Category Archives: Travel

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: ROMANTIC FICTION

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In celebration of the #RespectRomFic campaign, today I’m sharing some ideas of how you can visit Croatia from the comfort of your own armchair – and perhaps even fall in love.

The classic summer read: The Getaway by Isabelle Broom

This sun-drenched holiday book is set on the island of Hvar, loved by international jetsetters and backpackers alike.

When Kate’s life falls apart in a spectacularly public manner she joins her brother in Hvar to disappear from the world and lick her wounds. But then she meets Alex, a loner with a secret to hide. As he shows her the beautiful island she begins to have feelings for him that seem to be reciprocated. But will he ever be able to confront his demons and move on? And can Kate be there for him if he does?

 

The romcom: The Secret Cove in Croatia by Julie Caplin

Many people’s first experience of Croatia is on a cruise around the islands, and one of these small luxury boats setting out from cosmopolitan Split is the setting for this book.

When no-nonsense Maddie Wilcox is offered the chance to work on a luxury yacht for the summer, she can’t say no. She will be waiting on the posh guests, but island-hopping around Dalmatia should more than make up for it – especially when Nick, her best mate’s brother, is one of them. In this will-they won’t-they romance, sparks fly when they meet on board and Maddie can’t believe self-entitled jerk Nick is really related to her friend. But in a secret, picture-perfect cove, away from the real world, Maddie and Nick discover they might have more in common than they realise.

 

The biography: The Girl Who Left by Debra Gavranich

Set in a small rural village on the island of Korcula during and after the Second World War, this biography is a love story too.

The author’s mother Marija’s Yugoslavian childhood was tough but happy – until first the Italians, and later the Germans, arrived to occupy their island. Her older sister fled to join the partisans and she was left, frightened and hungry, to cope with the rest of the family when she should have been in school. After the war her best chance of a bright future was to travel to Australia as a proxy bride, married to a man who had emigrated from the village years before, but who she had never met.

 

The dual timeline: An Island of Secrets by Eva Glyn

The smallest of apologies for including my own book, but I would so love take you to the island of Vis in Dalmatia, and in particular the small fishing town of Komiza.

In 1944, British commando and SOE operative Guy Barclay is stationed there alongside Yugoslavian partisans. Not only does his war change when he witnesses a brutal execution, but he meets and falls in love with local fisherwoman Ivka. But can their love survive the war? Seventy years later Guy sends his investment banker granddaughter Leo to the same island. Battered and broken by a loveless marriage and her desire for a baby, she meets local travel agent Andrej. But are their worlds too far apart for their love to have a chance?

 

 

#RespectRomFic is a movement started by publishing luminaries to try to assure that romantic fiction is given the respect it deserves, and that matches its importance in readers’ lives – and its commercial value in the book market. For far too long the contribution to the literary landscape of the books written by the authors writing in the romance & saga space has been at best ignored, at worst dismissed. Show your support by using the hashtag to talk about your favourite romances.

 

 

 

WRITERS ON THE ROAD: GILL THOMPSON

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Back in spring 2018, I visited Prague to research my second novel, The Child on Platform One. Known as ‘The City of a Hundred Spires,’ the capital of the Czech Republic is characterised by gothic splendour and quaint medieval charm. It’s dynamic and vibrant, a brilliant collision of past and present.

But I wasn’t just there to admire the scenery, stunning though it was. If my story was to come to life, I wanted to see for myself the locations I’d placed my characters in. First the conservatoire, a large sand-coloured building situated close to the river between two of its central bridges. My novel starts with a young girl and piano-playing prodigy, Eva, having a music lesson at this famous musical venue. But she is late – we don’t initially know why – so has to hurry home to her parents who will be anxiously awaiting her. For this reason, she takes a short cut through the old Jewish cemetery, a decision with fateful consequences. I was shown round the cemetery by a wonderful Czech guide, herself called Eva, who stood amused whilst I checked my Eva’s route through the graveyard. She agreed with me that Eva would have been able to enter and exit at different points, essential to my plan.

My next destination was even more sobering: Terezin, the old eighteenth century fortress 60 km northwest of the capital which was converted to a Jewish ghetto for the duration of the war. When I first read about this ‘holding camp,’ the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Although they were prisoners, fed a meagre diet, and worked until they dropped, the Jewish inmates were allowed to paint, sing, dance and act in their ‘free time,’ most notably performing Verdi’s Requiem to an audience of Germans, who were unaware that the choir were singing of God’s judgement on their captors. As I was shown round the camp with its poignant gallery of portraits, reconstructions of dormitories and the terrifying crematorium, I was moved, appalled and inspired in equal measure. What came across to me most strongly was people’s capacity to use their creative talents to make meaning in the darkest of times. I hope I have brought this quality to life in my novel. It was certainly a tour I will never forget.

My final destination was the Wilson station. It was here, on platform one, that I discovered the statue of Sir Nicholas Winton, the British man who rescued 669 children from Nazi-occupied Prague before the start of World War Two. Later in my novel Eva, terrified for the safety of her child, sees her daughter Miriam safely onto one of Winton’s trains before Eva herself is sent to Terezin. It was this episode that finally provided the title for my novel: The Child on Platform One.

The novel has been published now, and I am delighted that it was also translated into Czech and sold in bookshops throughout the republic. Eva’s story will finally be shared with the people who inspired it.

The beautiful city of Prague won my heart. This is an amazing place to visit but its history is sometimes dark and terrible. I hope I have done these events justice in my novel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: KOMIZA

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I knew, when I started to write the book that would become An Island of Secrets, that I needed to visit Komiza, but as it was during the lockdowns of 2021 it seemed like an impossible dream. Then, in the summer, everything opened up and we booked a small apartment, took our covid tests, and headed off.

It was a bit of a journey, and that’s one of the reasons the place remains low on the tourist radar, despite being the main filming location for Mamma Mia II. We flew into Split and after an overnight stay on the mainland took a ferry to Vis (the island and the town), where a taxi met us and dropped us on Komiza’s harbourfront.

This was our first lesson about the town (not a village, a town, and the inhabitants are intensely proud of that fact) – there is no vehicle access to much of it, certainly not to the narrow streets and alleys heading up the hill from and surrounding the harbour. But as we strolled along the waterfront in the late afternoon sun, past restaurants, coffee shops and an ice cream parlour, I sank into the sort of peaceful joy that only the Mediterranean gives me.

There are plenty of places to eat and drink around the waterfront, and a small supermarket if you prefer to actually self cater. A surprising amount of stock is squeezed into its narrow aisles, but it’s worth fighting to the back to the deli counter. The staff were delighted we wanted to try different local cooked meats and cheeses.

There are several tiny beaches near the central harbour, but the main one, Gusarica, is to the right as you face the sea, perhaps a five minute walk down Ribarska Ulica, the street through the old fishermen’s quarter. On either side are beautiful old stone houses, a few of them little more than tumbledown ruins just crying out to be repaired.

I swam from Gusarica’s pebbles every morning (don’t expect sand in Dalmatia); the sea warm and the backdrop stunning. Komiza is wrapped in the arms of a wide bay – thus its long and rich tradition as a fishing port – and watching the sun creep along the peninsular, making it glow golden, was incredible. Behind the beach is one of the pretty churches I feature in An Island of Secrets, with a beautiful incense-filled interior that’s well worth peeping into.

Along the harbour there are many boats offering trips to the famous blue cave on the nearby island of Bisevo and other gorgeous destinations. Alternatively, if you want something different, chat to the ladies selling them; although they’re in competition they do work together. I just wanted a trip along the coast to spec out some locations for my book and was able to negotiate a late afternoon bespoke trip for quite a reasonable price.

There are a plethora of restaurants to choose from, but we started with Konoba Koluna on the harbour – look for the red table clothes – and didn’t feel the need to go anywhere else. The staff were super-friendly and the food fresh and homely; just the way we like it. I suppose we were rather lazy, there were other places we would have liked to have tried, including Konoba BAK that specialises in peka (it was just too hot!) and Konoba Jastozera near Gusarica, which has fabulous views back across the harbour.

Admittedly Komiza is special to me because it is so central to one of my books, but if you want a quiet, traditional Mediterranean break in a warm and welcoming place then look no further.

 

 

 

WRITERS ON THE ROAD: PATSY COLLINS

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Hi! I’m Patsy Collins aka The Travelling Writer. Ten years ago I was a tour guide. That job kept me in one place but ever since being made redundant and becoming a full time writer I’ve spent a lot of time travelling – mostly in a campervan shared with my husband. We’re on the road for three months a year, so naturally I write in the van. So much so that I often refer to R’ten as the mobile writing retreat. She’s absolutely perfect for that. She’s also a pretty good photography base for Gary.

There are things about a campervan which may initially seem like disadvantages, such as limited internet access and restricted space, but are really the opposite. When we can go online it’s all too easy to ‘just quickly look that up’ and get distracted by emails, funny memes, brilliant opportunities to submit our work if we ever get it finished… If we have to go into another room to make a cup of tea, we don’t always return to the keyboard the moment the kettle has boiled. Even the limited power supply can be a plus, because it encourages me to get the words down straight away, rather than wasting battery power faffing about.

Sometimes the places we visit for Gary’s work inspire my stories. Sometimes we spend time in an area so I can write my novels and short stories ‘on location’. It’s really useful to be able to literally walk in my characters’ footsteps along the beach, up a mountain or through town. I enjoy seeing what they see, eating what they do, even sharing a few of their mishaps – my research has occasionally been more thorough than intended!

One of my six novels, Leave Nothing But Footprints, is actually set in a campervan, and that’s where it was written, even if it wasn’t always parked in the same country as Jess and Eliot took their own trip. Although the storyline is nothing like my own life, some of the small details are based on reality. I think they help make the story believable, and using them in a positive way helps me feel better about some of our mini disasters in the early days. Oh, and I might sometimes try convincing Gary to unleash his romantic side for the good of the current WIP!

Another book written entirely in R’ten is From Story Idea to Reader; an easily accessible guide to writing fiction, co written with Rosemary J Kind. We know each other well, but didn’t physically meet during the writing stage as when she was in England we were in Scotland, and when we came home she went to Switzerland. We did park the van on her drive while we worked on the promotion stuff though.

Having the van, and being able to go where we like has enabled me to deliver writing workshops and attend events which wouldn’t be practical if they couldn’t be incorporated into a working trip.

Of course the locations we visit provide distractions. We’ve parked up on beaches, in the depths of forests, at the foot of mountains, alongside rivers, in the grounds of a castle, in view of seals and otters or surrounded by wild deer … But I’ve been a writer for over twenty years now and have learned to accept the ups and downs which that entails.

If you’d like to learn more about me and my writing, then please visit patsycollins.uk where you’ll find links to all my books and lots more photos from my campervan adventures.

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: THE SIXTH OF DECEMBER MIRACLE

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I remember the Balkan war in the ‘90s. The horror of it all; of Sarajevo and Srebenica, of genocide and ethnic cleansing. I remember the Siege of Dubrovnik too, almost the place where the fighting began, but I didn’t understand why. I still don’t to this day.

We stand next to the Amerling Fountain, Mato and me, and we look at Mount Srd, beyond the belching buses and their fumes, above the terracotta tiles of the Pucic family’s elegant summer residence,  beyond the houses stacked behind, and on to the mountain itself,  sentinel as ever above the city.

My eyes travel upwards, following his pointing finger. Above the luxuriant leaves of cypress and pine, above the scrubland strewn with rocks, steep and ever steeper, up four hundred metres to the grey bulk of Fort Imperial perched on top. The fort that saved the city.

The Serbs and Montenegrins attacked from the south, sweeping a wave of refugees before them. The attack on the mountain began on 30th September 1991 and a day later the communications centre was captured and the power cut off. No electricity, no water, would reach the city below for months.

Pockets of resistance remained. Mato’s own family home was fought over bitterly, changing hands several times as desperate local defenders staved off an army. By the middle of November the invaders had taken all of Mount Srd. Everything, that is, except the fort.

And then Mato tells me of the greatest act of heroism of all. How thirty-eight men saved the city. And it happened in front of us, at the top of Mount Srd. The miracle of 6th December 1991.

Thirty-two men manned Fort Imperial. Exhausted men, hungry and thirsty, the enemy surrounding them on almost every side. An enemy with tanks and weapons that hadn’t been made in a converted broom factory. And ammunition. The men in the fort had nothing left at all, so under cover of darkness they started to creep down the mountainside.

Meanwhile, in perfect safety, the politicians were negotiating. The Serbs and Montenegrins had one demand. Give up the fort and we’ll stop shelling. Somehow, somehow, the message got through to a detachment of men climbing Mount Srd with ammunition. They met the shattered defenders coming down. The enemy thought they were still holding out. So they turned around and crept back.

Thirty-eight men with basic guns and not enough ammo. Thirty-eight men against an army. But what could they do? They went up to the roof and used them. As Mato explained, a man defending his home will fight like a tiger. An army of conscripted attackers is not so brave.

The fighting became hand to hand, the defenders desperate men, believing themselves as good as dead. But eventually they had to retreat inside. All felt lost, so they kept up their spirits by singing.

Most say it was a miracle, but Mato told me the fort’s unusual acoustics helped. Their voices filled the barrel vaults, swelling from shattered windows and walls. Sounding like a thousand men. Men the invading army were not prepared to fight.

We walk through the cool shade of the Pile Gate, into the main street, Stradun. In the walls of the buildings, on the glossy paving stones, the bullet holes are everywhere, once you know how to look. On the morning of 6th December alone almost 700 missiles landed in the old walled city; some from ships out to sea, the rest from Mount Srd.

Like the men in the Fort, it buckled, but it did not break. The world watched as smoke blackened the skies, a bombardment so heavy that finally, finally, the world condemned and the tide of the war turned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: THE LOCAL TAKE ON CAVTAT

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How on earth, I hear you ask, can somewhere like Cavtat be hidden when it’s in every tourist brochure? I mean, why wouldn’t it be so popular? It’s all of ten minutes from Dubrovnik’s airport, has a few super-large hotels of the sort typically favoured by package operators and plenty of options for drinking and dining along its extensive waterfront.

But, like any resort, there are hidden parts and I’ve teamed up with my friend and collaborator on my books, jet-setting tour director Darko Barisic, to sketch out a perfect day in the place he calls home.

It’s important where you wake up, for sure, and I really do prefer not to be in a big hotel or in the middle of things. I like a quiet enclave, preferably with a view, from where I can easily walk to restaurants and bars. So clearly an apartment actually called The View sounded pretty ideal and it was. Perched on the hill between the main road and the resort, from the balconies (one from the master bedroom and the other from the living area) you can see right across the bay to Dubrovnik and the sunsets are spectacular. The furnishings are supercool, it has every home comfort, and is available through Airbnb.

So after waking up, my next priority is coffee, which necessitates a stroll down the hill into town. In terms of shoreline, Cavtat is the gift that keeps on giving. First is the beach in front of huge Albatros hotel, but following the coast to the left takes you into the first of two bays, past a tucked-in angular harbour into the town centre with the supermarket and cash point machines. Walk through this and into the second bay, which is so much prettier, and where there is a run of cafés, starting with Bakery Peco with a stunning view right down the water. But the coffee’s good in all of them.

Next decision could be beach, a boat trip to Dubrovnik, kayaking, or simply strolling around one or both of the peninsulas. It was very hot when we visited so we simply pottered along the waterfront from the coffee shops to enjoy the incredible views and shade of the trees. Then for me it was back to work – it was a research trip after all.

Darko’s favourite way to spend the day is far more active, with a hike on Snijeznica Mountain, which dominates the whole area. A good starting off point is the village of Mihanici, because you can take a bus from Cavtat to there. If you’ve hired a car you can start higher up, at Kuna, a mere two hours from the top. The views are beyond stunning; over the sea, and inland to Bosnia & Herzegovina, but do take plenty of water. And in places you’ll need a pretty reasonable head for heights.

After that you deserve a decent meal and the locals’ recommendation is Konoba Galija. To find it, carry on from the coffee shops in the second bay, but turn right just in front of the old Franciscan monastery instead of following the coastal track to the left of it. The restaurant has a pretty garden with views of the harbour and fish and meat are cooked on the open grill. The fish platter is apparently second to none.

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: ON TOP OF MOUNT SRD

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Anyone who’s been to Dubrovnik will quite rightly question why I would call Mount Srd hidden Croatia. After all, it stands proudly four hundred metres above the city, a wall of rock protecting it from the outside world.

But that’s the point; we see it, but how well do we know it? The majority of visitors who actually venture up there do so by cable car, to admire the spectacular views for half an hour, perhaps drink a coffee, certainly take any number of selfies, then head straight back down again.

To discover Mount Srd properly you need to hike, bike (neither recommended in the height of summer), take the bus, or even better book a knowledgeable driver or small group tour. Because it’s what the majority don’t see that is so very fascinating.

To say we got lucky with our choice of driver is an understatement. We were staying in Cavtat along the coast so decided booking a car was the best option, and I’d ‘met’ Dubrovnik 4 U Transfers on Instagram so chose them. Kresimir is an absolute gem with a knowledge of, and a passion for, his city rarely seen in the UK. But then in the UK we haven’t had to fight for our homes.

To me that’s what Mount Srd was all about. It was certainly the focus of my visit there. I was in Croatia to add the final touches to my research for next summer’s book, where one of my main characters is a veteran of the Siege of Dubrovnik and I wanted to visit the Homeland War Museum in Fort Imperial that sits on top of the mountain.

But there was somewhere Kresimir wanted me to see first. The village of Bosanka that had been raised to the ground by the aggressors (Serbian and Montenegrin troops) during the autumn of 1991. Of course much of it has been rebuilt, but there are some ruins left amongst the trees, and a roadside picture board in Croatian and English, making sure that visitors understand what happened here.

In fact almost the whole of Mount Srd was taken. Everything except Fort Imperial and that was to make all the difference to the survival of the city below. How it held out against all the odds on 6th December 1991 is a miracle in itself, but that is a story for a few months hence.

The fort was built by Napoleonic troops, a long, low slab of the grey-gold rock of the region, almost blending into the hillside beneath it. Even now much of it is in a semi-ruined state, but a number of rooms have been turned into a museum where visitors can learn about the Homeland War. And if you want to understand Dubrovnik and its people, you have to understand what happened here thirty years ago.

There was a sepulchral silence as we wandered through the barrel-vaulted rooms, stunned by the images of destruction displayed on their walls. The museum tells the story more or less chronologically but it is the images that hit home the hardest; iconic sights in the city below in ruins or in flames, the faces of the refugees. You don’t have to read a word of the commentary. You just have to look to understand.

But deeper understanding comes from talking to someone who lived through the conflict and Kresimir shared his memories freely. For the first time I knew what it had been like to live in that city under siege; no power, little water, even less food. People dying around you.

After our visit to the museum he took me out to the viewpoint, where there is a memorial to 6th December 1991 and a Croatian flag. I watched him take a photo of it, his pride heartfelt and genuine. To me, that said it all.

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: AFTER THE MONKS LEAVE…

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As so often happens when you’re researching, I stumbled across Lopud 1483. Strange name for a monastery now turned event space and high end holiday let, but not when you discover that was the year the Franciscans started to build Gospa od Spilice, or Our Lady of the Cave.

Perched on an outcrop overlooking the main harbour on the island of Lopud, just fifteen kilometres from Dubrovnik, the monastery and its fortifications have been a landmark for generations. After the 1820s it began to crumble, the monks having decamped back to the mainland leaving a local man to open the church for anyone who wanted to pray.

It was a tiny and often forgotten slice of the monastery’s history that fascinated me originally. I was researching what happened to Dubrovnik’s Jewish community during the Second World War and discovered that some of them had been interned on Lopud for a period of about six months. This was done under the strict instructions of the German occupiers, but the soldiers guarding them were Italians who up until that point had avoided imprisoning the Jews under their jurisdiction.

What fascinated me was exactly where on the island the unfortunate Jews had been interned. There didn’t seem to be very many buildings big enough, which left me thinking about the monastery. It might have been a ruin, but it had stout fortified outer walls and in many ways was an obvious choice. So imagine my surprise when, watching a documentary about the monastery’s restoration, I saw the words ‘il duce’ painted on a wall. Italian fascists had definitely been there.

I really, really wanted to visit this beautiful place, as my characters do in the book I was writing and researching. They would have been there in 2010, quite early in the restoration programme, but I knew from experience that walking around the building and grounds would enable me to recreate it so much better for my readers.

I knew I couldn’t afford to rent this iconic property (recent guests include the Beckham family), so I emailed the general manager with the dates of my Croatian trip and kept my fingers firmly crossed. The answer was yes; they had a small gap between rentals – basically a Sunday morning – and their security officer would show me around.

First let me say that Lopud 1483 is a little slice of heaven. Its restoration took the best part of twelve years, but in 2018 it opened its doors for cultural events and private rentals. The project was masterminded by Francesca Thyssen-Bornemizsa, and it now houses her family’s extensive collection of renaissance art, furniture and artefacts.

Our guide was keen to tell us about the art, but also about the property’s history, including the physic garden and the monks’ pharmacy which have also been restored. To walk through the gardens is a wonderful sensory experience and I could have lingered there for hours, but of course I needed to find out about the Italian connection in World War Two.

Standing in the master bedroom looking at the fascist graffiti from eighty years before sent more than a shiver down my spine. The monastery had certainly been the Italians’ headquarters on the island but, as I discovered that day, not where the Jews had been interned. That dubious honour went to a hotel that had been built in the 1930s as a beacon of modernity, something I would never have found out had I not visited Lopud.

And I can always dream that the book, due out in summer 2023, is an international bestseller so I can afford to go back to Lopud 1493 and stay!