Day 7 Balkans Zadar

 4/23

We started the day tucked inside the old stone walls of Zadar, waking up at the Alamayer Hotel right on the peninsula. The setting alone tells you what kind of place this is—the perimeter still feels like a fortified edge of an older world, where the city once stood guard against whatever might come across the water. Breakfast was included, simple and satisfying, and before the day really got going I slipped out for a quiet walk to the waterfront.

That early stroll led straight to the famous Sea Organ—and it’s one of those things that’s hard to fully explain until you hear it. Beneath the stone steps are a series of pipes, and as the Adriatic pushes waves into them, air is forced through to create these low, haunting tones. It’s not music in the traditional sense, more like the sea breathing through the city. With hardly anyone around that early, it felt almost surreal.

Zadar itself is compact, but it holds centuries tightly layered together. Later that morning we met up with our guide, Paula, who gave us a completely different perspective than our previous guide in Zagreb, especially when it came to the era of Josip Broz Tito and the socialist period. It added depth to what we were seeing, turning buildings and ruins into something more personal and recent.

Walking with Paula through the old town is like moving across a timeline. At the center sits the Roman Forum (Zadar), still anchoring the city just as it did thousands of years ago. Right beside it rises the Church of St. Donatus, its circular form instantly recognizable and a reminder of the city’s early Christian roots. From there, the story keeps unfolding—through narrow marble streets, past layers of construction and reconstruction, all the way to the imposing Land Gate (Zadar), part of the Venetian defensive system that once protected the city.

One of the more fascinating details Paula pointed out was how much of the Roman city had been buried under medieval development, only to be revealed again after the destruction of World War II. In a strange way, tragedy uncovered history. What you see today is not just preservation—it’s rediscovery.

We spent time walking the fortifications, with those incredible views: the deep blue of the Adriatic stretching out in front of us, and in the distance, the rugged outline of the mountains rising behind. It’s a contrast that sticks with you—water and stone, calm and rugged, all in one glance.

After a full day of wandering and learning, we settled in for a Croatian dinner here in the Dalmatia region—fresh, simple, and exactly what you want after miles of walking stone streets. As evening set in, we joined what felt like half the city making their way toward the tip of the peninsula.

That’s where Zadar puts on its nightly show.

First came the sunset over the Adriatic—cool breeze coming off the water, the sky slowly shifting through colors that didn’t feel quite real. And then, just as the light faded, the ground itself came alive at the Monument to the Sun. What looks like a large glass circle by day transforms at night into a glowing display powered by the sun it absorbed all day. Around it, smaller installations represent the planets, turning the whole space into something between a light show and a quiet celebration of the solar system.

Between the sounds of the Sea Organ and the glow of the solar installation, Zadar manages to blend the ancient and the modern in a way that feels effortless. It’s not just a place you visit—it’s one you experience, layer by layer, step by step, sound by sound.

Day 6 Zagreb to Zadar

 

April 22

Apr 22 Zagreb to Zadar

We wrapped up our time in Zagreb the same way we came in—right in front of the Zagreb Cathedral—but this time under clear skies. No rain, no rush, just an easy Uber pickup and a clean start to the day.

From there it was out to the airport to grab a rental—splurging a bit on a Land Rover Discovery from Alamo Rent a Car (definitely not cheap, but solid for the drive ahead). Our Uber driver suggested a more scenic inland route toward Plitvice Lakes National Park, cutting through smaller roads instead of the highway. It turned out to be the right call—two-lane country roads, light traffic, and a steady soundtrack of ‘80s rock made for an easy, enjoyable ride.

Our first stop was just outside the town of Slunj, in the village of Rastoke—and it honestly felt like stepping into a fairytale. Often called a “mini Plitvice,” Rastoke is built right into the water itself. The clear, emerald-green Slunjčica River tumbles over limestone shelves and spills into the Korana, creating a network of waterfalls and cascades that run directly beneath and around the town. The houses aren’t just near the water—they’re literally built over and among the falls.

What makes Rastoke so memorable is how naturally everything fits together. Wooden homes and centuries-old watermills sit right on top of rushing streams, some still powered by the current below. Dating back to the 17th century, this was once a working milling village, and you can still feel that history as you walk the narrow footbridges connecting paths over the water. Everywhere you turn, there’s the sound of rushing falls. It’s peaceful, unpolished, and incredibly photogenic—a place that slows you down without even trying. A true living postcard.

From there, we pushed on to Plitvice Lakes National Park, and within minutes of stepping out of the car, the mood shifted completely. Fresh air, open space, and that immediate sense of being surrounded by nature—it hits fast.

The hike itself was incredible. We hoofed it about three miles along mostly hewn log walkways that skim just above the water, weaving through a chain of crystal-clear lakes and waterfalls. The water was unreal—shades of deep emerald and bright turquoise—and so clear you could see through to the bottom. With that much water everywhere, the karst springs provide such an abundance .

Everywhere you looked, water was moving. Big waterfalls, small cascades, streams connecting lake to lake—it just keeps going. At times you’re climbing up along the edge for sweeping views, and then suddenly you’re back down at water level, walking right alongside it. We made our way up to the top of the lake chain, then caught a couple of the boat shuttles for the return, which was a nice break after covering ground on foot.

The weather couldn’t quite make up its mind—cool in the shade, warm and sunny in bursts—but no rain, which felt like a win. Crowds came and went, but there were still plenty of stretches where it felt quiet enough to just take it all in.

Leaving the park, we continued south along Route 1, passing through the edges of the Dinaric Alps and alongside the dramatic Velebit mountain range. Eventually we merged onto the A1, hit a long tunnel cutting straight through the mountains, and emerged on the other side just in time for sunset.

The descent toward Zadar was something else—the light dropping low over the Adriatic Sea, the landscape opening up, and that first glimpse of the coast after a full day inland.

From city streets to waterfalls to mountains to the sea—all in one day.

Day 5 Balklans Trip Zagreb-2

April 21, Day 2 in Zagreb Croatia

 

 

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.

Day 4 Balkans Trip Zagreb, Croatia

 

Tour Guide Danielle on “Walk with Tito tour”

4/20

Day 1 in Zagreb: Rain, History, and a Different Side of the Balkans

Today we arrived in Zagreb, Croatia, after a smooth but rainy transition from Ljubljana. The morning started with breakfast at the Cubo Hotel before our driver picked us up right at 9:00 a.m. for what turned into about a 90-minute ride crossing the border into Croatia.

The drive itself was easy, but the weather had other plans. The rain began just as we left Ljubljana and stuck with us the entire way, setting a gray tone for our arrival. Pulling into Zagreb, the city immediately felt like a proper metropolitan hub—busy, structured, and a bit more urban than what we’d experienced so far.

We were dropped off right in front of the towering Zagreb Cathedral, a striking centerpiece of the city. Its twin spires rise about 150 meters, though unfortunately for us, they were wrapped in scaffolding, hiding what must normally be a pretty spectacular view.

After getting our bearings, we made our way to the Airbnb. Our host—a friendly Korean gentleman—showed us up to a third-floor apartment that felt more like a full home: four bedrooms, a kitchen, laundry, the works. Best of all, it overlooks Dolac Square, which we learned transforms into a lively vendor market on dry days. Something to look forward to if the weather cooperates tomorrow.

The highlight of the day came at 3:00 p.m. when we met up with a guide  for a “Walk with Tito Tour.” What followed was one of the more fascinating history lessons I’ve had in a long time. We walked through the evolution of the region—from the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, through World War II and the communist era, and into modern Croatian independence.

Learning about Josip Broz Tito and his 45 years of rule added a whole new layer of understanding to a part of the world I honestly didn’t know much about before. It’s one thing to read about it, but another entirely to stand in the streets where it all unfolded.

We wrapped up the day with dinner at a cozy organic vegetarian spot—simple, healthy, and surprisingly satisfying after a long, damp day of travel and walking.

Rain aside, Zagreb made a strong first impression. Looking forward to seeing it come alive tomorrow—hopefully without the umbrella.

Day 3 Balkans Trip

 4/19

Day two in Slovenia had a little bit of everything—some frustration, a lot of beauty, and the kind of moments that remind you why you travel in the first place.

The adventure actually picked up where last night left off, with Tim explaining haven’t taken taken a €120 hit from a cab driver on the ride from the airport to the hotel. Not exactly the welcome you hope for, especially after he’d already missed his connection into Ljubljana and endured an unexpected 11-hour layover in Amsterdam.

This morning, though, things turned around. We woke up to a relaxed and genuinely good breakfast at Hotel Cubo—a clean, modern spot right in the city that set a much better tone for the day. From there, we decided to get out of town and headed for Lake Bled.  About an hour out of town. 

We took a bus both ways, which turned out to be a great call. The ride itself was part of the experience, rolling through the Slovenian countryside—green fields, alpine villages, and distant peaks that start to hint at the Julian Alps. It’s the kind of scenery that doesn’t need exaggeration.

Once we arrived, Bled delivered exactly what it promises. In the middle of the lake sits Bled Island, home to the iconic Church of the Assumption. The structure dates back centuries and has that classic European look—stone, a tall bell tower, and a staircase leading up from the water that feels almost ceremonial.

Getting out there are the traditional wooden boats known as Pletna boats. These are hand-rowed by standing oarsmen and have been part of life on the lake for generations—sort of a cross between a gondola and a water taxi, but with a distinctly Slovenian identity. Watching them glide across the water adds to the whole postcard feel of the place.

Above it all, perched dramatically on a cliff overlooking the lake, is Bled Castle. It’s one of those views that makes you stop mid-conversation—just a castle hanging over a lake like something out of a movie set.

We spent the afternoon walking the entire perimeter of the lake at an easy pace. Along the way, we passed fishermen quietly working for carp, rowing crews slicing through the water in racing shells, and plenty of spots where the light hits just right and you feel like you should probably just sit for a while.

At one point we stopped for a simple lunch—pizza and the famous local dessert, Bled cream cake. The cream cake lived up to the hype—light, rich, and exactly what you want after a long walk.

After bussing back to Ljubljana, we wrapped up the night with dinner at a local spot in the city—nothing fancy, just good food and a chance to wind down. Second night of the trip, and it’s catching up to all of us. Between the travel, the walking, and the fresh air, we’re ready to hit the rack.

Tomorrow, we’re back on the move—transit bus heading south into Croatia for the next leg of the adventure