Wednesday 10 September
We were dead tired by 9 pm last night, but that doesn't stop Stéphane waking up at 2:30 am, followed by Cassandre at 4. Clémence holds out a little better but surfaces at 5, full of beans. Her uncontrollable meltdown of the day before is of course over, and she's all cuddles today. We've asked for breakfast at 9, but we're already very hungry and have nothing to eat. Stéphane puts the trailer back together and we get dressed to face the light drizzle covering the Croatian sky. The first bakery is a twenty-minute walk away, but it does us a world of good after yesterday's crazy day. The fresh air brings colour back to our faces.
We're back at the flat, run by an elderly couple, at around 8 am. We knock on the door to let the lady know we're up and that she can bring breakfast earlier if it suits her. We start the trickiest part of any trip by plane: putting the bikes back together. It's always stressful because we know how roughly luggage can be handled on planes, and we didn't really have time to protect our bikes the way we wanted.
Reassembly is quick; only one of the Touring's lights is broken, and it didn't work anyway. Breakfast arrives, we eat a hearty meal, and even though we take our time, it's barely 10 when we set off. The small town where Zagreb airport stretches its runways is called Velika Gorica, about fifteen kilometres from the capital. It's not unpleasant by bike, but there's no consistency in the route and no signposting. Sometimes we ride on a dedicated path, sometimes on the pavement, sometimes on the road. You can feel efforts are being made, in a haphazard way, and we see a few cyclists.
The weather is gloomy, around twenty degrees, with fine rain falling on our helmets, but it's a welcome change after four months of suffocating heat. We park right in the centre of Zagreb and start a little tour. Unfortunately the cathedral is under renovation and the view of it is completely obstructed. We push on to Dolac market, then have a coffee under cover. Everyone speaks very good English, and it's strange to be able to say more than one sentence to communicate. We still feel oddly out of place: everything is so familiar, yet we've lost lots of habits. In Korea there are almost never waiters; we ordered at a kiosk or directly at the counter, and we're no longer quite sure how it works. We soon find our bearings again and head out to meet our Airbnb host at 1 pm.
The flat is ready much earlier than we'd imagined, so we cross three kilometres of the city. It looks like one big suburb, and there aren't many sights outside the centre. We thought Clémence would nap after waking up so early, but she refuses to sleep after lunch. We settle for quiet time, then go to a nearby playground. Here, familiar European landmarks are back: the place is dirty and covered in graffiti, and teenage girls are hanging out on the climbing frame. A little further on, a group of hooded youths is smoking cannabis, and we can smell it. Dogs roam freely. A good way to gently readjust to what awaits us in France. The rest of the day goes quickly; we pick up a few groceries for dinner and we're asleep before the usual TV-film hour.
Thursday 11 September
We had hesitated for a long time before booking several days in Zagreb, but we'd decided to play it safe. Better to allow for excessive fatigue or any problem with the bikes. So we have a whole day to visit a city that doesn't have many tourist sights. We're up early again, around 5 am, and already on our bikes by 8. We ride back the way we came yesterday, park in the same spot and set off on foot.
At the top of charming Opatovina street, we discover a park with a big playground, which helps us pass a bit of time and entertain Clémence, who has well deserved it. Our steps then lead us to Ivana Tkalčića street, a well-known shopping street. The heart of the city is very cute but tiny. It also has cars and delivery lorries driving through, which sometimes makes the experience nerve-racking. We head back down for a coffee at a place a friend recommended. We still struggle to think in euros and keep converting to won in our heads. The cost of living seems reasonable, as the bakery where we buy lunch confirms: lots of things there cost under a euro.
After covering the very centre from end to end (and you soon get round it), we hurry back to the flat because we see a huge black cloud approaching fast. We narrowly avoid it and stay dry while we rest for two hours before heading to the city's big park: Bundek Park. Stéphane runs there, Clémence and Cassandre ride. It's a huge green space, one of the lungs of a city concreted on all sides. Locals know it well, and many are out running and cycling. There are several playgrounds, and Croatian children don't need to be asked twice. On the way back, we can't help noticing that the traffic never lets up; the streets are packed at all hours. We stop at a bakery once more to top up last night's leftovers. It's already 7 pm and our body clocks are telling us we'll need to think about sleep soon.
Friday 12 September
Jet lag still has us waking up early, but it's not unpleasant. The days are longer and we can do more. After stretching the morning out as far as possible, we're on the road by 9 am. We're getting experienced on our bikes and already know that getting out of cities is complicated. On the official maps, the cycle route to Slovenia doesn't even start until Zagreb's outer suburbs, and we can't wait to reach it, as the first part is just one pavement after another.
But we're quickly disillusioned when we reach the start of the cycle route, branded a "national route" in Croatia. By way of a path, there's only the road, and it's generally very busy. Croatians aren't patient drivers, let alone careful ones. Cars and lorries pass close to us well above the speed limit, which has us cursing the policymakers. Who decides to call this a cycle route? Why would you give this road the title of cycle route when it's just an ordinary road like any other?
We're quite glad to reach Samobor, a charming little town near the Slovenian border. We try the local speciality there: kremšnita, a custard cream cake. Apart from the semi-pedestrian centre and its pretty buildings, the town doesn't have much to offer, and we go looking for a playground for Clémence. We find one a few kilometres further on, in the middle of a small housing estate. Here too, some toys are left out for children so that everyone can enjoy them. There's a little football pitch with balls available, which we make the most of. Would toys and balls survive a single night in France? Allow us to doubt it.
A few kilometres on, we sit down on a bakery terrace for lunch alongside a huge group of teenagers out of the secondary school just opposite. It's always strange to be in a foreign country whose language you don't speak, because you're purely a spectator of the interactions. You only skim the surface of a society whose codes you don't know, and you're almost invisible. Riding on a little further, we realise we've crossed the border between Croatia and Slovenia. We're disappointed, because we wanted a photo of the sign, but there wasn't one on our road. Borders are becoming imaginary lines on maps.
Still, we clearly feel the change of country. The road is in much better condition, the houses are grander, the villages cleaner and the drivers more respectful. We arrive in Brežice, the first town on the Slovenian side. It isn't hugely interesting; there's just a pretty castle and a handsome water tower. There's also a very popular frozen-yoghurt shop, so we stop there for a snack. We enjoy a break in the mild September sun before setting off to face the rest of the road. We get a nasty surprise, as a big chunk of the route is on a stony track that's hardly suitable for bikes. We struggle to reach Krško, the last town where we can do some shopping before tonight's inn.
Blanca is a tiny dot on the map, a minuscule hamlet. Hotel Trimček is a small youth hostel where we've booked a double room. There's a little playground and a five-a-side pitch where some Slovenians are playing a hard-fought match. After showering, we watch them while eating a well-earned pizza. We'll need our strength, as tomorrow's stage promises a lot of climbing.
On the road