 |
| This is a Funicular ^^^^ |
Zagreb unfolded for us as one of those cities that doesn’t shout—it hums. And if you listen closely (or hop on a convertible bus with headphones), it tells a pretty great story.
We kicked things off at Dolac Market, coffee and pastries in hand, easing into the morning the way the Croats seem to prefer—unhurried. There’s a rhythm here: sip, sit, watch. I grabbed a banana from a fruit vendor to round things out, because nothing says “balanced breakfast” like pastry followed by a token piece of fruit. The market itself was vibrant—fresh produce, local goods, and just enough souvenirs to remind you where you are without hitting you over the head with it.
A quick stop at the visitor center pointed us toward Zagreb City Tours and their hop-on, hop-off bus. “Great way to see the city,” they said. What they didn’t mention was that you actually have to catch the bus. We jogged (lightly… let’s not exaggerate), missed the first stop, wandered to the second, overshot the third, and eventually surrendered to patience—waiting nearly an hour before finally boarding. Very on-brand for the day: we were learning to slow down, whether we liked it or not.
Once aboard, though, it delivered. Zagreb revealed itself in layers—history, culture, and a few fun facts tucked in. Like the city being the home of the fountain pen, thanks to Slavoljub Eduard Penkala, and Croatia’s role in popularizing the necktie, or “cravat.” Not bad for a country quietly shaping global style.
The iconic blue trams rolled by constantly—part of the city’s fabric since 1910, electric and efficient, gliding through streets lined with greenery. Zagreb is full of parks, squares, and flowers—so many flowers. The highlight being the elegant Lenuci Horseshoe, a U-shaped string of parks and public spaces that gives the city its open, breathable feel.
At one café, we were. surrounded—flanked, really—by smokers (clearly another local custom).
Just after that, Kurt was interviewed by a local reporter about U.S. political views. I abstained from commenting. Kurt was a “tad” more vocal.
At one point on the tour bus, a South African pensioner asked if we were American or British. I said “American,” to which she replied, “ Sorry…. Another sign of the world political sentiment towards Americans.
Lunch took us to “Submarine”where the burgers absolutely delivered—no hesitation calling them best. We shared a table-side moment with a local couple and their corgi, Becky, who may have been the real star of the meal.
We attempted to ride the Zagreb Funicular—one of the shortest in the world—but it was closed. Still, we climbed up to the top station and were rewarded with sweeping views of the city’s red-tiled roofs and layered skyline. Not a bad consolation prize.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of wandering—pedestrian streets, cafés, and our best attempt to “act Croatian,” which mostly meant sitting longer and doing less. Weather kept things interesting: cold and gray one minute, sunny and warm the next, followed by a quick rain just to keep everyone honest.
After an afternoon of adventuresome wandering, we accidentally happened upon a true gem of a restaurant. Literally tucked back into an alley, we dined at Kia Street Food where the vibe, service, and of course the dinner was absolutely top notch. Had to leave a Trip Advisor review for that one stating the same.
By the end of it, Zagreb didn’t feel like a checklist city—it felt like a place you settle into. A little slower, a little more observant, and maybe just a bit better at enjoying a coffee without rushing off to the next thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment