Though the sought after produce and shopping aims may alter, Croats will likely always be hopping over the Bosnian border for something or other...

As Novac/Stanislav Soldo writes on the 23rd of January, 2020, previously, oil, milk, sugar were being bought over the border in neighbouring Bosnia and Herzegovina, and today it is mainly fuel, because the aforementioned basic foodstuffs are now being sold much more cheaply than they used to in large shopping centres in Croatia, which are increasingly attracting buyers from Bosnia and Herzegovina in a rather ironic trend reversal.

Thus, Dalmatians now travel over the Bosnian border to purchase fuel and cigarettes, while citizens of Bosnia and Herzegovina come to Croatia for consumer goods that are sold in typical Dalmatian shopping centres.

Although fuel has now become significantly cheaper here in Croatia, it is still cheaper over the Bosnian border, and on top of that fuel stations in Bosnia and Herzegovina typically accept not only the Croatian kuna as payment, but euros and various types of card.

Because they can save about a hundred kuna, residents of Dalmatian border areas, such as the Neretva valley and wider region, Vrgorac, Imotski and the surrounding areas have been taking a quick trip over the Bosnian border and tanking there for years on end now.

The most sought-after Eurosuper 95 from over the Bosnian border costs 2.20 BAM (convertible marks), which, when converted to kuna, stands at around HRK 8.47, while in Croatia, the same fuel comes with a price tag of HRK 9.98.

Therefore, the price over the Bosnian border is lower by about HRK 1.51 per litre of petrol. Diesel in Bosnia and Herzegovina costs 2.30 BAM or HRK 8.85, while its price in Croatia is HRK 9.85, so, over the Bosnian border it is significantly cheaper per litre. The calculation is simple, and the monetary savings per litre of fuel are more than reason enough for more and more drivers from Dalmatia to fill their tanks out of Croatia and just over the Bosnian border.

Despite the lower price of fuel in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croats who still don't take advantage of the bargains refrain from doing so owing to fear that it may be of lower quality than that sold here in Croatia. Specifically, lower quality standards are applied in Bosnia and Herzegovina than in Croatia, so some types of derivatives contain higher amounts of sulfur than those purchased within Croatian territory.

However, a lower price breaks down the majority of barriers for all sorts of people, especially in these more difficult times when people's pockets are shallower and wallets often somewhat lighter.

In addition to refueling, certain brands of coffee can be drunk at fuel stations across the Bosnian border for about HRK 4, and cigarettes, which are on average cheaper by about HRK 5 per pack.

''Even if fuel and cigarettes in Bosnia and Herzegovina were to get more expensive, it will still be more profitable for us to buy it there than in Croatia!,'' customers from Dalmatia state. They are not afraid of potentially poor quality fuel being sold over the Bosnian border.

''Oh, they're just stories, you can usually get simple 95 or 98, which is better quality than it is in Croatia,'' they claim.

All this is reason enough to "pull" many Dalmatians across the Bosnian border at least twice a month for fuel and cigarettes or cut tobacco, which cannot be legally brought into the Republic of Croatia.

''I know cigarettes are harmful, but I can't stop smoking, that's the only pleasure I have. I have no money for a box of "Croatian" cigarettes. I used to buy cigarettes over the border, and now I only buy tobacco and I roll it myself,'' one pensioner stated, who barely makes ends meet with her 1,800 kuna pension. When purchasing it over the Bosnian border, a mere 20 BAM spent is enough for a whole month of enjoying nicotine for her.

Experienced Croatian cross-border shoppers and seasoned bargain hunters claim that sell shopping malls are receiving kuna in the shopping centres close to the Bosnian border with Croatia, but the exchange rate is not that favourable, so it is more profitable to pay with a card.

However, if you go deeper into Bosnia and Herzegovina, the Croatian kuna stops being accepted tender. They want only Bosnian convertible marks there, or you'll need to pay with a card. However, even in this case, it's also still well worth the purchase for most.

Another added benefit is VAT refunds at the Bosnian border and the only condition is that the goods must be removed from the territory of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

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A brand new Soft concept store from Zara in Rijeka, Croatia, that only Istanbul, Madrid and Dubai can currently boast about opens its doors today.

As Poslovni Dnevnik writes on the 11th of October, as they described from Zara, the women's section was located on the ground floor and first floor of the store, the second floor was reserved for children's fashion while the men's section was located on the last, third, floor of this opulent and popular store.

Now the extensive work to renovate the former post office building in Korzo has been completed, the new Zara store opened its doors on Friday at 12:00, Zara Croatia said. They added that after just two days of being without their favourite store in the city of Rijeka, Zara is opening the doors of a new store at Korzo 13, Novi list writes.

''Covering nearly 3,100 square feet of Soft design, the new Zara, spread across the ground floor and three upper floors, will ''tell'' a new fashion story to its customers. The Soft Store concept is one of the concepts that has not yet taken over all the world's metropolises, and we can boast that our store in Rijeka is one of the first to have it alongside those in Dubai, Madrid and Istanbul,'' they point out from Zara.

''There's a lounge corner near the men's section, a corner for the youngest customers in the children's section and a handful of greenery, the interesting furniture and details are novelties that we haven't had the opportunity to see in Zara stores in Croatia so far. The newly renovated store can be described in three words: nice, simple and refined. The sleek white surface covers the ceiling and the walls and creates a backdrop that enhances the attractiveness of these fashion creations. The space invites customers to enjoy themselves as never before in the experience of touching, watching and interacting with the goods.

The store in Rijeka, as well as all other Zara stores in Croatia, as part of Zara's commitment to improving the quality of service and shopping experience, is equipped with RFID technology that helps to quickly and accurately track the location and movement of the clothing,'' Zara said.

Zara is part of the Inditex Group with the brands Pull&Bear, Massimo Dutti, Bershka, Stradivarius, Oysho, Zara Home and Uterqüe.

The brand currently has ten stores across the Republic of Croatia and has offered online shopping opportunities in Croatia since March 2016.

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August the 20th, 2019 - ''53 kuna. Imate sitno? That's 53 kuna / Do you have any smaller bills?'' the cashier lady asked looking timidly at the guy in front of me who was digging through his pockets with his phone surgically attached to his ear.

He didn't even look at her, just pulled out a few bills from his pocket, talking on the phone, threw it on the cash register and left the store. I tried to smile at the cashier lady, but one look behind my back pursueded me that those angry faces wouldn't wait long while I made small talk with her, trying to make her feel like a human being.

They all looked stressed and in a hurry. So I put the things into my shopping bag as quickly as I could, trying to find my credit card in my wallet, feeling them breathing down my neck. And at that moment I realised – that shopping is a huge source of stress for me. First, of all, If you're going to read this article, I think it's only fair that you know one fact -  I really don't like shopping.

It wasn't always like that, though.

When I was a little girl growing up in Karlovac, shopping was a bit more fun. Going shopping in Karlovac in those days was a synonymous with going to TEKSTILKA. TEKSTILKA was a huge shopping centre located in a grey building with orange TEKSTILKA letters plastered on the roof, which at night you could read as T KS T LKA because some of the lightbulbs had apparently burned out.

TEKSTILKA was based on a one man band philosophy – we have all you need at one location. And it really did have everything. A papirnica (stationary shop), drapery products, kitchen supplies - ground floor to the left. Buttons, wool and kniting supplies – ground floor to the right, next to the candy store.

Shoes, clothing and carpets - second floor. Third floor was reserved for the furniture – on your right, and LPs, tape recorders and cassettes – on your left.

Tekstilka was a magical place which covered all of your purchuasing needs.

''Mum, I need new notebooks for school,'' I mentioned to my mum politely.

''Idemo sutra u TEKSTILKU pa ćemo kupiti. Moram ići kupiti neke gumbe! / We'll go to TEKSTILKA tomorrow and we will buy them. I need to go and get some new buttons anyway!'' she'd reply.

Having matching buttons was a really big deal to my mother. She was always in search of the perfect buttons. Hours of my childhood were spent in the TEKSTILKA buttons department watching my mum choose between the right shade of deep red buttons for the new sweater she was knitting.

Nobody would rush you in the buttons department. After hours of strolling through TEKSTILKA, mum would pull out her chequebook and slowly write a cheque at the main cashier register. The cashier lady would then take all of her receipts and put a purple stamp on them.

Well, actually, to tell you the truth, I don't dislike everything about shopping...

I do like to buy old books and stroll around Britanac, or perhaps better to say Britanski trg (British square), a beautiful picturesque Zagreb sqaure where on Saturday morning, old ladies will sell you used tea cups with matching teapots and candlesticks from the Habsburg monarchy, dusty paintings and oxidated old silver photo frames.

Oh, and I also like to buy scented candles! But, there are only so many scented candles and photo frames in the world that you can buy. At some point you just have to go out – and buy some groceries. Or even worse... Shoes.

As much as I dislike shopping, my nine year old son adores it.

''Što si kupila?/ What did you buy?'' he asks instead of ''Bok, mama, kakav je bio tvoj dan? Jesi umorna? / Hi, Mum! What was your day like? Are you tired?'' and he starts sniffing around my shopping bags in my hands with a hunting glow in his eyes – spotting me on the doorway getting home from work.

''Nothing, just bread,'' I answer tiredly.

''Bread? Bread?! he screams at me.

''You just buy stuff for yourself, nothing for me!'' he proclaims as he walks away angrly and slams the door behind him. And I put my brand new halfwhite bread, collection spring/summer, limited edition, on the table.

Going to the store with him, you feel as if you are re going hunting for foxes in the forest nearby.

''So, listen, we will just spend 400 kuna, not a penny more! We're going in and out,'' I state as I give my kids a lecture while standing in the parking space infront of the supermarket.

''Nema žicanja! / No pestering! – repeat after me! Nema žicanja! / No pestering!'' I command.

''Nema žicanja, mama!'' the three of my kids repeat obediently in the back seat of the car. I'm not entirely convinced, though. One look at the back mirror and I spot that familiar little hunting sparkle in my son's eye.

''Madam, do you need more bags? / Gospođo, trebate li još vrećica?'' a nice cashier lady yells across the cash register to me.

I didn't quite hear her because she was yelling from the other side of a huge hill made of organic bananas, toilet paper, notebooks, pencil sharpners (didn't I buy one for you last week?), pencil cases, wallnuts, chocolate flavoured cornflakes, cocoa cookies and milk. I'm pretty sure I saw a chandelier and one or two stuffed animals somewhere in that same pile.

''To bi bilo 1,500 kuna, Gospođo. Gotovina ili kartica? / That would be 1,500 kuna, Madam. Cash or credit card?'' she asks kindly.

I feel my blood pressure dropping by the second, I feel dizzy, my heart is rapidly pumping, I hear a buzzing in my ears… and just before I faint under the counter, I squeeze the words through my lips:

''Može na rate? / Can I pay in installments?''

And then I look at my son. He's overcome with happiness. That sparkle turned into a glow while his eyes danced over the treasure on the cash register.

''Hvala, mama! Volim te! / Thank you, Mum! I love you!'' he yells while packing his ''prey'' into the shopping bags.

The real challenge, however – is the summer vacation with children somewhere on the Croatian coast. Let's say that you're going with your three lovely, modest and undemanding children on your well deserved summer holiday, feeling happy for looking at the sunset, lounging around on the beach while your children collect pebbles and throw them into the sea. You're very pleased with yourself, because this year you've outsmarted the ice-cream sellers.

You booked a nice hotel, which covers all of your meals, and more importantly – ice creams and sodas, guided with the slogan: ''There is plenty of ice-cream in the hotel! You don't need soda! Drink water! It's healthier for
you!''

And then one nice day you step out onto some beautiful Croatian beach wearing your huge sunglasses and a bathing suit, ready to dive into the Adriatic sea. But, where is the Adriatic sea? Oh there it is! That little blue thing in the background behind the stalls packed with plastic toys and glittering useless stuff. Every Croatian beach is packed with those. I imagine locals just dragging that same dusty stuff from last summer from their garages every May, waiting for new naive and totally helpless parents to arrive.

''Ajde, djeco, idemo na plažu! / Come on kids, let's go to the beach!'' I yell naively.

''Mum, Mum, can I buy this? I really need that!''

''Look, Mum, these are free!'' my daughter proclaims.

''Lucija, only air here is free of charge!'' I say impatiently, carefully looking around me for the sign: A place in the shade – 15 kuna.

''Can we buy this swimming pool? I want a swimming pool,'' asks my son as he points me towards the huge box with photos of suspiciously happy looking people grinning in a plastic garden pool.

''We're not buying a swimming pool! We are two metres away from the most beautiful sea in the world. We came here to enjoy the sunsets and the sea! So enjoy it!'' I finally flip out at them.

''Well, I am enjoying it'' my sons notifies me and wanders off to the next stand.

Next summer, I'm thinking just of renting some wasteland in the middle of nowhere and putting a big plastic swimming pool there, and some stalls with plastic stuff around them, and call it a summer vacation.

There is only one thing more stressful for me than summer shopping with my children. Shopping for jeans – one of my worse shopping nightmares. I timidly enter the modern store in one of Zagreb's shopping malls. I try to find the sales lady, but all I see is a seventeen-year-old with too much red lipstick and a pony tale laughing her head of on the phone, and making chewing gum balloons. And then it hits me: That IS the sales lady.

I yell across the store trying to speak over Justin Bieber singing from the loudspeakers.

''Excuse me, I would like to buy some jeans''

The girl rolls her eyes at me, reluctantly, leaves her phone and pulls out a pair of extra small tight jeans, looking straight through me.

''Do you have something for the other leg?'' I think to myself, while I'm breaking out in a cold sweat, but I force myself just to ask her politely: ''Do you have something in size L?''

''It's all universal,'' she replies and makes another chewing gum balloon nervously. Her boyfriend is waiting on the phone, come on already!

Did I say that buying jeans is my worst shoping nightmare? Please, forgive me. I forgot about the shoes.

If I ever get really rich (it's just about to happen, any day now), I will open a shoe store. But not just any kind of store. It will be a little shoe store with a flashing sign in front spelling: 41. And, yes, you guessed it; it will sell size 41 only (size 9 USA, 8 UK). Ah, 41, the mysterious shoe size and an everlasting secret of Croatian shoe stores.

You see, there is a pretty big amount of very tall women in Croatia. Myself included. And a large number of them wear the shoe size 41. Which brings me to my next point, an obvious Croatian shoe paradox. I enter a regular shoe store in Zagreb centre, a city with around one milion residents, and judging by the amount of high heels clattering on Zagreb's streets, at least half of those residents are women.

And I spot them! The best looking shoes I've ever seen. The ones I've dreamed of! I lift them upside down and check the price. Also nice!

''Izvolite'' says a nice shoe store lady as she approaches me.

And then I take a deep breath, trying to use all the mindfulness philosophy I know and enjoy that moment, holding the perfect shoe with a perfect price in my hand and with heart in my mouth, I ask:

''Imate možda 41? / Do you maybe have these in size 41?'' I ask, holding my breath and squinting helplessly with one eye, in fear of the shoe truth.

''Jooooj, nemamo, prodali smo sve! / Ahhh, I'm sorry, we don't, we sold them all!'' the sales lady replies to me.

''Are you sure? Can you check?'' I put on my sad face.

''I'm afraid not,'' she says as she shrugs her shoulders.

Sometimes they don't tell you at once that size 41 is sold out, feeling sorry for you, standing there with that shoe, like a sad puppy. Some of them go to the warehouse or in the back and pretend for five minutes they are searching for it.

Before, I was naive thinking that they were actually searching. Now I'm positive that they stand there there between all these pretty little size 38 shoes counting to 100, before they come out with the disappointing answer:
''Ne, nažalost, ništa / Nope, I'm sorry, nothing! We always order only 6 pairs of size 41 and they sell out the first day they arrive!''

Six pairs? Six pairs?!

If someone could please explain to me how the shoe store owners got to the fact that only six women in all of Zagreb would ask for size 41, I would be very grateful to them! In every store I asked at, they give me the same answer: We order only six pairs of size 41!

How difficult is to call the factory in China and ask for another six pairs, I wonder...

With years of shoe shopping gone by, I gave up hope on ever finding nice shoes in size 41. Now I just enter the store and yell from the door: ''Što imate da je 41? / What do you have that's in size 41?'' and follow the nice lady to the working boots department.

A few days ago I was sitting with my friend at the shopping mall, drinking coffee after shoe shopping. I spotted a little sign at one store saying: ''We are here for you!'' Well, nobody is here for you in the store, not even seventeen-year-old sales girls with extra lipstick making balloons with chewing gum.

But maybe, maybe there are some people that really are here for you at the stores... Remember my magical childhood shopping store TEKSTILKA, from the beginning of the story?

Well, there still exists a little sweet place like that in Zagreb, called N…, oops, I must not advertise.

A huge building with old-fashioned dark blue lettering on the roof with – everything you need.

A stationary shop and bags on the first floor, right to the candy store, clothing and kitchen supplies on the second floor, furniture, carpets and washing machines on the top floor. They don't accept chequebooks there anymore, but nobody's rushing you, rolling their eyes at you because you interrupted a phonecall from soneone's boyfriend and you don't need to try to compete with Justin Bieber when asking for things in your size.

And, most importantly, no matter how tired the sales lady is, you will always get a warm smile and a kind ''Izvolite? / How can I help you?'' Sometimes, that is all we need for a nice day.

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