There's no place like home. At least, there's no place like Kosinj, Croatia, where my paternal grandfather and great-grandfather lived. Croatia has been ruled by various dukes and kings over the years. Recently, it was part of Yugoslavia until 1992 when Croatia became an independent nation. Home to approximately 4.8 million people, Croatians have their own language and are predominantly Catholic [80%]. As was my father.
When we left
Slovenia, the weather was still gloomy, hampering our view of the coast.
Many Europeans spend summer vacations on or near the 1,185 islands that make up
Croatia's Adriatic Sea coastline. We drove through Rijeka [Ree-ache'-ah], down
to Senj, then across the Velebit Mountains, through Otocac...
and
down a long, narrow, winding highway to Kosinj [Koh-sin'-yeh]. The village
[marked with a red square in the map above] is tiny and there is no "Main
Street," only the highway and driveways to people's houses. We saw a man
pushing a grocery cart and saw a sign to a business place. We drove up the
driveway and parked. When the man, Dragan Sigurnjak, approached, we asked
if we could eat at his establishment. He spoke no English but his
18-year-old daughter, Morica, did somewhat.
I showed my driver's license and Dragan said, "Oh! Vookelich!" and nodded his head, understanding that we were tourists from the U.S.A. Within moments we were seated in his establishment, a "disco bar," which appeared to be a combination bed & breakfast, and bar.
By pantomime and drawing, we communicated quite well. Dragan wouldn't give
up on a topic until he felt assured that we understood. We offered a bottle of
wine [from the Chateau de Clapier]. Dragan treated us to a wonderful meal of
meat, cheese, bread and local beer.
Dragon sings with a local band and they produced a compact disc of their music.
He gave us one and we listened to it while we followed Dragon and his wife to a
point where you had a good view of the Lika Valley.
Looking southwest, the Lika Valley is surrounded by the Velebit Mountains.
My great-uncle Robert Vukelic described their life in the valley.
"It was a rough life and I remember my mother having to carry water on her back from the River Lika to our house. I also remember her taking clothes to the river to be rinses. Evidently we did not even have a well by the house."
"We practically lived on corn bread, beans, barley and sauer kraut. There was very little meat or even lard. We had a few sheep that lived under the house. Mother brought wood from a nearby forest but had no stove on which to cook. Instead, our meals were prepared over a fireplace in an open part of the house where a kettle hung from a chain which was attached to the ceiling. There was only one big room that was heated and that was where we all slept."
"I had only a little dress to wear and never owned a pair of shoes until mother sold all of our property before moving to the United States. If I wanted to go outside during the winter, I had to borrow a pair of shoes from our friends who lived across the road from us."
My great-grandfather, Thomas [Tome] Vukelic, came to the U.S. in 1906 but it
took him eight years to save enough money to send for his wife Mary [Marija]
Klobucar, and the rest of his family. They settled in South Dakota and are
buried in Lemmon.
Reed takes down the name and address of Iliya Vukelic, an employee of Dragan's,
who enjoys paragliding in his spare time. Iliya spoke good English.
Dragan took us to two cemeteries where we saw dozens of tombstones with the name Vukelic on them. Unfortunately, neither he nor we knew if any were
relatives.
Next, we were introduced to Emil Vukelic [who shares the same name as my late
grandfather]. Emil and his wife, a retired school teacher, live in a
dwelling shared with a one-room school, still in use. Most entertaining to
me was Dragan's effort to "translate" Emil's comments to me--neither of them
speaking a lick of English. What a hoot!
I
posed with Dragan's family, minus his son, in front of the "disco bar."
Later, we followed them to their other home in nearby Otocac where Dragan had
invited Marko Tomac to meet us. Marko grew up in Kosinj but spent 35 years in
Australia and spoke excellent English. We had a marvelous discussion, with
Marko translating for Dragan.
These Croatians were the most genial hosts. I cannot say enough good about them and hope to visit them again next year, God willing.
Dragon insisted on leading us to the new interstate outside of Otocac so we would take the correct route toward Zagreb and Austria. He must have known about our penchant for wrong turns. We headed north as darkness fell.