of the place, the grounds are considerably underwhelming. I am frankly, a little surprised at the praise it gets in the literature that got us to visit, maybe we will have better luck in Vienna later in the week? We actually stay longer than I thought we would for a place that wasn’t meeting my expectations. We grab the bus back into the center and split up for our next stop. Lisa, El and I go to the Croatian Museum of Naïve Art. I had heard about this museum while watching Rick Steves explain that sometime in the 1940’s or 1950’s, some peasant farmers were creating art during the winter months while waiting for the next farming season. They didn’t have materials that other artists had, so they used the materials they could and painted what they knew. This resulted in some somewhat crudely painted farming scenes applied to glass instead of canvas. Some of them painting on both sides of the glass resulting in a somewhat 3D effect. Not all were on glass but some of the most vibrant ones were. The museum was only four rooms and only included a fraction of the collection- which seemed strange- though maybe not all naïve art is as good as this? It was a great overview of the Folk Art (or Naïve Art) movement that was eventually exhibited in Paris and gained immediate popularity for its novelty and subject matter. It was small but worth checking out. 

El, Lisa, and I want to take the funicular, well more specifically, El wants to take the funicular and Lisa and I want to humor her. This is one of the world's shortest funiculars at 66 meters, costs .66 cents, and runs for 64 seconds. It goes about every 10 minutes and connects the upper and lower town. We arrive at the top and begin to wait. Not necessarily in a rush, and finding ourselves at the foot of the canon tower across the cobblestone street, that we heard you can climb to experience one of the best views of the city, we step forward to investigate. As some tourist looking folks exit, we approach. It gives us an expectation that we will find what we are looking for beyond the door. It only costs 3€ to climb and we start our ascent on the extremely narrow spiral stairs. They are creaky, wooden steps, but not in a state of disrepair. The issue that you run into is that you cannot see the top from the bottom or viceversa, meaning that it is not uncommon for ascenders and descender to meet mid-flight and having to negotiate the options of passing very carefully or to have one direction backtrack to let the other continue forward. I am a firm believer in the most equitable option- the pass. If they want to backtrack, they are more than welcome and I am not going to complain, but if there is any expectation of me retracing the steps from whence I came, they would have another thing coming. I was able to negotiate the midstair pass with one couple as we both held our inhaled breaths collectively and carefully slid past each other with no space to spare, while two others opted to turn themselves around to let me continue onward- their choice, not my expectation. We make it up to the top and exit the tower onto the observation deck. While I agree this may be the highest view in the city, I am not sure I would characterize it as the “best view of the city,” solely due to the fact that the view is mostly just roofs of the buildings below, which, of course is what you expect, but the concentration of buildings below give more the illusion of a blanket of shingles than a birds eye view of the interesting features of parks and landmarks below. We are able to spot St. Mark’s church nearby and get a couple of pictures using it as our backdrop. I guess for 3€ it was worth it, but I would not have wanted to pay more. 

Once we descend, exiting to the street, we are in front of the funicular which is just about ready to depart. We grab the last three seats on this run and begin our 64 second journey imminently. The car has about 10 passengers and is incredibly hot, leading us to remark that we are glad the trip did not last any longer than it did. The others concur. We call Bill and Carol who have been relaxing in a park after their museum experience. Our next group stop is the Museum of Illusions, but we decide to meet up first and head to the museum together. Our options usually come down to café, food, or bar. At this point the café wins and we tell them to start making their way towards us and that we would message them with the place we find when we find it. As we walk past Vicek...it’s as if our names are printed on the sign. A gelato/dessert shop that sells coffee fits the bill perfectly. I am generally not a fan of gelato, though I don’t necessarily actively turn it down- I’d rather eat it and complain than to go without. If and when I do find myself confronted with a gelato case I do try to choose a flavor that I am unlikely to get elsewhere, today’s pick it pecan. The flavor is decent, the consistency reminds me what I generally dislike about the dessert. Nonetheless, the coffee is decent and we rendezvous with Carol and Bill, adjourning to The Museum of Illusions directly. For some reason I was a little surprised when Bill and Carol said they were interested, but here we were arriving as a group. We find the museum easily, as it is only a few doors down from our hostel- though we didn’t know that when we set off to find it. It’s not a big place, with only a handful of exhibits- but boy did we have fun. Each station was a different optical illusion, some you just admire, while others are more interactive. After we pay the 12€ entrance fee, we are confronted with a stern warning sign that reads something to the effect of “keep your hands on the railings at all times as you enter the tunnel!” A little confused, we are standing at the end of a short tunnel, maybe 20 feet long, all black floor, walls, ceiling. We just have to make our way from here, walk 20 feet to the other side and exit, right? I think I can handle that- railings or not. Whatever. I hold the hand rail anyway and step inside the tunnel. Immediately, projections light up the walls and ceiling and begin rotating, instantly disorienting the walker and within a second or two you understand the importance of the handrail holding. The projections make you experience a vertigo-like feeling and I could easily see how those without the railing stability could fall right off of the walkway. As I made my way through, I relished the feeling for the moments I was in there, but as you can imagine, others did not experience the same thrill that I did. As Carol walked behind me, in addition to the railing she needed a visual focus and as I was wearing all black, the glow of my white socks under the blacklight projections was the only stability she could muster. Once we made it though the tunnel there were about ten illusions in the next room. An exhibit card besides the name, explained how the illusion worked, why it worked, and in some cases, how to maximize your experience or photos. Some things we had seen before, like wiggle pictures or a room that makes one person look dwarf to the other’s giant stature, while others were new to us, like the sideways picture, or an infinity light box. As a group we cannot figure out the sideways picture and I have to ask the clerk to explain it, though she does way better and begins directing us individually where to go and how to get into position. She collects our phones and takes several pictures of us acting goofy. 

We all make our way through the two floors of the museum and agree it was a fun stop. While I wait for the group in the gift shop, all of a sudden my poor sleep last night catches up with me in a matter of seconds and I feel like I could fall asleep on my feet at any second. I call El and explain that I am going to leave and head back to the room for some much needed sleep and that I would meet her at the room before leaving for dinner as a group. I wind up sleeping solidly for two hours straight and wake in better shape than when I went down! As arranged, we meet and get changed for dinner and head out for the evening. We have reservations at a restaurant called Pod Zidom, which we have passed a couple of times in our wandering, so we know that we don’t need to take a train or taxi to get there as it’s only a couple of blocks from the hostel. We arrive at 5:45 for a 6:00 reservation and they are clearly not ready for us (they open at 6:00). The staff are still in street clothes before changing into the waitstaff finest. Though we offer to wait outside, we are seated, but told that the staff would be with us as soon as they can. We are fine. I start my meal with an old fashioned which is OK, but I think a little heavy handed on the simple syrup by the bartender. I start my meal with a bowl of gazpacho. Not Croatian cuisine, but it was really quite excellent. Next up is an order of tuna tartare. A timbale of minced, raw tuna and cucumber, accented with fermented horseradish. Quite tasty and refreshingly chilled. For entree I get an order of beef cheeks that were slow cooked and practically fall apart as you go to cut them with a fork. It is served with a potato dumpling that I forgo as I begin to fill up and don’t want to ruin my chances of enjoying a dessert should others feel the same. Next is the salad course. A standard green salad, but the condiments include Istrian olive oil and a fig vinegar which provide a wonderful dressing for the simple greens. As expected, most get a dessert and I opt for the housemade raspberry ice cream. An excellent end to an excellent dinner. The consensus is that this was a good pick. After dinner, we are not ready to head back to the room yet, so we go back to Valhalla again, sitting outside because it is too smoky inside, which sucks because, by all accounts, this is a great place for me to enjoy the music while I drink my beer with my friends (though I can’t say that these friends would necessarily appreciate the tunes as much as me). Everyone seems to be in different states of tiredness, so we call it a night and head back to the hostel for a nightcap at the bar there, giving Carol the opportunity to head to bed while the rest of us have one last wind down.

Wednesday September 3

Our last day in Zagreb. With few items left on the list, to do, we are going to do the “horseshoe” which is a ¾ square of parks and open spaces that, when you look on a map, sort of form a, you guessed it, horseshoe. There are a couple of museums, the botanical garden, and the train station along the route that we will need for tomorrow. We agree to meet a little later to start, 8:30. Mostly because the minimum opening time on the route is 9:00am, we don't need to be there too early. We convene in front of Ziggy’s, the coffee shop across the street for what has become our routine. There is a bakery next door allowing us to get a coffee and pastry to go. We start with the botanical gardens which opens at 9:00am. On the way we see a very large vertical sundial, that, while impressively big, upon post-visit research, is not the world's largest, but certainly impressive in size to the point that it probably ranks somewhere on the list. We also pass the National Theater, but have no intention of seeing a show or taking a tour. There are a couple of other buildings housing museums and/or government departments. We arrive to the gardens before we know it, as this side of the horseshoe is only a few long blocks. The entrance is only 2€ and, just like other gardens, it’s mostly self-explanatory. Walk the path, read the descriptions, admire the flora, repeat. As we enter, much of the vegetation lining the paths seem dead or dying, or at least not very well cared for. I mean, a palm tree with dead fronds are a bit sad to admire. Maybe there is a botanical reason for leaving the plants to wither like this, but I don’t know about that. It doesn’t take me long to decide that sitting in the shade, journaling, while the others go to make the most of their time here, is the best use of my time. Just like yesterday at the cemetery though, it takes only a short time for me to be attacked by mosquitoes and I find myself scratching my bite filled legs more than actually typing. I also find myself hoping the others get bored soon to want to leave as an inside museum would be better for my legs at this point. Once we regroup at the end of the botanical garden, we decide to head off to the Nikola Tesla museum. It is not much more than a few blocks from where we are. It turns out to be the Technical Museum that comprises much of the history of technical theory, invention, not just of Tesla, though he was one component. The museum is relatively large and there is a lot of information for those who want it. The exhibit cards are in English and Croatian, but it becomes apparent quickly that you are going to be getting a lot of information with each station presenting a card that could take minutes to get through. After a couple of stops you start to realize that you are going to be here all day or longer if you don't start skipping to the highlights. Even then you have to start making decisions based on the titles of the display as to whether you are even going to stop here at all. Once you find something a little interesting, you read a few before moving on. There were features of all types of technology, from telegraph to computers, diesel engines to space craft, windmills to turbines, solar energy to nuclear reactors. Again, it was a lot and if you were interested in any of it, you would enjoy the museum. I grow bored after awhile and head to the theater to watch a film about Nikola Tesla, which allows me to sit and learn about a guy I don't know much about. Sadly the film is narrated in Croatian and has limited subtitling, so even the film isn’t all that interesting. At the end of the film the group is ready to press on with the five of us expressing five different levels of interest with the stop. Bill pointed out a good observation, in that it was like they had a bunch of exhibits that either didn’’t fit in other museums and needed a home, or they just didn’t know how to curate them. Ranging from thumbs down to two thumbs way up. Ultimately that makes it a worthy stop and needs to be capped with a stop at a nearby spot for either coffee or beer. I have a place called Kravi Put which is just up the street from the museum. It is listed as a dive bar and for coffee and pizza- it’s unclear if it is a coffee place or a beer place. Turns out that it’s both, but while they do not serve any food, they do invite you to get food across the street and bring it back. I order my coffee and then I run across the street for the easiest thing, a couple slices of pizza that I bring back to share. This is a really divy place even for a metal bar, but since we are all drinking coffee, this has to be the world's grungiest café! We don’t stay for more than one coffee. On the way to the next stop El finds a post office to grab stamps she needs- just a quick pitstop on our way to the Museum of Chocolate. Well, this place is everything you ever wanted to know about chocolate and more...a lot more. As we paid our entrance fee, we are presented with our “tickets” which is a small, pencil-case sized, cardboard box.

They explain that there are seven compartments inside and that as you walk through the museum rooms you will be reading (and hearing) about chocolate from its earliest cultivation 3500 years ago to modern industrialization of processing. As you go through and learn, at points you will notice eating points, where you will open to the corresponding compartment and eat the contents to get a sense of what they are explaining in the exhibit. The box does come with a warning that the first compartment is extremely bitter and most people find it displeasurable, but that as you move through the years and developments of processing, the flavors will improve. True to form, we make our way through the displays and the ticket box before heading upstairs to last section. There is a window looking into a live kitchen where a worker is working chocolate, a few resting tables and chairs, and a tasting station. The last compartment of the ticket box is a wooden spoon that you can fill with liquid chocolate- dark, milk, and white varieties. You can eat as much of it as you want and you can mix them as you wish. All in all a pretty clever museum experience. After all the chocolate, we are ready for beer. I map out our way to Beertija Klub. Greeted by a lifesize statue of Joe Strummer as we enter the rock and roll garden. We walk past busts of John Lennon, Lemmy Kilmister, and Amy Winehouse. We get ourselves seated next to the lifesize sculpture of the Ramones’ similar to the first record cover, before Bill and I go to explore and appreciate all of the sculptures, one at a time. We spot Iggy Pop throwing double middle fingers from atop his pedestal confirming our thought that not all of the subjects are dead. We also suspect (later confirmed when speaking with the waitress) that some are Croatian singers that we wouldn’t necessarily know. The funny one we learn of as we chat with the waitress about the time a couple of weeks ago when the actual Jack White, who had heard about a statue of himself on display, arrived unannounced to get a photo with the statue of himself. Parenthetically, the story was that he showed up and the hostess did not recognize him and told him he would have to wait for a table- to which he replied, “I don’t need a table, I only came to take a picture with my statue.” As part of yesterday’s war walking tour, Darko took us to a tunnel that was designed as a bomb shelter during WWII and is now used primarily as a passageway. Bill is interested to see it and so we return to the tunnel for his benefit. 

Though when we visited, the course of the tour only had us go half the length and then double back, so there was almost exactly half we hadn’t seen. Not that there was anything different- which is probably why we only went halfway through...if you’ve seen half, you’ve seen it all. On our way to the tunnel, we stop at the meteorological column which is a four sided column set at the end of a city park that actively records several weather conditions simultaneously. It is kind of cool to see, but I am surprised at the number of tour groups we run into and find ourselves jockeying for position to get selfies with a barometer! After the walk up to the tunnel, we head almost all the way back to where we came from to go to a dinner place called Heritage that was recommended by Darko yesterday as a place for Croatian food. The entire place has 12 seats. Six outside and six in. We can’t really fit comfortably at one outside table, so we take both, three at one, two at the other. This place is run by a masterchef who is very passionate about his country's cuisine and details the sourcing of all of the ingredients as he delivers them. El and I order beer, olives with oregano, bread with Istrian olive oil, a cheese board with a sheep/cow milk mix cheese, with no salt added since the animals live near the seaside and eat vegetation that gets salty from its proximity to the sea making the milk naturally salty. It is served with fig jam and walnuts. We get a meat board with Croatian salami, served with a Croatian ikra (eggplant and pepper spread), and some red peppers stuffed with cream cheese. A bowl of toasted bread with dalmation olive oil. Dalmation is much milder with the Istrian being much sharper and spicier- and tasty! 

Afterwards, we all adjourn to our rooms to pack for tomorrow then meet at the hostel bar for our last night cap. Our train is at 7:00am tomorrow and the agreement is to meet at 6:00 to give us enough time to take the tram to the station.
Well, I messed up...a little. We have been walking this city for three days now and keep putting off my only souvenir purchase, which anyone who knows me knows is a single magnet for my fridge, It's easy to carry, easy to display, and easy to conjure memories of past travels. Anyway, they run 1-3€, consistently. Tonight, on our way to dinner I ducked into a shop to grab the one I have had my eye on. 5.50€!? For a single magnet? Forget it! I will get me closer to our dinner spot that will be more reasonably priced...and then promptly forgot. Now, it is 9:30 pm, we need to get to bed for our early wake up, I mean, what souvenir shop is open at this hour? We finish our drinks to call it a night. On my way back to the room (which is a few addresses down the street from the main building of the hostel) I actually stop at a tobacco shop to see if by chance they sell magnets. To my surprise, he says they used to have magnets. Not surprising, he says they don’t sell them now. I exit the shop onto the sidewalk and see El exiting a different tobacco shop, having asked the same question, with similar results. Before we know it, it’s 11:00pm and we are on a full on quest. I am going to find this magnet if I have to go back to the guy I turned down earlier, just so I don't leave empty handed. This is a hardcore mission. The main square is not too far from the hostel. We turn up the street that we know has several souvenir shops. They may not all be open, but all I need is one. I go into the first one and there is a selection, but it doesn’t include the one I want. I will try one more shop on this street and if I fail, will just get something, I can’t prolong this any longer, on the other hand I have come this far. The next shop has the exact magnet I want and when I go to pay, it is only 4€, all is right now. And, look where we are...across the street from Valhalla again! Though El and I already had our nightcap, we can’t pass up the opportunity to get one last drink at the first and best metal bar we found. They have Lindeman’s lambic on draft and a small pour for each of us, in what turns out to be a private moment surrounded by strangers, El and I take a seat in the bar area where we can actually hear the music and enjoy Black Label Society, and our last drinks in town, and having the discussion that would ordinarily take place on the plane home...but won’t this time as we are leaving on separate flights home. I cherish that conversation. 

Thursday September 4

As agreed, we meet at 6:00am in front of the hostel and take the next tram to the train station. The tram is almost empty, making it easy for us to get on and off with our luggage. We show up with plenty of time to spare, grabbing our morning coffee and croissant while to enjoy while standing near a roach infested bench accented by the stench of aged urine. We choose to be judicious where we set our bags down. The train arrives on time and we are Vienna bound at 7:06am. The train is scheduled for 7.10hrs, and we arrive a tad late. The ride uneventful, there are some sweeping mountainous vistas that are incredibly beautiful, I wish the train had better windows to view the scenery, but it wasn’t like something I could change, just something that lets me appreciate the glass sided and roofed cars of the Norwegian railway cars. We pull into Vienna’s main railway station and start figuring out our plan of attack. First, the route, second the transit pass to pay for the ride. Carol and Bill are not staying at the same place as the rest of us, so once we get onto the subway, the similarities end. We continue on, needing to switch trains and make it to check in at our hostel in fine time. We have an organ recital/performance at St. Stephen’s tonight and need to find some place to get a beer and food in the meantime. During her research, Carol had found a brewery that is having some sort of beerfest these days and it turns out that tomorrow is the last night for it. We get our bags dropped in the room and head out to the brewery, telling Carol and Bill to meet us there instead of having to meet us part way. It takes us about 30 minutes to get there via two subways and a tram. Let the beerfest commence! A pint of pilsner and an order of curry wurst and a plate of fries fits the bill. It’s an outdoor beergarten at the Ottakringer Brewery and it is pretty windy and most of the tables are labeled “reserved”. Before settling in, we confirm that we can sit here until the reservers arrive, but we also learn that there is a section of the grounds that are not reservable and we opt to move now that there are seats available instead of later. In a scene reminiscent of our Sunday beer get together, Carol and Bill arrive and we toast to our first hours in Vienna. There are several food trucks and a couple of beer stations that ensure everyone eats and drinks whatever makes them happy. 

The conversation weaves between our experience in Zagreb, plans for the next couple of days, and other vacation adjacent topics. In my research leading up to the trip I came across a fun project for us to do and after a couple of beers, I decided to tell the group something that I am quite excited about, that I have been keeping a secret. This happened to come from a Samantha Brown episode where she was visiting Vienna and as I watched the program my initial reaction was “oh my God, this group will love that!” I was so confident it would be a hit, I thought I would just surprise the group by asking everyone to trust me and follow me for, what I expect will be a great experience. As the group sits and is having a fun time in our first hours of Vienna, I decide to divulge the secret. I mean, I was that confident up until now, and I am planning to take the field trip in two days- what could be the harm in letting everyone know what I had in store? So, I casually say, “so would anyone be interested in hearing about this surprise excursion I am planning for the group on Saturday?” Of course they are game and I proceed to explain that I found a really cool winery in Vienna that we are going to go to in a couple of days. So I don’t have to repeat everything, I will leave much of the description to Saturday when we went to the winery- just not as intended. Everyone expresses the interest I hoped for and I only expect their excitement to grow as we make our way to the city limits in a couple of days. I am feeling good as we finish our beer and prepare for our next stop. We stay until 7:00pm and leave to get a tram to St. Stephen’s for our organ recital. It starts at 8:30 and we want to be on time (obviously). Tonight’s program is Bach, Bruckner, and Schumann played by organist Konstantin Reymeier. I have no expectation of enjoying this performance, but I figured when in Vienna to take in a classical performance is one of those things you just have to do. The five of us arrive to St. Stephens in time, but Bill has decided not to join. Before we separate, I point out that there is a speakeasy bar nearby and that it might be a good rendezvous spot after we get done with the recital. I give him the address and suggest he can either go there and hang or just find it and we can meet there afterwards. As expected, this performance is boring to me. Just one organ, no other accompaniment. The program lasts about an hour and I think we agree that 30 minutes would have been better. To each their own though. I mean some people were applauding the performance and giving standing ovations. We sat in the back of the room and knew that we had limited sight seats when we bought them, though I don’t know if there were other options, if other options were sold out, or if it was just cheaper. It’s not like we were there to see the organist, just to hear him and sitting in the back with a gigantic column in front of us, allowed us only to imagine how the organist looked and let us hear the pipes located just above our section very well. He worked his way through the three piece program and as everyone stood and clapped, he began a fourth piece (encore) that was not in the program, and not too long. At some point during the performance though a person, presumably a worker, begins to arrange the votive candle display (that is near us sitting in the back, essentially near the entrance). Clan, clang, clink we hear over the massive organ sound. It is loud enough to get her shushed by the people in our area. Then, to add insult to injury either her or her young helper wind up spilling a box of votive candles escalating an annoyance to a disturbance. Once the recital is complete, we head for Kleinod (the speakeasy that Bill has been hanging at while we were here). He has messaged us with some particulars about the place and it turns out, he was able to make reservations for us. Once the concert is done, we head to Kleinod, only to be confronted at the door in a sorry, not sorry manner by the dress code police. Looking me in the eye, he says “your friends are OK, but I cannot let you in”. I was wearing shorts, so I am not 100% surprised. OK, so do you want to go tell our friend to come out? Maybe you (motioning to LIsa) want to go inside and tell your friend yourself? She returns to the sidewalk to report that Bill has just received his drink, and should be out in a few minutes. At some point while we are waiting, it dawns on me, Bill has been wearing shorts all day. And if he is, what is the difference between his clothes and mine? After several minutes Bill exits and I return to the fashion goon and ask what was the issue that prevented me from getting in? “Your shorts and sport shoes do not allow entry”, he said. Standing next to Bill, the irony is not lost on the group- as Bill is in shorts and sandals! The bouncer passes it off that Bill came in before he was on duty and he was not allowed to let these clothes in after 9pm. I am certain he does not care that a minimum of five additional cocktail revenue is walking away from the door. We press on to find a substitute watering hole. We follow directions to Barkmarkt 11-13. Sadly, it is permanently closed, but the place next door is open. Poor music, but good drinks. Not good enough to get us to stay for a second. We jump on the nearby metro and head back to call it a night. I announce that I am leaving the hostel at 7:30 for a café/breakfast spot. The room is reasonably comfortable. No A/C, but the fan does the job to keep me cool enough.

Friday September 5

6:30am comes fast enough and we are up and showered and downstairs at 7:30. Lisa meets us and we walk to Café Sperl. It is on my list of traditional coffee houses. A café seemingly frozen in time with old furniture, old decorations, and old history. I opt for an apple strudel and a mocca- assuming it has chocolate in it. When it arrives as just a plain espresso, I am surprised, but it’s not like I am going to refuse it for something with chocolate. I enjoy both as El and Lisa work through real breakfasts including eggs. We still have about an hour and a half until our walking tour for the morning. I revisit the list of coffee shops I have. Five are so-called “traditional”, while the other five are called “third wave” (whatever that means). One of the third wave is called Fenster and the description sounds intriguing. You buy coffee from a window in a cone for a lot of money. We take the metro to the shop and the sign on the window calls it the "world's most expensive coffee.” Considering our options, I get a Fensterccino- which is a cappuccino poured into and served in a pistachio and chocolate lined waffle cone. We get our photos, drink our coffee, eat our cone cups, and head off to find the meeting spot for the walking tour. 

We find the meeting spot without issue and Carol and Bill are already there. We have a few minutes to discuss plans for later today. Lisa says she is interested in visiting Schloss Schönbrunn, though it’s not on my list of things to do. El expresses the same level of interest. Bill and Carol want to go to an art museum and I don’t have anything I need to do solo, so I figure I will go to the castle with El and Lisa while Bill and Carol do their own thing and we can meet up afterwards. As the tour is getting ready to get started Carol says “oh, that vineyard thing, we’re going to pass on that.” It didn’t seem like a statement that was going to entertain further convincing. The only thing I could muster was “wow, that is incredibly disappointing” which didn’t do anything to swing that pendulum. So be it, I am going and El and Lisa have expressed interest. I am so excited about it and was so sure the feeling would be mutual. Then again, I was excited about the Museum of Broken Relationships too. The tour lasts two hours and doesn’t actually cover all that much distance, but includes a bit of information, mostly about the Hapsburg family members and their many palaces and construction projects, many of which are today's museums and municipal buildings. One of the saving graces was the guide coincidentally points out a café and a restaurant that are both on my list and gives us some reason to circle back at our convenience later in the trip. Glad we did it, but it’s not my top ten walking tours we’ve taken- though the guide was personable and knowledgeable, the information wasn’t much of what I was interested in. The tour ends at St. Stephen’s square and as we split from the walking tour we decided to hit the catacombs and the spire stairs. It’s two different activities and we need to figure out the details. The catacombs are a set of crypts set under St. Stephen’s cathedral. They offer tours periodically with the next is at 1:30pm, but you cannot go down yourself. The spires, on the other hand, you can enter without an escort at any time. Each costs 8€ per person. St. Stephen’s has a shorter north spire with an elevator and a taller south spire with 343 steps and a better view. It’s around noon now, so we decide to hike up the south spire as a group and get some pictures of the view from on top. 

My daily lunch walk pays off as the walk is more dizzying than exhausting! After we have our fill of the spire, we descend and have another 45 minutes before the catacombs tour. I need some food- but some don’t. I figure I can just walk a block in any direction and grab a sausage at any one of the stands around the city center. Bill and Carol ask to tag along, though as we walk it turns out they are looking for more than a sausage grab and go as Bill wants a coffee. I am not sure that sausage stands serve coffee, but we have a little time and since I don’t have a specific place in mind, I am willing to defer. We find a stand almost immediately, but they don’t sell coffee, so we press on. As we get farther from the cathedral that we need to return to, there are no more stands and our options quickly turn to storefronts, though choosing a storefront that sells coffee and sausages might take a few minutes of reconnaissance that we may not have. I recognize where we are since we walked this way this morning to meet the tour group, that coincidentally met at a sausage stand. As the time to grab a bite and get back to meet El and Lisa drew down, I made the executive decision to head to the place I knew would have what I wanted. We arrived to a line that seemed to move quickly (though it seems to take forever when you are standing in it). I don’t know all the options on the menu and besides not wanting to hold the line up, I now have to get back to the cathedral for our tour. I get a cheese sausage with mustard. The perfect grab and go food. Bill and Carol get some food and drinks and we head back to St. Stephen’s square. Once we get back to the cathedral El and Lisa have figured out that there are no tickets for the catacombs tour. You take the tour and pay your cash on the way out. 

The tour lasts about 30 minutes and the guide gives the tour in German and English simultaneously. Unfortunately, no photos were allowed. There are a couple of spots where you can see relatively complete skeletons, and some bones that are more random...as if the coffins disintegrated over time and the bones settled in place. After the tour, some want to sit at a café, so we head to Café Haweli which is another traditional café with old fashioned service and menu items. We get coffee and pastries and sketch out the rest of our afternoons. Once we are finished up here, we split up again and Bill and Carol go museuming while El, Lisa, and I go to Schloss Schönbrunn. I see that the tickets for the palace are at least 30€ and decide I would rather spend my time journaling in the garden than buying an entrance ticket, which turns out to be closer to 44€. I find a shady spot on a bench under a tree and work on filling in some blanks. 

We have an idea for dinner at the spot recommended by the tour guide this morning. We know that we need to head back towards the center after they are done taking in the compound. Instead of meeting Bill and Carol at the restaurant, I figured it would be easier to meet at a bar than at a restaurant. I was looking through my list, but on the map I spy a bar called Needle Vinyl Bar. That sounds like a great place to meet. It takes us about 40 minutes to get to the bar after the palace, and Bill and Carol are already here. I order a “tropical G&T” which turns out to be great. The irony is not lost on us that for a vinyl listening bar the quality of several of the records is subpar with a lot of pops and crackles- not unlike our weekly meetups at Single Cut. It’s one thing when you are at a party and the music is background entertainment, but when your bar is called “Needle Vinyl Bar” and it is designed with chairs and sofas that are meant to provide a comfortable space to drink your cocktail and brings the listening experience to the forefront. You’d think they would have a higher quality of vinyl with higher end turntables to play them on. For the most part though, this is a pretty cool place and we stay for a while. It is starting to get dark now, but the restaurant is open until 11:00pm. I found a dive bar in the neighborhood of the hostel for our post dinner hang, for anyone who wants it. We walk to dinner at Reinthaler’s Beisl and they immediately have room for us. I order a Reinthaler schnitzel which is pork, as opposed to a Vienner schnitzel, which is veal. It comes with a side of potato salad. Knowing that our room has no fridge, I try to limit my order knowing I am not taking anything home. Our waitress is friendly and helpful and the food was agreed to be a universal success. After dinner we head back to the area of the hostel for our last stop of the night. It is a dive bar called Schikaneder. There is no air conditioning and it is stiflingly hot inside. We order one round and as we sit quietly sipping our drinks discussing our plans for the next two days to finish off our time in Vienna.

Saturday September 6

Carol and Bill are not meeting us this morning. In her research El found Vollpension. This is a restaurant described as “Grandma’s Living Room”. Did you ever wonder what Austrian kids taste when they go to grandma's house? Well, now you can! Lisa, El and I arrive at 8am, when they open and although there are few people inside, every table has a reservation on it. They are able to squeeze us in, telling us that they have people arriving at 10am...which leaves us plenty of time. We order a breakfast and a pastry each. I receive a small plastic chip the size of a quarter. Once the waiter takes our order and heads to the kitchen, I take my chip to a glass counter with an older woman working behind it. She sees me eyeing the selections and trying to decide between an apricot cake, sachre torte, apple strudel with raisins, and a couple of other options. So, the concept of this restaurant is that a rotating cast of “grannies” work here, baking cakes, pastries, pies, etc from scratch and when you decide what you want, you request a piece and drop your chip in the jar. The decorations and charm of this little place makes it a great find. 

We thoroughly enjoy our breakfast- especially my apple strudel with raisins. It’s starting to rain, but not hard enough to pull out the rain gear, the first rain we have seen all trip. Walk back towards the hostel to check out the Naschmarkt. I kept thinking it was a “night” market, as we have seen in many other cities, but, it turns out this is a “snack” market. However, in addition to snacks, there is also plenty of other stuff I am not in the market for with vendors who are trying to get us to sample their offerings or engage in conversation so I will want to buy something I already know I don't need. A lot of it appears to be middle or far eastern items, from incense to jewelry to spices to dried fruit and nuts. Sprinkle in a couple of shops selling keychains and magnets, and you have naschmarkt to a tee. Having seen enough I head back to the hostel down the block to grab a coffee and journal waiting for them to press on. Once we regroup, we know our next stop today for the three of us is the Crypt at St. Michael’s. We take the metro back to the center and make our way to St. Michael’s church for the 11:00am tour. It costs 10€ and is, to my mind, way better than the St. Stephen’s catacombs we saw yesterday. The tour lasts 45 min and is very informative. Some of the interred were from very rich families of the time and were buried under the church so, unfortunately a lot of it has been looted over the years, but what was visible was pretty interesting. Painted coffins, metal caskets, viewing windows showing how rich people were buried in silk clothes, leather shoes, with wigs and bonnets etc. We could see a couple of mummified remains, areas where monks had reclaimed bones that had become loose after soft tissue had decayed. They were adamant that no photos could be taken, so we respected the rule, though there were a couple of spots that would have made for a good photo. After the crypt, we head to a knitting café that El had found. It is a wool shop, gardening shop, and a café all in one. I am able to sit at the café and journal while El and Lisa get their knit on. I also take advantage of the opportunity to grab some more cash from the ATM at the bank across the street. I map out our next stop which may turn out to be a challenge, but we are up for it...except Carol and Bill who are going record shopping. Even though hiking is one method of getting from the city center to the wine region, we will be taking public transportation. It starts with taking the metro to the end of the line and transferring to a bus that services the hilltowns. While still technically in Vienna, at one point, even though we are able to use our metropass to board the city bus, I am pretty sure I understand we are far enough out that we pass through to a different zone and probably are required to pay additional fare for the trip. The thing is that, A) the bus route starts in the main zone, passes into the higher priced zone, but ends back in the main zone & B) we are remote enough that I highly doubt a transport inspector will cross our path all the way out here…I mean everyone else on this bus are just local residents getting around. We are clearly the only out of towners. We exit the bus almost at the end of the line and start looking for Wieninger Winery, which is the one that I saw on Samantha Brown. On the show they cut from the hiking directly to sitting inside the tasting area with the owner/vintner. Instead of recognizing the winery, we had to go by address. We find the address, but this looks more like a garage/production operation than any sort of tasting room. We decide to walk around the block (maybe there is an entrance on the backside of the property?) Since we are in a more rural area, the blocks aren’t that well defined and we wind up wandering for a little while. We get onto a small street and start to see rows of grapevines reminding us that we are in wine country. I spot a fir branch hanging from a small house. This reminds me of something I learned on the TV show, that basically, there are vineyards that produce their own wine and a law was made that allowed wine makers to sell their own wine from their own property during a certain time of the year- basically when the farm equipment is out in the field for the harvest, they can use the empty garage to set up a makeshift tasting room. 

When a vineyard is selling their wine, they will hang a fir branch like a secret code to advertise what they can’t advertise per se. Eventually, we ask some passersby where we can find the Wieninger Winery, but I get the sense they are pointing us to where we can find the address, rather than knowing exactly where the place is. After some time, we realize we have walked in a giant circle and wind up back at the production building. Luckily, as we stand in the entrance, a pickup truck passes us with a bed full of grapes! We sort of casually follow the truck and ask the driver if he can point us to the tasting room, and sure enough he confirms that this is the production area and the tasting room is actually down the street! He points us in the right direction and continues us on our way. A few minutes later we find ourselves arriving at the Wieninger Winery tasting room. We go to enter and are confronted with a sandwich chalkboard written in German. We don’t know what is says, but expect it’s not good (for us). Whip out the G/T and get the instant results of exactly what I thought: “tasting room is closed for a private event”. Instantly dejected, and instantly recovered when I remember we saw the fir branches on at least one building when we were walking looking for the back side of the production building. We walk back up to the street and find the spot we saw earlier. We cautiously enter, hoping we have found what we think it is and not just a building with a homeowner with a flair for decorating with fir branches. As we step inside, we know we found the right spot. The winery is called Karl Lentner and it is early enough that we are some of the only people here. One of the wine sellers speaks English and is able to explain the process to us. They only sell this vineyard's own wines and we can sample them before buying a bottle. They start pouring and it doesn’t take long to come to a selection that works for all of us. We also get a small bowl of pickles, onions, olives, hot peppers, capers, cheese slices, a large hot pretzel and choose a table in the gorgeous autumn sun. The three of us have a great afternoon enjoying the wine, the scene, and conversation. At one point, the owner stealthily appears tableside and whispers, asking if we would like to see a deer? Of course we say yes and grab our cameras and follow as silently as we can. The grape vines are thick with leaves and unless you stand at the end of a row and look down a lane, any other vantage point would only look like shrubbery. We arrive at the end of a row and sure enough, a young deer is doing whatever young deer do, maybe eating leaves off the vine, maybe trying to find its way back to where it came from- who knows…but, there it was just a few yards away from where we stand. We take our pictures and leave it alone. We have a great afternoon here and I can’t help but think that Carol and Bill would have enjoyed this with us. I hope their shopping spree is fruitful. We finish up here and head back to the center to meet up with Bill and Carol. Last night we had pre-dinner drinks at a vinyl bar called Needle. Tonight, we are going to try their sister location, called Needle 33rpm. I get another Tropical G&T. The drink is as fine as last nights, but the music selection is rather dismal including one record with scratches so deep that the needle gets caught in that atrocious loop (girl you know it’s, girl you know it’s, girl you know it’s, girl you know it’s…) ad nauseum until someone realizes it’s not actually an extended remix and needs manual intervention and heads over to tend to the ailing platter only to move the needle a little way further into the song, which invariably lands behind another scratch and we start the skipping cycle again. We all agree that we are a one-and-done before heading back towards the room. We have no dinner plan so we walk back to the hostel area and wander the streets nearby until we find a place for dinner there. The place that catches our eye is called Zweitbester. It seems like a local pub with food kind of place. El and I split a cheeseburger and fries with a beer to wash it down. We all agree to end the night here while we have to pack and check out in the morning. Our flight doesn't leave until 1:00pm tomorrow, so we are also considering options for how to spend our last morning in town. While there are still plenty of things to do in this city that we will not get on this trip, but I would not mind going down to the riverside of the Danube to see the section that has been opened to graffiti artists to “artify” the area along the canal. I announce that El and I will be in the lobby at 6:30 for anyone willing to join. Carol and Bill have already told us not to wait on them, but Lisa is not looking to squander her last morning in town and sets her alarm accordingly.

Sunday September 7

It was a rather difficult night's sleep as the street noise was more lively than we experienced any other time this week. Sometimes hostels can have loud nightclub/dance bars, but sometimes, the noise comes from the street level and as the hour gets later, the drinkers get louder, culminating in a rousing rendition of “Country Roads, Take Me Home!” Not the way I want to be woken up at 2:30am! We meet Lisa in the lobby at 6:30 and we take the metro to the riverside. It’s only a few stops and at this hour on a Sunday, it is very quiet. The only people out, for the most part, are a couple of hardcore fitness enthusiasts (who else would get up at this hour on a Sunday to take a jog?), and a squad of sanitation workers cleaning up the remains of last night’s revelry. The walls of the riverwalk is a city sanctioned graffiti zone, allowing artists to make their marks- and hopefully containing it to this area and away from the tourist center. 

It’s working for the most part. Unfortunately, at this hour there is also not much in the way of coffee shops open, which is what we hoped to find...the riverside to sit, sipping a coffee and watching the sun come up, and the city start to wake up. But with so little options, we Google coffee open near me and come up with a place called the Warm Bean. It takes us a few minutes of circling around a gas station and looking at all of the places in the vicinity before realizing the Warm Bean is actually inside the gas station. We each get our cup of quite acceptable coffee inside and get back to the riverwalk. There’s not that much to see in that, from what we can tell, the paintings are only a couple of bridges distance along the walls. When you are on street level, you have to find a bridge that crosses the river to access a staircase that gets you down to the promenade along the banks of the river. I would guess maybe a quarter mile stretch has all of the graffiti we would see. Maybe (probably) there are additional sections, but from where we sit this appears to be the extent of the attraction. While we sit and finish our coffee, we start looking into how we are going to get to the airport in a couple of hours. We know there is a train, but more details we seek sooner than later. At this point we are good to start making our way back via a stop at the train station. From what we can tell, there is no metro that goes all the way to the airport so, from the hostel we will need a metro to the train station and then a train to the airport. We find an info desk at the train station but the staff is helpful only to the point that he points us to the train company office for customer service. We enter to a DMV style scene. Several passengers who have each checked in at the iPad to enter their name and nature of their issue and had their place secured in line, sit and wait for their number to be called by the next available representative. The line does not seem to be moving all that fast, but we have plenty of time (unlike some of these passengers that are seeming very anxious to get their issue addressed). El and Lisa head off to find a postal drop box, while I sit and wait. As I sit, I call El to get an opinion about how we can assist Carol and Bill as they are obviously not with us now, but will be later and we don’t want to have to wait for them to go through this whole take a number system when we come back in a few hours. I have El and Lisa’s metro tickets and El is able to speak with Carol who gives the go-ahead to secure their train tickets now. My number is finally called and a quick conversation with the agent, I understand the train to airport options. The most important thing is that the train ticket is good for two hours. You can buy it at any time, but you must travel starting withing two hours of the time stamp. Knowing what time we need to be at the airport I select the train time that fits the bill, handing the agent our three metro passes. “I need three train tickets with these metro tickets” so she is able to sell me three train tickets that only go from station to airport. But, before I leave, knowing that Carol and Bill did not buy a metro pass today (they are still sleeping) I ask for two combo metro/train tickets. I walk away armed with more knowledge than when I arrived and more importantly, our tickets to get us to the airport. We head back to the hostel to check out and possibly grab some breakfast. We opt for the 8€ breakfast at the hostel instead of finding another café. Carol and Bill meet us and we set off towards the airport for the next leg of our trip...Bari, here we come. We step off the train into the Central station of Bari and immediately get a blast furnace to the face. The air is oppressively humid and the heat is not helping. Our Air B&B is only a couple of blocks from the station, so the discomfort is only temporary. We meet the owner at the apartment who buzzes us in only to be confronted with an “out of order” sign on the elevator and a five story walk up with our bags. Luckily the air conditioning in the apartment is made to feel that much more glorious. We square up with the owner, get the tour, and drop the bags (not necessarily in that order). Once we are set we head out to explore the neighborhood and decide if we want beer or food. Because it is Sunday, virtually every business in our neighborhood is closed. As we walk towards the old town (the most touristy side of town) more and more places are open. We start our way through the Old Town and immediately find ourselves surrounded by walking tour takers. It is the old town, so change is not expected however, as we walk the cobblestones of the strip known as “orecchiette street” still sees the grandmothers sitting in chairs at card tables in front of their apartments with a flour and water concoction in varying states between raw ingredients and dried & bagged orecchiette for anyone willing to lay down a couple of euros for the finished product. El and I spot Nunzia, a woman who was incredibly nice to us during our time here. Not only does she make orecchiette, she is considered one of the best, having been featured on television and actually represented Italy in an international pasta competition in New York City several years ago. Anyway, she is very enterprising and easy to pivot to work with new parameters. El leans over and says ”Hello Nunzia, we used to eat at your “restaurant” across the street and have great memories of you as we look back on our time we spent here. It is clear from her facial expression that she has no recollection of the two of us, but does interject that the authorities shut her apartment restaurant down and she does not serve there anymore. There are a lot of people who have made the pilgrimage to meet her and take photos, so we continue on, forgiving her for not remembering one couple she knew for two months, five years ago. We press on, but the afternoon heat is parching us to the point that we need to stop for a beer soon. We meander through the streets to the promenade along the coast line. We pass a bar that’s open with a Kraftwerk poster in the window. Most of the people are outside on the patio and we sit ordering drinks and snacks while we watch the few people in this side of town pass by. Inside the bar there are a lot of David Bowie posters, records and ephemera, though no Bowie on the playlist this afternoon. After our beer and mini snacks we press on to walk along the seaside promenade. Our next stop is the pier bar. 

I am not sure I ever learned the name of this place, if there even is one. It is a bar set up at the end of a fishing pier where the fishing boats dock in the morning and sort the catch on the tables. Though, I honestly never saw any sorting going on, so I am unclear if it is still a working pier, though I did see three small boats with all of their fishing gear docked pierside. Nonetheless, the pier has a bar that serves good beer cheap and is a popular spot especially on Friday and Saturday nights. It’s early so there aren’t many here now, so we get quick service. And sit on the cement walls down by the water enjoying the view of the theater and other waterfront landmarks. We decide as a group to grab some food and drinks and bring them back to the apartment to dine. As we walk, El keeps her eye out for an enoteca- which is generally a liquor store that mostly sells wine, to grab a bottle, but all we see are closed for Sunday. Lucky for us, tobacco and convenience stores also sell a small selection of wine. We stock up on drinks for the evening. As we continue to the apartment, El spots an Antico Vinaio, which is a chain sandwich shop that offers focaccia sandwiches. Each of us orders here to go. Mine is a porchetta, smoked mozzarella, stewed eggplant, mashed potatoes, and spicy tomato spread. The sandwich is substantial and I cannot come close to finishing it. As we work through our sandwiches and wine, I am getting overtired, so I call it a night soon after dinner. El wants to get up and go in the morning to watch the sunrise from the promenade. Lisa is on board, but since I have already done that, I am inclined to sleep until they get back. We shower and it is recommended that we go to the train station to confirm our train reservation for tomorrow. They have announced a potential nationwide train strike for tomorrow and we are not sure if our train to Rome is affected.

Monday September 7

While Carol and Bill are getting ready, Lisa, El, and I go to the train station and are assured our train will run tomorrow. We head back to the café downstairs from the apartment. We just get some croissants and coffee and wait for Bill & Carol. Once we are grouped, we head off to the market, walking the streets I used to walk daily when we were here last. It takes about a half hour and we stop in to say hello to Nicola who is a produce vendor that we became friendly with during our time here. With us not really being on the market for produce, we say our hellos, buy a bunch of grapes, and move on. There is a non-food market nearby that the group wants to walk through. Clothes, shoes, and bedding make up most of the options. It is around 11:00am and it is getting very warm. After the markets, we walk back along the water, though this part of town is more industrial than scenic. We are all sweltering and think that a gelato or a cold CocaCola would hit the spot right about now. Once we get back to the old town area we go to Gentile. This is a popular gelato shop that was a frequent meeting spot for locals and tour groups alike. They have room for five of us and as with most places, the QR code has the English menu for us. I make my decision quickly and wait for others to choose. I get visibly unsettled listening to people whose indecision slows the process of ordering down. This happens at home too, so I know it is my hangup, and I may be more in the minority, though when you add a foreign language with a translator, the frustration factor is exponential. Imagine a scenario where everyone is looking at a menu and suggesting that they want to order off menu. I get some people want no onions. Some are allergic to pickles and have to be conscientious of that, but if you ask and the answer is no, have a backup plan. Don’t wait for the no before deciding to start at square one again. Eventually, everyone orders and we sit, enjoying our refreshments. I get an affigato (espresso poured over ice cream) that hits the spot and we all leave feeling better than when we sat down. Lisa, El, and I will leave tomorrow morning on the 7:40 train, while Bill and Carol will spend an additional week in this city- though they are moving to another apartment tomorrow. To help them out, we do a walk-by of the apartment, so that the next time they come back with their luggage in tow, they will know exactly where to go. They appreciate the dry run. Spaghetti al’assassina is a recipe that we discovered when we lived here in 2022. Even though the restaurant credited as the creator of the original recipe is in Bari, other places have adopted the recipe and offer it on their menus too. While we were living here, we discovered a gastropub on our street called the Farmacia, who made my favorite version of the recipe. We had taken El’s cousin to the Farmacia when she came to visit, and she gave it her Roman stamp of approval. We would eat there a few other times during our stay and had always hoped to return one day. Well today is our day. Being that most of the city was closed yesterday, today's lunch service sees the Farmacia open and ready for customers! The five of us arrive to a mostly empty room, and are seated immediately. Even though there is a scannable QR code, the waiter tells us right off that the online menu is the dinner menu and that the lunch menu is written on the chalkboard outside. Having missed that on our way in, we ask/tell him that as long as spaghetti al’assassina is on the lunch menu we are going to be just fine. In the blink of an eye, our hopes are dashed. “Unfortunately, no, that is on the evening menu”. My heart sank. I have wanted to return to this place for this meal for almost five years, I quickly counter with a bona fide offer to pay an extra 20€ cash to the chef who is willing to make five orders of spaghetti al’assassina for me. He says he will check with the owner, but does not hold out hope. The owner is working behind the bar and I watch the waiter go over. I imagine the conversation went something like this…”can we make spaghetti al’assassina?” “No”. He returns to the table to assure us he tried his level best to make it happen for us and adding some other explanation that in a few minutes the business lunch crowd is going to be filling this place up and since spaghetti al’assassina takes so long to make we can't afford having the business lunch crowd have to wait for their order while watching us get served something that is just not on the menu. While I understood the rationale, we’ve come so far, gotten so close to have it fall apart like this. That said, I assure the group that if they want to order food here, I would not prevent it, but that I, myself, would be going elsewhere, refusing to eat in a place where a business owner would rather watch five lunch payers walk out rather than at least listen to our reasoning and consider a pertinent business decision. But, as it went, his decision was final and as we stood up, the waiter, collecting up our unused placemats leaned over to say “maybe you could go to Urban Assassineria- it is one street over and that is all they make”- turns out to be the best thing to come out of our stop at the Farmacia. We map it and it turns out that UA is just across the street from our apartment and when we arrive, it is crowded. We send El in to negotiate a table for us, but the best she can do at 1:15 is a seat at 2:15 with a promise of a text should something open up earlier. We have little choice but to accept the offer…which frankly would have worked if the Farmacia owner was willing to think outside the box- I can’t do it now, but if you come back in an hour, I will have the kitchen make five orders of spaghetti al’assassina for you...alas he did not. Being so close to the apartment, we go to relax and wait for the hour or text whichever came first. About 45 minutes later the text arrives that our table is ready. We are at the hostess station in less than 5 minutes and are seated and presented with QR codes. Being a restaurant called Urban Assassineria, it’s not 100% a surprise to find that is all they do. We are certain that this place was not here when we were last. Since it takes about 30 minutes to prepare the spaghetti al’assassina they offer several appetizers to start you noshing until the main event arrives. We split a bottle of wine and enjoy an order of zucchini flowers while waiting for the al’assassina, which arrives as advertised, I ordered the “classico” preparation, with an order of stracciatella on the side. After the ensuing years, this is the closest I will get to tasting it at the Farmacia, and to my mind, this is definitely on the same level- if memory serves, Farmacia may have been a touch spicier. Everyone likes their meal and we head back to the apartment for a nap before our big concert tonight…the snowball that started this avalanche. After our rest/naps, we head to my local watering hole, the Piccolo Bar, for a beer before going to the show. It’s about 6:00pm now and we walk to Piccolo only to find the steel door shades drawn and looking as closed as ever. Damn, two complete busts on one day? First Farmacia, and now Piccolo? I guess you really can’t go back to Bari. We go around the corner and grab a table at the Botteleria for a round of drinks. Meanwhile, looking up bus routes that would get us to the show on time. It’s kind of crazy that the tickets say that the show is at 9:00pm, which certainly seems late as we have read that there is an opening act. Nonetheless, we drink our beer and keep our eye on time and schedules. In hopes of being able to take the bus we bought two bus tickets for each of us in optimistic hope that we would be able to bus to and from the concert instead of having to walk either or both ways...we aren't as young as we used to be! At 8:00 we adjourn to the bus stop and wait. The bus on the schedule does not arrive as expected and we make the decision to walk up to the next stop that is supposed to have more bus options stopping at it. Once we get to the next stop, the bus arrives minutes later. We learn how to validate and sit on the bus that is expected to be much more crowded for a show that is going to start at 9:00. The ride is not all that far and El is able to get some pointers from the driver before we get off. As we walk towards the concert we hear the unmistakable volume of a heavy metal concert already in progress!?! 

We keep making our way to the gates and sure enough the opening act is already on...in fact they are almost finished- which kind of sucks as I wouldn’t have minded to check them out. I guess the 9:00 ticket time is for when the headline act is to play? Luckily Judas Priest hadn’t gone on yet. Once inside we plan our meetup after the show and I head to get my spot. The venue is like a large parking lot with a stage set up on one end and all of the vendors (beer, tshirts, and otherwise) set up on the opposite end of the blacktop. Crowded, but not a sell out, allowing for ample elbow room should the crowdiness require a shift in place. While I wait for the lights to go down and the chords of War Pigs to ring out, I find a Whatsapp number for my friend Alessio, who was the bartender at Piccolo Bar when I lived here. I send him a message asking if he still worked at Piccolo and why they are closed today? Within minutes he has responded to me and tells me that he is on vacation, so even though he still does work at Piccolo, he is not there today. Though he cannot understand why the bar is not open now. It should be open at 10pm if it is not open now, which means that now we will have to make a pit stop there on our way back. The show goes off without a hitch and is over before 11:00. It looks like most people drove to this show and the bus is not even that crowded. We get off close to Piccolo and walk a couple of blocks to see a crowd milling about on the street in front of the bar. We head inside and order five beers to introduce my friends to one of the most important places for me, socially at least, while I was here. I take some photos to prove to Alessio that I was here and missing the chance to say “hi” in person. We finish our one-and-done and walk back to the room to get to bed, setting our alarms for 6:00am to get ready to go to the station for our 7:40am train to Roma Termini.

Tuesday September 8

Carol gets up early to see us off before heading back to bed. The apartment is only a couple of blocks from the train station, so it does not take us long to get there and find where we need to be. The train ride is uneventful and arrives on time. Once in Rome, we opt for a 24 metro card and start with a ride to our Air B&B which is near Cavour Station. The place is ready for us, so we are able to get in, drop bags, freshen up, and repack daybags for some exploring. This is Lisa’s first time in Rome and originally it was planned that we would only have one afternoon and evening in Rome- just enough for her to get a taste of the city that she may very well want to visit again for a longer stint. But, just before I pulled the trigger on booking our plane tickets (Lisa and I were coming back together, leaving El behind in Rome for a few days with family) I wanted to run the idea by her that if her schedule permitted, a day and a half might be a better experience than just a half day. Without much convincing, she jumped on board and allowed El to put together an itinerary that would suffice if she does not ever make it back, but would be enough to get a sense of the city to play a role in any future decisions she might make. Our first stop is the Colosseum. Being Lisa’s first time in the city, we picked three places to show her, the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, and the Sistine Chapel. Anything more will be a bonus, but we have, as a group, been on the go all week and frankly, I am getting a little beat. It’s a good kind of tired, but basically the last thing I want to do is tangle with the throngs of tourists (of which, I am well aware, I am one), and the people selling trinkets and water. Don’t get me wrong, it is hot here, and if I need water, I am probably going to buy a bottle glistening with ice dew on the outside, but bracelets made in China and wooden figurines of animals that are not even found in Italy, just becomes more of a chore as you get asked where are you from over and over as it is the standard gateway conversation starter to rope a potential sale. I don’t want to be purposely rude, so I do answer the question, but I always answer it walking away so as not to engage in further conversation- lest I purchase baubles that will never be displayed in my house. Lisa is already awestruck and we have only made it past the Forum on the way to the Colosseum! 

Seeing her almost giddy is a satisfying feeling that we can share this part of our travels with someone who is this excited. I hope she enjoys it enough to make her way back here on her own someday. We have dinner plans with Roberta tonight and we will be on the market for a beer shortly. After we walk by the Colosseum, El has a spot in mind that we have to head to the Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier, which is a massive monument with other tourist stops adjacent to it. On the way, El and Lisa head into a church while I journal in the shade surrounded by historical artifacts. It’s pretty surreal actually. Once they are done in the church we head to VeVi which is a terrace bar on top of the Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier. Prices are steep- as expected, but you’re paying for the view, not the drinks. And what a view it is! We have dinner reservations, but not for another five hours, so, I get a snack to hold me over, in addition to the ice cold Coke. It’s about 94 degrees today and the cold drinks are hitting the right spots. 

It is brutally hot and the heat is draining. We decide to head back towards the room to change for dinner before finding a place to sit for beer in the air conditioning. One our walk, I spot a souvenir shop that El and Lisa wanted to stop in, so as I wait for them, trying to map some pubs between us and the room. One that looks good with potential is called the Nag’s Head Scottish Pub. As we walk towards the room, sure enough we find ourselves standing across the street from said Nag’s Head. Instead of pressing on, we agree to duck in for one cold beer in the air conditioning before finishing the journey back to the room. We just have one and head back to the room to get some rest before heading out to meet Emanuele and Roberta at the restaurant for dinner. It is not the same place we have eaten at with Roberta before, but a new one that Emanuele found when he goes out with friends. It is way off the tourist path and there is no English on the menu, though the staff is doing a great job (sometimes with El’s help) to translate and steer us in the right direction...it does not always work out, but hey, that is the challenge you accept when travelling abroad without learning their language! The restaurant is called Ostreia La Sol Fa. They offer carbonara, which is one of my favorites. Even better they offer half portions, which allows you to not overdo it, or be able to order additional items. After dinner, we walk back to the apartment stopping to take in the lit up Colosseum. While I am of the opinion that we are collectively looking for a dessert café, it turns out, we are not and as we get back to the apartment, Roberta and Emanuele say a quick goodbye and disappear into the nighttime darkness. El and Lisa who ran upstairs to drop some items in the room, return to the street, both surprised to see Roberta and Emanuele have left. We walk up the street to find many of the places that were open earlier, have now closed. There is a sign that reads Bar: The Surge and as we stand in the doorway, we hear Black Sabbath emanating from the dives’ bar area. That is enough to get me to pivot from wanting a post dinner gelato to a pre-bed beer. The beer selection is good, the music better than we have experienced most of this trip. Against our better judgement, we sit on the couch that has seen more ass than a porno set, and would probably glow like the sun should a blacklight be wielded at any moment. We stay for a beer and plan out our morning- it’s going to be an early one.

Wednesday September 8

Our last day in Rome and we get going bright and early. We woke at 5:45, showered and hit the bricks, making the first stop the Trevi Fountain. You will almost never see the Trevi Fountain without a crowd. The question remains how far are you willing to go to give yourself an edge over everyone else. Since we were last here, they have instituted an entrance fee for visitors who arrive after 8am (i think). Now it costs 2€ to get down to the water level of the fountain, allowing for the best view, some might argue. Though for me going down to the water, is like sitting in the front row of a movie theater, while standing in the back section you do not have to pay for gives you the big picture view...albeit with a thousand other people. At 6:15am there aren’t many people here, but you can see how it is going to get crazy busy in the coming hours. After we sit and get our photos we get the bus 492 which drops you off at the Vatican Museum. 

We have 8:30 entrance tickets and it is about 7:45 now. We duck into a coffee shop and eat our croissant and capuccinos, ready to brave the throngs of people who have already lined up. As we get closer, we realize that the biggest line is for people who do not have tickets, and those that do can head to a different area. No less crowded, but with at least some semblance of order and feeling of accomplishment with each inch we move forward. The line takes about 20 minutes and we breeze through since we have our proper tickets- we see people who didn’t have tickets, but vouchers getting turned away. I try to hear the explanation of their dilemma, but frankly once my barcode scans and unlocks the turnstile, my concern for their issue fades rapidly. Of course, most people, ah, make that everyone, wants to see the Sistine Chapel, but that is just one part of the gigantic compound and there are gardens and galleries and other museum exhibits. Nonetheless, they make you work for it. It takes about 15 minutes to walk through the corridors and passageways to get to the main event even if you don't stop along the way. There are many, many chapels and galleries, each with its own art, and some by great masters, Matisse, for example. Some people will stop and admire the artwork along the way, while others, like me, do not want to be stifled on my way to the Sistine Chapel drive-by. Through the twists and turns I finally make it to the hall, only to be greeted with the sign, “no photos!" There are no less than eight monitors reminding any people who could be potentially taking photos, that it is verbotten, though, when they do make their presence known, I guess the requirement of exercising silence within the chapel goes out the window- imagine a room of say 300 people standing in relative silence. Someone whispers to their companion. Then another, only at a little louder volume. And before you know it, the room is at a full on low rumble, that turns to a louder rumble and eventually it just takes on to speak at regular speaking level to turn it into a dinner party level. And then…all of a sudden you hear “SILENCIO!” as if spoken from the heaven’s, gets everyone to go silent for a few moments until one couple decides they can whisper quietly enough, starting the cycle again. It’s one of the most recognizable and photographed paintings in history, except for us. It’s mostly tour groups that fill the room. There are stone benches on the perimeter that allow those who want to sit and admire to do so. It is interesting to note that in the grand scheme of things, the “Creation of Adam”, which is what everybody thinks of as the Sistine Chapel, is only a small panel in an otherwise colossal amount of panels that make up the dome of this chapel. Some sit and reflect at the awe inspiring sight, while others rest their feet before the journey back to other parts of the grounds. We finish up here- (not without sneaking a couple of shots), and El wants us to go to St. Peter’s Basilica. 

Well, technically, she wants to go and is happy to have tagalongs. As we get closer to the entrance for the basilica, we start to see signs for “internet reservation tickets this line” which means we probably need the other one. At this point Lisa and I are just following El and doing what she does. We finally get to the front and before we see the police, we hear them yelling in unison, “this is an exit only, solo uscita” as they effortlessly turn the entire crowd around in a matter of minutes. That said, we don’t actually know what is going on as the last time El was here, this was the entrance. We walk around the perimeter of the fortress that is Vatican City and find another entrance, though this one is closed, but manned by an officer. El goes up to ask questions and returns with the scoop. Evidently, today the Pope is holding some sort of audience with people and the entire basilica is going to be closed for a short time because of it. So, even though it was an entrance this morning, the entrance part is closed now and will reopen after 1:00pm. This gives us enough time to go find some food outside of the immediate tourist area and have a better chance of a quiet, sit down place than a rush you in, rush you out kind of place. After several blocks we come upon Zig. A nice enough place with woodfired pizza, and lots of appetizer selections. We split an order of suppli, bruschetta, bufala burrata, and a caesar salad. We each get our own pizza, mine diavola. Everything is tasty and a glass of prosecco rounds out the meal. After lunch it is just after 1:00pm, so we start heading back to the basilica. I have decided that I don’t care enough to brave the throngs of people to see the basilica, so I offer to hit the ATM and buy our next 24 hour pass, find a place in the shade and wait for them to finish before heading back to the room. It looks like I am going to go to Judas Priest again tonight with Emanuele, so I want to get in a nap if possible. We leave very early tomorrow and want to have things ready to go. I have just been informed that they have made it into the basilica. I will wait. I find a bar to sit and journal while waiting. We metro back to the apartment and I nap while Lisa and El plan a night out with Roberta. Emanuele picks me up at 6:30. The auditorium is about 20 miles from the apartment and the traffic coupled with the construction closures, make it a 90 minute trip. We walk in, find a spot to stand and within seconds, the lights go down for Nevermore- the opening act. It’s a band I have heard of for years, but never learned much about them or heard any of their music. I know Warrel Dane used to sing for them at some point in his career. As I watched them perform, I was struck by how much this singer sounds like Warrel who had quite a unique sound before his untimely death. The sound in the auditorium is very good and the band is fine. I don’t necessarily care for the much for the dungeons and dragons kind of music, so the songs weren’t my thing, but I thought the band sounded and performed well, making me wish I had caught more of their set in Bari when we arrived during their last song. They even did a tribute and dedication to Warrel as part of their set which was class. As expected, the Judas Priest show was almost identical to the one we saw in Bari on Monday. This place was a different set up than I think I have ever seen as it was partial indoor and partial open air. We were standing on the floor. I would be surprised to hear if the floor section was not sold out. Just completely jam packed. I have a few issues with the people around and unfortunately there’s not much I can do about it. The guy in front of me is 6’ tall and blocking my view of some of the stage. The guy to my left is fat and sweaty and wants to dance, so he keeps knocking into us. The guy with a backpack who wants to pogo for many songs so the pack is rubbing against my stomach and chest as I try to keep it at least at folded arms length from me and my gear. Then there’s the guy with waist length hair, headbanging and whipping in all of our faces. And the chain smoker who is creating an absolute cloud that is burning my eyes. It’s times like this that I stand there wondering if my hobby is worth the sacrifice I make to do it? Then the band rips into Victim Of Changes and the answer is a resounding YES!! It takes Emanuele and I 17 minutes to backtrack the driving route that took us 90 minutes to get here. 

And in what could be a first for me in a foreign country, we are pulled over by the police and we are both asked to present our identification. I have always heard that you should carry your passport, though I am not sure if that is sound advice or if a photocopy is good enough when not at the airport? Is it mandatory in some places and not in others? And why are we being pulled over? Of course they are done with Emanuele’s in no time, but need to return to the car to confirm they are understanding the information on my New York State drivers license. We are delayed by about 10 minutes and as we are handed our documents and told to have a good night, Emanuele tells me this is just a random ID check and not necessarily a driving infraction stop. He gets me back to the apartment and we say our goodbyes. It’s about 11:30 and I have an appointment to meet El and Lisa at the Surge Bar for our final round of the trip. The beer still workable as is the music. This turns out to be a great and convenient stumble upon for us! Lisa and I have to be up at 5:15 for our trip to the airport (El will join us to the train station, but she is staying longer and will return to check out of the apartment before moving on to her family obligations. A couple of snags that underscore why you build in some extra time when traveling internationally. We bought our train ticket from Termini Station to the airport which gets cancelled as fast as we boarded. The next train put us behind about an hour on our schedule. The next challenge came when I checked in online, but never received a boarding pass or email confirmation, so we now need to check-in again at the desk. Then, to add insult to injury, the guanciale that Roberta gifted Lisa that I am carrying gets my baggage flagged and requires additional explosive screening. All issues aside, we made it to the gate with enough time to grab breakfast and coffee while waiting for our flight to board. The storm weather in Rome is delaying our takeoff, but so far not long enough to impact our train schedule once we get to NYC The rest of the trip rather uneventful. We grabbed some ramen at my favorite place in NYC and the train to Albany was on time. Weeks after we were home I learned that Lisa was nervous to travel with me- I am not sure why since we have, by now, done it several times, but I was unaware of any cause for anxiety. I was glad to hear that I passed the test and that our trip home was considered a success. And since she has become one of my favorite travel companions, I hope there will be more opportunities :)  

Some final thoughts...it's always exciting to move another country from the "want to go" column to the "been there" column. I was thoroughly happy with Zagreb. We didn't really do anything else in Croatia, but the city of Zagreb was a great experience. Because of our time here, while I don't think I need to specifically come back to Zagreb, I would 100% look forward to visiting other Balkan cities and even other parts of Croatia. Easy to navigate. Everyone under 35 speaks remarkable English. Friendly people. Just a great time.
I am certain that I am not always a party to travel with, of that I have no question, and trying to sum my feelings up when planning future trips. Save my personal issue with the vineyard day, I would consider this trip an unqualified success. I do feel that there were some extra challenges that came along with traveling with three groups instead of two. And while I get that I am travelling with seasoned travelers, some of the things that worked to our advantage was flexibility and independence. Our collective ability to pivot from plan A to plan B on a dime is important in life, but when traveling in a foreign country, it is essential. Independence, and the ability for travel mates who wish to diverge from the plans for them to be comfortable to make their own way is good. While some prefer to stick with the group, the willingness to explore without neediness lets the group function. One thing I found was that due to the size of the cities, I found it easier to meet up after a separation in Zagreb than in Vienna. To a certain extent willingness to try new places and things allowed the group to work.
As a post-script a few weeks after the trip we were out with Lisa and the topic of our trip came up.  At some point in the conversation, completely unsolicited, Lisa began recalling her vacation highlights. She told me that the afternoon at the winery was maybe her top favorite experience on the entire trip! That was all I needed to hear, that it was the right call even if not everyone was on board.