So I'll need to back track a little.

Wow.

Ok so...

This was Wednesday...

We had breakfast outside on the patio overlooking the Adriatic and a sunny blue sky. The server only knew enough English to say "No speak English. Speak Hrvatski, Germany, poco Italiano." I was so proud of myself for being able to piece enough words in both Croatian and German to ask for a glass of ice water (the buffet only had hot water for tea). He was very excited by my efforts. As we checked out, my dad asked the receptionist where the best place would be to exchange our currency. And guess what? Starwood to the rescue! She sends us down the street to Le Meridien (sister property to the hotel chain I work for, Westin). Holy crap I wish the employee rate had been available for us to stay there. It was ridiculous. Wow... WOW. Anyway, after a few fumbling attempts with their ATM, we headed out with 400 Kuna (about 80 USD). Next stop, the car ferry.

Now... it's a strange combination traveling on this trip; My 61-year-old dad who doesn't get excited over anything except the White Sox and Notre Dame football... and me, the energetic and feisty little 26-year-old who's going to take over the world with her language skills and passion for travel (plus I've got a lot of chutzpah). But both of us are definitely a couple of little wannabe know-it-all's. All morning, I told my dad that speaking louder and slower does not make anyone understand English any more the second time around. Meanwhile, he can't stop saying "I better not have to hear you tell me how to drive one more time on this entire trip." And yes, he said that after the car had stalled out for the 6th time. But hey, I don't know how to drive stick either. Anyway, so that series of moods and grouchy behaviour made for a lack-luster drive from Podstrana to downtown Split. We arrived at the port, queued up for the ferry, and spent the next two hours sailing along between the islands of Brac and Ciovo, on our way to Hvar. The scenery was unreal and the company was entertaining. Beautiful tan Italian couples relaxing on the upper deck, and families with children running around and playing on the lower inside decks. Then we arrived at the port on Hvar and the day was really just beginning.

(This is hard even for me to follow along, so don't worry if you get lost in the family tree).

Why were we going to Hvar in the first place? We were going to meet up with a family member named Doris.

Doris is the daughter of Margita.
Margita is the daughter of Dinko.
Dinko's sister is Frances.
Frances is my great-grandmother.

When the various family members living on Hvar migrated to the United States, they settled in Chicago, IL, where my dad was born. Those who didn't leave the "old country" stayed put on Hvar. Doris is one of those who have continued to stay put.

Getting around the island is easy. There are very few roads and at every intersection the signs point you towards the towns. Only 12,000 people live on the island, and the town we were on our way to (Milna) only has about 100. We arrived in Milna, parked, and looked for a restaurant called Oasa. We asked the host for Doris, and instead we were greeted by Ivica, her husband. "Oh! You are cousin. Yes, Doris drive to city Hvar to get mother. She come soon. You will have a drink here, yes?"

When she arrived, we hugged and kissed, she introduced us to her children, Duje (5) and Nina (8), and her mother, Margita. And then, just like with any family gathering, an impromptu feast began. Grilled vegetables, sardines, octopus salad. garlic bread, grilled shrimp (well Doris said it's kind of like shrimp but not the same), something that looked like hummus but "it is like uh... how you call... fish paste, yes," grilled sausage, lamb, and steak. OH! And their homemade wine. Margita and my dad went back and forth listing relatives and who was alive and who wasn't and who had kids and where everyone lived. Of course, she didn't speak English, so Doris repeated everything between them as a translator, and I sat to the side with my handy-dandy Croatian guide and looked up words and phrases along the way. Afterwards, Doris asked "Ok, so now we go back to house, yes, and I show you to room and you will rest maybe yes? Or you like to swim maybe?" My Dad said "ready to rest" and I said "ready to swim." Doris responded "And Lara, is it ok that Nina will swim with you?" Nina has been learning English in school for 3 years now, so it wasn't hard to talk to her. Every few sentences we would have to help each other with words, but it was really fun and entertaining (most of you know I'm good with kids, and I am easily excited by foreign language). Her brother Duje knows zero English, and he tagged along to go swimming.

I don't know if I seemed interesting to them or if it was hard to comprehend why I didn't speak their language but yet I was still a family member. Regardless, they seemed to have fun with me. For about 20-30 minutes, Nina went off with her friends on kayaks and Duje stayed with me. Wow, Kids have an amazing ability to communicate. The only words I could understand from him were "Da" and "Ne" which is just "yes" and "no." He would come over to me, hold my hands and put his feet on my legs to push himself up to make it look like he could stand higher in the water. Then he'd jump down and push my hands to the side and say something in Croatian. When i didn't respond, he'd push them to the side again and say "Da! Da!" Finally I realized he wanted me to pull him thru the water. Each time I did, he'd squeal with delight and swim away and clap and come back to holding my hands. Then he turned me around and jumped on my back and signaled me to swim. I stopped, pointed to his knee and then to my arms, showing him that he could sit on top of my shoulders and he got even more excited. Each time he climbed up and I stood up out of the water, he'd shout to the other kids and get excited. When I got exhausted and went to sit on the rocks, he'd pull my ankle and shout "Dochee!" at me. I shrugged my shoulders and said "Ne" so he went over to his friends. A few moments later, he shouted at me again "Hey! Dochee! Dochee!!!" I had no idea what was going on. I assumed it was a nickname or some way to address me, but later I found out it was Croatian for "Come on!!" Eventually Nina came back, called Duye over, and took us over to the snack bar. She bought us ice cream and we sat on the rocks until Doris came to get us. "Ok, now when you will shower and get ready, you will drive with me and we go to Vrboska, yes?"

Vrboska is a town on Hvar where parts of my dad's family lived before emigrating to Chicago. The house that they lived in is still there, but now there are none of our family members living in it. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a woman named Linda and her mother (I should have written down her name, but I think it's Mirvena?). Linda spoke English pretty well, but her mother didn't. So much like with my dad and Margita, a lot of translation took place between conversations. As it turns out, we're related to these two too! After telling Mirvena the family tree details, she says to Linda something about seeing a picture of my dad on a bicycle when he was a kid. My dad gives a confused look and asked "Uh... I'm not sure how that could be, but if so, that's really amazing." We were invited up into Mirvena's house, and as we all sat around the kitchen, Linda and Mirvena brought an envelop of photos to the table.

Picture after picture, my dad was nearly moved to tears. Each picture dated to sometime between 1930-1950. Pictures of my dad's aunts and uncles, his grandparents, and even his great grandmother. Then came a picture of three children on bicycles. Linda translated as Mirvena said "Yes, and this is you with your siblings." My dad looked closer and was still not totally convinced. Surely enough, the back of the picture has a short description and the word "Argentina."

A few months after my dad was born, his family moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina (my grandfather was in the Air Force). This picture was taken by my grandmother and sent to her mother in Chicago. Her mother then sent it to her sisters and brother on Hvar. The picture was still there on the island nearly 60 years later. How amazing.

More pictures were sorted thru, and more stories were shared. As we hugged, kissed, and left Mirvena's home, we walked down the street to the house my great grandmother lived in. Margita knocked on the door and spoke to a gal in her mid-20s and told her about our family living there some decades ago. She was delighted to meet us and we said hello and goodbye then headed back to the car and then back to Milna for the night.

Photos from the day:

Sailing to Hvar. Island in foreground, mainland in the distance.


Along the beach in Milna, on Hvar.


My dad with Mirvena and Nina, looking at photos.


Photos of relatives. I'm unsure as to who is on the left, but on the right is Teta Genevieve.


Picture taken in Argentina between 1948-1950


My dad and Doris, standing outside of their grandparents' house.