Zagreb: First Impressions

I’m walking about four miles a day as I explore the city. For those who know me, this is astounding; for those who don’t know me, stop picturing a man in great shape. I’ll get there if I keep this up.

Almost every corner turned reveals a different picture of Zagreb, and all of them “true” to a degree: baroque buildings mixed with communist-era blocks of apartments, along with glassy modern buildings. Banks, for instance, can come in any architectural flavor. Trees and parks break up the buildings, and I’ve passed more than a few teenage couples making out on a park bench . . . while an elderly pensioner sits on the next one reading what looks like a lottery newspaper. A different pensioner, of course, for each different couple sucking face.

The tram system is confusing at first, which means don't believe the guy who tells you "all the trams go through the main square" . . . they don't. Could they put a tram map INSIDE the streetcars so a fellow could double check his choice of the 6, 17, 1, 14, or 5? So far, I’ve been on the right number going in the right direction . . . can’t forget the importance of that last bit!

Coming from New Orleans as I do, I already have a sense of what a European city should feel like, and Zagreb feels right to me. In New Orleans, directions come in two varieties: toward the lake or toward the river? And (at Mardi Gras) Sidewalk or Neutral Ground side of the street? I find myself reducing Zagreb to a few simple demarcations: toward the river or toward “up the hill”? And the corollary, the river side of the train station, or the “up the hill” side?

To be fair, I should point out that “up the hill” has a name, Gradec, and it is the place where St. Mark's Church resides, the sabor (parliament), and a few expensive shops and restaurants (but damn good eats—had a “peka-style veal breast roll” last night that made me crazy—Peka-style means baked under an iron bell). Gradec is the old town dating from at least the thirteenth century; it merged with another town and evolved into the Zagreb of today.

Another part of Zagreb is the Novi Zagreb area—sort of the “West Bank” suburbs that New Orleans has at its own riverbend. Nevermind that Novi Zagreb is south of Zagreb . . . so is the West Bank of New Orleans, but no one seems to care about that. I’ll continue to think of it as the West Bank, thank you very much. For my Morgantown friends, think Westover. Funny how these geographical patterns repeat. Also for my West Virginia friends, the weather here is spookily the same as there. Right now, highs in the mid-70s and lows at night in the low 60s or upper 50s. I will get all four season in my time here.

Finally, the strongest first impression is that there’s a salon/barbershop/beauty parlor/day spa in every block of downtown!!! I’m not kidding, and so far no native has contradicted me when I’ve mentioned the fact. It actually reminds me of the opening line of Ilf and Petrov’s novel THE TWELVE CHAIRS (see the Mel Brooks film of it, by the way): “The town of N. has so many salons and funeral parlors that one might think that the inhabitants are born, have their hair done, and die.” Forgive the quoting from memory . . . my copy of the novel is in my attic in Morgantown.