When I wrote about bailing on my island hop last week, I mentioned that it freed me up to accept an invitation to visit the little town of Tisno—here’s the story I hinted at.
Shortly after I arrived in Barcelona back in May, right after I’d started traveling, a guy messaged me on OKCupid. We’ll call him Evan. He was cute, I was interested. Only problem is that he was back in New York. First date next year?, I offered.
We chatted a bit, and it turned out we’d both be in Croatia in August. I filed it in the back of my mind for a few months, and we reconnected once we were here. My hopes for a fun Croatian date, though, soon dissipated when I realized we were geographically incompatible.
I’m based in Split, without a car or boat or helicopter, and Evan was staying in Tisno, also without transportation, 119 km (about 74 miles) up the coast.
He quickly explained that it was impossible for him to come see me—there are no rental car companies in his small seaside town, and even if there were, he was visiting his mother, and there’s no way she would be okay with him taking a couple days out of his annual visit to drive down the coast to see a girl.
And I dug in my heels and refused to go there. Years of social conditioning have taught me that Men Are Supposed to Make the Effort. They are supposed to call, they are supposed to pick you up, if they ask you out less than three days in advance, you must refuse, because you are supposed to be unavailable, and they are supposed to pursue.
Now I don’t truly believe in that anti-feminist, regressive bullshit. (I actually fired a therapist in New York who tried to push it on me, but that’s a story for another day.) But when you hear these things often enough—and as a woman, you hear them constantly—they seep into your subconscious. And on a more personal level, I’ve had many experiences, with men, friends, work, even family, where I am putting forth piles of effort and getting little in return.
Because of all that, I said, no, sorry, and anyway, I have a trip planned, so maybe I’ll see you in 2018. But we kept talking. And my trip turned out to be a bust. Then I looked online and discovered there was a vacancy for a couple nights in the one nice hotel in Tisno. It had a pool, and even more appealing to someone who’s spent the last few weeks sweating uncomfortably, it had CENTRAL AIR CONDITIONING. Finally, I decided what the hell. He might be great, he might be terrible, but at least I’ll get a couple good nights’ sleep in that sweet sweet artificial coolness.
So I managed to rent a car, which due to the aforementioned problems I had in Germany, was not an easy feat, and just two days after taking the ferry back from Vis, I headed north.
My expectations were low. Evan had made it clear that his mom was his first priority (as she should be, really, I’m neither insane nor an asshole), and he had some prior commitments. But he ended up making more of an effort than I’d anticipated, and I had two of my best days on the trip so far.
After a quick, get-to-know-you, make-sure-we-actually-like-each-other lunch, we hopped in my rental car, and he drove me to a little local swimming spot. Down a pothole-strewn dirt road, a little hike through the forest, and here we were:
In Croatia, this is a beach. I have Feelings about that, but I’ll admit that it’s lovely. You just have to really earn your swim by walking on the dirt trail, climbing down the rocks, and hopping over the sea urchins. But the people were few, and the water was salty perfection.
To my surprise, Evan actually invited me to join his evening plans, a movie with friends in a nearby town. But I decided to pass—it had been a long day, and I wanted to see Tisno for myself. I had a delightful evening. The sea breeze was refreshing, I adored the old men fishing off the bridge, and I found a little restaurant where everyone was speaking Croatian and I could get a giant mixed grill plate for 12 bucks.
I thought the beach outing might be all Evan would have time for; early on in our talks, he’d said he could only get away for a couple hours. Instead, he told his mom he had a friend in town (his mom, not being an idiot, was delighted he had a girl visiting and wanted me to come over for cake…that didn’t happen haha), and we made plans to visit Krka National Park the next day.
While Evan dealt with a burst pipe in the morning, I had a lazy few hours reading a book poolside. Then we were off to see the waterfalls, an easy half hour drive from Tisno.
If you ever find yourself in Croatia, Krka is the one thing I think you must do. The drive in is beautiful; you can see the river from the highway. After you park, you take a bus down a winding road with increasingly gorgeous views. Then you hike down a crowded wooden walkway, passing pools and lookout points and small falls. Then you get here:
Despite the crowd, I had a ridiculous amount of fun swimming against the current and clambering over the river rocks. It was worth every one of the many steps it took to climb back to the bus stop. (The fact that Evan bought me post-climb ice cream before dinner, my favorite soft serve twist cone, helped, too.)
We stopped for dinner on the way home at the perfect roadside country restaurant, where they specialize in meat on a spit. I’m fully carnivorous, and I was practically jumping up and down with excitement when I got out of the car and saw the fire pit. The lamb was fantastic, as was the bottle of Evan’s favorite Croatian red. Basically, if he’d just taken me to a bookstore, too, it would have been Jennifer’s Dream Date.
There are at least a dozen reasons why I had such a good time over these two days. Obviously, Evan and I got along well. We talked easily, commiserating over our careers in dwindling art fields, discussing relationships and family and hopes for the future. I really appreciated how he acknowledged and reciprocated the effort I put forth in getting there. It was perfect to be shown around a new place by someone who knows it well (he grew up in Croatia) but also knows my home (he’s lived in NYC for nearly a decade). And it was relaxing to let someone else take the lead, especially in the midst of a year in which I’m navigating one unfamiliar city after the next.
It represents the best of what this trip can be: I took a risk that paid off and had an exciting adventure with a handsome man in a spectacular setting.
But as we said goodbye—he was packing up the house the next day and preparing to go home; I was returning to Split—I realized it also represents the worst. For while the trip may bring exquisite moments, they’re almost inevitably fleeting, as we continue to press on to the next place, person, experience.
Many a well-meaning friend has asked, a hopeful lilt in their voice, if we’ll see each other when I go back to New York. It’s possible, but that’s months…perhaps as much as a year…away, and so many things could happen between now and then. But I suppose we’ll always have Tisno.
Cesky Krumlov doesn’t sound like the name of a picturesque old town, but excepting the title, it’s adorable. A preserved UNESCO World Heritage Site, it’s similar to Bruges in its bite-sized quaintness.
All the guides say that it’s less crowded in the evening, after the day trippers leave (very true), so I made a night of it last weekend, taking a RegioJet bus down from Prague on Sunday afternoon and returning Monday evening. The ride is a bit long for a day, at three hours, but the bus was surprisingly comfortable for 7 euros each way, with leather seats, drinks for purchase, and an on-board restroom.
The bus stop is set just outside of the city center, and to walk into town, you climb up a short, forested hill. At the top is the first view of Cesky Krumlov, and from that initial moment, the city did not disappoint.
The town is similar to Prague, with its red-tiled roofs, a castle at the focus of every vista, and the Vltava River winding through. But I find it sweeter in miniature, and I love the vibrant colors of the castle and church spires.
I got to town around 6 pm, with just enough time to check into the hotel and walk around a bit before dinner at Papa’s Living Restaurant, where I had a table by the river and finally got the sizzling beef tagliata I’ve been trying and failing to order for the last six weeks. (Groups! One of the joys of solo travel for me is getting exactly what I want–there’s no one with whom you have to negotiate or compromise.) It was as good as I’d imagined.
I spent the evening at the theatre–the revolving theatre, to be precise. It’s a bit hard to describe, but let me try. The theatre is open air, in the gardens of the castle. It’s a large disc, essentially (see photo below), so the audience is seated all on one side. The entire contraption, the theatre in which the audience sits, can rotate 360 degrees. There’s no stage per se, though there are a few sets built in various spots on the ground surrounding the seats, as well as one permanent structure that serves for some of the interior scenes. So we’d face one way, watch a scene, and then the theatre would rotate to a different point of view for the next scene. And occasionally the seats would rotate to track action; they drove a real-life horse and carriage in at one point, and the theatre moved along with the horses.
It was fascinating enough to keep me occupied through The Hound of the Baskervilles in Czech! The only words I understood were hello, thank you, and Sherlock Holmes. But while I wish they would have been staging opera or ballet, something more universal, I’d go see just about anything there to experience the lovely outdoor setting and unique staging.
By the time I trekked back down the hill–the walk up to the theater is not for the infirm–it was past 11 pm, and it seemed the only people walking through town were the ones who had also gone to the theater–all in pairs, mind you. (It seems only fair in counterbalance to the above raving about solo travel that I do get a slight twinge when everyone else in arm-in-arm, and I’m the only one trudging forward alone.)
I stayed at the Hotel Ruze, originally a 16th-century monastery. Its origins still show; the hallway sitting area was decorated with a rather intense religious theme, the room featured dark wood and heavy drapery, and the toilet was a literal throne. Pictured at right so you believe me.
The next morning threatened rain, so I had breakfast crepes at MLS and then strolled through the Egon Schiele Art Centrum. The art won’t astound you, but they had a couple interesting exhibits by lesser-known artists, and the space itself was a beautiful mix of old and new architecture. The skies had cleared by the time I was done, and I crossed the river to the less populated side of town (the tour groups are out in full force during the day) and spent a quiet hour in a park.
I was planning to sit in this pretty gazebo I could see from my hotel window, but when I got there, I discovered it was a little grungy, with graffiti, cigarettes, booze bottles, and unidentified puddles…I opted for a bench under a tree instead. It amused me, though, as a lesson in the ideal versus the real while traveling. Even charming villages have their dingy corners.
If I’d had a little more time and/or slightly better weather, I would have gone for the full castle tour–there’s a baroque theater and real live bears!–or rented a kayak to go down the river, as I saw many doing. But it was a welcome break from Prague and a delightful 24 hours.
On Saturday, we took a half-day trip to the nearby town of Kutna Hora. Just about an hour and a half away, we left Prague at 10, hit three churches, drank some wine, ate lunch, and were back by 5. We Roam was nice enough to set us up with a bus and a guide, making it a very easy excursion. (If you’re DIYing it, we booked through Discover Prague.)
Our first stop was the Cathedral of the Assumption of Our Lady–nice enough, with a lovely ceiling, but not really worth the drive. Fortunately, our guide was setting the bar low, with much more to come.
The main tourist attraction is the Bone Church, or Sedlec Ossuary if you’d like to be precise, and it more than lived up to the creepy hype. The space was small, but overwhelming, with giant pyramids of bones in cages, bone garlands spanning the archways, and a bone chandelier centerpiece that reportedly contains every bone in the human body.
According to our guide, the bones are meant to remind you of your mortality and so direct you towards god. As an atheist, my experience was less mystical and more just a matter of benign fascination. But it’s a sight I’m glad I was able to see.
Our third stop was the gorgeously Gothic Church of St. Barbara. I loved the ornate buttresses and the interior frescoes…
But if we’re going to be totally honest, what I loved even more was the tiny wine bar outside, with wines from the vineyards by the church and others nearby. We had a glass or two and took in the views.
Then we moved into the town itself and had lunch in the lovely outdoor space at Dacicky. If you are traveling with a group, this restaurant is on it; we ordered in advance and had barely sat down when they started passing out soup–and beer, natch. We took a stroll through the Italian Court and saw St. Barbara’s again from a fresh angle.
Then back on the bus to nap all the way home to Prague, full of local booze and heavy Czech cuisine.
If I were doing this tour solo, I probably would have taken a couple more hours to wander the town itself, which looked adorable. But we certainly hit the highlights, and if you’re spending more than a few days in Prague, it’s a worthwhile day trip.
What better to do on your first full day in Prague than get a bird’s-eye view of the city? There are a few places where you can do that, but we made our first trek up Petrin Hill. You can walk, but I recommend the funicular, an easy transfer from the Ujezd stop and included in your transport pass.
The first funicular stop is at the Nebozizek Restaurant, a good place to grab a cocktail and see the city. If you go all the way to the top, you actually don’t have a view…unless you replicate our insanity and climb to the top of Petrin Tower, Prague’s miniature take on the Eiffel Tower.
It’s 299 steps to the top, though you can pay more for the lift if you aren’t with super athletically inclined friends like I was. The middle view is actually the best though, with open spaces above the railings, rather than the sliding windows at the very top. There are also lookout points and resting benches after every couple flights, bless them. Once you’re up, you get a beautiful view of the city:
And if you time it right, you can get a spectacular sunset vista:
Aside from the tower, there are lovely gardens scattered over the hill, a cathedral, a historic wall, and, if you’re inclined towards the cheesy/creepy, a mirror maze and a “magical grotto,” i.e. a house full of weird paintings. We opted just to stroll down the hill towards the lower funicular stop and watch the light on the castle change as the sun disappeared and the lights of Prague came on.
I’ve decided at least 75% of travel to foreign cities is just climbing to the top of things for the view.
We stopped for dinner on the way home at the perfect roadside country restaurant, where they specialize in meat on a spit. I’m fully carnivorous, and I was practically jumping up and down with excitement when I got out of the car and saw the fire pit. The lamb was fantastic, as was the bottle of Evan’s favorite Croatian red. Basically, if he’d just taken me to a bookstore, too, it would have been Jennifer’s Dream Date.
were back by 5. We Roam was nice enough to set us up with a bus and a guide, making it a very easy excursion. (If you’re DIYing it, we booked through 
The first funicular stop is at the 
