There is a clear line between visiting a place and living there. As soon as a place becomes a home, routines can fade fresh eyes and blur new perspectives. It was only a week after I stumbled starry-eyed from the plane and first waltzed down the streets of Dubrovnik that I found myself eyeing the slightly more recent visitors asthose obnoxious tourists.
In the bars at night, it is hard not to empathize with the locals as they grumble about the approaching tourist season. Wistfully they recall glossy memories of life before the cruise ships; where small family businesses outnumbered the overpriced souvenir sprawl and life in general was simpler. With these golden memories of the past in mind, the Modern Art Gallery of Dubrovnik has put on a show by Croatian Photographer Tošo Dabac to give form to nostalgia. Dating from the 1930’s to the 1960’s, the gallery presents a retrospective of Dabac's work through photos taken in both Zagreb and Dubrovnik.
When I was in Sarajevo, I met some drunk musicians wandering around the market at night who told me I had to check out this bar called the Underground.
Today, despite the predictions of the Russian bartender last night, was beautiful. We decided to climb the small peak overlooking Dubrovnik to the Napoleonic fort, which he built when he took over the world. He constructed an impressive zig-zagging road as well which we followed to get there, through a spurting pine forest and plowed through craggy rocks. The fort is still completely sacked from the war in the 1990's, the invading army used the fort as a post to shell Dubrovnik. From the top Bob pointed out neighboring peaks in Montenegro, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Albania, and Serbia - all visible on a clear day. On top of the beautiful view there was an unsettling war museum displaying damp missiles in rusty puddles, and with a dripping ceiling which left us sketchbookers cautiously moving through the space to avoid drops while ironically drawing mines. I was impressed the radio tower so I sketched it from roof. It looks like a rocket ship, and seems so out of place next to the moss covered limestone fort.
I have heard people call this bar the bohemian bar and the fisherman's bar, but I finally found out last night it is called Libertina. It's easily my favorite Dubrovnik bar. The first night, within minutes of walking in I found myself drinking rounds from a sea captain, and chatting with a local gynecologist who advised me which cigarettes were the healthiest. The captain immediately wanted to know the bloodline of everyone at the bar, then after finding a nationality that wasn't present he gave a toast to that country's demise.
The bartender Mario runs the bar with his father Luci, who lives nextdoor. He bought me a beer as I was drawing this; on St. Patrick's Day, it was the only bar without hooligans packed to the gills stumbling over free shots. Later on after I drew it, I showed it to Mario, and he identified all the people in the drawing and where they were from, mostly a street or two away. I gave the drawing to Mario, and he hung it across from the 14th century siege ball.
Luci, who started the bar, was a musician and singer in Dubrovački Trubaduri; a band that gained wide popularity in Europe in the 60's through their appearances in the 1968 Eurovision contest. Heres a video of Luci singing within the Old City, and their Eurovision appearance (Luci with flute).
* footnote*
weeks after meeting the drunken gynecologist, I stopped by the bar one afternoon to find Luci and a shoebox-sized brick of tobacco the doctor had left for me. Harvested by the doc's family in Bosnia, it cannot be legally sold in the Balkans; only received as a gift. After presenting me with the box, Luci had me watch the bar for a moment and returned with papers and his rolling machine. We smoked a few in the bar, which weeks later would become illegal after the April 9th indoor smoking ban in the country.
Even with 3 months of smoking like a European and sharing as many cigarettes as I did, I wasn't able to finish half the box before I left. I took a chance, and somehow brought it home in my checked luggage.
Ask me for a cigarette at the bar one of these days, chances are you can roll a gynecologist-approved Balkan smoke for yourself.
This is inside the 14th century Franciscan Monastery, near the Pile (pe-lay) gates in the old city. They still have a working old world pharmacy founded in 1317, which you can see in the background of the drawing below. We spent a very wet afternoon sketching here last week, but under the arches we had a great view of the inner courtyard while keeping dry. Every so often one on the grapefruits would fall off the tree in front of me and roll down to the inner cloister.
A Gallery Space and Bar situated in the 14th century quarantines below the city. This is where the 7 visiting art students, including myself, will hopefully be having a show in may. Its an awesome space!
