Street Murals

Christchurch, New Zealand: Resolutely Resilient and Unexpectedly Artsy

| 2suitcasesfor2years

A fifty-minute flight from Wellington brought us along the coast of Pegasus Bay on New Zealand’s South Island as we prepared to land in Christchurch. The aquamarine waters below looked almost Caribbean, though their hue was milky from glacial flour, a fine-grained sediment washed down from the headwaters of the Rakahuri and Waimakariri rivers whose source is in the island’s Southern Alps, about 80km (50mi) west of Christchurch.

From the airport our route passed through checkerboard fields and well-manicured suburbs before reaching the city where the old Victoria Clock Tower, built in 1897 to celebrate the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, stood at an intersection. A block further along three bright red lips screamed from a street mural. We soon came to realize this dichotomy defined Christchurch.

It was a Friday afternoon when we entered Christchurch. Beside how new everything appeared, we had not expected the number of young people on the streets. Groups of various sizes were all heading in the same direction, dressed as if they were going to party. This, the receptionist at our hotel later told us, was for the annual Electric Avenue Music Festival, the largest music event in Christchurch that draws over 90,000 music lovers to the concert grounds in Hagley Park for two days every February. 

Continuing on, the newness of the city continued to surprise us as we drove to the center of the town and passed the ChristChurch Cathedral, which was secured behind construction fencing. This detail reminded us that Christchurch suffered a catastrophic magnitude 7.1 earthquake in September 2010, which severely damaged the church and many other historic buildings in and around the city. Six months, later in February 2011, a shallower magnitude 6.3 aftershock centered near Christchurch struck the city as people were at work. The 138-year-old church’s spire and front wall with its famous Rose window shattered. Numerous buildings across the town collapsed, devastating roughly 80% of Christchurch’s central business district, and causing 185 deaths and over 6,000 injuries. Afterwards the center of the city, “the Red Zone,” stay closed for two years. But the city “didn’t feel back to normal until 2021, when much of the core commercial area along the Avon River was transformed and bustling with activity again.” The Anglican Church hired Pritzker Prize winning architect Shigeru Ban to design a temporary church, while the General Synod figured out what to do with the ruins of its iconic cathedral. Ban’s innovative design incorporated non-traditional materials, such as cardboard, and the building locally known as the “Cardboard Church,” has become a destination and symbol of the city’s resurgence since it opened in August of 2013. Reconstruction of the church is still underway, and the work is currently projected to be completed in the later months of 2030.

At the cross street in front of the cathedral, we turned and saw a faint portrait of a woman emerging from a rough brick wall. Diagonally across from the portrait was a tremendously large street mural of penguins swimming below an iceberg. It’s known as the Antarctica Mural and was painted to acknowledge the city’s important roll as a primary logistics, operational center for expeditions and scientific research heading farther south to the frozen continent.

Continuing on we followed the tracks of the city’s historic tramline to the Hotel 115, where the tracks passed through an arched tunnel next to the hotel’s reception area, before stopping in a large atrium surrounded by several shops called Cathedral Junction. When researching where to stay in the city we just thought the uniqueness of the hotel’s location merited a stay. Plus, it was in an excellent location, only a seven-minute walk to the center of Christchurch, and a two-minute stroll away from New Regent Street, the Isaac Theatre Royal and Court Theatres.

Famished, we headed to find a place for a late lunch along New Regent Street.  Luckily for us, we happened to be there when one of the trams was slowly moving down the colorful narrow street, as tourists moved aside to make way for its passing. In the 1930’s The New Regent Street was developed as a private street with high-end shops occupying the quasi “Spanish Mission” style storefronts. The street was the forerunner of the New Zealand’s strip malls. The tramline wasn’t brought down the street until 1995 when the city re-inaugurated a much smaller 3.9km (2.5mi) figure-eight loop through the city center as a tourist attraction.

The original service in Christchurch was launched in 1880s with horsedrawn and steam powered trams, which lasted until 1904 when electric trams replaced them. Interestingly, in 1886 a dedicated spur was constructed to the Linwood Cemetery, far outside the city, and even had a custom four coffin tram built specifically for the line. At the height of its service in the 1920s, the tramline carried around 80,000 passengers a day on 70 trams that crisscrossed 86 km (53 mi) of track that stretched east to the coastal suburbs of Brighton and Sumner, and west to Riccarton and Fendalton. Southern lines extended to the towns of Landsdowne, Cashmere and Hillmorton. The trams ran until 1954 when bus service replaced the lines.

New Regent Street had a nice mix of ethnic restaurants which are wildly popular across the city and New Zealand in general. Let’s face it, there is only so much mutton and lamb shank a person can eat in a lifetime. Enjoying the sunny afternoon, we sat at an umbrellaed table along the tracks at Bamboo Asian Express,  a budget friendly lunch spot, to watch people and trams pass by. Dessert was delicous ice-cream cones at Rollickin Gelato, a small artisanal ice cream shop with two locations in the city, that started in a modified horse trailer on Cathedral Square in the months after the 2011 earthquake. They have a wide variety of interesting flavors created with locally sourced milk and seasonal fruits.

Afterwards we circled the block in search of a street mural we saw on our map. Prim and proper Christchurch was once known as “the most English city outside of England.” Though that changed after the traumatic 2011 earthquake when the first colorful murals began to appear amidst the ruins of the city during its reconstruction as a way to unite the community with hope and heal the scarred urban landscape with vibrant color.

“The post-quake environment provided an opportunity for the city to refocus the lens – to embrace the indigenous histories and narratives of our city and also acknowledge the increasingly multicultural and diverse sort of folk that call Christchurch home.” Some of the street art is very political, like the Dawn Raids mural which remembers the Pacific Islander community that was targeted in the 1970s for overstaying visas – in terrifying midnight and early morning raids that dragged people from their homes while demanding proof of residency on the spot.

With over 50 giant murals in the downtown area and 200 more wonderfully creative works spread across the broader city, Christchurch has been recognized alongside Berlin, Lisbon and New York as a global capital of street art. “Fifteen years ago, you never would’ve imagined street art being part of Christchurch’s identity, but It’s become part of how the city presents itself to the world,” is sentiment often expressed by local artists. In 2022 Christchurch inaugurated the first FLARE Ōtautahi Street Art Festival, a nine-day event in early March, where prominent street and graffiti artists from around the world are invited to create murals on some of the multi-story building facades in the center of Christchurch that have been chosen for Street art.

We were happy using Google Maps to find some of the artworks and happened across many on our own during our wanderings. The blocks around New Regent Street had many vacant lots, some of which had been converted into temporary plazas surrounded with interesting murals, but if you need more guidance Street Art Cities has a great interactive map that is an excellent resource. As it turned out, Hotel 115 was an excellent location to discover the city’s street murals from.

Heading down Gloucester Street we passed Isaac Theatre Royal and Court Theatres where upcoming event placards showcased a variety of interesting performances. Their ticket prices seemed very reasonable compared to similar venues in the states. Unfortunately, on such short notice there were not any tickets available during our three-night stay in the city. If you are making plans to visit Christchurch, check out the theaters websites well in advance to make ticket reservations.

Farther along we came to a wavy futuristic façade covered with an iridescent reflective surface. This was the administrative entrance on the backside of the Te Pae Christchurch Convention Centre which opened in 2021 on a block where only one original structure, the Georgian Revival Isaac House from 1926, survived the earthquake. This engaging feature called the Moment of Movement was designed by New Zealand-born Korean multimedia artist Seung Yul Oh in association with John Troy Sullivan, with the concept that the sculpture would fluidly capture the reflections of folks walking along and the changing color and light of the city throughout the day to create a dynamically interactive the piece.

The front of the convention center, designed by the international architecture firm Woods Bagot in association with the New Zealand firm Warren and Mahoney, worked in collaboration with the Matapopore Charitable Trust to integrate Māori cultural narratives into anchor recovery building projects with the guiding principle of Kia atawhai ki te iwi (“Be kind to your people”) to ensure the architecture reflects care, warmth, and hospitality. The building’s flowing front facade reflects the importance of the region’s rivers and is made with nearly 43,000 variously toned tiles, with each tile individually numbered and placed in an ornate herringbone chevron pattern inspired by the weave of traditional Māori Aoraki panels. Unfortunately, when we were there the front of the building was in deep afternoon shade, so it was difficult to appreciate its gracefulness.

We crossed the tramline into Victoria Square and chuckled as we watched an electric scooter driver lead a line of traffic down the road. The park was quintessentially British, a classic red phone booth and monuments to Queen Victoria and Captain Cook. Though Cook’s statue was vandalized with a large red X across his medal-decorated chest. Remembered as a heroic explorer by many, he is also remembered as the catalyst that brought colonization, western diseases, and economic disenfranchisement to the Māori. Recent additions to the park include two towering Māori pou. A bridge at the far end of the park led to a beautiful fountain across the Avon/ Ōtākaro River.

It was beautiful afternoon as we followed the river back towards the city center. Weeping willows hung low over the river’s surface that reflected autumn colors as ducks left small wakes behind then as they paddled. The afternoon was warm enough for folks to enjoy picnicking along the riverbank. A plaza lined with busy restaurants paralleled the river, where it was standing room only at the bars to wait for table. We usually avoid making reservations, because we are never quite sure where we will be at dinner, so we continued on to the Riverside Market, a lively indoor market with shopkeepers selling locally sourced food, plus restaurants, a food court, and several bars. Everything looked so good, especially at the Great Pastry Shop and the Charing Cross Cheesery. I vowed to return the next morning for breakfast takeaway.

With so many different eateries to choose from, it was difficult to make a choice for dinner, but we eventually decided on El Quincho, an Argentine BBQ restaurant where we enjoyed a tender Tomahawk Steak with smoked cabbage and Beef Ribeye with a salad. They were probably the best steaks we have ever eaten.

Heading back to the hotel we walked along the tram tracks down Cashel Street, a lengthy two block pedestrian mall, before turning onto Colombo Street. This was the devastated center of the city where none of the distinctive historic buildings from the 1920s and 1930s  survived; they have been replaced by characterless concrete, steel and glass buildings.

The next morning on the way into town to get pastries, a flash of color down a side street caught my eye as I was walking along Cathedral Square, and being the curious guy that I am I went to investigate. Mid-block a fantastic fantasy-filled wall mural soared skyward across the back of a building. The stunning artwork named “Narcissa” was created by Jacob Yikes, a Christchurch painter/illustrator, in 2025 as feature presentation during the 2025 FLARE Ōtautahi Street Art Festival. Towering 55m (180ft), it is the tallest street mural in New Zealand.

Returning to Cathedral Square I admired The Chalice, a 18m (59ft) tall cone shaped tower, covered with representations of native flora, which was constructed from perforated stainless steel, allowing light, sky, and weather to pass through it. Installed in 2000, the Chalice was created to mark two important milestones: the new millennium, and the 150th anniversary of the founding of Christchurch and the region of Canterbury. The New Zealand artist Neil Dawson noted that his concept was inspired by the winds that lift leaves on Cathedral Square and swirl them into a vortexes. Undamaged after the 2011 earthquake, the sculpture became a symbol of resilience and recovery for the city.

As sunny as the day was, the morning was chilly, and the wind chill convinced me that my layers of clothing were insufficient for traveling farther south down the island where it was expected to be much colder. Fortunately, there were many outdoor clothing stores in the city, and I bought a down vest that was on sale at Kathmandu, on Colombo Street, as I returned to the hotel with our takeaway breakfast from the Riverside Market.

The weather in New Zealand changes quickly, and a morning squall delayed our departure from the hotel. Our destination for the afternoon was Lyttelton, a port town on Lyttelton Bay. It was about a twenty-minute drive from our hotel to the Christchurch Gondola Station, where we hoped to take the dramatic aerial ride over the Port Hills surrounding the bay down to the harbor. But strong winds had closed the ride for the day by the time we arrived.

Undeterred, we consulted our maps App and found a driving route around and up to the Gondola’s summit station on Mount Cavendish and set out. It was a short twenty-minute drive that took us along a stretch of the Avon Heathcote Estuary before we turned and started a serpentine ascent up the hillside through the coastal suburb of Mount Pleasant. The road opened to fabulous views looking out over the Southshore Spit and the long curve of New Brighton Beach along Pegasus Bay, which we would not have seen from the gondola.

Continuing uphill we followed signs along Summit Road to the Mount Pleasant Trig Station. Turning off the main road, a closed sheep gate stymied us, as we weren’t sure what the proper protocol was. A woman in a car behind us got out and opened the gate, motioning to us as she returned to her car that we have to close the gate behind us each time we pass through. The summit was named for its use as a triangulation station for the  survey mapping of Christchurch and the surrounding  Canterbury region in the 1850s. It also served as a signal station with a flagstaff and telescope to announce incoming ships entering Lyttelton Harbour. Long before the English arrived, it was the site of Māori pā (fortified village) for several hundred years. With an elevation of roughly 499m (1,637 ft) Mount Pleasant or Tauhinu Korokio is the highest peak in the eastern Port Hills, beating out the nearby Gondola Summit Station on Mount Cavendish, 44 m (1,460 ft) by a 177ft. There was open space for parking before the unmanned radio tower which now commands the site. Clouds almost low enough to touch raced across the sky, opening and closing to cast different batches of sunlight across the landscape.

Back on Summit Road we drove towards the gondola station, but the road was closed near the Lyttelton View Bench. This sounds very formal, but it is a simple park bench that a few enterprising folks carted down the hillside to a spot that has another incredible view over the harbor. The track is a little rough here and don’t be surprised if you find yourself amid a flock of sheep. We didn’t but their droppings were everywhere, so it’s an active pasture. If you enjoy hiking there is an extensive trail system along the mountainside, maps of which are available from the Mt Pleasant Shared Use Track (Christchurch City Council), and Mount Pleasant Track (AllTrails).

On our last full day, we walked back through the city and crossed the Bridge of Remembrance, a memorial arch to the men of Christchurch who died in World War I, as we headed to the punting boat sheds on the Avon River. Quintessentially English, the punters still guide their flat-bottomed boats along the gentle river dressed in Edwardian clothing. It’s been a memorable part-time job, over the decades, for some of the students at the University of Canterbury since its founding in Christchurch in 1873.

After watching the boats glide by for a while we rested with coffee on the outdoor terrace surrounded by an English garden at the Curators House Restaurant.  The picturesque restaurant is set in a restored 1920’s Tudor style house. Down the street the first neo-Gothic buildings of the University of Canterbury lined the street. This complex of twenty-three buildings was the home of the school until 1975 when it relocated the campus to the suburb of Ilam. The historic buildings now host the Arts Centre Te Matatiki Toi Ora, an events center with restaurants, galleries, shopping, and workshops.

Continuing on we entered the Christchurch Botanic Gardens, a large park bounded on three sides by Avon River. Aside from the Rose Garden, there are not any formal gardens here, instead it’s an oasis of open parkland enhanced with selective plantings of flowering trees, shrubs and flowers, with sculptures dotting the landscape.

Their plantings of dahlias were particularly impressive, as was David McCracken’s Diminish and Ascend, a fascinating welded aluminum sculpture that has graced a small pond with its reflections since 2016.

Visiting the park was the perfect way to end our stay in Christchurch. When planning our trip around the South Island we never realized what an amazing amount of fantastic public art the creative community in the city supported. Old and new; it’s a wonderful dichotomy that Christchurch graciously embraces. In hindsight we could have used an extra day in the city to explore several of its museums.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Road Tripping Around New Zealand: Part 3: Hamilton to the Coromandel Peninsula – The Story of a Waka or other Wonderful, Weird, Whimsical and Wacky Things

| 2suitcasesfor2years

We enjoy gardening, though we are not particularly good at it, having more success growing an abundant crop of weeds rather than lush flowers. Our inspiration comes from the spectacular oases of greenery we’ve visited during our travels. Many have been attached to the great estates and castles of England which were the catalyst for the “English love of gardening,” regardless of the size of the plot, and “garden visiting,” both wonderful attributes that have followed its people around the world and which have also become part of New Zealand’s national psyche. Why visit Hamilton? The botanical garden, of course.

Hamilton, the country’s fourth most-populous city, about 122 km (76 mi) south of Auckland, appeared at first to be a sleeper of a destination, with its low skyline barely visible as we entered the city over a bridge across the Waikato River. A quick loop down Victoria Street, the city’s main avenue, didn’t dispel our initial assessment. Until we got a chance to walk to around, when we headed to dinner at the Iguana Street Bar & Restaurant, and enjoyed the slow-braised lamb shank, after checking in at the ibis Hamilton Tainui. We fully explored the town the next day.

Home to the University of Waikato, which hosts over 2,000 international students from more than 80 different countries, the city benefits from the school’s diversity and youthful vibe with a variety ethnic eateries, nightclubs and live music venues. Along with bookstores and shops all across several blocks of Victoria and Hood streets, housed in a blend of historic and contemporary buildings, offset with large street murals which define the city’s architecture and mood.

Along the street were bronze sculptures, of Dame Hilda Ross and Horace Moore-Jones. She was an admired advocate for family and social welfare and the city’s first female deputy mayor (1945), and a member of the New Zealand Parliament. He was a soldier, artist and teacher known for his WWI paintings of Anzac’s Gallipoli Campaign, who later died from burns sustained as he rescued folks from a fire that razed the Hamilton Hotel in 1922.

A block away on a plaza that leads to several paths along the Waikato River stood a contemporary statue celebrating Hamilton’s offbeat, honorable citizen/fictional character, Riff Raff, of The Rocky Horror Picture Show fame. Playwright Richard O’Brien grew up in Hamilton, and as a young adult worked as a barber in the foyer of the derelict Embassy Theatre on Victoria St. that showed late-night, B-grade horror and science fiction double features. After nights cutting hair, O’Brien would sit in the theater relishing the films’ absurdities. This experience became the inspiration for his 1973 stage musical and the 1975 musical comedy-horror film directed by Jim Sharman, in which the character of Riff Raff is played onscreen by O’Brien.  The wonderfully campy movie starring Barry Bostwick and Susan Sarandon was a box office flop, but it soon developed a cult following where late-night screenings drew fans dressed as the film’s characters, shouting lines of dialog, and throwing things at the screen. After a theatrical career based in England, O’Brien returned to Hamilton where he continued to be a prominent fixture in the local arts scene and was awarded the Hamilton Kirikiriroa Medal, one of the city’s highest civic honors.

We followed one leg of the path off the plaza along the Waikato to Victoria on the River, a large amphitheater-like park with views over the river. Mid-week during the off season we had the place to ourselves, except for the occasional jogger passing by. The river flowing 425 km (264 mi), from its headwaters originating in Lake Taupō to the western coast is believed by the Māori be the life force (mauri) and soul of the central North Island. Before modern dams, seasonal flooding enriched the soils of the river valley.

According to Māori oral history the north island was discovered around the year 1150 by the legendary Polynesian explorer, Kupe, who named it Aotearoa, the “land of the long white cloud.” Kupe’s navigational skills and knowledge of the Pacific Islands were used several hundred years later in several exoduses from Hawaiki, Hawaii, as small groups fled inter-tribal warfare on their homeland, that began around 1300. Stories of a new verdant land were a serious draw for the first Polynesian families who made the treacherous months- or years- long voyages, with stops at other islands along the way.  The journeys were accomplished in large, open to the elements, ocean-going Polynesian catamarans with two or three sails, or large canoes with outriggers, called wakas.

Around 1350, a group of Polynesian settlers (29 men and 11 women) sailed with Chief Hoturoa, a high priest, aboard a waka they named Tainui. No histories reveal how long their 6500 km (4000 mi) epic crossing took, but the crew eventually made their first landfall at Whangaparāoa near Cape Runaway in Te Moana-a-Toi (the Bay of Plenty) on the eastern side of the island. With settlers from earlier wakas already populating the area, Chief Hoturoa and crew sailed and rowed Tainui waka north along the coast around the Coromandel Peninsula to the narrow Tāmaki isthmus near Auckland, and portaged the great waka across the land. Following oral histories of Kupe, who had mapped the coastlines of Aotearoa in an earlier voyage and documented the safe channels, landmarks, and the existence of the western harbors, they sailed on in pursuit of vast unclaimed verdant lands that he had told of. They eventually pulled the Tainui waka ashore and buried it at Maketū marae in Kawhia, on the coast west of Hamilton. Here Hoturoa blessed two stone pillars called Puna and Han, and set them at the bow and the stern of the waka, exactly marking the length of the 13.5 m (44 ft) long vessel. This cemented the Waikato-Tainui region as Hoturoa clan’s heartland in their new world, before they expanded inland to a fertile area they called Kirikiriroa, Hamilton.

Roughly five hundred years later, colonial British troops invaded the fertile region in 1863 after the Māori chiefs refused to pledge an oath of allegiance to the English Crown. The nine-month long Waikato War – Te Riri ki Tainui – ended with the colonial government confiscating over 1.2 million acres of fertile tribal land, the displacement of Māori villages, and the founding of Hamilton, named after Captain John Fane Charles Hamilton, the commander of HMS Esk, who died during the war. Militia-settlers were recruited in Melbourne and Sydney, and by 1867 a road was built to Auckland, followed by a railway 10 years later to speed the new farmers’ produce and timber from the fertile valley to markets north in Auckland and by 1908 south in Wellington. The land grab was formally addressed decades later through the Waikato Raupatu Claims Settlement Act of 1995, which included financial compensation and a formal apology from the New Zealand government for Treaty of Waitangi breaches.

A more in depth telling of the Māori history in the region is covered in the informative exhibits at the Te Whare Taonga o Waikato Museum & Gallery, a few blocks farther down Victoria Street. At the top of the steps leading down to the building there is a vibrant modern water fountain, whimsically named the Tongue of the Dog. Designed by New Zealand artist Michael Parekowhai, the fountain is based on a Māori creation legend in which a faithful dog dug a pathway for healing waters to reach Lake Taupō, forming the Waikato River.

Though it is a small museum, we found it thoroughly engaging and spent more time there than we had originally planned, enjoying a contemporary ceramic exhibit, before heading to the botanical garden.

Having seen prior photographs of Hamilton Gardens, we knew it was going to be magnificent. Seeing the gardens in person was spectacular – even during New Zealand’s late summer in mid-February, the plantings were marvelously lush.

It’s a world class botanical garden that’s best described by the understated introduction on Hamilton Gardens webpage, which describe the oasis as “an open-air museum of garden design located on the banks of the Waikato River. Rather than functioning as a traditional botanical collection of plants, it maps the history of civilization and culture across 18 themed Enclosed Gardens and surrounding landscapes.”

Visiting the well-laid-out gardens was a fabulous afternoon. If you go, bring water and plan on spending hours wandering about. There is also a popular onsite restaurant, Gardens Café, where seating around lunchtime can be quite competitive.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the shops and street murals of Hamilton East, a neighborhood across the river from downtown with a relaxed vibe. A sampling of the homemade, small batch ice cream at Duck Island Ice Cream, named after local swimming hole in the Waikato River, was very enjoyable; they feature a rotating menu that uses ingredients that are seasonally available, and create flavors like Strawberry Coconut Lime Leaf, Boysenberry Cheesecake, White Chocolate Pomegranate Macadamia, and Pistachio Honey.

A few blocks down was Made Hamilton, a contemporary mixed-use space with over 40 restaurants, shops, and businesses in a renovated 1900s building, that opened in 2023. With something for everyone, it has become a popular gathering spot, and a premier destination for combining shopping and dining in Hamilton.

The next morning, we started a long transition day to Whitianga on the east coast of the Coromandel Peninsula, a distance of 201 km (125 mi), about a 3.5 hour drive, that took us most of the day with all the stops we made. Having traveled down to Hamilton from the tip of New Zealand on the hilly Aupōuri Peninsula, the flatlands of the Waikato Plain, quilted with corn, hay and pastures that flowed to the horizon was unexpected. We anticipated seeing huge flocks of sheep, but New Zealand’s historic ratio of 22 sheep for every person in the early 1980s, when the national sheep flock peaked at over 70 million, has recently dropped to roughly 4.4 sheep per person (an estimated 23 million sheep to 5.3 million humans). Over the decades dairy cattle replaced sheep and the region now has one-third of New Zealand’s total dairy herd. Always one for a good roadside attraction, we stopped along Rt26 to photograph “Mabel,” the giant cow in Morrinsville. Standing 6.5 m (21 ft) tall, the bovine has graced the street of the agricultural crossroads since 2017, as tribute to the dairy community and the “mootastic” culture that has grown up around the town through the decades. Continuing on, New Zealander’s pride of ownership and love of gardening was on full display in the small community of Te Aroha, where everything was prim and proper and barely a blade of grass or hedge was left unmanicured. The town sits at the base of the Kaimai Range, a short but jagged set of mountains that rise steeply from the flatlands and separate it from the Pacific coast, only 34.5 km (21 mi) away as the crow flies. This formidable ridge connecting to the mountains on the Coromandel Peninsula dissuaded Chief Hoturoa and the crew of the Tainui waka from exploring the area during their journey along the Pacific coastline.

Farther along in Paeroa we pulled over at the Giant Lemon & Paeroa (L&P) Bottle, a monument to the soft drink that was created around 1907, from tangy lemon juice and naturally carbonated mineral water from a spring in the town. It’s “World Famous in New Zealand” 90s marketing slogan playfully captures how beloved the drink is locally, but unknown almost everywhere else.  A food truck in the parking lot was selling mussel fritters. We’d never tasted one until we shared it as a pre-lunch snack, and it was surprisingly tasty.

A block off the main road, a large Paeroa’s Annual Car & Motorcycle Show and Swap Meet was underway on the town’s fairgrounds. It was large event with hundreds of perfectly waxed antique vehicles shining in the bright afternoon sun. Across the street, we had lunch in an old ivy-covered warehouse, that was now the home of The Refinery, a laid-back casual dining spot.

Rolling on, we passed several roadside placards for cheese, but didn’t have a chance to U-turn until we spotted the sign for The Cheese Barn at Matatoki, an award-winning fromager that makes a variety of small batch cheeses and yoghurt, as well as ice cream from unhomogenized organic milk sourced from a locally owned, certified organic dairy. With shady outside tables, it’s a pretty place that’s a favorite destination for lunch with folks who cycle along the Hauraki Rail Trail. The 164 km (102 mi) long trail follows a disused historic railway corridor that stretches from Kaiaua on the Firth of Thames, south through Paeroa and Te Aroha to Matamata. With multiple easy access points, the ride can be broken down into segments, or the complete length can usually be covered in three days.

The drive up the eastern shore of the Firth of Thames was not as interesting as we expected until we reached the town of Coromandel, about two thirds of the way up the peninsula. We had hoped to have time for an excursion on the Driving Creek Railway. A unique 3-mile-long narrow-gauge mountain railway, with 10 bridges, a viaduct, and 3 tunnels, it was built due to the vision of the potter, engineer, and conservationist Barry Brickell who, in 1973, purchased 55 acres of hilly farmland for its rich terracotta clay.  With the help of his friends and fellow potters he built a short 250 m (820 ft) long private rail to haul the clay dug from the hillside to his pottery studio and kilns. Amazingly, most of the railway and engines were designed by Bricknell and built from salvaged materials. Over time his vision grew to include the reforestation of the vacant farmland with 27, 000 native trees that he started as seedlings in a greenhouse down the hillside and planted with the help of volunteers. More land was purchased to zig zag the rail across the mountainside to a summit at the Eyefull Tower, which has panoramic views overs the peninsula. In 1988 Bricknell started advertising rides on the railway as a “Donation Only” tourist attraction to avoid government regulations until a passenger-carrying license was granted to Driving Creek after a structural inspection determined it met building and safety standards, and ticket sales were allowed. The site now also has a zipline through the mountain’s forest canopy. Seating on the railway is limited so it is suggested that folks reserve tickets online ahead of time. Running late, we decided to pass on an excursion, but this short YouTube video shows how amazing the train ride is.

Continuing on we followed the twists and turns of Rt 25 for 44 km (27 mi) across the mountainous peninsula to Whitianga, stopping occasionally to photograph the expansive views out over the water and seascapes along the coastline as we entered the town. We chose Whitianga, on Mercury Bay, for our base for three-nights because the town offered a variety of things to do within walking distance of our lodging at the Oceanside Motel across from Buffalo Beach. The isolated seaside town was an important logging port from the early 1800s until the 1920’s when the hills around it were finally deforested, and dairy farming and fishing became the local livelihood. The first route over the mountains, Road 309, finally connected the settlement to the inland region in 1913.

The beach takes its name from the HMS Buffalo, a British navy supply ship anchored in the bay in 1840, which, after being loaded with a supply of wooden kauri spars from the dock in Whitianga, was blown onto the beach by a hurricane force storm. Two sailors drowned, as the crew struggled to make it safely ashore.  The shipwreck lies completely submerged in around 3 m (10 ft) of water about 50 m (165 ft) offshore at low tide, but due to a shifting sandbar it’s rarely visible.

The next morning we were up early to catch the Whitianga Ferry’s first harbor crossing of the day at 7:30 to the small hamlet of Ferry Landing. It’s a service that first started over 131 years ago with a rowboat. On that day we were the skipper’s first passengers for the quick scenic cruise (3 minutes) between some moored fishing trawlers. Docking on the other side, we asked him about the trail to the top of Whitianga Rock. “The going is very uneven and it’s a steep climb. At the top there are sheer drop-offs with no barriers.” An ancient Māori pa, a fortified village, once capped the rocky headland. Only the village’s post holes carved into the rocky headland to support the pa’s shelters and midden piles remain, mostly hidden under the overgrowth. It was a short and strenuous hike, but the views from the top of rock over Whitianga Harbor and the smaller Back Bay were worth the effort. The hike is not recommended on wet or windy days.

The Whitianga Rock trail also connected to the longer Maramaratotara Track, a more strenuous 1.2 m (.75 mi) trek that passes through a boggy section at the edge of the beach along Back Bay. Fortunately it was low tide when we walked through. The trail then climbed steeply through a forest of pōhutukawa bush, towering multi-trunked evergreen trees that grows in rocky coastal regions, before reaching the wood planked Mercury Bay Lookout for more spectacular views!

After a short rest we followed multiple sections of a sturdy wooden stairway down the hill, stopping at the Maramaratotara Bay Lookout to snap more pictures before continuing down the stairs to the trailhead on Purangi Road.

The sidewalk along the road here hugged Maramaratotara and Flaxmill Bays. Both had nice beaches to stroll along and beautiful seascapes to photograph. We didn’t stop, but if you need coffee and a meal on your walk the Eggsentric Cafe and Restaurant, a local favorite, is across the road from Flaxmill Bay, and it’s the only nearby option.

Our destination was the Shakespeare Cliff Lookout on the headland that also bears his name. The track to it passed through an old growth Kauri forest alive with bird calls and chattering insects, and an open meadow filled with Queen Anne’s lace. The headland is situated between Flaxmill and Cooks Bays and overlooks Lonely Beach. It was named by Captain Cook, who was allegedly reading Shakespeare’s works at the time he anchored in the bay during his circumnavigation of the North Island to make repairs to his ship the HMS Endeavour.  This anchorage and subsequent landing on the beach were timed to observe the solar transit of Mercury on November 9th, 1769, with the astronomer Charles Green, as it passed across the face of the sun. Their results when combined with other measurements taken by British astronomers around the world that day helped determine the earth’s exact distance from the sun and helped cartographers map the longitude of New Zealand in the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately, overgrown trees obscured our view from the lookout, but we followed a descending trail along the clifftop for a better view of the beaches at Lonely and Mercury bays. Part of this trail was covered with a wooden stairway called the Democracy Steps to Lonely Bay, designed by Akio Hizume in 2005, whose “mathematically derived step pattern makes it easier for all to walk up or down.” Maybe, though our effort wasn’t noticeably minimized.

After walking along Cooks Beach for a way we looped back, along a path under tall tree ferns, to Purangi Road and followed it back to the ferry. The day was glorious, it was a good morning’s walk, and we were famished by the time we jumped off the ferry in Whitianga for a late lunch outside at The Harbour House Cafe. Later that afternoon we explored the quiet beach town that hosts a combination of full-time residents and vacationers, in older homes and newer Florida style lagoon side mini-mansions with private docks for expensive boats.  The town has about 6,500 full-time residents, which triples to around 18,000 folks during the summer months. Luckily, we were visiting just after kids headed back to school, so the vacation crowd was gone, and the town was very quiet, and only the wind singing through the rigging of the sailboats in the marina made any sound. Interestingly, the Mercury Bay Boating Club in Whitianga was the challenging club in New Zealand’s first America’s Cup challenge in 1987.

Later back at our lodging, as we sat on the patio, we made an online reservation for a boating excursion the next day with Ocean Leopard – Cathedral Cove Boat Tours whose 26 passenger open-sided boat we noticed shared the dock with the ferry. The windless day was perfect, and the water only had a shallow gently rolling swell as the boat cruised through the harbor’s no wake zone before throttling out to round the white cliffs of Whakapenui Point.

The distinctive white stone, ignimbrite, is an iconic feature of the coastline along Mercury and Cooks Bays. It is a volcanic rock composed of compacted pumice and ash, that was thrust to surface during catastrophic volcanic eruptions roughly 8 million years ago. Because ignimbrite is relatively soft, endless wave erosion has created the continuing changing dramatic coast with vertical headlands, sea caves and blowholes that the area is known for, according to our skipper and tour guide.

The cliffs were amazing, though we didn’t see the slightest resemblance to the bard when we reached Shakespeare Cliff before continuing along the coast through sea stacks, past Te Hoho Rock to Cathedral Cove, an enormous, natural stone archway, that separates two beaches. It’s the most popular destination along the coast, for swimming excursions. It’s also accessible via a trail, though parking at the trailhead is very limited.

Farther south along the coast our captain slowly navigated us into the dark chamber of the Orua Sea Cave, the largest cave along the coast, where our voices echoed. Continuing on we glided across the shimmering iridescent water into the enormous bowl of the collapsed Arched Rock, a sea cave that was fully intact when Cook sailed the waters of the bay in 1769.

Heading back the boat skimmed along the water’s surface, occasionally catching small waves just right to send a spray of water over the sides of the boat and passengers. With the cool ocean spray and windchill on the water, we were glad we layered up and wore our rain jackets for the trip. Later, we enjoyed our last dinner overlooking Mercury Bay from the patio at Stoked Public House. It was a great way to end our adventure in Whitianga.

We found both Hamilton and Whitianga, surrounded with natural beauty, to be engaging, laid back destinations during the beginning of New Zealand’s shoulder season in February.

The next morning, we were off before sunrise for the ride back to the airport in Auckland for a flight to Wellington, later that day. The adventure continues.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

P.S. Unless you are set on riding the Driving Creek train in Coromandel, a shorter route to Whitianga follows RT 25A east to Tairua before turning north along the ocean. It provides an easy chance to stop at Hot Water Beach, which we did not have a chance to do, before reaching Whitianga.

A Balkans Road Trip Part 8: Bosnia and Herzegovina: Mostar, Počitelj and the Kravica Waterfall – Charming, Intriguing and Magnificent

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We had been in the Balkans almost two weeks by now, and this was the first time we encountered heavy traffic. Without realizing it we had planned on driving from Sarajevo to Mostar on May 1st, Labor Day, a major two-day holiday in Bosnia, where it is traditionally spent picnicking and relaxing with family and friends in the countryside. It was a warm beautiful spring day, and did in fact feel as if every family in Sarajevo was heading to Mostar, in the southern Herzegovina region, turning what would normally be a two-hour drive into five.

Our journey was off to a good start as we headed southwest on the A1, from Sarajevo through the rolling foothills of the Dinaric Mountain Range, a wide 644km (400mi) long stretch of peaks that runs southeast from Slovenia through Croatia, Bosnia, Montenegro, Serbia, Kosovo, Albania, and North Macedonia. But it soon slowed as this major four-lane wide infrastructure project, which will eventually reach the Adriatic coast, narrowed for construction projects. The countryside was lush with fresh spring greenery, though disappointedly there were not any scenic pullovers along the way, and we contented ourselves as best we could, by taking landscape photos through the window of our car as we drove.

Our “drive a little then café” yearning for caffeine was seriously overdue, so we detoured slightly to Restoran Vrata Hercegovine for coffee and lunch when the A1merged into the two-lane E73 at the traffic circle in Bradina. They had a large menu to select from and everything we ordered was very good; the pricing very budget friendly.

From here the E73 basically follows the Trešanica River, the headwaters of which flow from the slopes of Mt. Bitovnja 1,700m (5600ft) which wasn’t far from where we stopped for lunch, to Konjic where it merges with the Neretva River at Konjic before flowing into Lake Jablanica. We had originally planned to have lunch here and walk across the Stara Ćuprija, Konjic’s old Ottoman bridge, a six-arch stone span constructed in 1682. The bridge is 107km (66mi) downstream from the river’s source on the slope of the Zelengora mountains near Mt. Maglić 2,388m (7835), Bosnia’s highest peak on the border with Montenegro. Nearer to Konjic is Glavatičevo, a popular village for river rafting on the Neretva.

The road roughly traces Lake Jablanica’s picturesque shoreline. The large lake is actually a manmade reservoir that is 30km (19 mi) long and covers 67.5 square kilometres (26.1 sq mi). The damming of the upper portion of the Neretva River was created between 1947 and 1955 to supply hydroelectric power to the region. While this was the first dam built on the Neretva River there are now many environmentally controversial proposals to block the remainder of free-flowing waterway with 50 more dams across the river and its tributaries. In Ostrožac there was a nice beach where we stopped to take photos of the Lake.

South of the lake we detoured to the Old Neretva Train Bridge in the town of Jablanica, an important site during the “Battle of the Wounded” during February–March 1943. Here Josip Tito led the escape of over 20,000 Yugoslav Partisans, plus roughly 4,000 wounded, east across the Neretva River to escape the pursuit an overwhelming Axis force assembled to destroy them after their unexpected victory at Prozor.

This successful strategic retreat relied on a deception which required the destruction of all the bridges across the Rama and Neretva rivers between March 1stand 4th. This action led the Axis forces to believe the partisans were headed towards northern Bosnia, while in fact Tito was leading his men to safety on March 7th and 8th across a temporary wooden bridge built across the Neretva, in just 18 hours, after the rail bridge was destroyed. A museum at the site commemorates this history. As does the 1969 movie “The Battle of Neretva” starring Orson Welles and Yul Brynner, among an international cast by directed Veljko Bulajić. The film was a contestant in the best foreign film category in the Academy Awards that year. The European film poster for the movie was famously designed by Pablo Picasso, in which he used motifs of his painting “The Rape of the Sabine Women” but “painted them red to symbolize the anti-fascist fight for freedom.” It’s one of the two movie posters that Picasso ever designed. The artist refused payment, instead requesting 12 bottles of Yugoslavia’s finest wines gathered from across the region.

Our 55km (34mi) drive from Ostrožac on Lake Jablanica to Mostar paralleled the river as it coursed through rugged gorges on its way to the Adriatic Sea and was gorgeously scenic, pun intended.

There is time-limited metered street parking in Mostar’s old town near the historic old bridge, Stari Most. Many folks decide to visit Mostar as part of a guided day trip from Sarajevo, Dubrovnik & Split, Croatia or even as far afield as Kotor, Montenegro. We chose to base ourselves in the Hotel Kriva Ćuprija for four nights to enjoy Stari Grad, the old town, and explore the region. We parked in a convenient monitored lot at the foot of Onešćukova that the hotel recommended. The view from our room looked out over slate roofs, a mosque, and an old stone bridge.

The 1990s war in Bosnia brought total devastation to Mostar, where an estimated ninety percent of the buildings were destroyed by forces bombarding the city from the surrounding hilltops. Mostar was once a tiny hamlet along the Neretva River, before the Ottomans seized it and transformed it into an important multicultural trading center and frontier garrison town during their 15th century conquest of Bosnia. The site where the hotel stands overlooking the Crooked Bridge, Kriva Ćuprija, from which it takes is name, was an ancient dwelling, and the hotel is a modern reconstruction of Stari Grad’s historic “Turkish houses” – residential buildings of stone and wood that defined the Old Bridge Area’s pre-war heritage. While the famous 15th century Stari Most bridge was destroyed in the 1990s war, the Crooked Bridge amazingly survived the conflict but succumbed to raging flooding in 2000 and was subsequently rebuilt.  

Reconstruction of Mostar began with funds from the European Union, the World Bank, and UNESCO shortly after a permanent ceasefire was established with the Washington Agreement on March 18, 1994, nineteen months before the cessation of the wider Bosnian conflict was resolved with the signing of the Dayton Peace Accords on November 1, 1995.

Old Town Mostar is beautifully atmospheric and while most of the buildings in the Stari Grad have been fully restored, several owners have chosen to leave the numerous bullet marks on the sides of their buildings as reminders of the wrath of war. Throughout the city there are still over 1,000 buildings in ruin or abandoned as a result of the conflict, with many of them concentrated across the river in east Mostar.

Cobblestone alleys twisted through Stari Grad and we followed them all to soak in the ambiance. Visiting the old town was a sensory experience: dazzling color, aromas of grilled meats, textures and the melancholic song of the call to prayer that the muezzin sings from the minarets dotted around the city.

Our wanderings took us over the high arched, Ottoman built Stari Most. The iconic symbol of Mostar was a vital lifeline used by soldiers and civilians to transport food, medicine, and arms to besieged areas of the city on the west bank Neretva River during the 1190s war. It’s a popular area where folks gather to hopefully watch divers jump from the bridge 28m (92ft) into the cold water below, a decades old tradition that started in 1968. None of the divers were working the crowd for tips when we crossed. Diving from the bridge has also existed for 450 years as a traditional rite of passage for young men, and as an old legend says, “the way a boy becomes a man in Mostar.”

Across the bridge the lane narrowed through the Kujundžiluk alley. Known as the old goldsmiths’ quarter, it served as a crucial trading alley for merchant caravans before they paid customs duties to cross the bridge during the Ottoman era. Our “walk a little then café’” philosophy took us to the restaurant Urban Taste of Orient. Their beautiful terrace offered spectacular views of the river and Stari Most. We were enjoying a charcuterie board of Bosnian cheeses and cured meats when I looked at the bridge and noticed a lone man, seemingly much taller than the rest of the folks, who from our perspective appeared to be standing on the bridge’s far wall, until he vanished. I almost screamed to Donna, “look, a diver jumped,” as his silhouette splashed into the river. We had just witnessed the first dive of the tourist season on this Labor Day holiday.

Afterwards we visited the early 17th century Koski Mehmed Pasha Mosque, where it’s possible to climb its 30m (98ft) tall minaret for panoramic views of Mostar and the river. We also viewed the wrenching exhibits at the Museum of War and Genocide Victims, the only such museum we visited while in Bosnia & Herzegovina. It gave us tragic eye-opening, first-person accounts of life in Mostar when it was under siege.

The next morning on an early morning walk before Mostar awakened, I came across one of the town’s tagged stray dogs, a large black sheep dog, semi-asleep on the bridge’s highest point. He struck me as the reincarnation of an ancient watchman guarding the entrance to Stari Grad. He opened his eyes, but did not move, having determined I was not a threat, and I passed quietly.

Beyond the old town we found Mostar to be a wonderful compact cosmopolitan city with cafes and large colorful street murals in some neighborhoods. The walk along Alekse Šantića Street, a former frontline in the war, to the Cernica neighborhood is full of mural paintings. It was an initiative in 2012 by Marina Mimoza, a prominent cultural activist and artist who sought to heal the wounds of war and promote reconciliation through art “transforming ruined, bullet-ridden buildings into a vibrant cultural hub, and open-air gallery.” Since its inception the event has grown into The Street Arts Festival Mostar which turns the city into a colorful canvas each summer for invited artists and performers, typically in June or July.

Several tourist attractions nearby beckoned to us. First Fortica Hill, on the east bank of the Neretva River where the Skywalk, a glass bridge, has been open since 2021. From its height there’s a commanding view of Mostar and an Instagram worthy “We Love Mostar” sculpture. Amazingly, there was no entrance fee for the Skywalk, and there’s a small restaurant with a great view from its terrace.

Within walking distance of the Skywalk were the late 19th century ruins of an Austro-Hungarian stone fortification that had sweeping views north to the mountains on both sides of the Neretva River Gorge.

Later that afternoon we headed fifteen minutes south of Mostar to the orthodox Žitomislić Monastery, dedicated to the Annunciation of Mary. The church on the site was constructed upon the ruins of an earlier house of worship in 1566 with the surrounding monastery buildings taking another forty years to complete. It was a major spiritual center in the 16th and 17th centuries, hosting a large library, a scriptorium, and beautiful iconostasis. At the height of its existence the monastery was supported by large land holdings that included vineyards and orchards worked by the monks themselves. During World War II the entire brotherhood of the Žitomislić monastery were killed by local fascist troops allied to the Axis Alliance, and the complex was severely damaged and looted. Rebuilt after World War II, the monastery was again burned, but the church was savagely destroyed with explosives, reducing it to rubble during the 1990s Bosnia War.  The original stones of the church were reused during its reconstruction in 2002 to recreate its earlier appearance, and it was reconsecrated in 2005.

We arrived to the monastery just as a tour bus finished disgorging its passengers. We dislike crowded sites, so we decided to explore the new monastery’s museum first, which had a small collection of ancient manuscripts, books, and liturgical objects, as well as a collection of some of the region’s oldest surviving icons. The works transcend several artistic styles from traditional Byzantine, featuring austere lines and dark color, to more graceful interpretations as Venetian and Baroque influences reached the Balkans. During exploration of the museum’s gift shop we discovered that the resident monks still make a traditional walnut liqueur  called Orahovača. It’s made by soaking green, unripe walnuts in plum brandy with honey, citrus and spices like cloves and cinnamon. It is usually enjoyed chilled as a digestif  after meals, or to treat stomach ailments. It was very tasty and we enjoyed the small bottle we purchased throughout the trip.

When the tour group departed, we entered the foyer of the church where a 200 liter, (50 gallon) stainless steel drum of what we assumed was holy water stood in the corner, available to fill your water bottles from. Entering the sanctuary revealed a stunningly beautiful space where every surface was covered in rich iconography.

A short drive away, but a long walk from the parking area was Blagaj Tekija, a historic Sufi Dervish monastery constructed in the early 16th century at the foot of soaring 240m (787ft) sheer rockface next to a karst cave. The cavern shelters a spring called the Vrelo Bune which is the source Buna River. It’s a dramatic setting. From its banks we watched visitors take small boats rowed by local men a short way into the mouth of the cave to see its large cavern.  Professional divers have explored the dark cold water of the spring to a depth of 150m (492ft), but the total depth of the spring remains unknown. We enjoyed a late afternoon dinner at one of restaurants along the river’s edge. It was a very tranquil setting with ducks lazily paddling about on the softly gurgling water as it glistened in the bright sun.

Heading back to Mostar we made one last stop at Objekt Buna in Gnojnice. It’s an unofficial tourist site where visitors are semi-discouraged by a decrepit incomplete fence to not enter this Cold War era secret aircraft bunker. Located across the main road from what is now the Mostar International Airport, the military bunker was constructed into the side of a small hill in 1969 to shelter up to twenty planes and helicopters from attack.  It was abandoned after the Bosnia War and is now a graffiti covered relic of the communism of Tito’s Yugoslavia. Outside the bunker the hillside was covered with wild poppies.

Mostar was especially enchanting in the evenings. Across from the small beach under the bridge where the boat rides launch from, we were surprised to see so many photographers lined up with their cameras mounted atop tripods placed, we hoped, firmly into the riverbed. Along with us, they were all intent on capturing the ultimate night picture of Stari Most as darkness fell. There were many previous attempts to build an arched stone bridge across the river, but all had failed, to the frustration of  Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. In 1557 he commissioned Mimar Hayruddin, a former apprentice to Istanbul’s grand architect Mimar Sinan to build a single arch bridge, but legend says the Sultan threatened him with death if his design collapsed. Fearing the worst as completion of the bridge neared in 1566 the architect reportedly prepared his own funeral shroud, expecting to be killed when the scaffolding supporting the bridge was removed. But to everyone’s relief, the 29m (95 ft) span, the widest man-made stone arch bridge in the world at the time, held firm. A marvel of engineering, the original stone structure stood for over 450 years until it was destroyed during the 1990s Bosnia War.   

For our last day trip from Mostar we headed to Kravica Waterfall, but we rarely go directly to a destination, as there’s always other sites of interest along the roundabout routes we choose. Forty minutes south of Mostar we stopped at the Church of St. James in Medjugorje, a modest Bosnian town with about 4,000 people living in it. The catholic church was started in 1934, but its construction was interrupted by WW2, and religion was suppressed in Yugoslavia’s early communist years until authorities loosened their policies toward religious institution. The church was allowed to be completed and consecrated in 1969. But the quiet town suddenly rose to world-wide fame when six young people  claimed to have seen the Blessed Virgin Mary on June 24th, 1981 on Crnica hill. Subsequent apparitions appeared to the children in different locations around the small town, and eventually in the church. The Virgin Mary’s visitations, with her messages emphasize reconciling with God, reading scripture, and encouraging peace are said to have occurred daily since then. And Medjugorje has grown into the third most visited pilgrimage site in Europe, after Lourdes in France and Fatima in Portugal, receiving over 40 million pilgrims since 1981.

When we arrived an outdoor mass was in progress behind the church in a large park-like setting; thousands of pilgrims were seated along rows of permanent benches or stood nearby. Around the front of the church folks prayed before a statue of the Virgin, as another mass was underway in the sanctuary.

Continuing our journey we headed to the Fortress of Herzog Stjepan Vukčić Kosača. Set atop a towering hill, the medieval 15th century castle was an important stronghold of the Kingdom of Bosnia as the Ottoman Empire expanded across the region.  Kosača’s title “Herceg” (Duke), was also the name of his expansive domain which later became known as Herzegovina. Unfortunately, there was a large sporting event being held the day we visited, which would have required us to park at the bottom of the hill and walk to the summit. This would have taken too much time away from the rest of the day, so we contented ourselves with photos of the mighty stronghold from the foot of the hill.

The Trebižat River was full from runoff from recent heavy spring rains across the region and the Kravica Waterfall was the beautiful beneficiary. The spectacular bridal veil fall is 120m (394ft) wide with a cascade that drops 25m (82ft) into a crystal-clear turquoise basin. Local boatmen can be hired to row folks closer to the falls to hear the thunder of the water and get soaked in mist. A few swimmers were daring enough to brave the cold water.

There was plenty of parking near the park entrance and we opted for the ticket with the tourist train. This is especially helpful for folks like us with bad knees; the other alternative is a walk down many steep stairs, but be prepared for a vigorous climb up. Along the water edge there are three outdoor restaurants that are seasonally open. If pursuing waterfalls is your thing, another smaller cascade, Koćuša Waterfall, is 30 minutes away to the northwest.

The last stop of the day on the way back to Mostar was the ancient fortified stone village of Počitelj along the east bank of the Neretva River, that’s a tentative UNSECO site. Our descent into the town was down a narrow single-track lane, with occasional pullover spots in case you encountered any oncoming cars. At its bottom was a small plaza with a few restaurants and a tourist shop, from which the village spread dramatically up a steep hill. Founded in 1383 by Bosnia’s King Tvrtko I, the village was also a strategic stronghold and administrative center of the Ottoman Empire for 400 hundred years after its conquest in 1471, having a large mosque, hammam, madrasa, and a clock tower to reflect its importance as a governmental seat.

We entered the old town through an arched gateway. Under an ancient watch tower we spotted the largest fig tree we had ever seen, growing spectacularly from between stones of tower’s wall. If the tree ever fell, we were sure the tower would also collapse. Though there were several other tourists about, and signs that some of the old dwellings had been gentrified as vacation homes, the village felt as if it had been forgotten in time and abandoned; the aftermath of the 1990s Bosnia War.

Reaching Pašina tabija, a restored tower along the upper defensive wall, we were rewarded with a fantastic panorama of the village and the Neretva. Renovation to the tower included a glass walkway along the ramparts and a large deck to be used as a venue to host summer sunset concerts. Our late afternoon visit to Počitelj was the perfect way to end our time in Bosnia & Herzegovina, a destination we founded to be very charming and intriguing.

The next morning as we departed Mostar I promised that we would drive straight to Split, Croatia. “We’ll only stop for coffee, right?” “Yes, unless the steering wheel guides me like a Ouija board to some interesting locations.” I winked.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Argentina – Buenos Aires: Empanadas, Tombs & Tango

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The ferry vibrated gently as the engines were switched into reverse as we approached the Buquebus ferry terminal in Buenos Aires. We had departed earlier from Montevideo, Uruguay, and hoped to view the Argentinian coastline from the Río de la Plata estuary, as the first Spanish explorers did in the early years of the 16th century. But we hadn’t expected the ferry not to have an open observation deck, and instead had to contend with the view, or lack of view, through hazy saltwater-etched windows.

Seasoned travelers on this route between Montevideo and Buenos Aires had already called for the ride share services of Cabify, inDriver, Didi, Easy Taxi or BA Taxi and waited curbside in front of the terminal. By the time the ferry docked there were no available drivers for 45 minutes. We were among the last to leave the port that morning.

Our first impressions of this wonderfully cosmopolitan city were formed along the 16-lane wide – yes, 16 lanes – Av. 9 de Julio. Despite its width it is a pleasant tree-and park-lined esplanade, that extends for 27 blocks through the city and reminded us of the area around Central Park in Manhattan. Older buildings from the 18th and 19th century shared the skyline with more modern buildings than we expected, as well as the first of many street murals dedicated to the football player Lionel Messi #10 for Argentina national football team, and the country’s superstar at the moment. The sidewalks were bustling with activity. We wondered how we would ever cross 16 lanes of traffic on foot.

Our hotel for the next six nights, Urban Suites Recoleta, was across the street from Buenos Aire’s historic Cementerio de la Recoleta. We soon learned that most landmarks and hotels in the neighborhood ended with Recoleta in their name. The cemetery from our balcony looked like an ancient lost city.

The next morning, we explored the immediate neighborhood around the hotel that was full of activity with delivery trucks off-loading produce and dog walkers leading their packs of small dogs to the parks. We eventually crossed the Puente Peatonal Dr. Alfredo Roque Vítolo, a brightly painted footbridge across the roadway that connects the parks around the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes to the Universidad de Buenos Aires. The Facultad de Derecho subway station is located at the foot of the bridge. It is a terminus on the H-Line, one of Subte’s (from Subterráneo de Buenos Aires) six lines, that can get you nearly anywhere in this sprawling metropolis. Opened in 1913, Buenos Aires had the first subway in South America.

The Floralis Generica, a unique abstract aluminum sculpture, an iconic symbol of the city, centered the Plaza de las Naciones Unidas next to the school. The 23m (75ft) tall mechanical flower with six petals which opens in the morning and closes at night was a gift to the city by the Argentine architect Eduardo Catalano in 2002. Walking paths circled the sculpture and offered different viewing perspectives of the flower that the sculptor visualized to “represent all the flowers in the world.”

Walking back towards our hotel we veered down Avenida Alvear, seven blocks that were once Buenos Aire’s Park Ave or Champs-Élysées at the turn of the 20th century.  It is known for the art nouveau-influenced Belle Époque architecture of the old mansions along the street that have now been converted into hotels and embassies. Unfortunately, many of the building facades were hidden by the trees that line the street.

Long before Starbucks was a thing, the Porteños, “people of the port,” as the citizens of Buenos Aires are called, developed a strong coffee culture that coincided with the arrival of several waves of Italian immigrants that began in the mid-1800s. The result is a city where it’s nearly impossible to get a bad cup of coffee. One block over from Avenida Alvear on Av. Pres. Manuel Quintana our “walk a little then café” philosophy was easily satisfied at La Fleur de Sartí, Confiserié Monet, and Cafe Quintana 460, where espresso-based coffee drinks rule.

When we travel, our mid-afternoon lunch tends to be our big meal of the day, so we end up looking for supermarkets to buy crackers, cheese and fruit to snack on later. Near our hotel there was a large Carrefour Market on Av. Vicente López. Around the corner from the supermarket was a block of traditional shops with two butcheries, a fish monger, fruit stands, and a cheese store. Though our best find in the neighborhood was Möoi Recoleta, which had a pleasing interior and excellent food. To our surprise it’s part of a small local restaurant chain.

That afternoon we timed our visit to the Cementerio de la Recoleta after the surge of the morning’s tour buses had departed. It’s a huge cemetery with a labyrinth of narrow passages through the grand mausoleums of Buenos Aires’ who’s who of notable citizens and wealthy families.

Some were very well kept, while others were under renovation, and a number appeared forgotten, with their doors broken and façades crumbling, as if the family line had ended or a once great fortune had been lost. One was highlighted by a whimsical statue of a woman roller skating atop her own tomb.

Many had small bronze plaques attached to the side of their tomb, hinting at the deceased’s illustrious career. Several had death masks protruding from the side of their mausoleums. The first one we happened across suddenly as we rounded a corner, and the very life-like stone face protruding from the side of a tomb, literally scared the wits out of me.

Surprisingly, Evita Peron’s tomb was one of the simplest structures. Immortalized since the Broadway musical “Evita,” by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice opened its curtain in 1976, and the following 1996 movie starring Madonna, folks have been intrigued by the controversial legacy of Eva Duarte. It is the rags to riches story of a poor country girl, the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy rancher, who moved at the age of 15 to Buenos Aires and found fame as a radio and film actress, which resonated in the barrios of the “Paris of South America.” She found love at the age of 26, marrying 48-year-old Colonel Juan Perón, in 1945, two years before he was elected President of Argentina.

Passionate and combative, as Argentina’s First Lady she used her influence to champion social justice and worker’s labor rights, and was endeared to the less fortunate who saw her as the voice of the people. Her early death at the age of 33 from cancer saddened the nation and calls were made for her canonization. Flags across the country flew at half-mast for ten days. Blocks around the Presidential Palace were filled with mourners, and an estimated 3 million people watched the horsedrawn caisson carry her coffin through the streets of the city during her state funeral. Her embalmed body in its glass coffin was displayed for two years in her office in the Ministry of Labor building, as plans for a memorial that was taller than the Statue of Liberty were made.

After a 1955 military coup Juan Perón fled to exile in Spain, and the new military dictatorship secretly disappeared Evita’s corpse for 16 years. First it was secreted away in various locations across Buenos Aires until one “officer mistakenly shot his pregnant wife while guarding the corpse in his attic.”  The military dictatorship then enlisted the “covert help of the Vatican” to hide her body away in a crypt in Milan, Italy’s famous Cimitero Monumentale, for 16 years under a false name. In protest “Where is the body of Eva Perón?” was spray painted on walls all across Argentina.

In 1971, Evita’s body was exhumed and flown to Spain where Juan Perón and his third wife allegedly kept the “coffin on display in their dining room.” In 1973 Peron returned to the Presidency of Argentina, with his third wife as Vice President, but died a year later. The saga continued to get weirder when an anti-dictator revolutionary group, the Montoneros, “stole the corpse of General Pedro Eugenio Aramburu, whom they had also previously kidnapped and assassinated,” to use as a bargaining chip to get the third Mrs. Peron to return Evita’s body to her beloved country. Subsequent governments have gone to great lengths to secure Evita’s hopefully final resting place, in a subterranean tomb with trap doors and false caskets to deter grave robbers, within her father’s Duarte family mausoleum in Cemeterio de la Ricoleto.

Across the street was the Gomero de la Recoleta – Árbol Histórico, a majestic 225-year-old rubber tree planted in 1800. Over the decades its huge buttress trunk has grown to support a 50m (164ft) wide canopy, with tree limbs so long that wooden poles and sculptures are needed to support their weight.

Behind it, we found a reprieve from the hot February afternoon, and an early dinner at Bartola, which served an excellent lemonade, and has pleasant décor along with a rooftop terrace.

Buenos Aires is full of interesting street murals, and we spent the next morning wandering about searching for them.

That afternoon, after exploring farther afield from our hotel, we took a rideshare across the city to La Boca, a colorful neighborhood that is also the location of La Bombonera stadium, home of the world-famous Boca Juniors football club, the team on which some of Argentina’s legendary football players first played. Our route eventually took us below the elevated portion of Rt1 amidst a forest of concrete pilings painted with a vast array of creative street murals in an area named Silos Areneros. We found the area intriguing, but a tad sketchy, so we kept going.

La Boca was originally Buenos Aires’ first port at the mouth of the Riachuelo River, as it flows into the Río de la Plata. It has always been a bustling working-class neighborhood, “filled with all kinds of people, dockworkers, fishermen, musicians, prostitutes, thieves, socialists, anarchists, and artists.” But it grew substantially with the arrival of new immigrants in the 1800s and early 1900s.  Hastily constructed tenements called conventillos were built with galvanized metal walls and roofs and brightly painted with whatever left over colors were available from the shipyards, in an effort to cheer up the area.

La Boca is one of the city’s vibrant neighborhoods where tango originated on its streets during the hot summer months and was perfected in the bars along Caminito and Magallanes during winters of the late 1800s.

Today, satirical figures adorn many of the balconies along Caminito and the adjacent streets, and poke fun at politicians, rival football teams or celebrities. Though we think you need to be Argentinian to fully appreciated the humor behind them.

A mural at the end of Caminito commemorates the Bomberos Voluntarios de La Boca (La Boca Volunteer Firefighters), Buenos Aires’ first fire brigade, formed in 1884.

Sadly, we found the wonderfully colorful area was oversaturated with cheap tourists’ shops heavily devoted to everything football, especially Lionel Messi’s #10 blue and white football shirt, which was available everywhere.

Afterwards we headed to the dockside area of Puerto Madero. Built in the late 18th century the port helped support Argentina’s economic growth during WWI and WWII as the country’s beef and food stocks were sent to a war-torn Europe. But the viability of the port declined as the size of merchant ships became larger and containerization took hold, until eventually the port was abandoned for many decades. A masterplan for the port’s redevelopment was realized in 1989 with plans to renovate some of the old warehouses along one side of the quay into restaurants and shops, while land on the other side would be developed into a mixed-use area of offices and residential towers, with the two sides connected by pedestrian-only bridge.

The redevelopment along the Puerto Madero waterfront was a great success and created a strikingly beautiful, new waterfront neighborhood. Its reflective skyline and restaurants along the old docks continue to be destinations for both locals and tourists. Us included! It was a great place to people watch as folks strolled along the quay and over the footbridge. Towering cumulonimbus clouds glowed with golden light, as the sunset silhouetted the “Presidente Sarmiento,” an old three-masted sailing ship that is now a nautical museum.

We both grew up in the suburbs of New Jersey and worked in New York City for a while, but living in Manhattan never appealed to us. It wasn’t until we started traveling and experienced living in some foreign cities through short-term rentals that we grew to appreciate the vitality that city life offers.

Mysteriously, overnight the Parque Intendente Torcuato de Alvear in front of the historic Centro Cultural Recoleta building was transformed into a sprawling art and crafts festival, that to our surprise happens every Saturday and Sunday. Artisans’ tents and tables lined nearly every path through the sprawling park that was filled with folks shopping and buskers playing to the crowd. This was probably the best crafts market we’ve been to, as the quality and variety of items offered were very impressive. If our suitcases had been bigger we would have made lots more purchases.

For many years the Cultural Center was repainted frequently with colorful murals, which added a nice flair to its otherwise stoic facade. Sadly, this policy was discontinued in 2024, and the building is now covered in a monochromatic “Pompeyan Red.” The decision has received a mixed public reaction, but hopefully the verdict will be reversed in the future. The historic 1732 building was originally the convent of the Recoleto monks, for whom the Recoleta neighborhood is named, as well as part of Our Lady of Pilar Basilica, the second oldest church in Buenos Aires. Over the decades as the influence of the church waned after Argentina’s 1810 May Revolution the building was used as a hospital, military barracks, asylum, and an art school before being renovated into an exhibits and events space in the 1980s.  

That afternoon the tree lined blocks around Plaza Serrano and Plaza Armenia in the charming Palmero Soho neighborhood were so different from the high-rise towers of Recoleta, and reminded us of Barcelona & Madrid, with the wonderful mix of sidewalk cafés, along with trendy shops. Colorful street murals brightened many of the narrow alleys.

Across from Plaza Armenia we passed the Las Petunias restaurant which was full of lively diners at lunchtime.  But we continued our wanderings and returned around 15:00 when the restaurant was quieter, though there were still enough other people dining to make it a nice experience. We shared Los Tablones de Carnes for two. The grilled meats were excellent, and it was the best parrillada we had during our stay in Buenos Aires.

Sunday, we headed to the Feria de San Telmo, a weekly street fair that spans eleven blocks of Av. Defensa, a street known for its antique stores and art galleries. San Telmo is one of the oldest neighborhoods in Buenos Aires and has striven to retain its 19th and early 20th century character with well-preserved buildings.

The street was full of activity, but the feira was really more like a flea market featuring clothing and everyday items with only a handful of artists’ and craftsperson’s tables mixed in between. Buskers worked the street corners, and a puppeteer dazzled a young audience. Occasionally a street mural graced a side street.

Along the way the ornate mausoleum of General Manuel Belgrano stood beneath the towers of Basílica Nuestra Señora del Rosario. The church was constructed in 1753 and British soldiers sought sanctuary here after a failed invasion of the city in 1807. General Belgrano was one of the founding fathers on Argentina’s independence and is also credited with designing the country’s flag.

The Mercado San Telmo was our destination for lunch. It is a cavernous hall set in an 1897 building that resembles a Victorian era train station with an ornate iron superstructure supporting a glass roof.  The hall’s traditional produce stands, butchers and bakers, now share the space with takeaway restaurants, and antique stalls. But it was crazy with activity on a Sunday afternoon, and we vowed to return if we had the chance. Instead, we ate at Havanna, a small café chain across Buenos Aires, that we had eaten at the day before in Palmero Soho, and enjoyed.

Tango dancers were mesmerizing a crowd with their graceful twists, turns, dips, and kicks at the Plaza Dorrego. Resting between dances, they encouraged folks to come forward and dance too. It was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon, with a vibe totally different from the craft market in Retiro, and the shaded lanes of Palmero. Every August the city hosts the Buenos Aires Tango Festival & World Cup, a two weeklong dance-off, with concerts and shows where over 400 couples from around the world compete for the top spots in different categories.

The next day a rainy morning finally cleared as we were on our way to a three hour cooking class to learn how to make those savory pastry meat-filled turnovers called empanadas, and alfajores, a melt in your mouth layered shortbread-like cookie filled with dulce de leche.

Our hosts Tomas and Lala graciously welcomed nine of us into their home; we were from France, Norway, Switzerland, and the United States. The other participants, like us, we learned after introductions all around, were snowbirds escaping a cold northern winter.

Tango music played softly in the background as Tomas divided us into three groups of 4, 2 and 3, the odd man out joining Donna and me. It was very well organized, and Tomas led us through the mixing of ingredients and made sure we added just the right amount of water so the dough was kneadable, but not sticky. Everyone cut their balls of dough and rolled them out into taco size discs, not too thin or too thick. Lala provided a meat filling. The hardest part was crimping the edges of the dough together to seal in the filling. The gal next to us was very good at it and created bakery worthy pockets. The three of us had various aesthetic results, that would improve with practice. Brushed with an egg white, trays of empanadas were put into the oven to bake. The cookie batter was also quite easy to make. We sipped some mate (a traditional herbal drink with lots of caffeine) and got to know our tablemates as we waited for the empanadas. We can see why people like mate (pronounced mah-tay) but I think for us it would be an acquired taste. The empanadas were tender and tasty, though it was obvious which ones my fingers had molded, as they oozed from some thin spots in the crust. This was the first cooking class we’ve ever taken during our travels and found the whole experience, along with the shared camaraderie, very enjoyable.

The next morning, we pulled our luggage behind us as we strolled down Calle Florida, a 10 block long pedestrian walkway in the center of Buenos Aire’s shopping district that runs from the Plaza General San Martín to Plaza de Mayo. It was a very pleasant lane centered with rows of young shade trees, and intermittent sidewalk cafes along the edges. The Galerías Pacífico, an upscale glass domed shopping complex, was our destination.

With architectural inspiration taken from the Vittorio Emmanuelle II galleries in Milan, the 1889 building was designed to be a shopping experience akin to the Bon Marche stores in Paris. But a long economic recession in Argentina during the 1890s and early 1900s nixed its realization and the gallery area was used as part of the National Museum of Fine Arts, while the Ferrocarril Buenos Aires al Pacífico acquired part of the building for offices. The company’s presence eventually led it to being called the “Edificio Pacífico,” (Pacífico Building).

The famous domed lower level over what is now the food court was constructed during renovations in the 1940s and embellished with twelve spectacular murals by the artists Lino Eneas Spilimbergo, Antonio Berni, Juan Carlos Castagnino, Manuel Colmeiro, and Demetrio Urruchúa.

A hundred years later a 1990s renovation finally covered the galleries with a glass ceiling and the “Galerías Pacífico,” became the flagship of Buenos Aires’ shopping district. We really are not into mall shopping, but this is very nice, and an architecturally and culturally interesting spot that attracts a diversity of folks. It was the perfect spot for our “walk a little then café,” break before having an ice cream bar decorated with Lionel Messi’s blue and white uniform.  The Buquebus ferry terminal was only a short walk away for our crossing back to Uruguay and our flight home.

Buenos Aires is a sprawling city with 48 different neighborhoods and three million people. It is a great destination, and we only scratched the surface of the multitude of places to visit, and things to do within this vibrant city. In hindsight, we could have stayed several more days to explore the museums and government buildings, based ourselves in the Palermo neighborhood, and used the subway to get around.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Driving Through the Baltics: Part 10 – Tartu, Estonia or Wandering through a University Town

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The street was alive with activity. Three buskers with drum, sax, and tuba were jazzily rendering Bruno Mars’ “Marry You” on the pedestrian mall full of folks strolling and bicyclists weaving amidst a food fair and participants readying their wacky go-cart entries for a Red Bull event later that afternoon.

There’s a long tradition in Estonia of student rock bands in the 70s and 80s transcribing western songs heard via Radio Free Europe broadcasts to countries behind the “Iron Curtain,” including Estonia. Soviet censors viewed any foreign influence, especially rock ’n roll as a threat to communist ideology, and these street musicians were upholding a long-standing musical tradition.

Tartu has been a university town since the 17th-century, and today 14,000 students give the city, Estonia’s second largest with only a population of 104,000, an energetic youthful vibe. They are an important part of the town’s character and are playfully acknowledged on the café-lined cobblestone plaza in front of Tartu’s City Hall with the ‘The Kissing Students’ sculpture and fountain.

The University of Tartu’s students also played a crucial role in Estonia’s expression of national identity and resistance to Soviet rule in the late 1980’s. Their support of the “Five Patriotic Songs” by Alo Mattiisen led to spontaneous mass singing demonstrations at the Tartu Pop Festival in May 1988. These musical protests spread to Tallin, then Latvia and Lithuania. These peaceful protests culminated in the The Baltic Way, a human chain of two million people which spanned from Tallinn, Estonia to Vilnius, Lithuania in August of 1989. The popularity of these peaceful movements strengthened the determination of Estonians to redeclare their independence from the Soviet Union in 1991. Latvia and Lithuania followed suit soon after.

The Kissing Students’ fountain is really the center of activity in Tartu, a splendidly walkable city. Its car-free center extends north along Küüni tn from the modern Kvartal shopping mall, with an array of nice shops, and an excellent Coop supermarket, past the central plaza all the way to the Botanical Garden of the University of Tartu. And there were numerous points of interest just off this route that we explored during our five-night stay at the Art Hotel Pallas, a boutique hotel nicely located across from the Kvartal mall, with views from our hotel room of the spires atop the town’s city hall and churches. It also had convenient free parking, and a scrumptious breakfast buffet. The pickled herring, yes for breakfast, was really good. It was the perfect spot to get some much-needed R&R after driving through Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania for three weeks.

One of the nicest things we’ve encountered during our road trip through the Baltics is the extensive amount of public art that graces the region’s cities and small towns. Few are of a historical nature. The sculptures of Lenin and Stalin that the Soviet Union installed during their fifty years of occupation to erase the Estonia’s history were quickly removed from all public spaces, and sent to the scrap yard. The current sculptures now honor influential writers, poets, and folk heroes or are simply artistic inspirations without any political messaging.

Along Küüni there was a sculpture of Irish playwright Oscar Wilde and Estonian writer Eduard Vilde depicted in an imaginary encounter between the literary heavyweights. Though the two never met, Wilde did give a lecture at the university in 1892.

Nearby was the sculpture “Father and Son,” by the Tartu native Ülo Õun (1944-1988). The Visit Tartu website explains the work represents the sculptor with his 18-month-old son, and “is a symbol of the relationship between different generations, where children are increasingly growing apart from their parents.” A side note – the Visit Tartu website has an extensive calendar of events page. In a park they had a pop-up information tent, and detrimentally to our waistlines, it was across from the Kalev Chocolate Shop and cookie store. This Estonian brand makes, in our opinion, some of the best store-bought snacks. You can buy them in grocery stores across the Baltics, but they surprisingly cost less in their own stores.

A diagonal walk through the park took us to Tartu Turuhoone, the town’s old market hall where a large sculpture of “Siga Roosi,” a pig, advertises the building’s entrance and the products available inside. If you have visited Riga’s large market, this wanes in comparison, but the pig immortalized in bronze appears to be smiling.

From here a very pleasant walk along the riverfront promenade that follows the Emajõgi River leads to the Kaarsild, an arched footbridge that spans the river to Ülejõe Park and the neighborhoods east of the historic center.

The approach to the bridge was a perfect spot to admire the beautiful buildings surrounding the town’s plaza which represent an eclectic assortment of architectural styles from the 13th to 17th centuries, when the town was a prominent member of the Hanseatic Merchant League.

At the foot of the plaza the Tartu Kunstimuuseum, a museum of art, occupies a 1793 building that is often referred to as Tartu’s Tower of Pisa. The three-story building’s 5.8 degree of tilt is actually greater than the famous tower in Italy. The tilt was a result of one side of the building being constructed on the medieval footing of the ancient defensive wall that once encircled the town, and the other side was erected above loose soil. As the decades passed, the structure slowly sank into the ground. Polish engineers successfully stabilized the building during the communist era, and it was determined safe enough to house the museum since 1988.

In the other direction there was the reflection of the growing city’s modern skyline reflected on the rippling water of the river. These views were beautiful and equally enchanting in the early evening twilight as we watched the murmurations of European starlings swooping over the river, before they noisily roosted in the park.

Just behind Town Hall and across from a large street mural of the University of Tartu was café/restaurantWerner, an excellent establishment with a nice vibe, that’s popular with both students and professionals; we dined there several times during our stay in the city.

Afterwards we took the long uphill walk to the ruins of Tartu’s immense 13th century cathedral, now on the grounds of the University of Tartu. Construction of the Gothic style church started shortly after the Brothers of the Sword subjugated the pagan tribes around Tartu in the early 1200s and lasted nearly 400 years before it was destroyed during the Livonian Wars that ravished the region. It was never rebuilt.

We chose not to, but it’s possible to climb its towers to a viewing platform above the ruins for a panoramic view of the school’s campus and Tartu. The choir end of the cathedral has been restored and since 1981 houses The University of Tartu Museum.

Heading back to the old town we passed under the Angel Bridge, built in 1838 to ease students’ efforts getting across campus. The scenic spot has a bit of a lovers’ lane reputation, as well as having several legends associated with it. The most popular one being “when you cross the bridge for the first time you should make a wish, and if you can hold your breath until you reach the other side your wish will come true.”   

Just off the lane was the Gunpowder Cellar built into the side of a hill, it’s a rustic tavern set in a cavernous old 18th century munitions warehouse with an arched brick ceiling. It’s a popular beer hall and is known for its tasty Gunpowder Red beer, while also hosting frequent band appearances.

Later in the week after having lunch at the Café Werner a second time, we turned right and wandered down Ülikooli tn towards the neoclassic columned façade of the University of Tartu’s main building. It is Estonia’s oldest and largest university and the pride and joy of Tartu. The school was originally founded 1583 as a Jesuit institution during Poland’s brief rule of the country, but most of the credit is given to the Swedish King Gustave II Adolph when he upgraded the school to a university in 1632. It was forced to close several times over the centuries due to regional wars, but was later reopened by Russian Czar Alexander I in 1802 and was again reopened by the Soviet Union after World War II, where it became an important contact spot for Soviet academics to meet their western counterparts during the Cold War era.

Farther along some of the buildings near Tartu’s St. John’s Church had unique details. Archeological evidence suggests the church dates back to the late 1100s, and could be the first “Christian church building in Estonia before the 13th-century conquest and great Christianization of the country.”  The basic form of the current church dates from the beginning of the 13th century. Due to the region’s conflicts, the church has been reconstructed several times over the centuries. Unfortunately, the church was closed when we visited the area.

At the end of Ülikooli tn a short walk to the right led us to the Botanical Garden of the University of Tartu. Though in early October it was evident that Estonia has a short growing season and most of the plants were past their prime, but we still enjoyed exploring the various oases of greenery with a number of other couples and families, and imagined how beautiful the gardens must look in the Spring and Summer.

We followed Ruutli tanav, one of Tartu’s oldest streets, back towards the historic center of the town. During the Middle Ages when the winter snows melted during the spring thaw  – “mud season” or Estonia’s “fifth season” – traveling about the countryside was quite difficult. In the larger towns like Tartu the thoroughfares were lined with logs laid perpendicularly across the road to ease the life of the townsfolk and facilitate merchant trade with the Hanseatic League through the town’s riverside port on the Emajõgi. Evidence of these ancient timbered roads is still occasionally discovered whenever there is any infrastructure improvement required in the city. Cobblestones weren’t used for the lanes through town until the 15th century.

We made a short detour off our route to the Virgin Mary’s Dormition Cathedral, an Estonian Apostolic Orthodox Church. The beautiful Russian baroque style church was built in 1840 atop the foundations of an earlier wooden church that was burnt down during the 1775 Great Fire of Tartu, a devastating inferno which destroyed almost all the old wooden medieval era buildings in the central part of Tartu.

As we reached the central plaza it was evident that the weekend’s festivities were Tartu’s last big event for the summer high season. The weather was now noticeably colder with morning temperatures of 36F (2C) warming only to 54F (12C), and the outdoor café tables and chairs that lined the square were being taken down and sent into storage, until needed again next Spring. But the season is not over until the buskers stop playing and the trio of musicians from the other day were still entertaining folks around the Kissing Students fountain in the warm afternoon sun.

On our walks through the town, we came across some interesting and creative street murals. All were in well-chosen places that enhanced the wall, none were of the loud bubblegum type, though some were of a political nature. After all, our hotel was named for the Pallas Art School, which existed from 1919 to 1944 in Tartu, and was influential in establishing the aesthetic values of the newly independent country, but was closed during the communist occupation of the country.

Today the school’s artistic legacy continues at the  Pallas University of Applied Sciences which opened in 2000, and features ongoing exhibits in the Pallas Gallery.

The Gray House, now the KGB Cells museum, was uphill from the gallery, just three doors down from a busy intersection, on a street that leads to university housing. It was a non-descript door with buzzers for the three-story apartment building above it, and one for the museum. In the 1940s and 1950s the upper floors served as offices for the Soviet’s secret police. We buzzed and a voice released the door lock for us to enter the lobby, where an arrow pointed to a heavy metal door to the basement, and a set of intimidating stairs that descended to a flickering fluorescent lit hallway. It’s a small space with a dozen prison cells and several interrogation rooms in which the brutality of the Soviet years is documented. Notoriously, on July 8th & 9th, 1941, 173 men and 20 women were summarily executed and buried in the building’s courtyard. Mass deportations of 45,000 Estonians to the Soviet gulags in Siberia continued until 1953. For many it was a death sentence, and few ever returned to their homeland. Across the country the KGB is believed to have murdered nearly 60,000 political prisoners between 1940 -1991. It’s a reminder of the danger of authoritative regimes and sadly is still relevant today.

We discovered another street mural just around the corner from our hotel as we headed to dinner at Restoran Spargel. Over an enjoyable evening, we discussed plans to take advantage of the nice weather predicted for the next day by exploring the small fishing villages along the shoreline of Lake Peipus.

We thoroughly appreciated Tartu’s mix of history and youthful enthusiasm for the future. It’s a city but felt like a small town that we could see ourselves quite comfortably living in and enjoy experiencing all of its cultural events throughout the year.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Cape Town Street Murals: Unexpected Treasures

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It was the iconic images of Table Mountain and Lions Head Mountain that drew us to Cape Town, along with the chance to enjoy its incredible coast and game parks.  But the reality of life around Cape Town is more complex and was evident immediately as we drove into the city along the N2 from the airport. Past informal settlements, previously referred to as shanty towns, constructed of mismatched, corrugated tin panels under a tangle of telephone poles strung with powerlines that looked like a forest of Christmas trees.  This cataclysmic landscape improved to newer and featureless concrete block housing developments the closer we got to the city.  But then the palette changed.IMG_7124It’s here that we first noticed the really interesting street murals that could be seen on some of the homes.  Not gratuitous bubble-scripted graffiti, but pictorial or political works of art relating to freedom, equality and hope by talented artists that enhanced their surroundings.

Originally they were just interesting side notes as we discovered Cape Town.  Every city and town seem to have street art nowadays.  But as we encountered more of it around the town, it was evident that the street murals here were of a higher caliber,  and that the communities were willing to provide large walls to local and international artists as blank canvases for creative expression. IMG_4658In our exploration of Cape Town, we accidentally and to our delight, came across many wonderful murals while walking or driving about.  Behind our apartment on Harrington Street a wonderfully, whimsical mural of a dog dreaming about flying, by Belgian artist Smates, always made us smile when we walked by.  IMG_4663Farther down the street in District 6, across from Charlie’s Bakery, a colorful mural graced the back of a small building in a parking lot, while its front wall featured an understated portrait of Nelson Mandela by Mak1one. IMG_4435And at the bus station, under the highway, across from the Gardens Shopping Center the dismal gray walls sprang to life with imagery.

Some of the murals are political, commemorating the leaders of the anti-apartheid movement.  On the corner of Longmarket and Adderly Streets, in central Cape Town, side-by-side portraits of Desmond Tutu, Winnie Mandela and Nelson Mandela have been painted by three different artists.

Even walking through already colorful Bo-Kaap revealed tucked away artistic works scattered across this hilly community under Signal Hill.IMG_4037

Many times while driving through the city we would catch a glimpse of color – something that looked interesting down a side street – and circle around to check it out.  This is exactly what happened one day as we headed to lunch at the Ocean Jewels Fresh Fish shop in the old Woodstock Exchange building on Albert Street.IMG_7328 Turns out the Woodstock and Salt River neighborhoods are ground zero for freedom of expression based on the number of street murals we discovered just by driving around.  One seemed to lead to another around the corner.  IMG_7140When we stopped to photograph the mural of the swimming elephant, one of the unofficial parking guards introduced himself as the “curator of street art” and offered to guide us.

We declined and further along discovered the portrait of an endangered mountain gorilla painted by Louis Masai, a London artist who dedicates his work to wildlife conservation awareness.IMG_7213

The streets surrounding the renovated Old Biscuit Mill where the Saturday only Neighbourgoods Market is held were ripe with interesting street murals. Many are of a monumental scale and are within easy walking distance of the mill.IMG_3359Traveling along Victoria Road in the Salt River district, the large mural of a pangolin, painted by Belgian street artist ROA, covers the wall of a factory.  It was painted one year during Cape Town’s International Public Art Festival (IPAF) when local and international artists are invited to wash the district with color for 5 days in February.  IMG_3368The festival is sponsored by BAZ-ART, an NGO that “is dedicated to harnessing the power of art for the benefit of the public – to engage – empower – uplift.”  In the four years that the festival has been running over 100 murals have been created in the Salt River district.  They have a very good website with a map showing the location of all the murals they have sponsored throughout the community.

Muizenberg has its fair share of street art scattered across its small downtown area and near the Blue Bird Garage Food and Goods Market.  But one of its most iconic murals of an elephant was painted by Capetonian and District Six artist Falko One on the side of a bath house located on a desolate stretch of Sonwabi Beach on the outskirts of the town.IMG_8435 His style is very distinctive, and we recognized many of his works as we traveled around the Cape.  Back in town the exterior wall of Surfstore Africa is playfully illustrated with a giraffe wearing sunglasses.IMG_3393Our most unexpected discovery happened at the indoor parking garage of the Pick N Pay grocery store in Sea Point.  Here several beautiful portraits were painted on the walls of the driving ramp leading from one level to the next. IMG_8888

Hidden away from public view, their discovery was like finding a Renoir in your grandparents’ attic.  Just stunning.  Hopefully, these talented artists have found larger and more visible walls to grace with their talents.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna