It’s such a strange phenomenon, isn’t it, traveling eastward at 500+ miles per hour, that the passage of time accelerates at seeming warp speed.  Mike and I boarded Lufthansa flight 491 Seattle to Frankfurt, on Tuesday October 1^st at 1:40pm, had dinner, then drinks, a bit of a nap, then breakfast, and suddenly, 10 hours later Tuesday disappeared and Wednesday was here as we blinked into the Frankfurt Wednesday morning at 8:40 am.  Savvy travelers that we imagine ourselves to be, Mike and I select plane seats in the same row across the aisle from each other, thus affording unobstructed and egalitarian bathroom access.  Upon boarding, I was seated next to a sweet wide-eyed 9-year-old Romanian boy who charmed me into exchanging seats with his 15-year-old brother as they were traveling unaccompanied on the long flight.  I thus found myself seated 10 rows back next to Eva, a German living in Seattle, one of 13 members of a Lutheran church group flying to Russia for an exchange program.  We spent a fair amount of time discussing the current state of American politics and agreeing we were glad to leave it in our dust….at least until our return.

The Frankfurt airport lives up to the German stereotype of efficiency, cleanliness, and organization.  We quickly made our way through transit security with only a minor delay as Mike was whisked into the interrogation room to have his hands swiped for explosive residue.  Fortunately he had not recently handled anything more explosive than your intrepid author, so he was cleared within minutes.  The lovely coffee we enjoyed at the Kaffee Cafe reminded us we are definitely back in Europe where things like amazing coffee are daily essentials.

I’m writing this aboard Croatia Airlines flight 419 Frankfurt to Dubrovnik , which departed 10:25am and is scheduled to arrive 12:15pm.  Amazing view of the Alps (photo below) as we flew over Austria, currently crossing over Zagreb on our way to Dubrovnik. Will land soon.

In just the last day or so, as I was able to leave my work life behind, have I suddenly been sobered by the significance of this trip to Croatia.  I have heard of the “Old Country,” Croatia, my entire life, as family lore of the country from which my grandparents emigrated as very young adults, as a country where aromas of stuffed cabbage and gebonica (strudel) waft from every window, and friendly hard-working relatives welcome visitors from America.  My grandfather, Jozo Dzaich, never returned.  My grandmother, Kata Ribaric, went back to visit just once in 1976, and her namesake, my sister Katherine, visited in the 1980s.  In just an hour I will be setting foot back on the land my grandparents left.  Will Croatia live up to the family reputation?  I’m bringing with me many family photos and records in hopes of finding someone who looks familiar, someone who will welcome me back to discover my roots.  Among the artifacts are photos of my dear sweet grandmother, whose face I am staring into, asking her what does she want me to see and know about the world she left.  As I was packing, I impulsively decided to bring some little trinket to acknowledge many members of my family so they can experience Croatia – and Croatia can experience them.

UPDATE:  We’ve arrived!  And wishing our Bobby a very Happy Happy Birthday – definitely wish you were here.