Kindness

A series of encounters that led me back to Croatia

I’ve shared a few times on my other Substack site – Living the Tasty Life – that during my time in Croatia in last year, I met some of the kindest people in my life. A series of encounters led me back to Croatia to live.

Plešivica
After a Sunday morning tasting in early May 2024 to Vina Šember – the first stop on a media visit to Plešivica – I began to make my way to my scheduled lunch at Restaurant Karlo (address: Plešivica 41, 10450, Plešivica, Croatia) in my Peugeot SUV rental. I was not used to the narrow, winding roads of this higher-terrain region – especially in this huge car the rental car company had upgraded me to. I couldn’t make a hairpin curve. I panicked. I returned to my hotel – Hotel Princess – and ordered an Uber.

I suspect the Uber driver came from Zagreb to transport me, but he happily and skillfully drove me through the rolling hills of Plešivica. However, the maps on our phones did not provide the exact location. My driver pulled into the front yard of a family’s home to ask directions. After a few more misturns, we finally arrived at the restaurant. He got out and confirmed I was where I was supposed to be, then he left.

As he drove away, I realized that it would be unlikely that I would find another Uber driver to come from Zagreb on a Sunday afternoon to get me. I did not know how I would get to my next two winery appointments or back to my hotel. However, my lunch and the wine pairing, the Tomac Rosé Extra Brut, quickly made me forget my potential transportation challenges. It was the perfect ‘Plešivica panacea.’ As I finished my meal – about 15 minutes prior to my appointment at KORAK Family Estate – I did not know how I would get there.

A tour group I’d met earlier that morning at Šember arrived at Karlo about 30 minutes after me. They were waiting for their lunch to be served when I approached their table. I said, “Hello, I am a U.S. wine writer and I do not have a ride to my second winery appointment, nor my third. What should I do?” A gentleman at the table leapt to his feet and replied, “I will take you. Wait for me outside. My car is parked about 100 meters away.”

As I got into his car, he introduced himself as Damir. He was the driver for the other group. I explained to him how I was not accustomed to the harrowing roads of Plešivica and had returned my rental to my hotel to order an Uber to Karlo. He said he would drive me the rest of the day in between driving the other group. I was thankful and amazed at his generosity, hospitality, and kindness.

Zagreb
A few weeks later – after traveling around Croatia visiting wineries in its four major regions and attending the London Wine Fair – I returned to Zagreb where I rented an apartment for four weeks.

From Zagreb Airport, I had a polite young man as my Uber driver who struck up a conversation. He was fascinated with what a wine writer does. When he found out I loved Croatia so much that I had decided to stay in his hometown of Zagreb for a while, he gave me the lay of the land in route – pointing out places to go, where the tram stops were, etc. When he dropped me off, he unloaded my luggage for me, then reached out and shook my hand.

The apartment I rented was beside the owners’ home. It was where I had stayed during my first weekend in Croatia in late April. I had asked the family if I could rent it. They discussed it and said yes. During those four weeks, they became my Croatian family. They welcomed me into their home a few times and we shared meals together – they prepared the food and I brought the wine. The father smoked his own meat, making some of the most delicious charcuterie I’d ever had. He would always give us a heads-up as to his meat smoking days so we wouldn’t do laundry and hang it out to dry in the smoky, meaty air. When I returned to Zagreb late last year, they invited me to a Saturday dinner, which lasted into the wee hours of the morning. It is a relationship that I will always cherish.

I frequently walked by a wine bar near the city’s main square as it was near where Uber drivers dropped me off and picked me up. Winehouse – named after Amy Winehouse – never appeared to be open until the penultimate evening of my summer stay in Zagreb. What drew me in was one of the specials on the sign outside, the Šember Brut Rosé Pjenušac. I entered and spent a few hours chatting with Jakov, the owner. His shop had only been open since late February, he was a ‘one-man show’ (no employees), and was still trying to determine the best days and times to be open. Winehouse was the perfect choice for my last evening out in Zagreb. As a send-off, Jakov gave me a book about Plavac Mali, Croatia’s flagship black (red) grape variety. That unexpected connection and his gift remained etched in my memory.