The Big Trg - the honey pot

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Medva. She lived in the mountains. One day she wandered down the mountain and met a tired bear. He was sitting on a rock and as she approached he looked up anxiously. “Honey, I am thirsty. Do you have some water?”. She didn’t have any water. But she knew of a secret spring – the Medveščak stream. It came up from the ground not far from where he was sitting. She brought him to the spring and he drank and it saved his life. Forever after that day, this spring was sacred. By sacred, I also mean “fought over”. It divided two parts of the city, ran mills, flooded and drowned people, earning a bridge over it the name “Bloody Bridge”. Then, in 1898, the powers-that-be decided to cover the spring and turn it into part of the sewer system (makes sense, doesn’t it?). By this time the people had built trams around the old spring and a big statue of Ban Jelačić stood in the middle. It was built by Austria in 1866, facing north with his sword raised towards Hungary. A while later, after a great war, a man named Tito came along. He said that the old story was hogwash and bricked over the sacred spring. People were sad but they looked towards the great man and said, “if you say so”. The big Ban statue was removed by the Communists in 1947 since it commemorated collaboration with the Austrians (who collaborated with the Germans who collaborated with the Ustasha who persecuted Serbs, Jews, Gypsies and Communists. In a much more impacting and terrible way, it was like highschool). Then one day, Tito died. Tall buildings towered over the bricked-over spring. The summers were hot and the outdoor cafes, filled with people smoking slim cigarettes, yearned for the quenching spring. In 1990, the new leaders were saying “you know what, perhaps that talking bear was OK… because you know, he was a Croatian talking bear. Let’s bring the statue back (but face him south), open up that spring and tell our children the folk story. Then let’s declare our independence and be as we always should have been, an independent Croatia”.

Image below: Ban Jelačić defending Partner Banka, Mikla Chocolates, Vip Cellular and Loreal.

I am sure to have many details of that story wrong. I heard it over beers at a Cinkuši concert – a “modern traditional” Croatian band from the region to the north of the city. The crowd was young and hip, some having dreads, leggy women in slinky dresses, but they were swaying with beer glasses held high, chanting the traditional music as their great-grandparents would have. I remember the woman translating the story into English was stumbling along – her English was rocky – and when she said, in a thick Slavic accent “Honey, I am thirsty”, her colloquialism cracked me up. “But you see, bears like honey”, she said. “Of course!”. The roots of Winnie the Poo may have come all the way from Medvenica, the mountain above Zagreb with the talking, honey-lusting, thirsty bear.
Images above: Giggling Croatian teenagers in the Trg; the staggered clock tower in the distance, the Ban in the center and the fountain in the foregroundpast the flower sellers, up the stairs to the Dolac market.

But the gist of the story stuck in my mind. It put a new spin on the Jelačića Trg (Jelačića Square), the most important public space in Zagreb. It is a clumsily designed square if you ask me. It’s a rectangle at the foot of the old town. Above it, past lovely, wide steps is the Dolac, the main city market that overflows with rural farmers selling produce, home-made cheese, honey, hand-knit caps, traditional cloth, and dried figs. Around the Dolacs are small shops with tables you can stand next to and eat chevapi, little meat sausages in fried bread. A girl runs around bringing cups of coffee to the vendors, many of whom are old, weathered and bundled head to toe in coats and scarves, selling their produce as they have their entire lives. And as you walk down the steps and the vista opens up to Jelačića Trg, flower vendors line the passage. No joke. It’s like you are walking down the isle to the alter every time you enter the square, with the scent of flowers on either side and rose petals scattered on the herring bone stone pavement. Aerial below: Jelačić is in the center red square, the clock on the left/west side and the fountain on the right/east side. The green square is the Dolac market; the fountain on a cold day.
So this fantastic market flanks the square to the north. Ilica Street, the most bustling commercial street in the city runs along the south side of the square, the main artery pumping people in and out. Every tram line passes through Jelačića Trg. Which means huge crowds gather around the tram line. This brings newspaper vendors, the man hawking small bracelets, the Roma women with random articles of clothing, the fancy Italian business woman, the crowds of smooching and giggling Croatian students. It’s jam packed. But just above the tram line is the other clumsy element of the square, a small, out of scale clock that stands on the other side of the big statue of the old Ban. It’s modern in style but awkward, like an Ikea afterthought in a college dorm room. It seems cheap but utilitarian. But it does its job. It was stuck there to, I assume, inform travelers of the time. Just like the blocks of socialist era housing on the south side of town, built to house the workers, pure and simple, this clock tells the time, pure and simple. Even though it has none of the class and sophistication of the old clocks found in train stations and on towers in the centers of other great cities, I’ve met every “coffee date” under the clock in Jelačića. It’s pedestal is constantly surrounded by a group of people waiting for someone else. So regardless of my nose-in-the-air opinions on its awkwardness, it works and people love it.

I’ve been here for three weeks and talked to many Croatian architects and landscape architects. I’ve asked many of them about their opinions on the “Big Trg”. And every single one of them defends it so quickly that you learn shut up and admire its vitality over its design. But this may be the reason why it looks as it does and why people love it so. It is an amalgamation of all the little things, here and there in Croatian history that make the people who they are. It’s a folk story that roots them in the ancient forests, it’s a reminder of the socialist ideological leader who ‘knew best’ and the rebellion when folks decided they wanted their folk story back. It’s the old “Ban” (leader from Austro-Hungarian times) and a placard to modernity with all the big Croatian companies advertising phones, banks, make-up and technology on scaffolding around the buildings lining the square.

What do we do? Can you sum it up in a sentence?

Zagreb. So much to say about this place – it’s urban-ness, its parks, even parking is worth a couple photos (so I'll stick a couple photos in). But what I find myself confused by and thinking about most often is my inability to describe/circumscribe my profession in this country. People don’t get it and I started to find myself confused. There are only 30 registered landscape architects in ALL of Croatia, if that helps you to understand why people don’t know what we do. The academic program is new at the University and began under the instruction of Slovenian landscape architects. I am not sure why it got its own designation in Slovenia but has only slowly and recently trickled into Croatia.

I had an interesting short conversation with a Croatian architect this week. He is a friend of my roommate and with one hand in the pocket of his black suit, after an explanation of what the “fancy” people in Zagreb do in their summers, he said that “landscape architecture” is shared between the Agriculture and Architecture departments at the University of Zagreb but “not respected by either”. At first I felt my feelings were a bit hurt. Then I felt as if I needed to explain, to defend my profession. I didn’t. I let the comment pass and thought about it the next day as I walked around the city.
(Smart Cars: created to make their own rules about parking in old town Zagreb - first image. Even though it's not an ideal solution, cars get squeezed into old town streets, two wheels up on the old sidewalk, their butt in the street. New Zagreb has taken care of this problem with oceans of parking sandwiched between the roads and the buildings - second image)



The designed environment is so obviously in your face all over European cities and Zagreb is no exception. But architects design buildings (and their plazas) and engineers design tram lines, according to the architect I talked to. Gardens are seen as frivolous here in Croatia because the recent war, the thousands of refugees and a depressed economy makes people worry about food and security. Parks were often designed hundreds of years ago on the property of rich land owners, often for their private use, appropriated by the public later on when the cities grew around them. One thing I want to point out though, is that Croatia has great “bones” for good public, open space even if it doesn’t have the money currently to keep it up. The plaza in front of the Zagreb Cathedral has much to be desired. It is essentially a concrete car turn-around sandwiched between a Baroque fountain and the impressive façade of the Cathedral. It hardly looks designed (although maybe at one point it was). The square in front of another notable church is used for parking for the Sabor (the Parliment). And Trg Ban Jelacica, the main square is a big and well used rectangular space full of people, trams and activity. In the center is an ostentatious statue of the Ban himself, on a horse. At least fits in scale to the huge space. Flanking him is a pitiful, modern-esque clock and a poorly placed, small, sunken fountain. The beautiful, tall, old buildings surrounding the square are covered in Zip and T-Mobil advertisements from the ground to floor 6. But in contrast to some of our most well-designed and thoughtfully designed spaces in the US that hardly get a lunch-time passerby, these places are hopping. In terms of the design of public space, whether someone did it on purpose or not, back in the day, they did it right.

(Ban Josip Jelacic Square - the statue and the advertisements show what was and what is important)


Now travel out to Novi Zagreb, the new part of town. You get all the crud that you get in the US – huge arterials filled with cars around (a somewhat uniquely Communist element) huge apartment buildings with clothes lines hanging out windows, parking surrounding them like a tree skirt and grafitti covering the ground floor. It reminded me of the plans that Corbusier had for a re-built Paris. This part of Zagreb felt sad. Of course, the war was a terrible thing for Croatia but this landscape of sullen buildings in a web of streets and parking lots made it seem like “landscape architecture” or at least what it could offer the people living in post-war Croatia may be a very un-frivolous endeavor.

In an office in Novi Zagreb I met the director of Oikon Ltd. and one of the few registered landscape architects, Hatec and Visna. Hatec, came to introduce himself and talk a bit about the COAST Project, the project off which I am hoping to work. Vis, my island of study, is part of COAST. Quickly Hatec began talking about the difference between American and Croatian perspectives on landscape architecture. It’s not about pretty gardens or even nice parks, he said. “We have had war in this century. You (Americans) have not, at least not on your own soil, since the Civil War”. He began analyzing the Civil War to make the point that during the Civil War, soldiers fought and died but it didn’t involved civilians and villages. I didn’t believe this to be completely correct but since he was on a roll, I didn’t stop him. My blood pressure did begin to rise, however. Then my internal psychologist reminded me that part of this process is being “that person”, the foreigner, and listening and understanding the point of view that comes out, provoked by people who are “not from here”. This is an important dynamic on Vis, an island steeped in "island syndrome", suspicion of foreigners and a desire to keep life as they know it, far from the grasps of those who aren't like them.

Hatec said that perpetual war has impoverished this country. The one-party government was a supervising and regulatory government. This role was not enabling and did not seek to grow knowledge but to contain what it felt was not correct and needed reigning-in or controlling. The government saw themselves as “bosses” not looking for active participation and partnership. This, as Hatec explained, was not a healthy process but an imposed one. Implementation occurred when the government went to University professors with ideas and asked them to back them up with their knowledge instead of education and discovery informing government creating progress. The process was backwards but that’s how it worked. After the Civil War comment and the shell I was ready to hold up to deflect the “you-just-don’t-get-it” comments, these points were salient.

How does this apply to Vis? In Croatia (said to compare it to the USA), “we care about what is old not what is new”. A conversation about the new-ness of American communities and an assumption that Americans love brand-spankin’ newness above all else that is holy, in contrast to the Croatian mentality began. I succinctly retorted that many Americans place great value in what is considered old, traditional and important to history. Our history may seem less “deep” (in age) than in Europe however it is no less revered (and in fact, just as old depending on the measure of it and the societies you are considering). The “newness” bug has more to do with the ability for expansion to happen so easily in the US. We had and still seem to have so much space… so we keep consuming it! I wanted to remind him that his office sat in “Novi Zagreb” (new Zagreb), that this bug exists in all humanity and if he wanted to see new towns that would turn your stomach, he should look in the old rice fields of Asia. But I held my tongue. Back to Vis…

Communism encouraged an industrial society which brought young people from their rural homes to industrial centers. It left old people in the villages and depopulated the islands. The “farmer was the enemy”, said Hatec. The idea of a farmer that owns his own parcels, equipment and animals was against the societal ideology. Socialism wanted to aggregate land parcels and in fact mandated that his happen. Unlike the Israeli kibutz, where people chose to farm as a community, the Communists enforced this notion. Vis didn’t have industry in the same way that the larger towns and cities did so its economy under Communism was different. The economy on Vis in the Communist years was based on a military relationship (I’m not sure what this means – did the military buy food from private farmers? Or was the island so militarized that agriculture hardly existed in those years?). There were 13 military installations on the island. Foreigners were not allowed. Tito even had his secret, private bunker on the island.

So the agricultural “memory” from the socialist (I am never sure whether to call it “socialism” or “communism”) period may not be contiguous from the older traditions. As people left the island and the pressure for arable land decreased, the terraces that were constructed on the slopes and in the more difficult areas were abandoned and people farmed the best land in the valleys. Consequently there are many old terraces overgrown with macchia and scrub growth. They grew primarily vines and some “mixed agriculture” for vegetable production.

Hatec wisely said that the key to ultimately creating meaningful places is to design the interaction between the urban and the wild. The question then is, “what is ‘wild’ on an island that has been manipulated for over 2000 years?. Like the island of Hvar and Stari Plain (an old agricultural plain from Roman times that has been continually farmed for ove 2400 years – amazing – and is now protected as a UNESCO World Heritage Site), perhaps it is not necessary to define a “period of significance” as we often do in the States. We are not restoring to the past but to a healthy dynamic. What is the healthy dynamic that can exist on Vis? That is the question.

My future's so Fulbright, I gotta wear shades

It’s been a while since I’ve written because it seems that there isn’t a whole lot to say. But that’s because in this economic climate it becomes tiring writing about/discussing/reiterating the fact that it’s just tough. We are all walking uphill, through the snow, both ways and waiting for the big melt. Our industry says it’ll come this year. But still I hoped my moment would come and I could look back on the uncertainty of unemployment as a reality check, a moment (and just that, a short period of time) where I understood what it was like to be part of the poor, go on food stamps, live hand-to-mouth and then eventually, sooner rather than later, get a job. But after a while you start to reevaluate. Maybe this isn’t just a short slump in the market. If this continues, will my job skills atrophy? At first I said I’d weather it and continue to look for exactly what I wanted. I soon revised that to look for a wider spectrum of job types. I then realized how important my bartending gig was and it became an organizing element of my life. I worked nights, couldn’t go on my early morning runs because I was often too tired and if I went away I made sure there wasn’t a show (and thus a bartending shift I’d miss). I talked with a friend from graduate school who had moved to LA. If anyone was “hirable”, if anyone was smart and up for any challenge and willing to put in their fair share and then some, he was the guy to do it. And even he wasn’t getting any bites.

And then, one miraculous day, as a sat in front of my computer and applied for food assistance, checking the clock to make sure I wasn’t late for that night’s bar shift, I got a call. I almost didn’t answer it since I didn’t recognize the number.

“Rachel Hill? This is Rachel Holskin (my initials-sister) from the Fulbright. Are you still interested in taking a Fulbright fellowship to Croatia?”. I could hardly believe it. I asked her if I could have some time to think about it. Time to think what? - “maybe the 100 bucks a night I can make slinging beer is worth staying in Tucson. Living on my back porch has been kind of nice, like camping with plumbing. I do love my cat.”

I called her back the next day and took it. Since then I’ve been preparing and consciously putting it out of my mind at alternating moments. I applied for this thing a year and a half ago. The Croatian land planning agency that I had contacted to work with has since stopped working with the UN (the other organization I wanted to collaborate with). The most I’ve gotten from either are a handful of emails that say something along the spectrum of “just drop by when you come to town” to “ya, the project sounds neat. We’ll see”. That’s the extent of the commitment these guys have to my vision. But I guess that’s just it. It’s my vision and I have to craft it, work on it and make it happen. I jumped in with both feet at first. I found and read anything I could find on the area and the topic of rural tourism, agricultural systems, land planning around agriculture, cultural integration of agriculture into transitioning landscapes…. And then, when it seemed I could read forever and still not circumscribe my project in any more detail from the US, I focused on the nuts and bolts of living in Croatia. I got an apartment with a 27 year old woman on a square above a farmers’ market. Sounds fantastic. Anita, the roommate, is a language teacher (how perfect) and the room is furnished (except for blankets – I may be wearing my coat to bed for the first couple days).

I am sure the pace will pick up and the project will get defined. At the same time I feel like I need something inspiring and creative outside of my project to study. Any ideas? My old housemate Becky said I should photograph myself with every Croatian beer I can find. I’ll be like the troll in the photo except I’ll be me and instead of interesting locations around the globe, I’ll pose with interesting beers around Croatia. That’s one idea. Inspired by a Rome Prize winner I have vowed to draw at least once a week.

At the moment, I just want another London coffee (my 6th on this epic journey through airports). And a flat place to lie down and sleep. A down blanket would be nice. I can even put up with the bustle and noise in this terminal. It’d be great to take these boots off and wash the smudged mascara off of my face (who am I trying to impress anyways?). And I’d love to not have to tote my bags into the bathroom stall with me. And have a hug from someone familiar. That’d be nice. Day 1.5 down.