Introduction

Deep in us dwells the spirit of an old nomad, curious and adventurous, prompting us to look toward the horizon or the bluish peaks of distant mountains. Somewhere there, afar, we imagine a place we dreamed about as children, a world that’s better and more just, where wealth and happiness are abundant. Some couldn’t resist and left to search for it, while others stayed on their old homesteads. As is usually the case, neither group is totally content. Having discovered that the grass they imagined was not so green after all, those who left are nostalgic to return home. Age also amplifies the call of the homeland. Yet those who remained home feel they missed something in life, that they haven’t seen the world, that they’ve sunken into the monotony of everyday. Although I haven’t been spared those dilemmas, I am happy that I stayed. I have the best of both worlds—I am home and I can always travel. 

I am happy with my choice, but my romantic childhood dreams have never completely disappeared. My travels have remained infrequent and limited to Europe. There have been many reasons for this—family, limited means, lack of free time, building a house . . . Still, when I think about it, I realize that I am deceiving myself—I really prefer quiet family life in my beloved Kvarner. That’s where I spent most of my life and that’s where this story takes place.

And travel can wait. Hopefully there is time, and until then I will rely on my imagination as well as on the good old television set. That magical box helps us wander the world and admire all its wonders and beauty. At our disposal is also a large number of books, magazines, atlases, not to mention the computer, which provides desired information or image at a click of a button. However, despite all the miracles of technology and all the information we are bombarded with, we often forget the simple things and customs that are dear to us. We also forget the people whose stories and objects are slowly fading from memory and falling into oblivion.

We counter this with oral traditions, drawings, writings, monuments, finding myriad ways to leave traces of our existence and our culture. We do this today with the aid of modern technology, aware of the fleeting nature of legacy, which we in the end have to accept as something inevitable and normal. But regardless, sometimes we catch ourselves remembering the good old times when we had more peace and more time for ourselves and for those around us, when life seemed nicer and more relaxed. The question is, was that really so, or do we think that way because we were younger, stronger, prettier? Who knows.

Those kinds of thoughts led me to this little exploratory journey, to roaming Kvarner. One more time, I found a reason to stay home; to return to the past, to my childhood, to the time I spent with my parents and grandparents; to take notes, to paint, and to snap a few photos. When we learn about our ancestors, and remember our past and our environment, we get to know ourselves better and can help our children find their way into a better future.

That journey won’t be easy—it will demand hard work, patience, and learning. I’ll take a few relatives, neighbors, and friends along for the ride, to keep me company and to help by sharing their knowledge and experience. When writing, however, I will use the standard Croatian language, as I do in my everyday life, but also the Čakavian dialect with all the foreign words that it picked up in its turbulent past. I leave it to my traveling companions and interviewees to express themselves the way it’s easiest for them.

In many of my companions’ stories and conversations, spoken in the Čakavian dialect, one can observe a certain diversity of the language. It is exactly that colorful variety of words and dialects, which we locals have no trouble navigating, that gives such special charm to our “beautiful homey word” (lepoj domaćoj besede).

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