Sometimes its the unexpected that sticks with you after a trip.
I’m four months late in writing this entry for April 12, and my most remarkable memory from the day is the truly ridiculous Museum of Hangovers.
The morning started elsewhere, however, back in the farmers market. I was hoping it would be busier today, but it really wasn’t. There was still only a smallish cluster of farmers selling their produce from simple tables under crimson umbrellas. Perhaps spring is the wrong season.
And I traced my footsteps from earlier in the week only to find that St. Marks is still closed. I never found a proper explanation for that.
The morning wasn’t wasted however, because my primary intended destination had always been the Museum of Naive Art. This museum features art produced by artists without formal training.
It was a truly enjoyable museum with art that ranged from the bizarre to the enthralling to the pedestrian.
After that I found my way to the 80’s museum. There is something fascinating about exploring the 80s’ museums for me. And it’s not just that they reflect my formative years, but there is something more.
I feel like I was told my entire childhood that I shouldn’t be able to relate to the things I would find here. In the 1980’s, Yugoslavia was locked away behind the Iron Curtain, oriented toward the USSR rather than the USA. At the time I would have imagined the lives of my contemporaries to be entirely different.
And yet, even with the certain differences, when several lifetimes of ephemera are collected in one museum, we shared quite a bit.
I’m certain anybody who watched TV in that era can recall uncounted television commercials for similar collections of recipe cards (from Time Life).
I was even able to draw on rusted memories to write a small program for this dated computer.
After that I visited the Archaeological Museum, with its ancient collection. Zagreb is a small city, and certainly wasn’t a center of the area in ancient times – or if it was little of that remains. I’ve seen so much ancient history over the years that little here truly engaged me.
In the afternoon I was searching for something to do, and that’s how I found the Museum of Hangovers. It was highly rated, but I was dubious.
In the end it was a truly amusing way to pass the time. The entire museum was inspired by one of the founders waking with this pedal in his pocket. He had no idea how it got there.
It’s not as much about hangovers, as how we earn our hangovers.
And the things people do and experience when on their ways to being hungover (ie when they are intoxicated).
There is also a history of alcohol and a depiction of the porcelain goddess.
For such a frivolous theme, it really was an enjoyable time.
I have one other persistent memory from this day. After leaving the museum I stopped at a cafe, where I just sat at my table enjoying the afternoon sun and idly letting my mind wander. I don’t think this was my perfect trip – but then again I don’t know what a perfect trip is really.
Considering that further, perhaps there isn’t such a thing as a perfect trip. Everything has a cost somewhere – there are always tradeoffs. That said, I know how lucky I am to travel as much as I do, and because I travel so much, I no longer strive for the perfect trip.
Imperfect is more than enough, as long as I’m on the road.
I go home tomorrow, and will see you again when Summer turns cool. Until then, thank you for reading.
With Love,
Butterblogger
butterblogger 