Croatia: Can Rich & Poor Co-Exist?

Travelling With my Opposite (My Cousin).

As a backpacking bum preaching sustainable slow travel, you wouldn’t expect to see me in some souped-up Audie. Yet, that’s exactly how I got from Milan, Italy, to Zadar, Croatia.

The car went fast, the music thudded, and those Olympic Ring thingies would shine on the ground whenever you opened the door. Yes, I’m the wrong person to ask about the model.

Now, I could justify taking the Audie because my Belgian cousin had to cross Northern Italy to get to Croatia anyway. In fact, I could say I’m an environmentalist getting people to carpool. But the truth is, I’m an opportunist.

Since I planstered¹ (loosely planned) my quest to the North of Sweden for story writing and therapeutic reasons, I have no set schedule, which allows me to say “yes” to everything. Yes, that leads to challenges and danger, but I live my life like I craft my stories, and every protagonist needs a set of obstacles to learn. If there’s no character arc, it’s a tragedy or slice-of-life pic, neither of which I’m trying to write.

By saying yes to everything, my plans completely fell through. My cousin told me to find new transport with two hours’ notice, and I ended up in the home of a man who changed the entire course of my trip—possibly my life—for the better.

But let’s return to Zadar.

Visiting Zadar, Croatia is impossible without considering class and money. For one, it has the highest concentration of ATMs I’ve ever seen.

More importantly, it’s where the poor and rich all jumble together without any apparent city planning.

The concrete blocks sucked dry from life and filled with Soviet-age pain, stood in stark contrast to the modern homes and rooftop swimming pool my cousin was bathing in. He and I, like the city, had clashing appearances and values that somehow came together with ease.

Or so we thought.

If you read “The Problem With Empathy and Belgium,” the conversation about Vlaams Belang, an ultra-right populist party in Belgium, was partly based on my cousin—a cologne-soaked, meticulously dressed man who requires three suitcases for a one-week trip. Then there’s me, a dude whose wardrobe fits in a hiking backpack. Yet, since I read books, I was “the elitist” when discussing politics.

Now, for those of you who equate right-wing with evil, you need to know my cousin is a loving and loyal man. He’s always been there for me when I was at my lowest. In my book, Living With the In-Laws, he’s the one who picked my girlfriend and me up when we were stuck in Charleroi’s Airport at midnight.² And he’s the one who took me into his home when she left me.

He always tolerated my semi-socialist ideas and workout obsession, and I put up with the populist propaganda and the cigarettes he wouldn’t breathe without. Plus, since my Wardrobe fit in a backpack, I was also the mooch who asked for belts or a dress shirt to look half-decent in the restaurants he invited me to.

In Zadar, those bars and restaurants were:

Beach Bar Bamboo

When it comes to drinking with beach views, I’m the type to bring beers or a bottle of wine from a Kiosk to the beach or dock—something possible throughout Zadar. However, I didn’t notice how common it was until my cousin and I split up, and I walked seven kilometres south from Borik Sandy Beach to Beach Karma. The entire coastline is sprinkled with pebble beaches and docks, making it possible to have picnics and drinks in front of crystal-clear waters.

However, for those who like to pay triple to be served at a cocktail bar, Beach Bar Bamboo has the most exclusive terrace. It’s part of Cidaris d.o.o, a group that owns four other restaurants in the centre and describes itself as “an organization aimed at creating the best cultural experiences for tourists.” I’m more into restaurants that have a culture with locals, but that’s not what I found.

Instead, I went to places like Street Food Seafood HRCO, a food truck serving fresh seafood from the central market on plastic plates. The owner seemed fed up with tourists, which gave me hope, but from the prices and people sitting there, it became clear that this restaurant was not catering to locals. Nevertheless, the seafood was incredible.