Among those customs is the annual "slaughter". Towards the end of November folks in villages throughout Croatia slaughter their livestock to store meat for the winter. This is a bad time to be a pig - the favoured meat- in Croatia. In fact, Croatians like their swine so much I can't even keep track of all the names they have for pork; names based on age, weight, whether the pig had given birth once or not and so on. Similarly, for beef, poultry and on down the meat scale. A familiar grisly sight as you travel along the roadways is an animal hanging by its hind legs. Here for example is my cousin Karmela's husband, Zvonko, hosing down a hog as we prepare to chop it up. I have long ago gotten over my squeamishness over carving up a carcass, but I still cannot witness the hammer blow to the skull and subsequent slitting of the throat. Maggie and I hide and hum with our fingers firmly plugging our ears to block out any possible squealing. With that over with, it's down to the business of butchery. The slaughter traditionally occurs at this time of the year because then, once the sausages and various cuts of meat are salted, smoked and hung to dry, there is sufficient time for the meat to be ready for feasting during the Christmas holidays. And here the feasting is intense; the meals are large, fatty and delicious. Raw vegetables are largely shunned, with pickled and cooked, starchy vegetables preferred. Most of us in North America have forgotten the taste of cooking with lard instead of oil. I dread getting the results of my next blood test and probably only have a few months to live. But I will die happy ... and fatter.
Croatians are mostly catholic (90% of the population according to the last census) and religious, so the Christmas holidays begin with Advent, approximately four weeks before Christmas day, and end with Three Kings day on the 6th of January. In between are the feasting and fireworks.
Folks here spend a relatively large amount of money on fireworks. I never bought fireworks before but as a child I remember having "lady finger" firecrackers, which were tiny things, and "block busters", which it seemed were much bigger. "Big" here is a quarter stick of dynamite for which you have to show identification in order to buy it. Perhaps this is because you could probably blow up a bank safe with one or two sticks. It was a little shocking to see 4 year-old children given a lit stick of dynamite and encouraged to "hurry up and throw it". Several fireworks related accidents are reported each year with safety standards being less stringent here and drinking more vigorous than I recall them being back in Canada.
The weather here is mostly overcast, foggy, damp, not too cold, and doesn't favor doing things outdoors, so I spent many days indoors. Not Maggie, however, she continued her fitness activities and running through and around the village, much to the amusement of the locals. Folks in the country here are generally outdoors because they have to work and not because they are trying to stay in shape.
Pretty much everything and everyone has a patron saint and each one has his own special day in the year. One of the most important ones is the patron saint of wine, St. Vinko. On that day, celebrations occur in vineyards throughout Croatia. As you might suspect, a fair deal of wine is drunk and some small amount is poured on the vines to ensure the success of the following year's crop. I had the good fortune to attend the festivities at a vineyard near my cousin Branko's. There, along with the wine, we feasted - again - on wild pig, smoked meats and sausages; songs were sung and backs were slapped. I did snap some pictures but they are all very blurry. At the time I thought it was my vision.
Occasionally I take the dog, Aron, for a walk beyond the edge of the village and let him run free in the fields. Aron is a Samoyed and loves to run. He also loves to kill small animals like the neighbour's chickens and barn rats. There is an abundance of deer roaming the fields around the village due to the lack of predators and good grazing, and it isn't unusual to see at least a half dozen at any given time. When Aron sees them he chases them until he is exhausted and doesn't even come close to catching one. The last time, however, he found one deer alone and hiding in the brush. He flushed it out and began to run after it. To the horror of myself and my two little cousins - Dora aged 11 and Domi aged 4 - Aron brought down the deer and began to bite it with the intent to kill. I left the children screaming on the road as I hurtled across the field, at risk of breaking my leg on the rough, semi-frozen ground, to rescue the deer from being torn apart. I covered the 100 meters in record time and pulled Aron off the deer, which by this time was in shock but thus far unhurt. As I carried Aron away, he hung limply in my arms, and the deer recovered and stumbled off. When we returned to the traumatized children, I put Aron back on the leash and watched the deer lay down again in the brush farther away from road. It must have been ill, since, had it been healthy, it would not have been alone and Aron would not have been able to catch it. I later returned with Branko to check on the deer, but it ran off when I approached. Perhaps I don't have as much to fear from the fatty foods as I thought, since I didn't suffer a heart-attack during the episode.
Quickly approaching is the time for us to launch H2OBO again and continue our cruising northward along the Dalmatian coast. It will be a shock to my system getting back to doing some work on the boat and waking up at sunrise again, but it will be a pleasant change just as life in the village was a pleasant change from cruising when we arrived here back in October.
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