Sunday, June 10th 2012. – Day II.

Day Trip: Jastrebarsko – Krašić – Ozalj

A.D. 2012.

 

…The new sunrise.

It was early.

Very early.

The sunbeams had just peered over the sleepy horizon of this mountainous region, on the slopes of the hills of Zumberak.

It was five o`clock in the morning.

Time to wake up our sleepy hero.

I know, it was pretty early to wake up, but uncovered like that, on the edge of the town park, on the high grounds of the wooden stage, he was an easy target for all the uninvited guests, morning joggers as well as for the early dog walkers.

The sleeping bag was neatly packed.

The rucksack was already prepared for the new adventures.

The first thing that came to mind of our sleepy hero on that early morning was the search for the above mentioned bottles and cans.

Has he found them?

Has he tried that tasteful home made milk?

That was yet to be seen.

He stepped down from the stage where he slept a night, walked through the park and started with his job of searching the mysterious pieces of junk.

But nowhere he could find one bottle or can. Not a single one! He walked all across the park and went on the main street, but still he couldn’t find what he was looking for.

“What a disaster! I can understand that this is a small town, with small population, by far smaller than in my hometown of Zagreb, but I can not believe that all of them are so ecologically aware and that no one threw a single bottle or can in the waste bucket or waste container. They all carry that junk in the local supermarket and sell them for their own use. I really have no luck! If I could find only two bottles! Only two, I don’t seek for more!”

It was seven o’clock in the morning, and our tired and angry hero didn’t had any bottle or can in his small plastic bag.

Then, all of the sudden, as it usually happens in these situations, a big turning point had appeared.

Tired, lonely, angry and miserable as he was from the two hour walk, he decided to give up on this unsuccessful pursuit and get to know this hawk town a little bit better.

Was that not the main reason why he left his hometown in a search for a better life?

When he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he could at least learn more about this town, it’s pretty landscapes and surrounding mountain of Plesivica in the hills of Zumberak – Samobor Hills Nature Park.

Because of that, he decided to get away from the main and noisy street, and seek for something more interesting.

In one of those small town streets he saw the entrance in the form of an old iron fence, entrance to the small town park. In this park you could find a few old stone monuments, mostly dedicated to the victims and fighters in the last two wars, and in its extension a small cemetery.

While walking through this small park, our unlucky hero saw a couple of bottles and cans laid on the green grass.

“Finally success! Now I can finally buy that sweet home made milk!”

In his heart you could feel some new heat, new excitement, joy and a new adventurous break through. Some new and unknown strength circulated his body.

And as it often happens, the more he was walking through this park, and the mentioned cemetery, the more bottles and cans he stumbled upon.

“Fifteen bottles! Seven and a half Kuna (approx. one Euro) collected! That is nine and a half Kuna in my wallet! Now I can buy myself that milk, and still I can leave some money for other food. Marvelous!”

So, this quest for bottles gave him some new experience, a view on the beautiful town cemetery surrounded by hills and plains on that chilly summer morning.

He went to the local store, sold all of his bottles and cans, bought himself a chocolate (to honor his successful quest and to rise levels of sugar in his blood), and later bought himself half a liter of that precious home made milk that he wanted so much in the first place.

He had to admit it was very tasteful, thick and fatty, not so watertight and insipid like the milk that he could bought in the supermarket.

After drinking a few sips and packing the rest of the milk in his rucksack for the trip to the town of Ozalj, he sat down on the bench at the central town square of Josip Juraj Strossmayer, and rest for a while, just absorbing the scents of the nearby trees.

It was nine o’clock in the morning.

Time to go.

He was slowly leaving the city of the hawks.

Maybe forever.

(continued in Where the Cold Water Flows (Part II.)…)

(Cover Image & Source: Samobor & Plešivica wine road cycling @ Anastasia Suites Zagreb)