Croats are known for their warm hospitality, especially in northern Croatia. Taking a closer look, via a Varazdin County street party on September 3, 2017.
It is a little-known fact among the millions of tourists who visit Croatia's Adriatic coast that the tourism they are enjoying is powered by the sweat of thousands of workers from continental Croatia. Regions such as Slavonia in eastern Croatia are emptying due to the desperate economic situation, and much of its bright young talent can now be found in Ireland, Germany and - in summer at least - working on the Adriatic coast in the tourism industry. Stay in any big hotel and you will find seasonal workers from the north. They have a much-deserved reputation for being the best workers.
Life in northern Croatia is no picnic for many. What jobs there do exist are often lesser paid than on the coast, and the financial benefits of Croatia's large tourism industry rarely filters down to these regions.
And yet, despite the economic hardships, the hospitality in the north is legendary, and most people on the coast will have a story or memory of continental hospitality.
Having moved to a village in Varazdin County 9 months ago, I quickly became accustomed to the warmth of the welcome. No sooner had we arrived with our truck to our new home than not one but two neighbours had knocked on the door, bearing welcome gifts. And we had been invited into the homes of three to eat and drink before the end of the week. A warm welcome indeed, for which many thanks.
The hospitality I have experienced in the north is spontaneous and rarely quiet, and once you submit, you might as well put away your watch, because time is relative. One of my favourite examples was being invited 'for 10 minutes' by a local near Virovitica at the Fra Ma Fru Festival last year. He wanted me sample his wine and drove me to the vineyard, where a troupe of musicians was waiting to christen a new wooden scarecrow, and a large pot of goulash was awaiting. I had never been to a scarecrow christening before, and I missed the entire rest of the day at the festival, but had the most wonderful time. You can see the musicians at work in the vineyard in the video above.
It was in Slavonia that I had possibly my finest meal in Croatia. Taking advantage of a pause in the proceedings during the first Liberland conference in the village of Lug near Osijek, I popped in for a quick drink with the Osijek Maestros, aka Croatia's finest photographers, Romulic and Stojcic. Mario had been busy in his organic garden - this was just the vegetable side dish.
The reason for this article, however, is a snapshot of a community coming together during a little event that happened at the weekend.
Having spent the summer on the coast, we returned home at the end of last month to the delightful cul-de-sac of just 12 houses in our little village in Varazdin County. The only non-resident traffic we ever see on the street are delivery vehicles and - and I was seriously impressed by this - a snow plough each night when needed in winter. Our neighbours decided to get together and have the first ever street party a couple of days after our arrival home - a wonderful welcome.
A street party. What could it possibly involve? A barbecue and a few glasses of wine or gemist perhaps? A pleasant event which would start at 17:00 and probably be over by 22:00, especially as rain had finally decided to come and visit after this dryest of summers.
The first sign that I had seriously underestimated my neighbours was when I saw a group of tamburasi musicians appear with their instruments. My thoughts went back to the Virovitica vineyard, and I knew immediately that we had a long night ahead.
The accomplished team across the road had already been at in for some time with the preparation of one of the dishes for the evening, a really tasty kotlevina, with the younger generation also playing a part.
The music started, and there was nothing else to do than follow them to the party. This was going to be fun.
I really had no idea that there were so many people living on the street - some 40 in all - of all ages and backgrounds, and it was wonderful to see everyone blending in, and new friendships made.
There was food, lots of food. And wine and gemist, oh plenty of wine and gemist.
And as the wine flowed and the music started, usually reserved neighbours loosened their tongues in the most surprising of ways (see above).
One of the things I most enjoyed during my 14 years on Hvar was the sense of community and family which exists there as elsewhere in Croatia. Everyone looks out for everyone else, and generations mingle with ease at celebrations. It was lovely to see the older folk getting up for a dance with the younger ones.
I was wondering how long it would take for the Croatian flag to appear. About 22:30 was the answer. A Croatian version of doing the conga...
Gospodin Gemist was never far from an empty glass. No posh wine labels here, just very drinkable local wines served in jugs and plastic bottles - wonderfully informal.
At some point around midnight, this correspondent walked the few metres to get something from home, took five minutes to check some messages on his phone and promptly fell asleep, and even the best efforts of three children dispatched to bring him back to the party were unsuccessful. Allegations of snoring are unfounded.
The party went on long into the night. A fabulously homely event, and a snapshot in this crazy modern world of an example where community still does exist, and where Croatia's very finest hospitality is on display.
Thank you Neighbours - you are the best.
