I stopped at the bottom of the Lotrščak Tower and looked around trying to get my bearings and decide where to go next. I spied a cafe serving drinks from a sliding glass window and came to a realization: Zagreb isn’t that big, it’s a Sunday afternoon, and there is no urgency.
So I stepped up to the window, from which a young woman with short bleached hair and a pierced septum peered down. I ordered a glass of malvasia and a bottle of water. She passed my drinks over and I took a seat on a wooden bench covred with worn cushions, and just enjoyed sitting there in solitude in the shade of a faded yellow umbrella as the afternoon warmth continued on.
The morning had started in the Dolac Market, widely recognized for its characteristic large red umbrellas. I had read that Saturday and Sunday mornings here are busy, but the market space this morning was sparsely occupied. Perhaps that’s how the market is in early April, before the growing season has begun in earnest, and before the heavy tourist season starts.
I also considered that on a Sunday morning the vendors may be in church, but by early afternoon the space was completely empty except for the permanent tables.
I had a similar experience when I tried to visit the Cathedral of Zagreb, which is currently being renovated.
So I moved in and passed through the Stone Gate, the only remaining of the 4 original gates from Medieval Zagreb. Inside is a shrine and a set of pews that were all fully occupied this Sunday morning.
Beyond the gate lies the upper town, where I found that St. Marks was also closed. I’m hopeful that I can visit later in the week when I return.
Nearby, however, was the Museum of Broken Relationships. I initially had scoffed at the name, as suuch museums don’t often attract me, but I found this to be repeatedly recommended during my pre-trip planning. The sign upon entering explains that the exhibits draw on the broken pieces of past relationships
In the end, it was great – it was like a museum of “Post Secret” posts.
Such as this phone, a remnant of a 300 day relationship. The donor had received it from a lover who didn’t want them to be able to call him anymore.
Or this post-it note: a missive of affection that was never delivered before the relationship ended. The ink is fading and barely readable now, and somehow I found that fitting.
And some of the relationships were one-sided, such as this pair of shoes.
Others were tragic, such as these 1000 rainbow cranes made by a woman who had a stillbirth.
I laugh a bit at the irony of finding myself in this museum on this trip, especially since I found a doily accompanied by a sign stating “My mum made it for me when I got married She had pain in her fingers and had problems with her eyes. She made six small ones and one big doily. When I left, I couldn’t leave without it. It is like I have a part of my mum with me. And now I give to you a part of myself and my mum. I am proud of my mum and how she raised us.”
I paused at the doily, taking it all in. And I just breathed silently a bit, thinking. And then I moved on.
It was still morning when I walked out of the Museum of Broken Relationships, stepped outside into the harsh sunlight, and walked up the street to find a cup of cappuccino and plan my next stop.
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