Sada Živim Daleko

Written by my Grandpa, Vladimir Ivan Barbalić
Sada Živim Daleko (Now I Live Far Away)

“Translated version”

Now I Live Far Away

Now I live far away in a foreign place Far away from my place of birth My body is here in this country But my spirit and thoughts are far away On the sea, stony beaches on the Adriatic Sea

And every night when darkness takes over I listen to the murmur of the sea And the songs of the regrets of the sea This house with the huge, vast endless form The little house with my heart from the sea

Now I live far away in a foreign place Far away from my place of birth But my heart yearns for me to be On the sea, stony beaches on the Adriatic Sea

The first time I went swimming in Baška, I floated on my back in the Adriatic Sea and closed my eyes. Everything around me became completely still. The only words I could hear in my head were, I am home. Over and over again. As I floated there, I pictured Grandpa beside me. The two of us floating on our backs together in the sea, holding hands. I felt as though I was talking to him. More than that, I felt as though I had finally returned to meet him. I cried because, for the first time, I felt as though I was home with him.

"My body is here in this country, but my spirit and thoughts are far away on the sea and the stony beaches on the Adriatic Sea."

Those words were exactly how I'd been feeling since coming back. My body was in New Zealand, but my heart and my thoughts were still in Baška.

Before I left for Croatia, I wrote in my application for the Domovina Birthright Program that Grandpa always said part of his heart remained in Croatia. I wrote that I'd never truly felt settled in New Zealand and that I'd always felt a strong pull towards his motherland. At the time, I couldn't explain why I felt that way.

Now I can.

Reading Grandpa's poem made me realise I never truly understood how hard it must have been for him to leave until I had to leave myself. For the first time, I understood the longing. The ache of leaving. The feeling that although your body is in one place, part of your heart never really leaves another. It gave me a deeper appreciation for the life he built, and an even greater admiration for the man he was.

What I can't stop thinking about is the timing of finding his poem. I'd never seen it before, yet somehow I found it the day after returning to New Zealand, when I needed it most. I can't explain why, but it doesn't feel like a coincidence. Reading his words didn't change how I felt. They made me realise Grandpa had once carried those very same feelings himself.

Leaving Baška still feels like leaving Grandpa. Finding his poem didn't take that feeling away, but it reminded me that somehow, even from the other side of the world, I still feel close to him.

When I was in Baška, for the first time in my life, I felt whole. It was as though the part of my heart I'd always felt remained there with him had never really left. Sitting in Baška, I had this quiet feeling that I was always meant to find my way back.

But my heart yearns for me to be
On the sea, stony beaches on the Adriatic Sea.