Going Native

Part of the fun and function of the Fulbright comes in the appreciation of the host country’s culture and joie de vivre. Zagreb, all that I’ve seen of Croatia so far, is a vibrant city with a confidence in the way it does things that has impressed me in just the short week I’ve spent here so far.

I mentioned in an earlier post that I’m walking a great deal more here than at home in the States; I am doing about 2-3 miles in the morning and another 1-2 in the afternoon. So far, this is mostly running errands to set up my household, the daily food shopping, and a few meetings and appointments here and there. This will probably change once I begin teaching (next week?), but until then, I intend to walk as much as possible, even venturing out without an end point in mind (or perhaps using indirect streets to reach it). The more I explore new streets and new routes, the more I can discover—a hardware store here, a pharmacy there—that may pay dividends when needed.

On Saturday, Teri (my old friend from New Orleans) and her husband Mike (my new friend from New Orleans), who both work at the embassy here, took me to a little pasta/pizza bistro for lunch. It was fun to sit outside . . . Croatians seem to love to eat and drink al fresco, and even the McDonalds I’ve seen have few tables inside and many umbrella-topped tables out on the square.* Teri and Mike pointed out a “large supermarket” near the bistro, and I set out there on Monday on my own, taking tram 2 to get there (it seemed too far to walk). Well, yesterday, I studied my handy map and worked out a shortened walking route that cut the distance to about a mile. Perfect!

So far, I’ve shopped in three larger supermarkets: Konzum (the most ubiquitous), Billa (large and convenient), and the most recent find, Mercator (which bills itself as a “Hipermarket” not so much hipper as hyper to my eyes). Konzum is like a typical European grocery; anyone who’s shopped at an Aldi in the US knows this genus. Billa is more like a Kroger, both in size and scope. Mercator is like a SuperTarget, with clothes, DVDs, electronics, household goods, and lots of food.

On Saturday I ventured into the closest street (farmer’s) market to my apartment, off Branimirova Street. I saw dozens of tables with fresh produce, with lots of repetition: most tables had tomatoes, root veggies, apples, and plums. It seemed all very seasonal and bountiful. I looked for the best prices and quality. I picked up eight apples for 3kn (about $.60), and three beautiful pears for 4kn (or $.80). The apples, truth be told, were smallish and imperfect, but taste just fine. I bought a few tomatoes too that were too good looking to pass up.

One lesson that’s been reinforced from the orientation and the week here is that if you live like the natives, you can live more cheaply. Certainly the Branimirova market bears this out. The groceries naturally have all the produce, but at steeper prices. The meat is good quality, but more expensive. I bought some sausage the other day (and believe me, buying unknown sausage in strange wrappers in a foreign language is an act of faith), and it was a delightful smoked kielbasa-style.

And so, I’m diverting my American appetites to the local cuisines and feeling better for it. My budget is all the better for it, too! Still, I have a friend sending me some Simply JIF in a care package, since peanut butter is hard to find and five or six times the price when found. I haven’t found tuna packed in water yet, only oil, but it’ll form a nice tuna salad I intend to whip up later this evening. Celery would be nice for that, but alas the celery here is spindly and wimpy, when I can recognize it. Haven’t seen much spinach here either, but will keep an eye out.

I’m going native, as they say, and doing without some food and some conveniences I’m used to. Here are some major changes I’m confronting (and enjoying the work-arounds):

• NO Air Conditioning (haven’t really needed it and it’s now officially fall);
• NO Clothes Dryer (using a clothesline and some drying racks—the clothes dry stiffer than I’m used to);
• NO Microwave Oven (using another pot to reheat is an extra step);
• NO Dishwasher (I’ll get dishpan hands for sure, especially having to clean that extra pot!);
• NO elevator (eh . . . it’s only three flights up and I need the exercise).

I love this city already, and since I’m out so much, it’s only natural I’ve been accosted by Croatians asking directions of me on the street. It happened twice yesterday, and once again today. I do what any native would do in this situation, I open my eyes wider and wider until they stop talking and say politely, “ne govorim!”

*I swear I only purchased a Coke Zero there. Really!