As it was another hitchhiking day and lifts are hard to get in Yugoslavia up at 6 a.m. for a swim at a spectacular beach. I suspect this will be my last ocean swim for 1973. The lineup at the store to buy breakfast supplies was long even for food challenged Yugoslavs. I got a ride after a two hour wait with a real fussbudget but he provided lunch of good old Fructal juice and Dalmatian smoked ham on fresh bread. I am hooked on this smoked ham. Why oh why did not I discover this Croatian delight earlier. We continued on despite ten near crashes. He left me outside Sibernik. 4 hours waiting in the blazing sun for my next lift to Zadar where I pitched tent and was invited by two Frenchman for a plate of hot beans for dinner.
RKS Wine: This Evodia is a Bit of a Mystery
A bit strange that this is a Spanish wine that is “elaborated and bottled” for Altovinum in Perpignan, France. And the label has no classification of what category of wine this is. It strikes me as a French hypermarché wine. The Liquor Board of Ontario Vintages catalogue states it is made by a Spanish co-operative but that marker does not appear on the label. One of life’s mysteries.
On the aromatic side of this 100% Grenache wine there is rich black cherry, cacao powder, kirsch and some brooding almost overripe strawberry. Laid back tannins make this an approachable sipper. Ripples of blackberry, red plum and a hint of black pepper. A perfect harmony of fruit and acids. Supermarket or not this is a very good wine which performs very well at its discount bin price.
Light enough to be sipped on the waterfront of Cannes or Marseille on a hot summer afternoon or if that is geographically challenging anywhere in the world where summer takes you. I often try and match a wine with food especially if it requires it. This wine is perhaps enjoyed on its own. Grenache is often more powerful but it could be that grapes grown at 2,400-3,000 feet on 100-year-old vines tame the wine and make it so amiable. An example how a wine can hide its 15% alcohol.
As summer will be arriving shortly in North America and Europe a good hot weather red wine due to its low tannic nature and its smoothness and its versatility for poultry, lamb, beef and grilled octopus. Great for entertaining with nibbles year-round. It will not improve in the bottle so best to consume by the end of the year.
(Evodia 2019 Grenache, Catalunya, Spain, $14.95, Liquor Control Board of Ontario # 23914, 15%, Robert K. Stephen A Little Birdie Told Me So Rating 91/100).
If you draw comfort from a Robert Parker rating he clocks in at 90.
“Travels to a Different Time” : 5/6August1973: Dubrovnik and Drevnik Yugoslavia: My Thoughts about Germans: Is it Time for Forgiveness?
August 5th: Up early and avoided the barking of the beanshaved man and plaintive complaining of the maid. A breakfast of Fructal cherry nectar, orange jam and bread. Read until noon and off to the beach until three. Met a guy from Vancouver and since I had no food left ate at the hostel cafeteria. Walked around with the Vancouver guy and he had 4 ice creams to my two. Stopped in for a beer and headed back to the hostel.
August 6th: As will be on the move enjoyed a long hot shower which I think deleted the meagre hot water supply. Went to the store to buy food for a huge breakfast. Sometimes you just don’t know when you will eat again. Hitchhiking sucks in Yugoslavia so after a couple of hours picked up by a bunch of young Germans in a VW van. We got along so well they asked me to go to Hvar with them but as I have already been there I stuck to my mission to get to Bled again and then up towards Germany. They left me off at the ferry and I hitched further north with a guy from Alsace and we both had tents so set up tents at a campground and went to a spectacular beach for a swim. We had a beer before heading back to the campground and he prepared supper which was quite good.
I have been thinking about how I see Germans. I was born ten years after the Second World War ended. My uncle was shot down in France and killed by German pilot. My Dad flew in the Battle of Britain and many flyer friends of his were killed in combat. Do I have anything to forgive? I am not sure but I will say generally speaking Germans of my vintage are friendly and I get along well with them just like the Germans that just picked me up. They had nothing to do with the war so there is nothing to forgive. Some of the older generation are not so friendly but then again how many of their friends and relatives were killed in the war. Assuming I have some right to forgive I might say I can forget and co-exist but forgive not yet. I remember the German POW I met last year very close to where I am now. He was forced to join the army. Let’s just say life can be more complicated than you think or are required to think. Having been recently in Greece and now in Yugoslavia the German army committed many atrocities which must be fresh on their minds. They have more to forgive than I.
RKS Poetry: Putin Feces
“Putin Feces”
A sadly isolated Putin
sits lonely and disconnected with dreams
of glory of an irrelevant Russia of the past
bombing to pulverize Ukrainians to pieces
leaving Russian historians to analyze your feces
hoping your turds will be in a mausoleum with your beloved Stalin
too bad the oligarchs and their greed did you in
as you ride the horses bare chested
in the river of Hades
Robert K. Stephen
Photo Alexi Nikolsky/AfB Getty Images
RKS Wine: Bargain Basement Cistus from Portugal’s Douro
If you follow Portuguese wines price is not necessarily linked to quality. You can score some ageable and high-quality wines under $15. And they keep sneaking into Ontario at the Liquor Control Board of Ontario. Yes one does like to support the local wine industry but given the low cost winners from Portugal do you vote for quality or nationalism?
The 2019 Cistus is $12.95 and it is from the Douro stubbornly clinging to mostly indigenous grapes resulting in stubborningly high quality wines. The wine is a blend of Touriga Nacional, Tinta Roriz, Touriga Franca and Tinta Barroca.
On the nose raspberry, blackberry, blueberry and dark chocolate all held quite close to the chest. I think it is fresh baked raspberry pie that dominates the inner nose of this wine. On the palate you are facing a full-bodied wine that is tightly structured. A broad-based attack of blueberry a hallmark of Tinta Roriz. Pussycat tannins. A moderately long finish you might think but it fades ever so slowly so I change my mind and say a long finish! Fermented in stainless steel which permits the blueberry to shine and 20% of the wine was matured in oak barrels. Although this would suit beef it might very well suit a vegetarian Greek bean soup you can find the recipe for here https://miakouppa.com/2017/11/13/fasolatha-with-tomato-%cf%86%ce%b1%cf%83%ce%bf%ce%bb%ce%ac%ce%b4%ce%b1-%ce%bc%ce%b5-%ce%bd%cf%84%ce%bf%ce%bc%ce%ac%cf%84%ce%b1/
Drink by the end of 2023.
(Cistus 2019 DOC Douro, Quinta do Vale da Perdiz, Torre de Moncorvo, Portugal, $12.95, LCBO # 22146, 750 mL, 14%, Robert K. Stephen A Little Birdie Told Me So Rating 87/100).
“Travels to a Different Time” : 4August1973; Dubrovnik: Youth Hostels as Ghettos: Walletmania
Woken up from a deep sleep by a militaristic bean shaven man, quite like his counterpart in the youth hostel in Sofia, Bulgaria. They must be from the same gene pool. He was shouting for everyone to get up but no one paid attention to him and rolled over back to sleep. But he was back 20 minutes later in a fury. Then the maid came in and started babbling and whining which was enough to rouse everyone and avoid her plaintive pleas. I went out after 10 to buy some grapes and reached for a wallet that was not there. It is bad enough misplacing your wallet at home but in a foreign country it is almost guaranteed to give you a panic attack. I roared back to the youth hostel and luckily it was there. Fatigue dullens you!
As for youth hostels I do not like being woken up and ejected for most part of the day. That’s not the way I have been travelling in Europe. Plus you are stuck with gringos of a certain age as opposed to a sprinkling of different ages. And most of the people saying there are bright eyed and bushy tailed rookie travellers clutching Europe on $5 and $10 dollars a day and their Eurail pass. A type of ghetto is what a youth hostel can be. A institutionalized prison no self respecting hippie would stay at. Well I headed back and bought a kilo of grapes, bread and sliced meat. I returned to the youth hostel and met an American guy and we went out bought supplies for our supper consisting of sparkling wine, meat, bread and green peppers. Had a good dinner conversation finishing off the wine and I went to the disco with my Norwegian friend. We met a Yugoslavian girl called Rada there and we were back at the hostel at 1 a.m.
“Travels to a Different Time”: 3August1973: Titograd, Kotor and Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia and a Trail of Blood: 34 Hours Without Sleep
What a nightmare bus trip some 7 hours from Skopje to Titograd. I had a hell of a seat at the back of the bus over a hot motor and I was banging to and fro like a ping pong ball. Finally sleep derived and famished I arrived in Titograd and stubbed my toe badly getting off the bus leaving a trail of blood with people staring at me. I bandaged it as good as I could. And I just missed the bus to Dubrovnik! No luck in finding a hotel in Titograd as it has an oceanfront and is a popular tourist destination. No luck just added to my fatigue and then the blood-soaked bandage started unravelling so I had to tape it up. It looked as if my toe was broken. I just recalled on our trip with Fritz on the Russian ship a man who mentioned Kotor was a beautiful spot so I booked a ticket and limped on the bus. At this point no sleep in more than 24 hours. In Kotor I managed to find an expensive room and at the price asked to see the room which was a hole in the wall. I limped out to the highway and snagged a lift to Dubrovnik with a French couple. Finally at Dubrovnik I reluctantly checked into a youth hostel. I went for a swim with a Norwegian dude and bought some food for a meal on the way home. I think I was in bed at 4. p.m. I must have been dead to the world after 34 hours of no sleep as there was a wild party in our room and I slept through it.
“Travels to a Different Time” : 2August1973: All Over Bulgaria and Yugoslavia: 30 Years in Bulgarian Prison For Smuggling Turkish Hashish
I hopefully have a few decades of travelling ahead of me but my 30 years sentence for smuggling Turkish hashish out of Bulgaria could make that wish a bit of problematic. I was up at 6 a.m.in Sofia taking the tram as close to the highway as I could go. Right tram wrong direction. What the hell might have continued south to Thessaloniki in Greece. But back on the tram in the right direction. With my back aching a long walk to the autoroute and snagged a lift with some Austrians to the Bulgarian border. Now parents and kids listen close. It is stupid trying to smuggle dope through any border particularly through the Bulgarian border. The Bulgarian border guard stamped my passport and I thought I had made it! But with an evil glint in his eye he stopped me and did a through pat down even checking my money pouch. He then looked at me in the eyes after he found the Italian stiletto in my back pocket and said, “Turkish Hashish?” Pardon my grammar but there were multiple “FUCKS” screaming in my head. Badly shaken I looked him in the eye and said, “NO TURKISH HASHISH”. He stared me down the idiot I was for not hiding my long hair in a ponytail and putting it under my collar. He waved me on to the Yugoslavian border. I walked quickly through the Yugoslav frontier. I walked into Yugoslavia shaking and felt like puking. I could have been easily planted with hash and carted away to prison for a very long time. I doubt that Bulgarian prisons are much to look forward to. I sat at the side of the road in the sun at a petrol station in a fog and a guy came up to me saying he was Canadian and saw a Canadian flag on my knapsack. I told him my story and he said I looked like I was badly shaken and that I needed a drink so we stopped for a lunch and the two beers were just what the doctor ordered. Was that border guard just having some fun? Was someone up there looking out for me? He left me off at Skopje and I booked a bus ticket to Titograd.
“Travels to a Different Time” : 31July1973: Slanchev Byrag and Sofia, Bulgaria: Naked Long Hair in Bulgarian Bathhouse: Woken up by Bean Shaved Bulgarian Drill Sargant: Is Greasy Goulash in My Future? : My Brilliant Career as a Black Marketeer
Time to split from the pathetic Black Sea back to Sofia so up at 6 a.m. and started with a lift from a Bulgarian guy in a blue car who also picked up two girl hitchhikers. He dropped us off at Tarnovo and bought us a pastry. I let the girls go ahead so it would be easier for 2 as opposed to three to get a lift. Got picked up by a father and son and they were going all the way to Sofia. Again such generous people buying me lunch on the way and refusing payment for it. Upon arrival they gave me direction to the youth hostel filled with good communist youth. A Zealie girl overheard me asking about shower facilities of which there were none. You must be joking. Not even a bloody cold shower. Are we to live like pigs? Zealie said you must go to a public bath house. Check in, strip down, get a towel and be the object of stares like some caveman with long hair. Being grubbed out I had no choice but it was a bit embarrassing. Perhaps being naked wasn’t such a bad idea as with this long hair and a covering I might have been easily mistaken for a girl. What a great cleanse and I felt like a human being after days without a hot shower. Returned to the youth hostel hungry and full of energy and went out to buy dinner which was bread, green pepper, cucumber and peach nectar. Told an Austrian guy about the bath house. He looked a bit shocked as I suppose I was.
1August1973: Sofia: Woken Up Militaristic Fashion! Meeting Mr. Black Market Again
The Austrian guy and I headed out to discover Sofia after being woken at 8 a.m. up by a shaven bean head military character barking commands like we were at Marine training camp at Parris Island in North Carolina really pissing off all of us. Apparently while youth hostels are cheap they kick you out at some point so they can clean and only let you re-enter in the late afternoon. Remind me not to stay in this type of place again if possible. I am not in the military. I am surprised they don’t have us doing calisthenics to military music while saluting their president. Sofia is a tremendous city to walk in although a bit crumbly. Again, hundreds of people staring at us some with their mouths open. The girls like to giggle at us. Should I marry a buxom Bulgarian maiden and take her home as my wife? After walking around like maniacs I ran into the greasy money changer guy again and sold him two pairs of old jeans. I could have made a bigger profit but carrying them around any longer was not worth the effort. So who has become a black marketeer? The Austrian guy and I had a late lunch of chicken and a beer for under $2. Hungry again by 8 so had some salami and bread Russian sprats, apple juice and a green pepper. Joked around with my roommates and off to bed early. Heading to Dubrovnik in Yugoslavia for sun and surf and probably greasy goulash.
“Travels to a Different Time” : 27/28 July 1973: Sofia, Plodiv, Slanchev Bryag Bulgaria: Bulgarians in Track Suits: Bulgarian Black Sea Coast a Dud!
Up early and after a meagre breakfast and took a tram as far as I could towards the main highway but I still had a 3 km walk to make it there. Why is everyone staring at me? Have I forgot to zip up my fly? Perhaps I should join the local circus as a freak in a side show? Luckily I got a lift from an Hungarian to the outskirts of Plodiv where I found a camping ground. I set up my tent easily. There are many Bulgarian families here and almost all the men are wearing track suits. Are they all gym teachers? Being exhausted from all the walking I walked into a nearby town and had a big meal for 95 cents. Bulgaria is very cheap. I managed to find some New Zealanders to talk to. Western tourists are rare sights here.
28July1973: Up early to get to my Black Sea destination. No destination in mind just get me to the Black Sea. First ride with a Bulgarian in an old Renault that had a top speed of 30 kms an hour. The next lift was a van full of workers who found my long hair hilarious in a respectful way. The next ride was in the sidecar of a motorcycle with me holding on to my knapsack for dear life. I was only a bit terrified. I have never seen a motorcycle with a sidecar except in WW 2 movies and the Germans riding them usually get shot and crash! I arrived at the town of Stara Zarogoa and changed some money. I picked up bits here and there for a lunch and had lunch sitting in a beautiful park. I had to walk out of the town and after a WC break behind a tree was on the road with my thumb out. Picked up by a young maniac driver. We stopped at his friend’s house and had a nice lunch. That was very nice of them. They had many questions about the West and no they don’t hate rather they admire it thinking everyone there is rich. Reluctant communists. We continued our journey and I am lucky to be alive as we missed three collisions No joke. They let me off at a campground in Slanchev Bryag. I set up my tent being watched by the track suited crowd. I went for a swim in the Black Sea. The sand was like cement, the water cold and full of jellyfish. I had a freezing cold shower on the beach went home and had cucumbers, bread and Russian canned sprats for dinner then off to bed. Well my objective of seeing the Bulgarian Black Sea has been obtained and it is a dismal place at least the beach was. The town of Slanchev Bryag is quaint but the beach pathetic in comparison to those in Yugoslavia. More important than a beach are the people I have encountered. They may be Communists but are friendly and very curious. They have never seen a man with long hair. I spent a couple of days here but I just can’t warm up to the beach and ocean It is as about as depressing as Bulgarian communism. I do like Slanchev Bryag and it has potential for a tourist destination for people who have no idea of the superiority of Yugoslav and Greek beaches.
A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity 