Big bus out of the Schengen Area to Zagreb, Croatia

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Masayo and I had some exciting firsts on the trip today as we left Slovenia and entered Croatia to the south. It was our first time to go through a passport check since arriving in Sweden two months ago, and thus our first passport stamps. Not only did things go smoothly as we went from one European capital directly to another by bus – Ljubljana to Zagreb – but my post-dinner blood sugar was fantastic for the second day in a row.

Waking up in Atticus Bed and Breakfast in Ljubljana, my BG was 76. I credit the low-carb dinner I had last night. We had breakfast downstairs in the dining area of Atticus – a nice buffet plus way-too-small coffees.

The day was scarcely well-planned; we tend to travel by the seat of our pants even when crossing international borders. Like diabetes, it’s good to plan well and have all your ducks in a row but even if you don’t you can get by all right. Fear is generally unfounded.

We had two main things to do in Ljubljana: Masayo had to get the package we’ve been waiting for from the Japanese embassy (waiting for it to arrive from Japan is the whole reason we haven’t left Slovenia yet), plus we had to secure tickets to Zagreb, Croatia.

Masayo suggested that she go by herself to the embassy while I go to the station to get tickets. We hoped we’d get tickets, anyway; it’s December 23 and I don’t know how busy holiday traffic might be ’round these parts. If tickets were available, I’d get them.

And just hope that the package pickup had gone smoothly.

We parted and I headed to the bus/train station area. I first tried the bus station, asking at a window about Zagreb. They had two tickets for exactly the time I wanted, but didn’t take credit cards. We’ve been avoiding taking euros out of any ATM because we can’t spend them in Croatia, but for the third time in three days (following dinner and then our guesthouse in Piran) I went to an ATM for a last-minute purchase.

Start accepting credit cards, Slovenia!

I met up with Masayo back at Atticus – she had indeed secured the package from the embassy. Her new bank card, and my new 128GB thumb drive, were in our hot little hands.

Now let’s leave Slovenia.

We checked out and went to the station but there was still an hour to kill. Our final coffee-related Slovenian mystery ensued as we went to Box Bar, a very comfy and relaxed cafe across the street; in a large semi-covered outdoor area they had big soft couches to sit in and watch the traffic.

We sat down and I ordered “two coffees” – you know, for sitting and sipping and killing an hour’s time. Regular human stuff.

As if playing a joke, the server brought us the tiniest little coffee cups you can imagine. There was literally less than half an inch of drink in the bottom of each.

If you’ve been reading this blog then you know I’m like a broken record complaining about European coffee, but this was something new. I can’t think of any beverage in the world where this amount of liquid would be sufficient. A minuscule tenth-of-a-shot? What purpose could this possibly serve? And even if there is one, why would it be the default if someone asked for “coffee”?!

So there would be no relaxing sipping and warming for us. We trickled the thimbles of coffee down our unbothered throats, experiencing no relaxing warmth, and laughed to ourselves – about European cafe’s mystifying approach to their signature beverage and our own lack of culturedness. “WHERE MY REAL COFFEE AT?” I wanted to boom in my best Georgian voice.

But if your traveling attitude is “serve me, give me what I want, make me comfortable” all the time, I say you’re missing out on what local life is all about. Shut up and take what you get, try to learn from it. After whining about the coffee, that was my advice to myself anyway.

So we remained on our pleasingly tatty old sofa; I read the World War II book from Kraków, Poland while Masayo wrote in her diary. It was actually pretty nice. Some coffee would have helped. (Sorry.)

The bus was a little late but not too bad, and we climbed on, pleased with ourselves for having such an exciting day and for crossing yet another country’s border.

Croatia is the first country on this long trip that is not in the Schengen Area for passport control – we’ve crossed country borders that had abandoned guard posts in every place so far (like the night we stayed in Latvia but walked over to Estonia for dinner, or the brief dip into Slovakia we took while touring caves in northern Hungary). But now we had to actually dig our passports out to show to border guards.

For passport stamp collectors like us, it was a thrilling prospect. I find regular home life (work, car payments, blah blah) so boring that even basic mechanics of travel like passport control is impossibly exciting to me. What an adventure!

The only bad part was that, as the bus moved through the wide, straight highway through southern Slovenia I checked my BG and was 246. Must have been the breakfast. Or coffee anger. Nah, the breakfast. I took a shot and had a cinnamon roll we’d bought in Ljubljana station.

The Slovenian-Croatian border

There was a big complex on the border itself where the highway split into several lanes, all full of cars and buses today. The bus pulled off to one side and all us passengers trundled out into a line outside on the sidewalk. One by one we approached a little glass booth where a uniformed guy glanced at the passports and stamped us into Croatia. It was super smooth, no fuss and no nonsense. Not even a check of our luggage back on the bus.

The coach pulled forward itself the few feet across the border and we all got back on. Stamped passports and all; we were in Croatia!

Into Croatia to Zagreb

A little while later we pulled into Croatia’s capital city, Zagreb. In the station we found an ATM to get Croatian kuna and then found the tram stop that would take us to the room we’d booked on booking.com last night.

And it all worked well. The tram came, the number was what I expected, and we passed slowly through genial and work-a-day Zagreb to the stop I expected. What smooth travelers we have become. There has to be some value in that skill.

The place I’d found for us on booking.com is called Apartman Lilly, and it’s an actual apartment in a residential high-rise building. The plan is to stay here through Christmas; I assume most places will be closed and so it’s handy to have a full kitchen (and washing machine!) and a place to hunker down and wait out the holidays.

We met up with the staff from Apartman Lilly, checked in, and put all our stuff inside. It was nice – loud green and yellow walls, and a big wide purple bed in an open, spacious room with a couch and a dining table. The price is good and I think we’ll be happy here; we’re within walking distance of downtown Zagreb as well if we don’t want to take trams.

Across the big street outside is a Billa supermarket and we went to buy some groceries for the next few days. Inside, as I was taking a photo of Masayo shopping, a smiling woman came up to us and started speaking in English, asking if we’d like her to take a photo of us.

She was really friendly so I handed her my camera and posed with Masayo. As the lady snapped a couple photos another woman approached her and started berating her, protesting that photos in the store aren’t allowed.

This second lady wasn’t an employee, just a shopper, and the two women started snapping at each other. Our photographer was saying she was taking pictures of us, not of the goods on the shelves, and that it was ok. Masayo and I watched and tried not to laugh; it was all so strange.

Anyway this potential international incident quickly died down; the woman gave the camera back and wished us Merry Christmas – and then the same to the complaining woman, but sarcastically.

The yin and yang of Croatian shoppers at Christmas time!

After this odd glimpse into local life we went back to the apartment with our real kitchen food; in the room I checked my BG to see how I’d handled the cinnamon roll on the bus. My first Croatian blood sugar check was 181.

Eh, I’ve had worse.

Masayo cooked dinner – rice, fried pork, and instant soup, plus a bottle of beer for me. The home-cooked meal was great, a perfect mix of tastes and textures and just the right amount. I even did the dishes afterwards. What a good person I am, I flattered myself.

We then tried out the laundry machine and found that the ON button was broken; we had to dig it out of its little hole with a fork. Afterwards when I attempted a second load I managed to break the button completely. I stuck a butter knife in and wiggled it around until the machine sparked to life.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be sticking a metal knife into the busted inner electronics of an old washing machine. But hey, I didn’t get electrocuted and we had some clean laundry. Although it is quite possible that the machine will be inoperable for the remainder of our trip. Too bad; it’s nice to have the occasional machine laundry to go along with our usual sink-loads with the Scrubba bag.

Another good after-dinner blood sugar

Before bed my blood sugar was amazing – 85! Two nights in a row of good post-dinner readings, nearly the only two such nights in the last month. Have I finally turned a corner in my evening BG control? The bigger Humalog shot at dinner helped, and unlike last night this was not a low-carb meal.

I did decide to eat a couple of cookies though, 85 being a bit low before bed.

So things are going well in Croatia already. Zagreb seems a little more ramshackle than Ljubljana did, but it has a really nice vibe and I actually really enjoy being in a regular old residential area and not some resort or tourist place. Our own apartment, some good BGs, and tasty food. And resting a few days over Christmas to look forward to.

Wonder how long I can avoid 200+ BGs in Croatia…? I hope I can make it at least through Christmas Eve, which is tomorrow.

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