Grammy Award winner and megapopular pop singer from New Zealand, Lorde revealed that she has Croatian citizenship.
Lorde or Ella Yelich-O'Connor talked with American comedian Marc Maron for his podcast ‘WTF’ and spoke about her Croatian origins.
-My mother is Croatian. There’s like 100 thousand Croats in New Zealand and lots of them have been there for a long time. There is lot of wine around here and Dalmatians drink a lot of wine. So yes, I’m Croatian and I have Croatian citizenship – said Lorde.
When Maron asked her if she got the citizenship just because her mother is from Croatia, she said that she thinks she got it for being ‘’fancy, famous Croatian’’.
-I think they hooked me, so to speak – explained Lorde.
It’s interesting that Lorde got a chance to meet Croatian president Kolinda Grabar Kitarovic on her recent visit to New Zealand. Grabar Kitarovic praised with their photo on her official Facebook page.
Photo: Kolinda Grabar Kitarovic Facebook page
For those who don’t know, Lorde is a New Zealand singer-songwriter and record producer. Her debut single ‘’Royals’’ became an international crossover hit and made her the youngest solo artist to achieve a US number-one single on the Billboard Hot 100 since 1987.
Lorde's music consists of subgenres such as dream pop and indietronica. She has earned two Grammy Awards, a Brit Award and ten New Zealand Music Awards. In 2013, she was named among Time's most influential teenagers in the world, and in the following year, she was part of Forbes's "30 Under 30" list.
The respectable National Geographic recently revealed Croatia's dark secret from the past – a story about the island of Goli otok, the site of a political prison in use when Croatia was part of Yugoslavia.
Bob Thissen, the Dutch photographer whose biggest passion is researching and exploring abandoned buildings, recently visited Goli otok and was absolutely shocked by what he found there.
‘’The eerie Goli otok – branded ‘’Croatia’s Alcatraz’’ as Thissen described the island, was open in 1949 till 1989 as a political prison for those who cooperated with the Soviet Union as well as for political figures who were accused and convicted of ‘’counter-revolutionary action’’. According to Amnesty International, around 50,000 prisoners were held there, and 600 of them died.
Thissen believes the haunting history can still be felt while walking around the site even to this day, despite being abandoned for 28 years. He also stated that prisoners were tortured there and inmates were forced to beat each other in the ''living hell''. ‘’The prison had small dark and uncomfortable cells with unbearable conditions and was a mix of a Gulag work camp and prison’’, said Thissen.
Goli otok means ''barren island'' and actually, there is almost no vegetation at all, just a barren land. This eerie island in the Adriatic Sea is also uninhabited. However, Thissen advises people to visit the island, which can be explored without breaking the law.
''I have been to Alcatraz as well; it is the same idea, a prison on a 'barren island,' which is the translation for Goli Otok. 'The only difference is that Alcatraz is preserved better, I believe a lot of stuff was stolen from the island'', concluded Thissen who shared his impressions in the British Daily Mail.
Croatia’s Alcatraz for 40 years
The International Late Summer Music Festival continues tonight with Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons in the spectacular ambience of the Rector’s Palace in the heart of the Old City of Dubrovnik.
Tonight’s concert starts at 9 o’clock in the atrium of the Rector’s Palace and will feature the String Chamber Orchestra of the Dubrovnik Symphony Orchestra and the talented Russian violinist Dmitry Sinkovsky. The audience will be led by Mark Thomas through the Four Seasons.
Violin virtuoso and conductor Dmitry Sinkovsky is well-known to Dubrovnik audiences and with his energetic performances he regularly delights packed concert halls in the city.
Concert tickets are available at the orchestra office from 9.00am to 2.00pm, and at the door one hour before the concert begins.
And your prize for winning this television game show is a holiday in Dubrovnik, Croatia! At least that’s how we believe the presenter of this popular TV show announced the news.
The finalists of the reality television show Farmer Wants A Wife from Belgium were spotted today in the Panorama restaurant on the top of the Srd Mountain overlooking Dubrovnik. According to inside information the pair are the winners of the RTL Belgium version of this reality show.
Farmer Wants a Wife is a reality television series developed by Fremantle Media and premièred in the UK ITV in 2001. The basic structure of the programme is that a number of farmers are presented with women from the city, from whom they choose one to be their spouse. The show is extremely popular in Belgium and Holland and is rated in the top ten TV programs.
With Fall 2017 a few weeks away, I decided to spend the weekend cleaning closets as I prepared to move into a new home and took advantage of some ‘end-of-summer-cleaning’ time. Hard to do when recovering from ankle surgery and taking care of a diabetic dog in the sweltering, record-breaking heat that summer 2017 will be remembered for in much of Croatia.
In the sticky heat of my stone house, with the air-conditioning cranked as high as it could be, I was still having a difficult time deciding which room and what items to tackle first. Among the first things to find new resting shelves in my new home are the endless amounts of paper copy books I have amassed over the years. Being a digital person, this is something that puzzles even my friends – the sheer number of books that I can never seem to part with. There’s that going away present book from 20 years ago from my time in Washington, DC, followed by the cookbook the mother of an ex-boyfriend once gave me, and my all-time favourite, that book on the ancient Spartan wars which has been collecting dust for two years ever since it was bequeathed to me by ‘I-cannot-even-remember-his-name-from-the-Smithsonian-conference’, which I tell myself every weekend I shall get to reading.
Only the weekends come and go and it continues this beautiful hard-copy coffee table style book just collects more dust. Custom built book shelves have not solved this problem and between my apartment and house in Toronto, Canada and the new home in Croatia, I figure I must have amassed close to 10,000 books since graduating from University over twenty years ago (add to this formula my time as a journalist at another newspaper where endless amounts of books were just given to you and you have a recipe for book disaster).
If this sounds familiar to you, welcome to my world. As I packed the endless amounts of boxes and tried to rid myself of anxiety, I sat on the floor and went through all the books which have been a part of my life since Croatian independence, and that tally alone is somewhere in the high one thousand.
It was then, that somewhere in a far-off corner of my room lay the two books which usually derive a lot of eye-rolling among my family and friends.
The first is English writer Rebecca West’s classic travel foray into the land once known as The Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes at the turn of the 20th century, entitled ‘Black Lamb, Grey Falcon. The second is a paperback copy of Slavenka Drakulić’s, ‘How we Survived Communism and Even Laughed.” The former is a novel written in first person style that was considered, at the time of publication in 1921, to be ‘the’ quintessential travel guide to the countries that encompassed the former-Yugoslavia for the English nobility and the genteel western European traveller of the pre-war era. The latter is a controversial novel written by an acclaimed Croatian writer reminiscing on the demise of communism in Croatia and other Eastern Bloc countries and comparing it to the first few years of democracy.
My family despised my thick, bulky Rebecca West novel because it was given to me by my best friend during the outbreak of the Croatian War of Independence and I had pressed clover flowers into certain pages and inserted love letters from a man nobody in my family seemed to like. I then clutched and carried the book all over Croatia while translating for the UN the summer of the war and acting out my inner English Patient nursing muse moll while annoying everyone from my father, mother, and my favourite cousin, Nina, who was usually my partner-in-crime and so annoyed by my Juliet-like ways that she once suggested we burn pages of the book or use them to roll joints. I of course would have none of that and the book outlived the war, thereby cementing a certain spot in my heart for nostalgic reasons, even though I am certain I never made it further than page 75 (and it’s an almost 400-page book!).
It's somewhat fitting that I let my eye rove towards the dusty old copy of Drakulić’s book for as long as I had. I recall well the gentleman who gave me the book, an ex lover in the late-1990's he wrapped it in comic strip paper and wanted me to open it in front of him, which I made a point of doing (I seem to have a penchant for ex-lovers providing me with books meant to enrich me, and then dumping them post-enrichment). Somewhat confused as to why he would bequeath me a book I had read in the early 90’s, his response was, “because I don’t know of anyone else with a bigger love-hate-angst relationship to the new Croatia, than Slavenka and you. Go ahead and take it. I’m sure you will draw your own conclusions.” Given that there is nothing better to do when moving houses in the severe heat of the Dalmatian summer, you bet your bottom dollar I sat down in the middle of the floor, packing boxes and dust surrounding me galore, popped open a can of coke, and decided to indulge myself in some last-minute moving day procrastination.
And there is no better way to do that than to skim through Drakulic’s essay and hope for some inspiration while I struggled with how best to sum up my end of summer 2017 column for The Dubrovnik Times.
While skimming through some of Slavenka’s recollections on our lives under the communist regime of Josip Broz Tito, I floated back to memories of childhood and the long, idyllic summers spent on the southern Dalmatian coast. I had particularly fond memories of the summer of 1984 when, at the precocious age of 11, I was left in the care of my Mother’s youngest sister Nada, a mere nine years my elder, who would spend an inordinate amount of time with me plotting daily beach excursions and typical teenage Yugoslav shenanigans. I particularly remember her asking permission from my Grandfather to attend a certain Motorcycle festival in Pula and being repeatedly denied. She was on the cusp of teenage-hood and not reacting very well to curfews, limits, rules and boundaries.
Whenever my Grandfather would vex her, she would grab my hand and head off into the inner confines of Split to buy ‘Romani’ a type of Yugoslav romance-fiction paperback that was available at almost every kiosk, as well as Školska Knjiga. It was quite arguably the best part of my day, going to the kiosk and her buying a roman and a donut, with leftover money for me to purchase Sarah Kay stickers and add them to my album or the latest Asterix comic book. As a little kid I thought she must have had over 5 million romani, when she was done with one she would trade them with our neighbours, Marina and Božena, so that by the end of the week all these local girls would gather under the shade of the apricot tree in front of my grandfathers’ porch gossiping about the latest defunct love story and living vicariously through the novels’ American heroines.
My aunt would read these romani with such ferocity that when she was done, they would be discarded only to be picked up me. Having lost her mother, my grandmother only two years earlier, my aunt was rebelling and testing the waters of my grandfather’s patience. He was in his fifties at this point and when exasperated he would leave us to our own confines, and I vividly recall that all that long summer of 1984, we lived at the beach.
Every other day my aunt would take me to a new beach, and on most occasions, we never ventured further than Brela, Baška Voda and Bačvice in Split. We’d roam all day and night and only return home in the late evening and then repeat the entire process the next day, much to the chagrin of my grandfather who would have preferred we stayed at home and baked pies or helped with the housework. I couldn’t imagine a better person to have come of age with than my aunt, who was typical of the ‘zlatna generacija’ (golden age) of Yugoslav 80s teenage-hood. She would have me transcribe The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Rod Stewart, Cyndi Lauper, Michael Jackson, and her personal favourite, Pink Floyd, and show me off to her university friends as her niece ‘with the stellar English.’ If we wanted vinyl, we certainly knew the unofficial trade-and-barter system of how to get it.
Dreamy childhood days in Baška Voda
It was 1984 and I was growing up in what many would later deem ‘the last golden years of Yugoslavia before the nasty divorce.’ Even though we were ethnically Croat and Montenegrin, these weren’t epithets that were espoused at home or even promoted, much less discussed. My grandfather was a card-carrying member of the communist party and had personally fought for President Tito in some of the famous campaigns which he never tired of telling us about on the Montenegrin, Bosnian and Istrian fronts. Many members of my family were in mixed marriages and none of this was never something that was frowned upon or thought of strangely. Nominally, we were all Yugoslavs. If I were to be honest and recall any type of ethnic affiliation at all, we thought of ourselves first and foremost as ‘Dalmatian,’ meaning we identified strongly with the region and province we lived in, at the expense of the republic, which even then was still referred to as the Socialist Federal Republic of Croatia.
Being Dalmatian means many things to many people and I suppose you will get a different answer depending on whom you ask, but Dalmatians have certain idiosyncrasies about them that stand out even among Croatians.
Coupled with our strange dialect which northern Croats have a hard time understanding, we are peppered with a strong sense of regional pride, cultural traditions cemented during centuries of Venetian rule and a laissez-faire attitude toward life embodied in the art of the fjaka (‘an afternoon nap’ Dalmatian style). Dalmatians very much embrace a southerner’s approach to the day, which is to say, everything is discussed over a coffee (which usually takes hours), beach time is not to be disrupted, and the only thing worthy of the devotion of the Gods is the Hajduk Split FK. I was 11-years old and completely in the dark about larger world events that would destroy the country I called home a mere seven years later.
Still, I was Dalmatian in heart and spirit, and the regional distinction of being Dalmatian is that you always- and the emphasis here is heavy on the ‘ALWAYS’ discuss the end of the tourist season in escalated tones with members of your own family. Ours was no exception. While I would sit at the dinner table and gobble on grilled fish and swish chard, or some of my Aunt Marija’s amazing baked burek pies, my grandfather would ask all of us what our impressions of the tourist season were like. This was usually followed by the typical Dalmatian clattering of ten people trying to outdo each other in terms of wit, tone and argument and when that fails, the only sure- fire way to win any debate is to just speak as loudly as you possibly can and thereby frustrate everyone else to the point of a default or pyrrhic victory.
My aunt Nada, who was about to enter her second year at the University of Zagreb proclaimed that the entire illusion of millions of tourists on the Adriatic coast was just that –smoke cover for borrowed American money that we would have to pay back and which would bode badly for Yugoslavs in the future. My aunt Marija and my grandfather, who worked for one of the largest state employers, dismissed my younger aunt with the wave of a sarcastic finger and told her that she was naïve and ill-informed. My grandfather was a member of the post-WWII nomenklatura and had witnessed the country transform itself from humble, rural beginnings to a tourist wunderkind. Nothing would change his opinion and while I listened to them argue about the revenue numbers and the strategic roadmap for the country, all seemed to agree that increased tourism was at the very least a sector that would open up the country in positive ways.
While the older generation represented by my Grandfather was worried about what this would mean for party politics, the younger generation represented by my 19-year old aunt were more concerned with day trips to Italy, languishing on beaches, and binge reading the latest ‘Roman’ undoubtedly written by some L.A. romance writer. It was a definite sign of how much things had changed in less than two generations.
My memories of the summer of 1984 as an 11-year old were exciting ones of practicing accented British English with a girl named Hannah from Cornwall who I had befriended on the train trip to Zagreb with my aunt. Her mother and she had sat next to me and had peppered my aunt and I with questions while revealing their fondness for Yugoslavia, and their impressions of the islands and beaches of middle Dalmatia. Hannah and I fidgeted the entire train trip trying to figure out how to play with her Rubik cube and I recall she went into detail about a movie called ‘Ghostbusters’ that she had recently seen and that I absolutely had to watch.
I also recall a boy named Sven whom I had a massive crush on during a particular Baška Voda beach excursion. His mother bought me an ice cream, and while the grown ups were pressing my aunt with a map of Plitvička Jezera and requisitioning advice, Sven gave me full on kiss and told me he would marry me. And just like that, voila, I had fallen in love. Of course, it all came crashing down when six hours of kiddie beach time later, his mother told him to pack up his towel and beach bag and they headed back to their shiny new, Makarska Riviera resort complex and from there on the flight back to Sweden the next morning. I don’t think I got over him for a full three days, such was the broken heart of a Dalmatian pre-teen. My aunt and I made our way back into town on the last bus of the day while she and the other locals debated how many tourists the long heat wave (no air conditioners back then!) of August 1984 had brought us.
We didn’t have many of the modern-day luxuries we had today and bereft of an iPad or any digital device to speak of, I lived a typical child’s life in the early 1980s. From dusk to dawn you would be lucky if you could drag me back into the house. At the crack of morning light, I was up, out, and ready to roam for the day. Being from Split, I loved to explore the green market and would run from the apartment of my uncle Filip (near the old bazaar) to the other end of the Riva to the house of my uncle Tonči. An endless assortment of aunts and uncles would feed me, dress me, entertain me, scold me, and look after me while mum and dad were working.
I amused myself with my own imagination, would write endlessly in a diary, engage in people watching for hours and would play actual live games with a cacophony of cousins – male and female alike, in a country that was so unimaginably safe the doors really were left unlocked and lost tourists were invited over for dinner and a shot of rakija. Such were the times.
What we lacked in terms of shiny new gadgets from a western perspective, we more than made up for in terms of ingenuity, humour, generosity and a sense of communal spirit. I was too small to notice things like inefficiencies, lack of infrastructure or chronic shortages. In fact, I don’t remember them at all. Traditions like sitting on the Riva, Split’s main promenade where life was watched, lived and learned, continued back then just as they do today. As long as my grandfather or any one of my aunts or uncles had given me enough of a ‘marenda’ (the Dalmatian version of a child’s per diem), you can bet your bottom dinar I was at Bobis spending it on croissants and at Dalmacijavino popping open a bottle of Pipi. Life was grand, summer seemed to never end, and we elbowed our way for prime towel real-estate on every available beach with the same modus opperendi as we do today. The tourist season may have changed, but it sometimes seems that Dalmatians never will.
Many comparisons of some of independent Croatia’s recent summer tourist seasons have drawn comparisons to that golden summer of 1984, arguably Yugoslavia’s best performing. But while current strategists ponder the high-level questions hanging over all of us – how to scale, how to enhance infrastructure, and how to deal with cruise ship bottlenecks - what they sometimes fail to remember is that we have faced all these challenges in the past. Sure we didn’t have Daenerys and her Dragons to elevate us on a global stage and turn centuries old cities like Dubrovnik, Split and Šibenik into King’s Landing, Essos and Braavos overnight, but we did have just as many summer festivals, Hollywood glitterati, European royalty and annoying Diaspora relatives who came in large numbers and complained about everything from the sugar (the old Turkish coffee cubes), no American brand name Ketchup, and my ultimate favourite – the lack of A/C coupled with an inability to believe in ‘propuh’ (a draft to thee!). What we lacked in technology and infrastructure, we made up for with creativity and a locally-infused ingenuity. In the end, although we witnessed an almost five-fold increase in tourists when comparing Summer 2017 to Summer 2012, we shouldn’t forget to look to the lessons of the past when we lacked much in the ways of modernity and still survived with record numbers to boot.
I put down Drakulic’s book, let out a long breath and said to myself, ‘It’s over Katarina. We survived Summer 2017 and even laughed.”
By: Mirella-Marie Katarina Radman
When it comes to the entrepreneurial capacity, i.e. the number of active and ‘’adult’’ entrepreneurial ventures at the country level, Istria, the Primorje region and Gorski kotar are the best in Croatia; however, it is still below the EU average.
The Global Entrepreneurship Monitor (GEM) is the world's largest study of entrepreneurship. Croatia has been carrying it out since 2002 by the Osijek Faculty of Economics and the Centre for Small, Medium Enterprises Development, and Entrepreneurship Policy (CEPOR).
The research conducted in 2016 encompassed 66 countries that account for around 85 percent of world GDP and around 69 percent of the world’s population. Twenty EU countries participated in this research.
‘’Since 2002 Croatia has been lagging behind other countries when it comes to the quality of the entrepreneurial environment, and the quality of the regulatory framework’’, explained Slavica Singer, the head of the GEM research team in Croatia.
Singer also pointed out that changes in the entrepreneurial environment are necessary because Croatia is a hostage of entrepreneurial ventures that are initiated by the need and despair, not by the recognition of new entrepreneurial opportunities and new entrepreneurial ideas. The situation is burdened by the fact that "adult" companies invest in new, often import-oriented technologies, but do not create new and innovative products.
Among all countries encompassed by the research, the least number of people in Croatia believe that entrepreneurs are highly appreciated in the society, whilst the large number of respondents in Finland, Ireland and Germany think that entrepreneurs have a high social status.
Furthermore, Croatia has a low dynamism of the entrepreneurial structure; there are few new business ventures, whilst a motivational index is also very low. Just for comparison, last year the motivational index in Croatia was 2.2 percent, in Sweden 19,6 percent, whilst the European average was 5,3 percent.
‘’The entrepreneurial ecosystem has worsened, we are worse than the best in everything, we are significantly worse in market openness, research transfer and development as well as in the government policy towards taxes and regulations’’, commented Singer.
Furthermore, around 70 percent of young population in Croatia see entrepreneurship as their future; however, only 3 percent believe that it can be achieved in the homeland.
It is interesting to note that the research showed that entrepreneurs have the highest social status in Finland, Ireland and Germany, which are the top three countries among Croatian emigrants.
Deputy Mayor Jelka Tepsic and Head of the Department of Communal Services and Local Self-Government Marko Miljanic welcomed today the Ambassador of the Kingdom of Norway Astrid Versto.
During the meeting, Deputy Tepsic and Ambassador Versto discussed the co-operation between the city of Dubrovnik and Croatia with the Kingdom of Norway, as well as future plans and programs that would allow for even better and deeper cooperation between the two countries.
One of the discussed topics was the plans for the development of Dubrovnik, especially in culture and tourism, as well as possibilities for cooperation with Norway in these fields.
Except for future projects, Deputy Tepsic and Ambassador Versto also talked about the reconstruction of Dubravica, which, after the destruction in the Homeland War, was completely renewed with the help of Norway. Ambassador of the Kingdom of Norway, Astrid Versto, pointed out that the reconstruction project of Dubravica had made even stronger links between Norway and Croatia and opened the door for all future cooperation.
Ambassador Versto was accompanied by Consul of the Kingdom of Norway in Dubrovnik Tonci Peovic, President of the Croatian-Norwegian Society in Zagreb Petar Banicevic, President of the Dubrovnik Branch Office Lenko Garbin and President of the Dubravica Municipal Committee Pero Stjepovic.
It just struck me a minute ago that what I'm writing about today already seems very distant and exotic to younger generations of Croatians, while within a few decades it might sound completely out of place.
You see, I was one of the last generations of Croatian men who went through mandatory military service. This was a normal state of affairs for countless generations of our people. All eligible men between the ages of 18 to 27 at one point had to serve in the military. By the time I joined, military service was down to 6 months, but for people like my father and older, who served in what was then Yugoslav army, service was at least a year in duration. Infamous Navy service in Yugoslavia went on for almost 3 years at a certain point.
I am a believer in peace and I hate the global obsession with guns and destruction. As a child I even disliked fire crackers which are to this day the most important tool in celebrating New Year's or even (incredibly) – Christmas in this country. However, I wouldn't change my military training for anything. In fact, and this could very well be an unpopular opinion, I am sorry we don't have mandatory service nowadays. Not only this, but it is exactly the part of the training related to weapons and survival skills that I feel we need to re-introduce to our youth.
Most of military service is unpleasant
I don't think experiencing army life automatically makes people bloodthirsty or war-loving. Quite the opposite might be true. Most of military training is pretty unpleasant. Being devoid of your individuality, being physically exhausted, having your liberties completely revoked (no mobile phones, restricted movement)...all of these are not my idea of a good time.
What about showering twice a week and having to do so in a very limited amount of time with 80 other guys? Yep, all of that you can look forward to in basic training. So, it's not like I am yearning to go back and do it again.
However, there is still the question of being able to defend yourself or those around you in the worst case scenario. I lived through such a scenario as a child back in 1991 and 1992 and I was pretty grateful back then that people around me knew how to handle themselves in crisis situations. It's not just wars or terrorism that we need to be prepared for. Natural disasters are a normal part of life on this planet and when they happen, professional services are usually not enough to deal with the destruction. Everyday people need to step in and help. Today, if a young person in Croatia didn't complete training for a driver's license or some work safety course, he or she would probably never went through even the most basic first aid course. This is not a good idea for any organised society, I don't care how liberal or peace loving.
Speaking of peace, I hope we have World Peace by the end of the work week. However, it somehow doesn't seem all that likely. While I respect the opinion we should all lead by example and throw down our arms, perhaps we should let the big powers lead the way in this case. While some of the world's most powerful economies are recording huge profits from sales of weapons, maybe it's not the craziest of ideas to learn to use those weapons, or at least to defend ourselves from them.
I was good at being a soldier. I was one of the top ten marksman of my company and was among the top rated soldiers on the general test of knowledge and skills. The only thing I wasn't at the top of my class was physical fitness which was surprising considering I prepared for the service through a tough regime of partying through the summer and a strict diet consisting mostly of chocolate and pizza.
The most important part of the experience was that I learned a few things about myself that I wouldn't otherwise. I now know having your liberties taken away is a horrible thing. I know people very different from one another can be easily trained to work as a unit and achieve great things. I also know how to kill another person with an assault rifle. Hopefully, this will prove to be a completely useless skill during my lifetime, but if it doesn't...
Bozidar Jukic, AKA The Restless Native, is a Dubrovnik local with too many interests to name them all, with writing being at the very top of the list. He is a lover of good food, music and film, and a firm believer in the healing power of laughter. His professional orientation is towards tourism and travel so it comes as no surprise he spends most of his time alongside Mrs. Jukic running their own local tour company. Their goal is helping travellers from all over the world get a more intimate experience of Dubrovnik and what it has to offer. To find out more about their work, visit their website or Facebook page.
As part of the Dubrovnik International Late Summer Music Festival there will be a recital by the award winning guitarist, Maroje Brčić, tonight at 9.00pm in the Rector’s Palace.
Maroje Brčić has been present for more than 25 years as a soloist, as a member of various chamber orchestras and as soloist with countless orchestras such as the Croatian Radio and Television Symphony Orchestra, Dubrovnik Symphony Orchestra, the Mostar Chamber Orchestra, the Sarajevo Philharmonic Orchestra and the Macedonian National Orchestra. He has also performed in Europe, Asia and North America.
Tonight’s concert features Hans Haug: Alba, Napoleon Coste: Les Bords du Rhin, op. 18 and Les Soirées d'Auteuil, op. 23, Goran Listeš: Fantasy op. 7 and Joaquín Rodrigo: Junto al Generalife.
Concert tickets are available at the orchestra office from 9.00am to 2.00pm, and at the door one hour before the concert begins.
Marina Frapa in the bay of Gruz surprised everybody with its newest decoration – a two metre high stone lion holding an anchor. The statue arrived today and caused numerous reactions.
The installation was monitored by Franjo Pasalic, the owner of Laguna Trade, which was selected for concessionaire of the 54,427 square metres in the Bay of Gruz for a period of 30 years in 2012.
-Your ancestors built Dubrovnik, and I will build something nice, permanent and as significant as the City Walls – Pasalic said for Dubrovacki vjesnik recently when talking about Marina Frapa.
Above the sea level, according to the plans, only the reception area is built. Pasalic says this investment will cost 10 million Euros, and the expectations are for a marina with 220 berths for yachts up to 40 meters in length.