Rožat ~ Creating in Croatia

I had wanted quiet.  I had spent the last two and half weeks living in a sleepy fishing village next to the sea, in the south of Crete, and it had been an incredibly nourishing time for me, full of immense creativity and productivity.  One could say, with artists and artistry there is usually either an ebb or flow for standards of creation.  Crete had been absolute flow.  Unstoppable, not enough hours in the day, kind of writing flow, and I was set on it continuing.  I was still undertaking another full-on, edit on my novel, Unforgetting, “layering,” adding depth, adding more “color–” essentially making it the best creation it could be, therefore, another place in nature was the ideal choice for me.  And then I stumbled upon Rožat…

Truth be told, I did not want to leave Greece– not for one moment.  But, the 90 days on my EU tourist visa were coming to a close, so it was time to find my next place to live.  Croatia kept popping up on my radar, and since it was outside of the Schengen zone, it seemed like the next best choice.  It was also a chance to check-off visiting this dream place!  While choosing my Airbnb for Dubrovnik, I searched for “water view,” and found a place 3 kilometers away from Dubrovnik center, overlooking a lovely river, in the town of Rožat.  The description for the apartment read “peaceful and serene,” and that it sat below the oldest Maria shrine, the Church of Our Lady of the Great Mother, dating back to the 1^st century.  It looked down on a nice marina, as well as a beautiful, 14^th century Franciscan monastery.  I knew I had found my place.

I opened the hefty, dark, floor to ceiling shutters, gently weathered in their original wood and stepped out onto my modest balcony.  There was something special to this view.  The clear sky was poised just right.  The sunlight danced off the river in silver sparkles.  Something about the air quality in this valley drew me in– beyond my eyes–into the crevices of my senses, wrapping me up in present moment, unbearable lightness of being.  The still standing, 14^th century neighborhood before me lit up my eyes in a kind of romantic, aesthetic beauty.  I was looking out onto a land lined with colorful flowers, intermingled olive trees, and abounding fig trees– everything bursting forth in proud, fruitful abundance.  I felt so grateful for the surrounding, animated, deep-green mountains, and that I could marvel like this each day…the air, the light, the sparkling river, its sailboat masts, aged, rusty-orange, barrel, tile roofs and their centuries old stone homes dappling the narrow lane around the marina.  Breathe it in…  

And so, the days of writing and editing ensued.  My same routine, waking up and doing my kundalini meditation and breathing practice, the smoothie, the tea, the centering . . . the flow.  I was gaining great traction editing Unforgetting, and nearing half way.  I was so disciplined that I hadn’t even visited Dubrovnik’s famous Old Town, just fifteen minutes away.  Each day I finished between 5-6 pm and then set out for my jog/ discovery around Rožat’s river and mountains.  The shrine for Mary was first.  Five intense minutes of upward steps and I found myself at the old church and discovered incredible views overlooking the valley and river.  A peace existed up there.  Subliminal.  Ancient.  Holy.  I remember the breeze snaking through there, rattling the tree leaves and casting its wondrous spell.  Saying hello, as the air cooled around me.  The bells rang sonorously on the hour, and with it the sun disappeared into fiery orange, hovering clouds.  Gray-blue moved in, blanketing the valley in the tones of oncoming night.  

The writing days continued productively, and I renewed my apartment for another week.  The focus I was having was evident; I had let some kind of splendor overtake me while I was staying on target with the novel.  That afternoon, my jog/ discovery landed me at the idyllic, stone mansion situated straight across from me on the other side of the river.  Come to find out, Dubrovnik aristocrats had built their summer residences and villas in this very area during the Renaissance period, and this mansion belonged to Croatia’s great Renaissance poet, Ivan Gundulić.  Apparently, he spent much of his summers in this home taking in the beauty and inspiration of the natural surroundings.  He was on to something.  I too felt it.  The wonder of this place.  I had been sweeping it into my senses on a daily, swimming in its devoted essence.  How had I landed such synchronicity to be in direct line with the legacy of a fellow poet?

Every day my jog/ discovery jaunt confirmed my reign as the crazy cat lady.  I was a magnet and cats of any age and different colors flocked to me.  They swooned for my attention, and wanted nothing more than to plop their cute bodies on my generous lap; and I indulged every moment of it.  Another unforgettable indulgence were the plentiful figs I would pluck from the trees each day.  They were everywhere, anytime you walked.  Copious amounts.  Both big and small, both green and dull purple.  Like Greece, again, I found myself having to limit my intake for these irresistible little gems of heaven.  Biting into their sumptuous delightfulness, being seduced by their inside protrusions of little ruby tentacles, was both a sensual treat for the mouth and the eyes. 

Alas it was my last weekend, and it was finally time to face the teeming tourists and visit Old Town.  Dubrovnik’s Old Town, is one of the most perfectly preserved Medieval towns in the world, and once the set of Game of Thrones.  Something happens to you when you get to step back in time like this.  You enter the gate and inside “The Walls” onto cobblestone street, among medieval stone architecture with orange barrel tile roofs, and dark green shutters and doors. Immediately you feel otherworldly, and gradually you accustom yourself to a different perspective apart from typical Metropolitan bustle.  

Since it was my last day, I finally gave in to the local Croatian admirer and hopped on the back of his scooter and ended up at a beautiful, remote rocky cove near the Trsteno Arboretum in Neretva, where that quintessential sapphire blue Mediterranean Sea crashed powerfully below.  As we looked out to our left, we saw what was clearly a set for some movie or show, and watched as crew members fashioned the miniature port into a medieval resemblance.  (With a little research I came to find out that it was for Season II of Vikings, on Netflix.)  I glazed myself in the late summer sun, enjoying my last moments with the beautiful sea, drinking in the mountains and the faint silver air surrounding them.   

Recommendations:

-Drive west from Dubrovnik and hit wineries and end up in Ston for another old town and for the best oysters around.

-Keep driving west and stop in Orebic for a peaceful Dalmatian meal by the sea

-Continue west and take a ferry to Korcula island

-Continue west and visit Split.  

-If staying in Rožat, do a cold plunge at the Omble spring and be surrounded by stunning mountains and serenity

And now for your poem . . .

Morning's Breath

The breath of dawn greets me like a wave 
and I am still in her silence
a looming admirer devout 
			to sink into 
	the 	   hollow 	spaces of her feathered 

	remembrances 

barely able to speak the semblances 
			of her peaking head
for her talons grab on to another 
  residing bell tolling 
in the distant peaks 
singing of another time
	another space
			looming 
and answering the call 
that breezes back to my doorstep this morning
as I set out

again
the dawn
that trickles
welcomes me into her lungs