Girls of the Adriatic Coast

Sooner or later, the Western world was bound to find out about the many-splendored young things crowding the eastern shore of the Adriatic Sea. But why wait for word of mouth when you've got an eyewitness? And we have one--Staff Photographer Pompeo Posar, born in Trieste and raised in Zagreb, Yugoslavia. Having found and photographed women from all over the world for our Girls of ... features, Pompeo turned his eye to the sites of his own youth for this one. In fact, the whole thing was his idea: He would combine the scenic landscapes of Yugoslavia's Adriatic (text continued on page 204)Adriatic Coast(continued from page 154) coast with the beauty of its women, both of which have missed being fully appreciated in the West. Posar combed the area for more than two months, selecting and cajoling its frequently somewhat shy lovelies to pose for the pictures on these pages. There was the girl who missed her photo shooting because her father had locked her in her room for staying out dancing too late the night before. There were others who made appointments but canceled at the last minute. But, in the main, Yugoslavian women showed they've come a long way from the dirndl and the babushka. That's not surprising: Female college enrollment has increased by more than 1500 percent since 1939. Virtually all careers are open to women, many of whom wear the same fashions as their Parisian or Roman counterparts. Indicative of those trends were the two girls Pompeo met who invented a new barter system at one of the open-air markets. Hitchhiking around and short on cash, the vagabonds made a deal with a geriatric fruit peddler. In exchange for an ample supply of fresh figs, they flashed their bare breasts at him. Women like those undo certain popular myths about what's lurking behind the iron curtain.

The greatest bane to the Yugoslavian travel industry has probably been Mel Brooks. Returning in 1969 from months spent in the Yugoslavian countryside making his film The Twelve Chairs, Brooks delivered talk-show jabs that became near-classic foreign-travel put-downs. "We couldn't get around much," he'd routinely say to Carson or whomever. "Tito had the car." His jokes didn't do much to enhance Yugoslavia's reputation among American tourists, who are timid enough about venturing behind the iron curtain. That is too bad, because there's much to see and do over there.

With miles of craggy beaches (popular with ladies from all over Europe) and cross-cultural artifacts dating back centuries, Yugoslavia measures up well against most other earthly versions of paradise, and you can get there via a simple direct flight to Zagreb, Ljubljana or Belgrade from Chicago or New York City aboard JAT-Yugoslav Airlines, the national carrier.

The Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia is far from a monolith, composed, as it is, of six republics, two autonomous provinces and the cultures of a dozen empires. English is not widely spoken, and there Posar had a clear advantage. In addition to English, French and Italian, he speaks the three main languages of Yugoslavia: Croatian, Serbian and Slovenian. At least 14 languages exist in that nation, which stretches from its borders with Italy, Austria, Hungary and Romania down the eastern coast of the Adriatic Sea to Albania, Greece and Bulgaria. That turf was at one time or another ruled and/or influenced by everyone from the ancient Celts to the relatively modern Ottomans; from the marauding Goths to the more stately Austro-Hungarians; and from Zeus and Jove to Mohammed and Christ. Monuments and ruins attributed to each of those former conquerors and spiritual influences are visible in virtually every part of the country, and the visitor is confronted with an inexhaustible pot-pourri of language, celebration, religion, costume and cuisine.

Yugoslavia as a nation is very much a creation of the 20th Century, and historic boundaries have not faded in the eyes of the local population. Just as U. S. citizens are apt to describe themselves as Californians, Texans or New Yorkers, Yugoslavs routinely describe themselves as Serbs, Slovenes or Croats. For a country of just under 99,000 square miles, slightly bigger than the state of Wyoming, the land itself is remarkably varied, ranging from the snowy Julian Alps to the warm Adriatic coast, with a host of islands, plus dense forests and a lush, fertile central plain. The interior is full of large, clear lakes and warm mineral springs.

Most travelers, however, head for the coast, which has become a sort of fledgling Riviera, right down to topless sunbathing, a growing fad all over, but especially in Porec. In the summer months, hotels and beaches along the Adriatic swarm with tourists from all over Europe. It's not a bad idea to hire a boat and cruise the beaches. On the shore, the wary traveler walks over bodies or not at all. Territorial types leave their blankets on the beach overnight to reserve a place for the next day's sunbathing. Quite remarkably, no one steals the blankets. The prime vacation season runs from June through August, when many Europeans take their monthlong leaves; the rest of the year, the resorts are deserted. Depending upon whether you want to meet someone or enjoy the sheer beauty of the scenery, choose your season--the weather's always good.

Getting around Yugoslavia, especially by car, can be an adventure in itself, since the roads and the Yugoslavian driving demeanor are considered crazy and dangerous even by their mad Italian neighbors (themselves no slouches in the confrontation style of driving). The major national highways have been improved considerably in recent years, however, and the Adriatic Highway (Jadranska Magistrala), which runs along the coast, is one of the most scenic routes on the entire Continent. Don't be surprised to be passed by Porsches and Mercedes driven by stylishly attired youths who tend to fancy the Western wares available in nearby Trieste.

As a matter of fact, one of the finest of all European driving tours winds down the coast beginning just south of Trieste and continues southeast along the Adriatic Sea. This coastal area is full of beach resorts, Roman ruins, steep bluffs, great cultural diversity and some of the best seafood anywhere. It's enough to make you wonder why socialist countries have been characterized in shades of gray.

Although most of the area is known as the Dalmatian coast, the first few miles after you leave Trieste are actually part of Slovenia. The next 600 miles mark the coast of Croatia, except for a ten-mile corridor ceded to Bosnia-Herzegovina. The southernmost coast down to the Albanian border is part of Montenegro. This coast line is one of the most irregular in Europe--about 400 miles as the crow flies, but nearly ten times that long when every bay and peninsula is included. And that doesn't count the more than 1000 offshore islands.

A tour down the coast begins at the Istrian peninsula, which juts out into the Adriatic roughly parallel to Venice on the other side of the Adriatic shore. The peninsula, in fact, saw its best days during its era as a Venetian outpost; that dominance by the merchant soldiers of Venice continued until the early 19th Century. The coast line of wooded limestone hills slopes down to a dramatically blue ocean, and the landscape is dotted with picturesque old fishing towns and modern holiday resorts, with a sprinkling of medieval reminders attesting to the long Venetian dominance. Istria's towns are well equipped for travelers, especially nudists. The second largest nudist colony in the world lies just a few miles from the Istrian town of Vrsar. Yugoslavia's Adriatic coast is, in fact, more or less the center of organized clothes leaving--called naturism by its most ardent adherents--for all of Europe. Germans, especially, head south for bare vacations. The nude resorts are in great supply and are open to everyone. Their heavy family orientation keeps hanky-panky at a, uh, bare minimum. Be advised, though, that virtually every seaside village has its own informal nude-bathing area.

The number-one tourist center of this part of Yugoslavia is Opatija, a notable seaside resort located where the south shore of the peninsula joins the mainland. It's a great place to meet fellow adventurers. Every evening, thousands of young tourists stroll the shore line, mixing and mingling. A good hangout is the café in the Adriatic Hotel, one of several fine hostelries. Grabbing a boat out of Opatija or neighboring Rijeka, you can head off to the sunny islands of Krk (pronounced Kirk, and also accessible by bridge from the mainland), Cres and Rab. Rab is one of the sunniest oases in Europe, boasting abundant foliage and a particularly mild climate. The main urban center on the island is a town also named Rab, which once was a Roman settlement. In midsummer, it becomes a very crowded beach resort, with tourist attractions including the Church of Saint John (built in the Seventh Century), a 14th Century palace and four striking bell towers that rise above the town. For devotees of indigenous atmosphere (rather than modern discos, restaurants and rock music), the island of Pag, just southeast of Rab, is as pretty as any of the trio of tourist islands noted above, but far less crowded. Its main claim to fame is its wonderfully tangy sheep-milk cheese (called Paski), which is sold at surprisingly high prices.

The real Dalmatian coast begins in Zadar, at the southernmost point of the Kvarner Bay area, and it's a typical Yugoslavian paradox. It's an ancient place, settled well before the First Century--with the requisite surviving buildings, gates and other relics of the Roman occupation. But Zadar is also a center of 20th Century activity, bustling with commerce and a substantial tourist industry. It has become the fulcrum for transportation to all of Yugoslavia, and there are ferry and hydrofoil services to just about any place off the coast. Commercial fishing is a major offshore industry, and Zadar is hardly a quiet place. The hotels are mostly high-rises and the beaches endure an overflowing population on the warmest summer days.

Unlike those of most other coastal areas of Europe (where the idea is to escape the tourist centers), Yugoslavia's best hotels thrive in the well-known resort areas. Generally, they tend to be less rigid than, say, Belgrade's Hotel Metropole, which, hewing to Eastern European tradition, won't allow guests to invite friends up to their rooms. So it's wise to set up headquarters in Opatija, Split, Hvar or one of the other tourist towns and rent a car to explore one of the hundreds of less-crowded coves.

Another way to get away from the crowd is to hire a water taxi (or make a deal with an enterprising fisherman) to take you to one of the uninhabited Kornati Islands for a day, a week or longer. With a tent, you can camp out under the stars as long as you like, uninterrupted except for the sounds of the gently lapping Adriatic. A word of warning: If you haven't rented your own boat, make sure you have firm arrangements for being picked up. And you'll have to take all your own supplies, including fresh water.

Continuing south along the coast, the next major stop is Sibenik, a city that dates from the Tenth Century, located at the estuary of the Krka River. The best view of the city is from the sea, and it's obligatory to take a tour of the port by boat. The view of Sibenik's white-domed medieval and Renaissance palaces is especially stunning from the harbor; and if you have time, make the excursion to Skradin to see the waterfalls of the Krka. One other worthwhile digression is the trip to the so-called museum town of Trogir, where the animals in the carvings and bas-reliefs on the Cathedral of Saint Lawrence are so vividly lifelike that you think they'll drool on you at any moment.

Farther along the coast, you'll find the city of Split, where you may want to drop a few comments about Hajduk, the local soccer team, of which residents are fiercely proud. In summer, the boardwalk at Split is a mass of people. You may choose to view them from Parisian-style sidewalk cafés or from restaurants located on boats in the harbor, where the world-class yachts come and go. Local literary and theater talent, of which there's a wealth, pours into the streets every summer to present plays and ballets, all open to the public for a minimal fee.

The Roman emperor Diocletian founded the city in the Fourth Century as his vacation home, and the dramatic palace and enclosed town he built around it now make up the old quarter of Split. But the new quarter is the real resort center, with a fair share of hotels, heated swimming pools and other manifestations of modern holiday life.

The road from Split to Dubrovnik is filled with shimmering blue coves, sandy and pebbled beaches, sheltered by pine trees and fringed by balmy offshore islands. The ideal place from which to observe these serene scenes is the hillside of one of the 5000-foot peaks towering over the seaside region. Known as the Makarska Riviera, this is the most lush and sunny part of the coast, and it's full of resort towns and simple fishing villages to provide a respite from the 20th Century pace.

The islands off this section of the coast are the main tourist attractions in this area. Their consistently warm, sunny climate, good beaches and vegetation make the islands of Brac, Hvar and Korcula, among others, musts on your itinerary. Brac is one of the more popular, with extensive pine woods (perfect for walking and hiking) covering its hillsides. There's a gem of a baroque church in the village of Bol, and a beautiful sand beach called Zlatni Rat (Golden Cape).

Hvar is a year-round resort, where lavender grows in wild profusion. You can walk over a hillock, seeing and smelling it all around you. You can pick it, tuck it behind her ear and, best of all, you can take it with you in a two-ounce bottle of lavender oil, for sale on the island for about four dollars. The island's main town, also called Hvar, has the oldest active theater in Europe, housed in a structure built in 1612. Hvar's hotel managers are so confident of their fine weather that they do not bill guests for any day that the temperature goes below freezing--and take 50 percent off the room rate when it rains for three hours or more.

The island of Korcula claims Marco Polo as a native son, and the town of Korcula has its own cathedral (constructed between the 13th and 16th centuries) containing paintings by both Tintoretto and Bassano. More out of the way is Mljet, very wild and densely forested, and considered by many the most beautiful of all these islands. It has only one small hotel but lots of private houses with rooms for rent. There's also a national park, a particular favorite of hikers and climbers, on the island.

Closer to Split lies the island of Solta, which is pretty much off the beaten path and, therefore, seldom crowded. Most accommodations are in boardinghouses, where you can get to know the island citizens and engage in discussions of peace, brotherhood and the American way.

The brightest gem of Yugoslavia, and perhaps of all the Adriatic, is the walled city of Dubrovnik, which retains much of the magnificence it enjoyed when, in the 15th Century, as the Free Republic of Dubrovnik, it rivaled that other notable city-state on the Adriatic, Venice.

The first thing to do in Dubrovnik is to amble around the city on top of its thick fortress walls. For the most part, the buildings surrounded by those walls are constructed on a huge scale, with rows of pillars and arches, imperious towers, gorgeous stone façades and impressive fortifications bristling with cannons. From the top of the walls, the roofs of the town look like a sea of orange tile; when you finally make your way through the streets, you will be pleasantly surprised by the frequency with which you'll find fountains, court-yards, gardens and beautiful bell towers. It's also not a bad idea to take the cable car to the hills above the city to see all the bright colors of the landscape from above. If you want to meet Europeans, there is no better place than Dubrovnik after six. The smart traveler's itinerary eventually leads there. Its ancient walls, pillars and arches promise romance.

Dubrovnik's summer festival takes place from mid-July to late August. Performers of symphonic and chamber music, opera, ballet, drama and folkloric pageants play in the palaces, gardens and courtyards. Otherwise, Dubrovnik's night life can be bohemian, cosmopolitan or just expensive, and frequently all three. There's a gambling casino in the city and several first-class restaurants at which to sample Continental favorites or the much-favored local fresh-water trout or lamb roasted on a spit. If you're game for a short nighttime drive, make it to the Orsan restaurant just north of the city; it's in a converted old stone peasant house and is just about the best restaurant in the country. The seafood served there is world-famous.

During the day, you can take a launch to the nearby island of Lokrum. Round trip costs about $1.10, which may turn out to be the best investment of your life. On one end of Lokrum is an unofficial nude sun-bathing area where, experts agree, you'll find the most enchanting women in all of Europe, and, generally speaking, they come from all over Europe. After a day in the sun, you and your new friend or friends can return to the city, where, in the evening, everyone strolls, musing over the historic surroundings.

Although Dubrovnik is the highlight of any trip down the Dalmatian coast, you may feel like completing the coastal journey by driving all the way to the Albanian border. Cavtat, just south of Dubrovnik, has some worthwhile Greek and Roman ruins and one of the swankiest hotels on the Adriatic. The main appeal of this journey, however, is the chance to stop along the way at whatever small beach attracts your interest, and there is a small resort at Tivat that's worth poking into. The town of Budva, which, unfortunately, was badly damaged by a 1979 earthquake, still boasts Greek and Roman ruins and long, sandy beaches.

But of all the attractions of this southern end of Yugoslavia's Adriatic coast, the most compelling is Sveti Stefan, a tiny medieval village on an island that's connected to the mainland by a narrow causeway. Virtually the entire island's housing has been converted into accommodations for visitors and, compared with other Yugoslavian hotels, these tend to get pricy. But the environment is well worth the extra dinars.

Whether it's romance, sun or Roman ruins you're looking for, you stand a good chance of finding all three along the Yugoslavian coast of the Adriatic. Americans are very welcome there; visas, a mere administrative detail, are promptly available at the borders. If you have a hankering to go there, contact the Yugoslav National Tourist Office, 630 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10111. Phone 212-757-2801.

"In exchange for an ample supply of fresh figs, they flashed their bare breasts at him."