DAY 5
Postcards from Croatia - Hvar & Brač
If I could relive one day from the Domovina programme, I think it would have to be this one.
If I could relive one day from my time in Croatia, it would be this one.
We boarded the boat in Brela that morning before heading to Hvar, where we wandered around for a couple of hours. Then we hopped back on board for lunch and set off towards Brač. We had grilled squid, fish, kupus salata and a glass of wine as we sailed between the islands.
While we were out on the boat that day, A vitar puše by Oliver Dragojević started playing through the speakers. Out of every song it could have been, it was that one. The same song I'd used when I announced I'd received the Domovina scholarship.
The more time I spent in Croatia, the closer I felt to my Grandpa. It felt as though he'd been with me from the very beginning, from working on my Domovina application and launching Get Euro, right through to my time in Croatia. Hearing that song that afternoon only made me feel it even more. When I heard it, it felt like he was talking to me, like he was there with me in that moment. It was the most comforting feeling.
When we arrived in Brač, a few of us found a spot to swim. The water was crystal clear, and we spent the afternoon swimming, chatting, lying in the sun and soaking up every moment. Afterwards, Mia and I decided one gelato wasn't enough, so naturally we bought another one from a different shop to compare. By this point, it had become a daily essential.
Me, Mia & Julia
That evening, we were welcomed onto a beautiful family property to learn how to make soparnik (a traditional Dalmatian chard pie). What I loved most was that they didn't start with the recipe. We got to learn and experience the story and history behind it.
As our host made the soparnik, she shared the story behind it, explaining where it came from, why it was so important and how it had been passed down through generations. She'd learnt to make it as a little girl and had made her first one when she was around eleven years old. I was mesmerised watching her. In that moment, I realised traditions like these only survive because someone chooses to pass them on.
There was something so genuine about the whole experience. We were welcomed with homemade liqueurs before gathering around long tables beneath the trees, covered with white crocheted tablecloths. There were bowls of cherries picked straight from the tree, warm fritule dusted with icing sugar, and everyone was encouraged to help themselves.
Once the soparnik came out of the oven, it was cut into little diamond-shaped pieces for everyone to try. I remember all of us looking at each other thinking, how can something so simple taste this good? Then more food kept appearing on the table. Fresh sourdough, cheese, cured meats, anchovies, vegetables, apple strudel and, if I'm being completely honest, I think I ate about four šaum rolne (traditional Croatian cream-filled puff pastries) too.
As the evening went on, the wine kept being poured, conversations stretched out for hours. It honestly felt like no one wanted the day or the evening to come to an end.
By the end of the night, we all hopped back on the boat and, of course, I couldn't resist wrapping up a few leftover šaum rolne to take with me on the bus ride. It had seemed to become a bit of a recurring habit.
I remember sitting next to Mia on the bus ride back to the hotel, eating my smuggled šaum rolne and talking about how we couldn't believe it was already day five. Neither of us wanted the day, or the trip, to come to an end.
Looking back now, I think that's because, without even realising it, for two weeks this had become our everyday life. Even though it's been weeks since I returned to New Zealand, it still feels strange being apart from everyone. I don't think I'll ever stop being grateful for the friendships I made and the experiences we shared.
