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Island Moon A 3March 25, 2011

by Mary Craft

In my youth I spent nine sum-mers on the Adriatic coast in what was then Yugoslavia. The life style in this popular tourist area was not that different from my life back in the States as far as amenities. I stayed with my aunt Zorka in Vodice at her con-verted bed and breakfast house. The baths with showers were modern but had to be shared. There was a large grill in back where my uncle Joso would grill the ! sh he caught with the tourists he took out on his boat. There was an extra long pic-nic table outdoors with an aw-ning covered with grape vines above it. Besides the boat their method of transportation was a tractor motor that pulled a trail-er bed. It was much cheaper than a car and more useful for transporting the potatoes, on-ions, ! gs, etc from their ! eld outside of town.

Did  you  hear  an  oink?During my ! rst trip there it was weeks before I realized

there was a shed in the back corner of the yard that had a large pig residing. This was one tradition that mod-ern times did not affect. Most people bought a piglet at the ! rst of the year fed it leftovers all year then had the hams salt cured. I have a vivid memory of my then husband’s baba (grandmother) Tonka chas-ing around an escaped pig with a large tree branch. There was not a home without prosciutto wheth-er they had their own pig or not. Anyone you visited brought out a plate of it along with cheese and red wine.

It was such a kick meeting peo-ple from all over Europe who were there to have fun. I enjoyed the guests from Italy most with their “live for today” attitude. The Germans were more reserved ini-tially but warmed up soon once they spent time with my gregari-ous uncle and ever cheerful aunt. What the two cultures did have in common is that many requested my uncle take them to one of the many deserted islands nearby so they could skinny dip. My rogue uncle particularly enjoyed those charters and brought along a grill. What really made us laugh was that they insisted he be naked as well.

Tourists  from  behind  the  “iron  curtain”  visit

Some Eastern Europeans from C z e c h o s l o v a -kia and Bulgar-ia would visit the area but were only allowed to travel outside their coun-try in supervised groups. The buses and hotel rooms were provided by the plants they worked for. Peo-ple from these iron curtain coun-tries were easy to spot because they were poorly clothed. Some of the women wore their bras as swim

suit tops and yes there was underarm hair. They were ob-viously very excited to be at a beach since their countries were land locked. It is hard to believe that the iron cur-tain existed not that long ago.

On my trips I would try to meet different members of the family. One summer I decided to meet the brother ,Ilija, my Dad had not spoken to since the 40s because he became a member of the Communist party. I did not

let my father know what I was planning. Ili-ja had two sons around my age and I want-ed to meet them, as well. Ilija lived with his wife in a small inland town not far from the coast called Tinj. The land was part of the properties owned by the Krkljes family that was divided amongst the brothers. My aunt Zorka and I took a modern air conditioned bus up the coast to Zadar which had a large bus station.

Bumpy  bus  ride  to  meet  my  uncle  IlijaFrom there we took what looked like a third

world bus to Tinj. The bus was packed with people and the occasional chicken and we had to stand holding on only to a short strap above. The windows were all open and the hot air and dust would " y in. We had to take dirt roads which made for a bumpy ride. It got even worse when passengers started

shouting “Ajde Guro!” to the driver which means “Go faster George!”.

We did not know where Ilija lived but we knew the town was small so we ! gured when we got there we

could just ask around. There was a tall dark handsome guy standing next to me on the bus. I asked if he was

going to Tinj and he said he was. I asked if he knew where Ilija Krkljes lived and he replied “Yes, that’s my father.” We laughed as we each found the situation so incredible.

His name was Momcelo and he was attend-ing college majoring in engineering. His broth-er, Milorad, who I would later meet, lived and worked in the nearby coastal town Biograd na Moru (white town by the sea).

Tinj was not as remote as the other family vil-lages I had visited which was evident by the bus service and the fact that they had electric-ity. When I met Ilija I was taken aback by his crystal blue eyes and light coloring. My father, Vaso, had jet black hair and dark brown eyes as did his relatives I had met. My two broth-ers have blue eyes as do my mother so I knew there had to be some blue eyed link on my fa-ther’s side. Apparently, one of my grandparents whose grave site I visited in Bjelin had blue eyes.

Ilija talked about his life in Tinj and how my father had convalesced there when he had ma-

My  Summers  in  Yugoslavia

laria. Communism and atheism were promoted by the government at the time but we did not discuss politics.

Belgrade  the  historical,  cultural  capital  of  SerbiaAfter the civil war in the early 90s the Serbians had to

leave this area that became part of Croatia. They went to refugee camps near Belgrade the capital of Serbia. Momcelo now lives and works there and Milorad, who had married a Croatian remained behind. Belgrade has a great university and is a very cultured city with lots of history. My family that came there after the war were not exactly welcomed because they were looked at as basically “hillbillies”. I am glad to say things have changed and they have all become part of the commu-nity there.

My father went to military school in Belgrade. His un-cle was a major of! cial in the Serbian Royal army un-der King Alexander and he had great in" uence. He felt Vaso did not belong in the remote village of Bjelin and took him to Belgrade at age 14 to enter military school. When he completed school in 1939 he also became part of the royal army and by age 20 was an of! cer.

And that brings me to another story.......

The Krkljes brothers Jovan, Vaso and Ilija.

Aunt Zorka with the next year’s prosciutto.

Baba Tonka has worn black since she lost her husband many years ago. Sadly there were

many women in black.

Uncle Joso with my sister Svetlana on his boat. You can see why the lady tourists swooned.

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