As we approached Plitvice Lakes National Park, finding a zimmer was a snap. Following Steves’ play, we pulled into the driveway of the Knezevic Guest House and by chance were greeted by Christina, the daughter-owner. Her pop died three years ago and she now oversees the place. She showed us two charming rooms with a shared bathroom … perfect! As usual, David’s room had a TV … or at least that’s what he told me. Breakfast and dinner were available for an extra 5 and 10 Euros respectively. We sampled the breakfast our first morning then figured we could do better so we declined all meals after that. We never saw Christina after our first encounter. The zimmer seems to be run by a young blond gal who lived in the house along with a black-haired woman. The young gal prepared the meals and managed the payments. The black-haired woman gave Petey the creeps. We noticed her often sitting in the corner of the large covered patio, smoking her foreign brand, chatting with the blond. She seemed unhappy, a bit disgruntled by the non-locals passing through. Croatia’s economy is largely based on tourism. Non locals are the norm, so Petey’s feeling was rare. For the most part we were embraced by locals, hospitable and proud of their country, even those living in rural areas beyond the crowded tourist spots.
Our zimmer was within walking distance to the park … so we did. Though the trail was much longer than we first imagined, it was well laid out and took us by some interesting sights. To the left was a ski slope, a strip of green mounds down the middle framed by pine trees on both sides. The chair lift poles were in place but the cables and chairs were not. Up a little further was a beautiful soccer field with a flight of stadium seating built into the grassy knoll. We walked passed a number of zimmers, some in good repair and most not. We discovered a useful market, small but complete with bakery goods and chilled Coke. We walked right past the local ambulance, a white Renault station wagon with a Red Cross sticker on the back window. We passed by an old school with tagged with graffiti. We also walked passed a curious abandoned two-story auditorium-type building. I ventured in.
Indeed it was abandoned as I passed across the threshold of broken glass into a great hall entrance. Graffiti was everywhere but the hardwood gym-like floor was still in good shape. The silence was eerie. To the left was a full-court gym like the kind you might find in Indiana (think Hoosers). The individual blue stadium seats were numbered. The gym floor was marked for European basketball with flaring foul lanes and handball, a popular European sport. The gym was complete with a broken game clock on both ends of the court.
I slowly climbed the stairs to the upper floor. The rail was broken. My mind played back tapes of horror movies. I imagined someone in the audience yelling at me, “Don’t go up there! Don't go up there!” I did. On the second floor I found old classrooms with chalkboards, no desks just broken windows. Dusk was approaching … it was getting creepier. I scurried down to the bottom floor and finished my tour. The far side of the entry hall opened to a large staging room with a bar, perhaps the dining room. I couldn’t decide if the facility was a gym associated with the old school or perhaps the local town’s sports arena. I scurried out in a hurry ... a bit spooked.
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