Hopeful thoughts, that is what filled Nikola’s mind as he carefully reached for his fishing
net and hook from behind the kitchen door. He began his early morning walk, just as he did
every morning, to check his crab trap, in the Adriatic Sea. Today was special, a visitor from the
United States was expected for dinner, and Nikola wanted everything to be perfect, as perfect as
it could be for an 81 year old man living a quiet life by the sea.
Carefully and with a new found purpose, he descended the three flights of stairs from his
tentament apartment built to withstand the ravages of a revolution. His two-bedroom flat was a
simple place shared with his grown daughter, Ana. They shared the space and Ana kept watch
over Nikola. It was just enough room for the two of them and had been thoughtfully decorated
with family mementos of times gone by, that gave it warmth and character.
The briny air was crisp and clean. The weather this April had been rainy, but was clear
today. Each week was gradually beginning to show signs of warming. But now it was still cool,
with the sun having barely risen in the sky. He nestled his chin into the warmth of his woolen
sweater and stepped up the pace.
At the pier, Nikola lifted the chain attached to his crab trap, to see what might be on the
menu for the day. He had the assorted crustaceans, but seemed unsatisfied with the catch.
Wearing his waist high waders and water boots, with his fishing hook in hand, he
proceeded into the water. It was then his keen eyes saw the hole in the rocks. That looked like
the spot. Thrusting the hook into the hole, twisting and turning, a black ink began to spray out of
the orifice. When the cloudy haze cleared, he pulled out the hook, and with it an octopus. It was
a beauty. Eight long legs, interspersed with suction cups, that reached and grabbed in every
direction, having nothing but water to hold on to. A wonderful specimen was now in his
captivity. Well done. It will make an extraordinary addition to the sea stew for guests. Collecting
his catch, he began to plan the dinner as he headed home, to his oasis in the sky.
Days before, Kathy packed for her Croatian travels, wondering what the weather would
be in comparison to the gentle sunny days of Wilmington, North Carolina, and her home by the
ocean. She had spent months dreaming of this journey and was now anxiously awaiting the
celebration of her 70th birthday. So much to be thankful for, she thought. Her life had turned out
to be blessed in so many ways. She was healthy, had a loving partner and three incredible
children, all thriving and with children of their own. Should she be celebrating this major
milestone with her grandchildren? No, not this year. This year, she needed to connect with her
relatives by the sea, in a country thousands of miles away and reminisce of her father’s past and
the family he left behind. Croatia was the country both sets of Kathy’s grandparents called home.
She was feeling a pull to see the land of her father’s birth, and garner information to fill in the
missing data of her ancestry. A visit to her father’s birth home would provide context to the
stories handed down about the days of old. Kurt agreed and was thoughtfully checking the
Croatian weather to ensure they packed the proper clothing.
All the arrangements were made with Gate One tours handling the travel. There was a
full day and overnight stop in Split. The itinerary recommended taking in the beautiful Roman
Diocletian’s Palace, historic cathedrals, and harbor walk. Kathy’s itinerary included all that but
bypassed the tour dinner, which left the entire evening to meet with her Croatian relatives, 3rd cousin
Danijel, and 2nd cousin Nikola. Prior to the trip, she had connected via Facebook and email, with
Danijel, who was well versed in English. Nikola was her father’s brother’s grandson. He only
spoke Croatian. Kathy hoped that Danijel would serve as interpreter, to enable conversation and
share the past with Nikola.
Danijel spent his life on the sea following the traditional path of many Croatian men. His
job as maintenance mechanic for a sailboat charter is steady pay and provides a comfortable life
for his family. His home base was the Port of Trogir, a UNESCO World Heritage Site on the
Adriatic Coast. His wife Marijana, daughters Marta and Karmela, and son Luka, were proud of
Danijel’s skills and experience with yacht repairs and maintenance. They came from near and
far, asking for Danijel. Captains from Croatia, Greece and Italy, would venture their broken
vessels to Danijel’s port for repair. As summer approached, yachts of various sizes would be
hoisted from the water and Danijel would perform seasonal maintenance before returning them
back to the sea four or five days later. Today, he was finishing engine maintenance for a repeat
customer, KOKICA, a 55ft (17 meter) sailboat. KOKICA literally means “small chicken”,
however, in local slang it would translate into “a good-looking, young lady”. It was a well
maintained boat and Danijel was happy to be the marine mechanic for this beautiful vessel.
“Luka, grab the main line.”
“Yes father” was Luka’s only reply.
Danijel worked on the broken sea craft while his son looked on. Danijel was in complete
harmony with his life by the sea, having his son by his side. Today would be important for Luka.
He did not know it yet, but he was going to meet a distant cousin from the United States. Family
is special to the Kostovic’s. This was the first family from America that Luka was to meet. For
Danijel, it was reuniting with a family he had met before. In his twenties, he met Kathy’s son
Jon, who was his same age and backpacking around the world. It was fifteen years ago, but
Danijel remembered an enjoyable week spent with an adventurous cousin.
The flight was long and Kathy was filled with anticipation as she and Kurt landed in
Dubrovnik. The tour director, Borna, met them as planned, at baggage claim. Bags and tourists
were whisked away to a bus, for non-stop sightseeing.
From the southern tip to the northernmost towns of Croatia’s Adriatic coast, they filled
their days and nights walking the charming cobblestone streets and viewing the spectacular
shoreline of this stunning country. Kathy had only seen Croatia from a vacation brochure and in
photos passed down from her grandparents, Josif and Mary. In one, her grandmother Mary stood
beside her 2 year old son, John, near the stone wall surrounding their home. The setting looked
like a fairytale, a small cottage in a country forest. This little boy was Kathy’s father and the
home in Vinisce, Croatia, is still owned by the Kostovic family.
Scheduled to meet at their hotel lobby in Split that evening, Kathy clutched the precious
gifts for Danijel and Nikola. The gifts she chose were two painstakingly made photo albums, a
collection of family photos of her father’s life in the States. John had passed away six years ago
at the age of 94, after a healthy and full life. Kathy wanted to share his life in America, with his
extended family here in Croatia.
She knew them the minute they walked through the lobby doors. It was the eyes. They
had Kathy’s dark blue Croatian eyes. And when Danijel and Nikola saw her, those beautiful eyes
smiled with a genuine warmth you could feel radiate across the room. Accompanying Danijel
was his 8 year old son, Luka. This young child looked scared and excited to meet the stranger
called Kathy.
After introductions, they gathered and shared stories of John, Josif and Mary, and their
life in Vinisce, a small village up the coast from Split. “Let’s go for a walk and find a bite to
eat,” Kathy suggested. As they walked the town, a charming outdoor café on the waterfront
looked like the perfect venue for a relaxed conversation to accompany the food and drink. They
began to get to know each other and delighted in the conversations with new found family.
Kathy asked many questions, and Danijel patiently translated them into Croatian for
Nikola. His responses were translated back into English. This clarified meaning for Kathy, but it
was Nicola’s intonation and facial gestures that gave credence to his answers.
Nikola became very insistent that they come to his home for a “real meal”. The group
happily ventured off to the nearest local bus, to catch a ride to the stop closest to his apartment.
After a six block walk, they arrived at Nikola and Ana’s home, to the most incredible aroma of
spices and the sea. He had spent all day preparing the stew, to make sure the octopus was tender
and tasty. Nikola was typically wary of strangers, especially foreigners, but not tonight. Tonight,
he welcomed family. Daughter Ana, was eager to serve her appetizer, an assortment of
prosciutto, cheeses, and olives. It was so delicious. Nikola smiled as he broke bread and shared
octopus stew, so carefully made. The stew was a gastric delicacy. The spices were just right.
Probably a recipe of my grandmother, Kathy thought as she sipped the broth, inhaling the scent
of turmeric and cumin.
Following dinner, dishes were cleared and homemade ouzo was brought out for the group
to enjoy while toasting to their good fortunes. A happy and simple life, dining with new found
family, that was all Nikola had wished for. Danijel went to work translating Croatian stories of
Nicola’s life growing up on the Adriatic Sea with his father Stephan, John’s cousin. Kathy
unpacked over 90 years of her father’s life in the United States, filling in the gaps of what
happened to her grandfather, a humble fisherman and goat herder, after he emigrated to Ellis
Island: how Josif Svetin Kostovic, at age 40, became Josif Kostovich, a machinist, after listing it
as a skill upon entering Ellis Island, (having just been trained on a complex shoe making
machine in Croatia), how he sent for his wife and children a year later, upon setting up a home in
Chicago, how his son John grew up attending a Catholic grammar school and was State
Wrestling Champ at Tildon High School, how Josif suddenly passed away when John was 18,
how John entered the army during WWII and survived the D-day invasion and returned home to
marry his beloved Nada, how they had seven children together and stayed true to their
Catholicism, and how they lived their years in Chicago, Illinois, raising their own family of two
sons and five daughters. Generations had passed and Kathy’s father was no longer alive, but she
was certain that on this evening he was present, smiling with those beautiful dark blue Croatian
eyes.
The gifts were then handed to Danijel and Nikola. Photos to connect the dots of their
lives, filling the gaps for Nikola, Ana and Danijel, of a 3 year old boy leaving with his family for
better opportunity in America. Nikola insisted they stay the night, but circumstances with the
tour’s early morning departure prevented Kathy and Kurt from accepting. Nikola’s eyes began to
tear. Danijel looked taken aback, as he had only seen his uncle cry once before, at the death of
his dear wife, Mare. Nikola was clearly saddened at the departure of a family he had just met,
who had the mysterious ability of making him feeling closer to his departed cousin John, whom
he had never met. His tears were for the loss of his cousin John, and the joy of meeting John’s
family. A rebirth of old memories and the discovery of new family connections was more than
he could bear. He was certain he would never see Kathy and her family again.
As the wave of sadness swept the room, Kathy opened one of the photo albums to a
picture showing a handsome young man holding a newborn baby.
Kathy looked up into the eyes of Nikola, “this is my son, Jon. He and his wife just had a
baby boy.” Turning to Luka she said, ”the baby’s name is Luke.”
Luka’s beautiful dark blue Croatian eyes grew wide, as he grinned with delight. Nikola
cried. They all hugged in a circle of love. It was goodbye for now, to my family by the sea, but
definitely not for forever.
Unpublished work Copyright 2019 Maguire LLC