Thanks for your patience.  The lull in my writing results from the difficulty I’ve had putting into words the experience of the last week or so.  Following our attempts to find evidence of my grandfather’s early life and any of his family’s descendants in Klobuk, Herzegovina, our attention turned to retracing the steps of my grandmother, Kata Ribaric Dzaich, in central Croatia. I did not have much to go by, other than a copy of her birth certificate indicating she had been born at home to Manda Trkac and Ivan Ribaric who resided at 23 Kajgana near the town of Garesnica, in what was then Austria-Hungary.  From her Ellis Island immigration records, we knew that Grandma arrived in the U.S. in 1918, and we had some old grainy family photos from my grandmother’s one visit back in the 1970s. My sister Katherine and her husband, Don, had also visited in the 1980s, before the Yugoslav wars, but the one relative they knew who spoke English had long passed away.

At the bewilderment of our travel agent (btw, the Jay-Way is an exceptional agency for helping Americans navigate Croatia), we insisted on booking two nights in the small town of Garesnica.  We’d explained that my grandmother came from the small farming village of Kajgana, and Garesnica is the closest town with any commerce to speak of, just a 3-5 minute drive away.  The Hotel Garic is apparently the only game in town for an overnight stay, so there we were to stay.  I had an idea that we might be able to find a translator among the hotel staff and had been planning to call ahead to inquire, but for some reason kept putting it off.  I suspect I was afraid of the disappointment should I reach a dead end.

For some reason, as we were on the ferry from Split to Hvar, I suddenly felt the time was right to call Hotel Garic and explain my situation.  The man who answered the phone quickly turned me over to a coworker, Christina, who spoke perfect English.  I told Christine I was looking for someone who could help me find the family of Kata Ribaric, last known address 23 Kajgana.  I explained that I suspected that any remaining family members would not speak English, and I did not want to knock on a door without a translator who could explain who we were. Christina listened carefully then said, “I will ask my mother she knows everyone.”  She ended the call with a common Croatian saying “It’s not a problem,” then said she will see us when we arrived later that week.

Thursday October 10^th Mike and I departed the Plitvice Lakes region to head northeast to central Croatia.  The drive of approximately three hours was interrupted once as we were pulled over by the Croatian police who took about 15 minutes to review our passports, consult with each other (I deciphered the words “iPhone” and “GPS”) before deciding we were free to go on.  We had told Christina we expected to arrive in Garesnica by about 2pm, and we pulled up to Hotel Garic with 10 minutes to spare.  As we walked up to the reception desk, I asked the friendly clerk if she were Christina, she nodded yes.  She greeted us warmly then smiled and said:

“Your family is waiting for you.”

Pause.  I gulped, looked at Mike, then back to Christina, and said, “Now?”  She said yes, it was easy, as she suspected, her mother knew exactly who to contact.  Coincidentally, the wife of my grandmother’s nephew was also named Kata Ribaric, and lived with her daughter Nada (formerly Ribaric) and son-in-law Jovica Potrebic. The only correction is the address – they live at 60 Kajgana, and one of them speaks English. They were waiting for us. She would call and tell them we had arrived, would take some time to freshen up, then come visit.  Christina smiled and said “Are you happy?”  Of course I was – happy and a little stunned.

As Mike and I drove the 5 minutes to Kajgana we noticed what we think were a few spotters along the way.  Pulling up to 60 Kajgana, three people were already coming out to the front to greet us, waving us in through their gate. We popped out of the car to give each a big hug and they brought us in side.  Jovica explained he learned English from the radio – we think he said he had some kind of radio show, not ham radio, and through that he learned English.  We spent the next couple of hours going through the pictures I had brought, I explained how we were related, they recognized many of the old photos and explained who was who.  That afternoon and the following full day were spent in warm and comfortable conversation.  I have many, many stories to tell about our time together, but I’m still processing it all and will add more later.

Kata, Nada, Manda (me) and Jovica on the farm

At my great-grandmother’s grave

An additional treat was meeting Nada’s son, Domagoj, and nephew, Ivan, the son of her sister, Mira, late on our last evening as they returned from their week’s work in Zagreb.  They are delightful young men and we expect to meet them again on our last day when we are in Zagreb before our return to the U.S.

Ivan and Domagoj

I have told Mike how unexpectedly comfortable I have felt in Croatia, how easy the language rolls off my tongue, how familiar the landscape of central Croatia feels.  Now I know why.