September 18, 2006- BELI (on Cres island), CROATIA - - When I saw my mom talking to Father Bendara in the language of her parents, I knew the trip was worth all the trouble. The 92-year-old priest in Beli knew my grandparents' family and spoke the dialect that is special to this tiny town.
Beli is a beautiful, primitive village - - make that kingdom -- on the edge of a mountain on the island of Cres. The 'roads' are not cute and cobblestone, but the roughest stone-and-moss hilly paths. The houses just a jumble of stone and cement in no discernable pattern.
Fr. Bendara called a local man who was visiting from Arizona (!) of all places...probably so I'd have someone to talk to since Father didn't speak any English. The two men showed us the town church (St. Mary's) where my mom got emotional thinking of her parents' history. After all, it was in this place that approximately 100 years ago, my grandparents were baptized. In fact, today would have been my grandmother's 99th birthday!
We took photos in front of the house #103 where my grandfather was born in 1903. According to Fr. Bendara, Beli has written history going back 2000 years! It was originally settled by the Romans and got its current moniker from a Hungarian king who came here to escape the Mongols. The whole country of Croatia was Communist until about 10 years ago, so it's got some pretty cool tales to tell.
In the summer, the population of Beli swells to about 30 people, but the rest of year - - like now - - only about 10 or 15 residents live in this remote setting. Of the handful of people we met, one lady spoke to my mom and told her that she used to live near Midway Airport in Chicago!
Before departing from Beli, we stopped for lunch in a cute outdoor restaurant that acts as the unofficial entrance to the village. Our young waiter spoke just enough English that we could order gnocchi made three ways (mushroom, procuitto and with meat), salad, bread, water and wine. Good lunch!!!
As we finished our lunch, the waiter brought a special drink for us - - a gift from the restaurant to the visitors. Two tiny shot glasses filled with clear liquid. At the bottom of each glass, we found a tiny chunk of fruit stabbed with a toothpick. Hmm??
I don't know about your family, but my family used to make prospective brothers-in-laws drink shots of a Croatian liquor called Slivovice (sp?). Kind of a trial of manhood. Think of a cross between lighter fluid and battery acid.
This was worse.
To kill the taste of the 'gift,' my mom and I decided to chase it with ice cream. Okay, that was an excuse. We were planning on having dessert anyhow. In another example of how tiny our planet really is, I walked throught the almost-empty restaurant on the edge of nowhere to the freezer chest and pulled out two Nestle ice cream bars.
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