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Croatia Europe

Inside a Croatian Wedding

With Rachel’s bachelorette weekend looming in the near future, and her wedding only 2 weeks away, I’ve been preoccupied with marriage recently. A large part of the reason I am visiting the U.S. this October is to attend her wedding. With all recent the matrimonial preparations, I’ve been thinking about the last wedding I attended and realized I never blogged about it.

Three months ago I attended my first Croatian wedding for my friend, Sara, and her new husband, Mislav. It started with about a month of me wavering back and forth between if I should fly to Zagreb (I desperately wanted to) or if I should stay in India (and save money, work, be responsible, etc..). I told my mom the ticket was a bit pricey. She told me, “It’s worth it to keep these types of friendships alive.” That was all the excuse I needed.

Wedding Zagreb
Sara and Misalv

I met Sara 6 years ago in Budapest, Hungary. Sara was an Erasmus student studying in the same university as me (CEU). For those of you unfamiliar with Erasmus, it is a bit like an EU-funded study abroad program for European citizens. Martina (also from Croatia) and Lena (from Germany), along with Sara and I, formed a bit of a small “group” within our larger international group of friends at the time.

Having never lived abroad before, my first week in Hungary I felt incredibly out-of-place and a bit nervous about spending four entire months in a foreign country. Despite being part of a study abroad program, the university was comprised almost entirely of Master’s students, all older than me by a few years. At the time, I was a radically different person than I am now: shy, studious, a bit “type A.” I had my future entirely planned out: graduate school, PhD in history, staying with my college boyfriend forever, living comfortable on the East Coast. I was not the type of person who would try couch surfing, living in India, trekking alone in Nepal, or backpacking solo through the Middle East.

But once I got to Budapest, I started questioning who I thought I was and who I wanted to be. I made so many intelligent and independent friends living all over the world and I started wondering how I could continue living such a cosmopolitan existence.

This is a long-winded way of saying my time in Budapest, and with Sara (and Martina & Lena) is still extremely important to me. So, despite the slightly expensive cost of the plane ticket from Delhi to Zagreb, I decided that it would be great to see these girls again and keep these friendships alive. I’ve met so many people traveling and most of those friendships look a bit unraveled. I barely speak to anyone from my Master’s program despite only having graduated about a year ago. I’ve met so many unique people and many who I’ve cared about quite deeply. But, ultimately, when you move every year, you lose contact. So when I get a chance to reconnect with important people, I feel as though I should take it. And when Sara sent us a message inviting us to her wedding, I started checking plane tickets.

Budapest Night Life
(From Right to Left): Martina, Sara, Lena, and me circa 2010 in Budapest, Hungary

Plus, in July 2016 it had been 11 months since I had been in a Western country and I was starting to feel desperate for some familiarity. Yes, at this point Croatia counts as familiarity. It has beef, short skirts, and it’s relatively easy to buy normal products like tampons and moderately priced good wine.

I landed in Zagreb near the end of June and Sara picked me up from the airport. I felt a slight bit of anxiety before she arrived. Perhaps the four of us had changed too much. Maybe we were too different after 6 years and it would be an awkward trip. We had had a reunion in Budapest 3 years prior when I was living in Prague. But 3 years is still a long time.

Two weeks later I was bawling in the airport, wishing I didn’t have to leave and go back to India (I was obnoxiously sleep deprived which didn’t help).

I had so. much. fun. The first day I visited with Sara and met her (then) finance (now husband), Mislav. When you meet a couple and can instantly note the spark between them, it makes celebrating their relationship even more special. Mislav had me laughing all through dinner; he seemed like a great guy. Then Lena flew in from Germany. Since Sara was (understandably) pre-occupied finishing her wedding planning, Lena and I made ourselves scarce and took a bus to Dubrovnik to enjoy the sea and some sun before the big day.

 

The Wedding

Croatian Wedding
Me with Sara and Lena before the wedding

Sara had some friends to her apartment a few hours before the service for drinks and snacks. Even after she left for the church, we continued drinking at her apartment. The we drove to downtown Zagreb and got to take the funicular up the hill to the church for the marriage.

Croatian Wedding
Pre-wedding drinks

Zagreb

Zagreb
Riding the funicular

The ceremony was short and sweet (great for Lena and I since it was entirely in Croatian). I found it interesting that the bride and groom enter the church and walk down the aisle with the priest. The father leading his daughter down the aisle is very American and few people partake in that ritual.

Croatian Wedding

Then we all left the church for the reception!

Sara and Mislav hosted their reception at the Mimara Museum in downtown Zagreb. It’s a cool art museum which had a spacious lobby and reception hall perfect for the event. Sara put the three of us at a table with some of her colleagues at the library in which she works so it was a very “young professional” table.

 Mimara Museum
Martina and I in front of Mimara Museum

After Sara and Mislav had their grand entrance, we began the first of SEVEN COURSES!  After the first course, Sara and Mislav had their “first dance” and were soon joined by the majority of guests. Then, a pattern emerged: eat, drink, dance, repeat. Literally, after an hour or two, the live band would cease playing, the colorful lights turned out, the regular lights flashed on, and everyone returned to their tables to eat. The wine flowed, the guests indulged. Then, within 30 minutes or so, the lights turned off, the band retrieved their instruments, and the dancing resumed. This lasted from around 8pm until after 4am.

Zagreb Wedding
Photo courtesy of Lena
Zagreb Wedding
Lena
Croatian Wedding
The music consisted of a mixture of popular English sounds and some Croatian music

The food was delicious. My favorite course was actually the first:

Croatian Wedding
Course 1

I could eat sliced meat and cheese for every meal. Salami and prosciutto aren’t meats I have the pleasure of eating often in India. Pork isn’t very popular. Fancy cheeses seems to be of a new “thing” in Chandigarh but still a rarity for me. Sadly I filled up on the meats in the first round of food and had difficulty eating much of the rest:

Croatian Wedding

Croatian Wedding
Course 2: soup
Croatian Wedding
Course 3: A heavenly traditional cheese pastry. Possibly called “strukli” but possibly not. I’m still working on my listening skills…
Croatian Wedding
Course 4: A fabulous plate of schnitzel and other cooked meats
Croatian Wedding
Course 5: assorted pastries
Croatian Wedding
Not a course-wedding cake! (Served around midnight)
Croatian Wedding
Course 6: lamb  (served at 1:30am)
Croatian Wedding
Course 7: Goulash (served around 3 am)

Around 3:30am (approaching 4am) Martina, Lena, and I said our goodbyes to Sara and left for Martina’s apartment. Lena and I both booked ridiculously early flights for that morning so once I got to Zurich for my layover I was extremely sleep-deprived and passed out hard on my flight to Delhi.

To reiterate, as someone who moves almost annually, I cycle through friendships faster than I would like. Most of these people probably have no idea how influential they have been to me or how often I think about them. I credit Budapest with most of who I am today. I don’t throw around the term “life changing” often but those 4 months truly were. I’m so happy with my decision to attend Sara’s wedding. Besides being an amazing party and getting to experience a Croatian wedding, it, more importantly, gave me a great excuse to revisit old friends and reminisce on old Budapest times.

North America

When You Don’t Drive in the US for 14 Months

I think I’m bad luck.

On Monday evening, 24 hours after landing in NC from my short stint in Chicago, my friend, Kelly, asked if I wanted to meet for dinner in Durham. Kelly is my friend from high school and one of the only friends I had come visit me in India. We’ve been skyping and messaging about how excited we are to see each other.

Long distance
Kelly and I at the Taj Mahal in March

Kelly is a fantastic human being. One of those people that just seem to be in amazing mental health and one of those people you just know is always going to be there for you. Great person. Great Friend. Everyone should be friends with Kelly.

Durham, however, I feel less passionately about. It’s 30 minutes away from my parent’s house and I can’t say I was thrilled at the prospect of driving there. Here’s why:

  • My jet lag begins around 4pm. I’m awake enough to have a conversation with someone but driving takes much better reaction time than speaking.
  • I haven’t driven in 14 months and I was worried I forgot how
  • More importantly, when I’m in the car with my mom I tense up every 5 minutes because I think she is driving on the wrong side of the road or turning into traffic. India was a British colony and, unlike the US, didn’t protest British rule and celebrate their freedom by driving on the other side of the road.
  • It would be rush hour, meaning the traffic would be “crazy” by American standards (and totally fine for Indian standards).
  • I’m already not that familiar with Durham

I felt a bit like a drama queen not wanting to drive but I called Kelly and explained and she was very understanding and we decided to just go out in downtown Hillsborough (which is surprisingly “happening” now compared to when I grew up here).

Downtown Hillsborough
Downtown Hillsborough on a Wednesday night. Not bad!

But I need to start driving again. This isn’t India. I can’t afford to take 30-minute Uber rides just to go out to lunch anymore. Or to the gym. So yesterday Kelly called to see if I wanted to go to lunch with her at Bojangles.

 

Hillsborough Traditions
For my friends based outside the South, Bojangles is a southern food/cajun fast food restaurant. A slight obsession in Hillsborough. A favorite for any high school or church event.

Oh, Bojangles! I can manage that! That’s only 5 minutes down the road, it’s a Wednesday at noon so I won’t be tired and the traffic won’t be bad, and I know the area so well.

And so I set off on my next great adventure: driving through Hillsborough! The itty bitty Southern town with a maximum speed of 35 miles/hour and lots of traffic lights. This is a town that the elderly or poor of sight could easily navigate. It’s the best town to get your learner’s permit in. Naturally I imagined my own funeral.

But then getting behind the wheel felt totally natural. And I didn’t drive on the wrong side of the road at all! I did keep talking to myself and reminding myself which way to turn the car (there are literally two turns between my house and Bojangles). And I did keep eyeing pedestrians suspiciously. But then I pulled into the parking lot, underneath the glow of the bright yellow Bojangles sign to my destination. Hurrah! I’ve made it! A feat of unimaginable magnitude! A feat the size of moving to India by myself! A feat larger than climbing to Everest Base Camp! Wow! Everyone on my blog will be so impressed that I drove a motor vehicle 3 miles. Release the balloons! We are the Champions!

Kelly pretended to be proud of me for driving down the road. (See, I told you she’s a great friend). And then we had lunch, caught up, had some good conversations, plotted Rachel’s bachelorette weekend at the beach, etc…

And then Kelly had to return to work since she’s a real adult with a job. And I began my drive home. I took the back roads to avoid some of the “traffic” in town but when I got to my little street I remembered that a construction crew had captured it for the afternoon and was pillaging the pavement, meaning I couldn’t drive through to the other side. No issue. I’m cool. I know how to drive. So I drove around the block, back onto the main road, and made a left hand turn onto my street.

And then, 30 seconds from the house, as I was turning onto the street, a big white SUV turned and I heard a really loud THUD.

I just stopped for a second and prayed I had simply scraped the car’s 18-year-old under carriage on the bump at the beginning of the street. But then I looked back and the big white SUV that I had seen turning had stopped. So I pulled off.  Actually, after that, the SUV disappeared and at first I thought the woman ran away. But another car pulled up and a nice lady stopped to see if I was okay and told me the woman was just going around the block and coming back. She asked if I wanted her to wait with me. I told her my mom lived around the corner so not to worry. And then I called my mother, my poor, poor mother, who was so excited for me to come home, back to the safety of Hillsborough, off the dangerous mountains, out of my apartment that catches fire occasionally, away from scary Indian men….Yes, I had to call my poor mother on her BIRTHDAY and tell her, “Yeah….I got in a car accident….”

The accident wasn’t my fault actually. So that’s a plus! But the bumper (as you can see) was lying on the street. I also panicked for a second that I wasn’t on my parent’s car insurance plan (I’m covered, the car’s covered, everything is fine). When the white SUV pulled up I realized that the woman was actually my mom’s neighbor. Once she realized who I was she rushed over and gave me a hug and kept apologizing. She hit me going at about 1 mile/hr so we were all far from hurt. Actually, her car is so big, only her tire hit my car. And our car is so old the bumper just popped right off.

When my mom came out the neighbor was apologizing so much my mom went to hug and console her first. We did the whole “lets exchange insurance information thing” and then my mom walked behind the car holding the bumper on while I rolled it into our driveway. We are pretty sure, considering the car is 18, that this will total it. My mom is thrilled. She says we have too many old cars clogging the driveway and need to get rid of them. My Dad is threatening to buy it back, as he does. My dad and I suspect my mom actually paid my neighbor to wreck the car so she didn’t have to see it anymore.

 

Happy Birthday Mom! What a nice welcome back to the United States!

 

Today I am driving to Winston-Salem to see Sarah, my college roommate, another wonderful human being. Let’s all say a little prayer I make it without another incident!