Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Red Roofs and Mortar Shells in Dubrovnik
I was ready for a little culture shock. Flying from France to Dubrovnik, I
got it. I passed through the mammoth, l oodlit walls of Dubrovnik's Old
Town and hiked up a steep, tourist-free back lane to my boutique pension
perched at the top of Europe's i nest fortii ed port city. Upon reaching my
favorite Dubrovnik B&B—a bombed-out ruin until a few years ago—I was
greeted by Pero Carević.
Pero uncorked a bottle of
orahovica
(the local grappa-like i rewater) and
told me his story. He got a monthly retirement check for being wounded in
the war, but was bored and didn't
want to live on the tiny government
stipend—so he went to work and
turned the remains of his Old Town
home into a i ne guest house.
Hoping to write that evening
with a clear head, I tried to refuse
Pero's drink. But this is a Slavic land.
Remembering times when I was
force-fed vodka in Russia by new
friends, I knew it was hopeless. Pero
made this hooch himself, with green walnuts. As he slugged down a shot, he
handed me a glass, wheezing, “Walnut grappa—it recovers your energy.”
Pero, whose war injury will be with him for the rest of his life, held up the
mangled tail of a mortar shell he pulled out from under his kitchen counter
and described how the gorgeous stone and knotty-wood building he grew
up in suf ered a direct hit in the 1991 siege of Dubrovnik. He put the mortar
in my hands. Just as I don't enjoy holding a gun, I didn't enjoy touching the
twisted remains of that mortar.
I took Pero's photograph. He held the mortar...and smiled. I didn't want
him to hold the mortar and smile...but that's what he did. He seemed deter-
mined to smile—as if it signii ed a personal victory over the destruction the
mortar had wrought. It's impressive how people can weather tragedy, rebuild,
and move on. In spite of the terrors of war just a couple of decades ago, life here
was once again very good and, according to Pero's smile, i lled with promise.
From Pero's perch, high above Dubrovnik's rooftops, I studied the count-
less buildings lassoed within its stout walls. h e city is a patchwork of old-
fashioned red-tiled roofs. Pero explained that the random arrangement of
Showing me the mortar that destroyed his
home, Pero smiled.
