Drifting Upstream, Cetina River

Like a turtle pushing its head tentatively from the protection of its shell, we are beginning to take a look around us. We arrived in Croatia with a backlog of work, and our first several days were spent looking backwards or toward setting up a household.

Because we were in the last several places for less than a week, the girls had slacked on school work to spend more of the time we had exploring and experiencing those cities. The time spent out wandering kept us from our computers as well, and led to a backlog of work, e-mails, and photos.

The price is right on our apartment here, but the kitchen was equipped with utensils that were handed down and cast off from elsewhere, knives with hacks out of the blades, a rusty can opener, a broken butter dish repaired with a bandaid, no spatulas. We found ourselves buying some inexpensive bowls, knives, srubbies, utensils, and a new broom. Hannah and I spent an afternoon cleaning out the kitchen and making it home. Happily, there are lots of decent bed and bath linens, more than we need, and everything else works well.

Other than a few trips to the beach in the center of Omis, instigated by Marlie, we had spent the rest of our time staring at computer screens. Now that we are back into a routine, it is time to look around a little. Yesterday, we wandered into town and hired a boat to take us up the river.

Omis was a haven for pirates, an old stronghold fort from that era stands on the hill above the old part of town. The River Cetina flows into the sea at here, ending it journey from a spring on Mt. Dinara. Below the fort and old quarter, we happened upon a man offering boat rides up stream He and his Jack Russell companion took us to a lovely park and with a restaurant, past German and Italian ramparts left from WW2, tree covered canyon walls and hut shelters for fishing.

We arrived too late to enjoy an afternoon glass of wine at the restaurant, they had just closed. We spent our time, instead, wandering below silent explosions of lavender wisteria, along the quiet river bank, past trout pools, and around an old stone building. On a beach along the river sat a small turtle, basking in a bit of sunlight that made its way through the trees, falling in dapples. It hid from us and our noise, retreating into a protective shell. Slowly, his head moved, and he began to look around. Finding himself in a lovely place, and also safe at home.