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A DAY AT JARUN



(click to see this beautiful boy bigger)

The days in Zagreb are starting to blur. They haven't quite faded yet, but they do seem very far away now. Time is inexorable, in both directions: future and past. The past recedes at an ever quickening speed as I grow older. But the future seems to come as slowly as ever; at least when I'm waiting to see Sam.

The last week in June is next. Very, very far away.

And something as extraordinary as this is so far in the past now (7/24/03) that I don't remember WHO I was, much less what was happening on that day (but it is with enormous gratitude that I remember the feeling of that moment; I remember the meaning-of-life epiphany of that moment).

So let's see what I remember of our day in Jarun. Actually, it probably is not a place, but a thing, like an amusement park. So I think I really mean to talk about our day AT Jarun (I wonder what the word means?). I'll have to check with Sonja.

Jarun is a large recreation area just south of Zagreb; a holdover from the communist era. The Commies were real big on sport, and on places for workers to relax, and Jarun is a good example of what they could do when they decided something was worth doing. Jarun is very big, and quite lovely.

To get there, you take a 30 minute tram ride from the main square (near Sam's apartment). I had been having a good time, on the morning's Sam was in school, riding Paul's bike through the city and environs. I had ridden down to Jarun, to take advantage of its bike paths, the previous day. When the family said they'd all like to go, and I wanted another bike ride, the solution seemed obvious: I would ride behind the tram. It was a bit stop-and-start, but fun.

In (at?) Jarun we stopped first at the swan pond, which was thick with swans and overseen by one hell of a king (or queen?) swan, who appeared to attack other swans in a remarkably random manner. But we fed them anyway, and tried to do it in a way that would keep Stalin-swan from eating it all. We were partially successful.



(click to enlarge)

From the swans (who we fed the state-approved popcorn from the helpful nearby vendor), we drifted over to an isolated beach. Covered with small stones, it was not a place for much sunbathing. But it was wonderful for throwing stones into the water; a time-honored father-son tradition. I've always wondered why it is such a guy-thing. Seems more than cultural; seems very primitive, and satisfying. Of course you want to avoid throwing things in the water that you would like to get back. It was a bit too cold to jump in after it (note the ice still on the lake in places), but Paul, in true I-can-fix-anything mode simply kept throwing stones behind it, and the ripples gradually caused it to drift to shore.



(click to enlarge)

From the beach it was time to promenade along the lakes. Paul took the bike, put Sam on it, and cruised slowly along, picking up ice cream along the way. Sam loves riding on the bike: he has his own seat up front, and stirrups for his feet. I had never seen such a truly cool bike seat for kids. Much better than riding behind, better than being stuck staring at at adult's back, as happens in this country. Comfortable, practical, and aesthetically marvelous. Paul felt the same way: he saw it one day, chased the bike, and asked where he could get one too.

All-in-all a nice afternoon.

On the way home it was Paul's turn to follow the tram. The Zagreb trams are fairly decent ways to get around. We could never figure out the ticketing system, though. Apparently it's an honor system. You can buy tickets at various newsstands, and then you're supposed to have it stamped by this machine on the tram (unless you were on one of the many trams that didn't have this machine), and if an inspector decides to visit the tram (we never saw one) and you don't have a stamped ticket, you have to pay a fine. Sometimes we bought a ticket, sometimes not. The primary reason to purchase the ticket was so that Sam could hold it. Something he never tired of doing.

At one of the stops I decided to jump off the tram, run behind it, and take a picture of the family inside. So I did. But either the tram was quicker than I thought or, more likely, I was slower than I thought. The tram closed its doors and drove off, with me chasing it madly. It was a long walk home. And I'm not sure the picture was worth it.




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