In Hans Christian Anderson’s tale The Emperor’s New Clothes, a gullible Emperor is tricked into believing that a new suit woven by two weavers has threads so fine that they cannot be seen by anyone who is “too stupid and incompetent to appreciate its quality”. There is of course no thread or suit at all, but rather than appear ignorant the Emperor pretends he can see it and praises the new suit’s magnificence. Even when the Emperor stands in his “suit” (ie. naked) before his courtiers, no one is willing to admit they can’t see the fabric for fear of ridicule, or worse. When the Emperor parades his new clothes through town all the people pretend they can see them too, none of them wanting to be thought a fool. It is only when a young boy – too young to understand why it was necessary to lie – calls out “the Emperor is naked” that the townsfolk start to admit that the Emperor has no clothes. The Emperor finally realises he has been tricked, but he continues his procession through town rather than admit his gullibility.

This fable has been around since 1837, and it has become a standard metaphor for “anything that smacks of pretentiousness, pomposity, social hypocrisy, collective denial or hollow ostentatiousness” (Wikipedia). I recalled this childhood tale while driving through Tuscany on our first big sightseeing day in that area, as I couldn’t reconcile the famous region’s glowing global reputation with what I saw before me. Where were the endless vistas of misty hills, filled with vines and crops and olive groves? Where were the gorgeous and rustically run-down farmhouses framed by verdant fields? There were snippets of all these things, here and there, but they were interrupted all too often by some visual scar of modernity that abruptly shattered the view. It hit me with a rush, and on serious (and extensive) consideration I was forced to admit there is only one answer: Tuscany is not anywhere near as beautiful as it’s cracked up to be. The Emperor has no clothes.

I should clarify from the start that I am only critiquing the aesthetic appeal of Tuscany, not its food or wine or people. Like Kristen I found the food here excellent, the budget wines great value and the people very friendly. But its inability to meet up to expectations of appearance is a pretty big fail for a region that trades so heavily its idyllic reputation. The reality of Tuscany today is that significant parts of it are urban, especially the extensive conurbations around Florence and Pisa. And by urban I don’t mean pretty stone-built villages, I mean urban as in blocky, modern and unappealing. In the countryside many otherwise pleasant vistas are marred by high tension power lines, elevated expressways, train lines, factories or quarries, and the Italian tendency for putting enormous roundabouts at every major road intersection doesn’t help.

Tuscany has been romanticised in English literature since the 19^th century, and particularly in the early 20^th century by E.M. Forster and D.H. Lawrence. Forster’s A Room With A View was turned into a very popular movie in the 1980s, and as she’s mentioned previously it was that film that set Kristen’s heart towards visiting Tuscany when she first saw it in her teens. More recently there has been the book and film Under The Tuscan Sun, and numerous books have been written in recent decades about expatriates moving to the region to start a new life.

One of my favourites of this genre is The Hills of Tuscany by Ferenc Mate. I first read it more than a decade ago, and was captivated by his evocative descriptions of the land and its people that he discovered while searching for a Tuscan farmhouse and setting up a new life in Italy in the late 1980s and early 1990s. I loved it so much that I’ve read it several times since when wanting to mentally escape to Italy, and I even brought it with me to read yet again on this year’s travels. I thought it would put me in the right frame of mind for our visit, and duly did read it a couple of months ago. Mate writes beautifully of the food, people, towns and countryside, and it’s easy to get swept away in his words.

And to be fair, we did see some beautiful parts of Tuscany on our big sweep of that first day. It’s clear that any enduring falsehood has to have some elements of truth about it to survive so long. From our campsite in the hills above Empoli we first headed south to the World Heritage Listed town of San Gimignano, and the hills immediately surrounding it are picture postcard perfection of the Tuscan dream. The town itself is delightful too, remaining charming and characterful despite being inundated by tourists. But the point is that it was only in the immediate surrounds of San Gimignano that the dream stayed alive. Literally a few hills away the vegetation turned to uninspiring scrub interspersed with occasional olive groves and farmhouses. We carried on to Volterra, an ancient town impressively positioned on a high hill with views to the horizon all around. But yet again the landscape nearby only had glimpses of prettiness, with ordinary scrubland being the norm. The roads we took around this area were marked on our map with green lines, supposedly indicating routes of particularly pleasing scenery, but for the most part we thought the views were simply green and not very scenic.

Our grand loop continued into Chianti, one of the most eulogised parts of Tuscany. While the towns were very nice the landscape was quite angular and again most views were fractured by roads, power lines or other blemishes. One of the main purposes of our trip that day, apart from seeing the area in the first place, was to scout out possible walking routes for the following days. We had purchased Lonely Planet’s guide to Hiking in Tuscany, and several of the most interesting routes were based around San Gimignano and Greve in Chianti. Our original intention was to spend up to a week in Tuscany with the main goal of spending most of those days walking through its beautiful vales. But the assessment of our scouting mission was frankly scathing: we didn’t think any of the walks were worth the effort, and though we ended up staying in Tuscany for about four days we spent most of that time hanging around the campsite deciding where else we could spend our precious days more enjoyably.

One of our main topics of conversation around that time was “why are we so different to everyone else?” Surely others must have been here and came to the same disappointing assessment as us? We considered whether we were simply being too harsh on the area, whether our extensive touring had jaded us to Tuscany’s charms because we’ve been to so many other beautiful areas of the world. But on reflection we decided the answer is “no”, it’s simply that Tuscany is not very beautiful! While there are pretty spots here and there, as noted above, it shouldn’t be so hard to find them in a region with this reputation. The fact is you have to travel through a lot of dross to get to the good bits, and that is not a feature of a desirable destination.

We gently voiced our opinions to some friends, and found surprisingly quick support for our point of view. Kristen’s brother Matt said he didn’t think much of Tuscany was very attractive, though he did highly rate pockets of the region such as Barga in the north (which we heartily agree with). Another friend was quite scathing in his review of Tuscany, and calling it “overrated” is a very polite way of phrasing his point of view. This support got us thinking, so I read more closely some of the texts I’d used prior to visiting Tuscany. I found a surprising degree of evidence supporting our negative assessment of the beauty of Tuscany, and from some surprising sources too.

Lonely Planet’s guide to hiking in Tuscany would, you would think, be full of glowing praise for the region. And while it is solidly positive about the area it does include the follow quotes:

Tuscany’s countryside is “less spectacular” than the cities of Florence and Siena … “the landscape here ranges from pretty pastoral to downright weird” … and that further south around San Gimignano the rolling hills of the region “could almost pass for rural France on a clear day, save for the Renaissance architecture and the odd stray Fiat 500” (p.193).

What’s that? Is it really saying that on a good day Tuscany just might look like rural France? Sounds like a glowing recommendation for Provence rather than an exhortation to explore Tuscany!

Even Ferenc Mate in The Hills of Tuscany tells an interesting tale, if you look closely enough. Much of the early section of the book is devoted to his search for the perfect Tuscan villa, and the numerous failed attempts he makes before finding The One. The reasons why some of the other properties aren’t up to scratch are illuminating (Chapter 7 is even entitled Houses of Horror):

A perfectly restored farmhouse in the foothills near Cortona fails because “less than a mile away, rfising from the bucolic Tuscan countryside, in the middle of that perfection, was a small hell in paradise. Poking its giant smokestack to the sky, with stainless steel bands that reflected the sun, was a giant fertiliser plant” (p.47)

Another house was passed because it had “a huge transmission tower bigger than Mr Eiffel’s right before its door” (p.60)

A third house was lovely, until from outside “there rose the steady roar of the hidden freeway below the hill” (p.61)

The fourth place was even better, with a beautiful house, fields and valley views. Until “the earth moved. The windows rattled and lamps jiggled and a jet sound shattered the air as if a bullet train were screaming under the garden at two hundred miles an hour. Which it was” (p.61)

His descriptions of the countryside are equally telling. While he and his wife eventually settle on what is apparently an especially beautiful part of Tuscany near Pienza (sadly we didn’t get to that area), he makes the following comments about some other parts of the region:

“The steep Chianti hills, much less soft and gentle than those near our cherished abbey, afforded only rarely the long, sea-of-hills vistas that we loved. Absent was that infinite, shimmering light that dissolves all matter before your eyes” (p.78)

Near Siena “the hills were mercilessly dry and empty here, then further south they steepened and there were only woods” (p.86)

In the Valdichiana valley “the olives, woods and vines gave way to vast fruit orchards and ploughed fields. Instead of hamlets there were enormous, blocky farmhouses made of brick” (p.45)

And these statements are from someone with an avowed love of Tuscany. It made me realise that the truth is out there, if you look hard enough. Perhaps if we came from an urbanised part of America, and hadn’t travelled much in the countryside anywhere, Tuscany’s flaws might be overlooked. But I don’t come from that sheltered upbringing, and so I agree entirely with Kristen view that Tuscany is trading on its romantic glories of the past that have little to do with today’s experience. On this trip we have travelled in summer through rural areas in Germany, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia and now France, and all of them offer more appealing countrysides than Tuscany. Especially France, which has been a longtime love of mine that I’d let fall from mind in recent years. Kristen summed it up best when she saw rural France for the first time last week:

“All this time I’d been imagining visiting Tuscany, when in fact what I was really dreaming of was Provence!”

It’s time to say it loud and clear: the Emperor has no clothes.

Italy, Italy, Italy. Oh how I have romanticised you from afar for so, so long. You have been the subject of many a European day dream. If I think about where this secret admiration began, I could probably trace it back to when I first watched the movie version of E.M Forster’s A Room With A View with my friends as a schoolgirl. Some of the scenes of Lucy and George in the Tuscan countryside are just gorgeous. The movie conjures up images of old farmhouses, fields of olive groves with flowers growing wild everywhere. And of course, one of my favourite parts of all, George, overcome by the beauty all around him, climbs up a tree to scream out his “creed”! Let’s face it, if I could find a suitable olive tree in a similar grove I had every intention of getting up it myself to scream out my own creed!

I have read before that Italy is apparently one of the most visited countries in the world. It certainly seemed to me to be the belle of the European ball by all accounts. Damien had not been to Italy himself so he was quite happy to make Italy the centrepiece of our European caravan extravaganza. This was not without us gradually and grudgingly realising that to fit Italy in meant sacrificing a number of other countries we really wanted to see. So many people I know have been to Italy and I have never heard a bad word said, so surely this was the right decision? I was very excited to be finally seeing Italy! Woo hoo!

It just sucked for us that the country we were in prior to Italy happened to be my poster girl, Slovenia. It is fair to say that I fell in love with Slovenia. What a magnificent country! We were both feeling the wrench to leave it. I would have loved to have spent many more weeks there. On our last day in Slovenia we wound our way through the narrow twisting streets of a town near the border crossing of Gorjansko. Once again I marvelled at the latest Slovenian take on perfect rustic charm.The town was full of old stone walls, low lying grape vines and beautifully modest but lovely country homes. I said to Damien, “This is just how I imagine Italy to be, I sure hope it is!”  “What if it isn’t?” I added somewhat nervously. Slovenia was a known entity and it had packed the biggest punch for such a little country. Could Italy live up to Slovenia?

Nonetheless, as we reached the border crossing we stopped to take a photo of me in front of the Slovenian sign, looking suitably remorseful but followed up by a jubilant shot of me in front of the Italia sign. We were on Italian soil! Let the adventure begin!

But as all secret admirers know too well, the art of secret admiration is that the object of your desire is almost always admired best from afar, safe from the fullness of truth. Thus, they remain unsullied from your knowledge of the terrible truth of their actual mediocrity or worse, that you discover they are simply unlikeable altogether! Secret admiration is based on a huge amount of subjectivity and not a great deal on actual first hand knowledge, ’cause let’s face it, if you could actually get to talk to, touch and interact with your source of secret admiration you would have done so a long time ago! So, from afar, you continue to wish, dream and create the most wonderful persona for the object of your affections. Should you actually get to meet them one day, you stand the very real risk that your dream will be irrevocably destroyed. The real just won’t live up to the imagined. Unfortunately for me, this cautionary tale was my reality with Italy.

I so wanted to love Italy as I had expected I would. As a result of that I spent a lot of time analysing why I felt the way I did and why it was seemingly different to the opinion of so many others. In fact, Damien and I spent a fair amount of our time devoted to dissecting this anomaly in our European adventure. We were both so eager not to be “those wankers” who came back and said they didn’t like large parts of Italy. Please! There must be an explanation!

So, yes, I have developed quite an elaborate analysis in my mind to cover all the myriad reasons why the majority of my Italian experience did not match up with all those of others that seem to have come before me. I have decided to divide my account of Italy into three parts as I think this allows me more adequately to give due respect and admiration where it is warranted. Thankfully, my experience had some serious highlights to counter what at times seemed to be overwhelming low lights.

THE PEOPLE

I have heard on occasion that Italians (especially of the Roman variety) can be aloof and not the easiest of people to deal with. Wrong. At least, from my experience. I time and time again met with truly lovely Italian people. I found Italians to be extremely friendly, helpful and some of the nicest folk I have met in my travels. Granted, Damien I and have one notable exception in a certain ticket collector in Viareggio. Put it this way, we have forever hence forth referred to him to that “c….” and we don’t mean “c” as in collector!

Anyway, as I was saying, Italians as a whole are a charming bunch and I have many fond memories. Some of my favourite were when we were in the city of Ferrara. It was a day where we just kept meeting really nice peeps! It started when Damien went into an optometrist to get his glasses fixed. The lady fixed them and didn’t charge us anything. Later on, I went into a fruit store to buy an apricot and when the guy realised I wanted to only buy one, he insisted that I just have it. Later Damien and I went our separate ways to do a few shopping errands we needed to do. I had to buy a new bra and went into a store and had the most fun and funny retail therapy ever!

I spoke to the lady in English with a couple of Italian (and French) words thrown in for good measure. And she spoke to me in Italian with a couple of English words thrown in for good measure. There was also a rather large amount of flamboyant gestures to go with! However, somehow we managed to get me the right type of bra that I was after, including, one that apparently made my boobs look good! This was a particularly amusing part of the transaction. I tried to ask her which bra looked best and she replied by gesticulating with her hands in a fashion that indicated very visually how it all looked, and finished up with a good ol’ boob grab for a final flourish to demonstrate how the bra enhanced my assets so to speak! Guess you had to be there, but it was funny at the time! To top it all off, I didn’t have the right money so I got a further discount on top of what I was already receiving. Bonus!

After not really enjoying any of Italy up until Ferrara, Damien and I had decided that we would stop and have a couple of Italian wines before we headed back to our camp site. The wine bar we stopped at proved to be the site of yet another encounter with a friendly local. The guy behind the bar sure knew his wines, and was genuinely interested in talking to us about them and sharing his love of the local Italian wines.

After the wine bar we then went to a little deli to buy some local meats and cheeses. As we chose our cuts the lady offered us delicious slices to sample. We then got waylaid by the local wine and beer in the fridge, to which the lady promptly cracked open a longneck of beer and next minute the three of us were sharing glasses of it. Now that’s what I call service with a smile! The beer was awesome so we bought a bottle of that as well as a bottle of the wine. I just really enjoyed the approach to service in Ferrara!

So as far as I am concerned, Italy comes up trumps in relation to the hospitality and joie de vivre that they go about most things they do.

THE FOOD

Well without even meaning to, I can see my love of Italian food was sneaking its way into my section about the people. I am happy to say that the vast majority of our food experiences in Italy were fantastic. Although we are now in France as I write this, we just enjoyed a delicious pasta of fresh pesto and reggiano parmesan that we bought yesterday at an Italian supermarket. When you can buy such outstanding quality ingredients as that just from the shops, you have to be pleased! Though, in fairness, it can’t compete with the pesto pasta that we dined on at the restaurant attached to our seaside campground, just west of Genova. That pesto was so fresh it tasted like it had just been picked from the bush! It was preceded with some crumbed and stuffed anchovies, another local specialty of Liguria. Delish!

One delicacy they do oh so well in Italy is sliced meats. We had a bit of a sliced meats-a-thon! In fact, on reflection, it’s seeming like a bit of a theme in Europa! Some of my favourite sliced meat moments were at the wine bar in Ferrara. I should mention that this is in fact the oldest wine bar in the world – dating back to 1435! Included in the cost of the wine we were treated to small platters of meats, cheeses and other delicacies. Our favourite being the salami de sugo, which I am pretty sure is a local speciality because as try as we might, we did not find it anywhere else in Italy. Another magic meaty moment was going to the butchery in Greve in Chianti. This butchery has been there for centuries and has a veritable selection of meats. We would love something of this standard down the road from us at home to visit for some dinner party meal preparation! We satisfied ourselves with some truffled salami, wild boar salami and diced speck. The speck made some ratatouille I cooked go from great to outright sensational. If I do say so myself! I might add, the said ratatouille was eaten on top of some delicious local Tuscan eggs with grated parmesan. The breakfast of champions I assure you!

As an aside, I have to say, it has been really nice for me to be able to cook again. I really enjoy cooking food as much as I love eating it and throughout Asia I had not cooked a single meal for us. It has been enjoyable to be able to browse the local produce wherever we are and then create our own meals inspired by what is around us. I am restricted to what I can do with two hot plates, but I reckon I have done alright so far!

Our biggest blow out meal was in Barga. My brother went to Barga last September and highly recommended we visit the town and in particular a restaurant there called Scacciaguai. So off to Barga we went. Barga did not disappoint. What a top little town and what a totally enjoyable meal! We splashed out and enjoyed a bottle of Planeta chardonnay (from Sicily). We first tried this wine this year in Phnom Penh of all places. We mistakenly thought at the time we might get as far as Sicily and wanted to test out some of the good stuff at affordable Cambodian prices. Well, it was still half that price again in Italy and just as lovely as we remembered. It has an oak and honey flavour and although I am not the one for describing wines, it had a boldness to it that I loved and would happily drink anytime I could afford it! Our meal consisted of entrees of truffled potatoes and prawns along with another plate of an Italian take on sushi. We both had the same main, a simple but juicy and entirely flavoursome steak with truffled polenta as a side. Damien said that it was the best steak he has ever eaten outside the hanger steak we ate at Est in Sydney. (We both agree that Est served up the best steak we have ever eaten). I am not a steak eater usually so it was an unusual choice for me. I thought it was totally delicious and if more steak tasted like that, I’d eat it more often!

We had dessert at the local gelataria near the gates of the town. I chose two flavours, yoghurt and pistachio. Damien had pistachio and stracciatella. Pistachio: enter the Simpsons: “There’s a party in my mouth and everyone’s invited!” It was hands down the standout gelato experience of Italy and all for the bargain price of €1.50 for two scoops! It set into play a wee bit of a gelato obsession for Damo and I.  I am serious when I say that part of our planning for our trip to Rome involved marking on the map numerous locations of recommended gelateria round the city! Needless to say, each day in Rome involved a little of this “afternoon delight” and we feared that none would come close to Barga. But on the last day, even though we were foiled by our “mapped” option being shut, there was a gelateria across the way and it was a winner! In fact, I punched my hands in the air with glee when I sampled the pistachio, as I was afraid up until that point that we may have to exit Italy without one last gelato high point! But no, we were saved! The owner was so buoyed by our obvious delight at all our samplings of his creations that I think we both parted ways with a little glow in our hearts!

I would be remiss in my nod to Italy if I did not mention the wine. I loved Italian wine. As we were unable to bust out and buy a bottle of Planeta whenever the mood took us, I am happy to report that you can purchase an entirely quaffable bottle for as little for €6. Even the bargain basement white I bought for €1.39 for the spag bol I cooked  seemed to come good after a day of “airing”! Again, I have to mention Ferrara and our wine bar experience. That was the standout for both of us. We drank very affordable €3 – €4 a glass wine that seriously I would expect to pay up to $10 – $15 a glass for the same quality in Sydney. Basically we couldn’t believe our luck at sampling such exceptional wine, at such affordable prices, in a funky back street in an old walled city with a knowledgeable and affable barman! Bellisimo!

Part 2 and the third section on the places of Italy will come in a couple of days. This will be a somewhat less glowing report I am afraid…

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Often I turn to my endless supply of forwarded on emails from friends as a means of escape and then flick on the ones I like to the next list of people to enjoy. I generally like the emails that are simply dedicated to scene after scene of jaw dropping vistas from around the world. Nothing like a little bit of escapism as you sit daydreaming of something other than what you are at that time trying to avoid! There’s always a compilation or two of those doing the rounds of the world wide web. I forwarded on one such compilation that my mate Famey had sent to me to my usual email contacts who enjoy a little bit of Kristen spam in their inbox.

It wasn’t until I reached Croatia to meet up with my cousin Andrew that I realised the impact that little click of my mouse had had.

Damien and I had always intended on including Croatia in our European leg of 2012. We had eagerly included the famed coast of Croatia as a must do. Sadly, however, it became apparent overtime that the weeks it would take to reach that far would make it near impossible to reach Italy and drive back to Germany in time to fly onwards to our next continent. We simply had to accept that you can’t do everything. So, Croatia was deleted.

But by a stroke of luck Andrew was coming to Europe with his girlfriend Kara and her parents, Diane and Robert. I asked Andrew to send me his itinerary so we could see if it would be possible for us to catch up at some point. Andrew and I have grown much closer in our adult lives and have enjoyed a couple of stellar trips to Japan together, the best one being when Andrew and I went with Damien and my brother Mat in 2011. I have missed my cousin and our catch ups for coffee on weekends in Cronulla when we were still living back in Australia. If Damien and I could wing it we would make every effort to find a way of getting to a country where he was!

After careful consideration we decided that the only place possible would be Croatia. It would be a mission to get there but we figured it was our best chance. Plus, when we noticed WHERE in Croatia he would be we were pretty much sold on the idea.

We looked at the name Plitvice and then both tweaked…isn’t that the place in that email from Famey??? We both remembered the vision of Plitvice both in winter and summer. When I saw those photos of Plitvice I could not believe how amazing it looked. It truly was a standout amongst a magnificent line up of other stunning pictures from around the globe. Yes! Let’s definitely meet my cuz there! So, it was recollections of that email that sealed the deal on us choosing to go to visit Andrew in Croatia.

What is even more amazing is that Andrew later relayed (without me even mentioning our recollection of the email) that the reason they all came to Plitvice was because of the email as well! Apparently Andrew had seen that Kara and her parents were planning on going down to the coast of Croatia. He suggested that they also make a stop over in Plitvice as he had also remembered the stunning photos from that email and knew that it was not a place to be passed up. Thanks be to Famey from both of us I think!

So the epic journey to make it to see Andrew and co down in Croatia has already been documented so I will skip straight to saying that Plitvice Lakes was by far the most beautiful National Park I have ever had the privilege to lay my eyes or feet upon!

We nearly didn’t get the pleasure of walking through the Park with Andrew and co due to our arrival time. But, thankfully, Hermes was on our side and I caught my cuz in time and Kara and Andrew waited for us to start the walk together.

We were a little under the pump to get to their hotel in time and I like to blame my elevated heart rate from the rapid walk (ahem) for my sudden emotional outburst at seeing my cousin. Let’s just say that I was a tad embarrassed on reflection that Kara had to witness my blubbering mess! It’s an understatement to say that I was happy to see Andrew!

Andrew, Kara, Diane and Robert had walked around part of the Lakes the day before and so this being their second day they were somewhat less “wowed” than we were (at least at the start). As Andrew and Kara kept a steady pace along the start of our walk I was wanting to stop every five meters unable to contain my amazement at the sight I was beholding! Crystal clear azure waters with fish lingering at the lakes edge was immediately impressive. Long story short is that I was so blown away by the sheer magnificence and natural perfection of this place that I was freely throwing around that this place could possibly be the most beautiful place I have ever seen. I still stand by my initial reaction and am adamant when I say that it is the most beautiful National Pak I have ever seen and unequivocally one of the most spectacular places I have ever been to…or will ever be to, I am sure!

But how happy was I that our epic journey to see my cousin should be in such a wondrous place of beauty! It was just a joy to spend the day with Andrew, Kara, Robert and Diane. We had a fantastic meal to top off the occasion at their hotel and it was all over too soon. But, nonetheless, I was infinitely pleased to have had the time with Andrew San!

Damo and I were happy to reward ourselves for our endurance driving session with another couple of days at Plitvice. As the gods would have it, the next day a thunder storm was a brewing and as we arrived in the early arvo it seemed it would rain down on Plitvice at any moment. Bonus. Everyone else seemed to exit stage left and we were able to enjoy another walk through this wonderland pretty much sans crowds.

Day three saw us walk to the crest of the hills surrounding the Lakes to take in the magnificent vistas it provided. This was Damien’s favourite walk. It was not the up close and personal look of magical waterfalls, crystal clear waters and endlessly gorgeous wonders that the Lake side strolls provided, but it is so worth the effort! There is pretty much not another soul to speak of on the tracks and the walks through the forest are lovely in their own right. Damien particularly enjoyed the openness of the forest. I loved the ever changing vegetation it provided. It made me appreciate the wonder and fragility of nature in that in only short periods of time the plants that were present in our area were absent in another. If you care to take a closer look, you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to understand the delicate balance within which nature exits. This place was a tonic for my soul as it was a perfect example of nature in its highest form and why we must preserve it.

If you see one National Park in your life, make it Plitvice.

P.S. I will upload the photos from our day three walk in the next week or so to my Photo Gallery. They are well worth a look. I don’t think they do it justice like seeing it in person but they are still a part of the story!