Over the Ocean and Through the Woods

My hopes for the "same old routine" written about in the last blog post here did not go as planned. A leak discovered by the people living below us led to a major repair/rennovation project which all the chaos such projects bring.

Life continued, nonetheless. We survived the chaos and moved forward, and what I briefly mentioned in the last post (the "big ship sailing steadily toward us," that stood for moving to Croatia) kept moving forward, too.

And so this past Friday found us in the Memphis airport yet again, having successfully passed the negative covid test. (Lately I'm refusing to capitalize that, thinking that tiny virus, along with the illness it causes, has already had more than its fair share of attention.) It was pleasantly warm in Memphis, but we had our coats at the ready for the colder temperature we expected the next day.

You gotta love a plane with "Delta Spirit" on it.

That Delta plane took us to Atlanta, where we heard lovely music from a saxophone player, a pianist, and a violinist, all in different times and places. We had some of the worst stuff called coffee I think I've ever had. We also took turns walking as much as we could, knowing how much sitting lay ahead.

This was the first time I recall seeing the moon, nearly full, out the window of a plane . . . .

Not the first, and probably not the last, time to see the sun rise from such a vantage point. It's always amazing. Flying is not generally pleasant or comfortable, but having a window seat makes for some wonderful moments of gratitude and contemplation.

We reached foggy, foggy Amsterdam on one of the smoothest transatlantic flights I've experienced, and after some much-needed walking and a pleasant couple of hours waiting, plus another hour or so of delay, we finally saw this plane out the window and knew we were almost there.

I have fond memories of the earlier Zagreb airport, old and not-so-shiny as it was. It was small, built in an older style, and you walked out of it to green grass with benches, a playground for children, and just a sense of being part of the real world, not the world of speed and traffic, hustle and bustle.

The new airport is nice, though, in its modern way. Mostly I miss the green grass. But I always enjoy seeing this welcome sign, which with its nod to handmade lace, olives, and fountain pens, does feel far from hustle and bustle and closer to the parts of life that make it worth living.

A good friend met us at the airport, and soon we were in the car, the ocean behind us and the woods before us. The drive from Zagreb to Čakovec means lots and lots of wooded hills, with houses and churches and businesses dotted here and there. Lots of smaller towns but no major cities until we get to Varaždin. And then beyond Varaždin we cross this bridge, and that means we are officially in Medimurje, the land between the rivers, the land with Čakovec as its main city.

And a land with trains, who have their own lovely bridge. The sun was setting on two sleepy travelers, making the view of the bridge even lovelier.

The official city limits sign of Čakovec greeted us after we passed through a couple of smaller villages.

And then the more interesting welcome came with its happy art and the reminder that Čakovec is the city of the 13th century castle that was home to the Zrinski family and others who protected this area and made possible the settlement that became a city.

And best of all, the sign was a reminder that we were almost home.