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sourced from small producers. We are at 5/4, thehottest new restaurant in Zagreb, presided over byDino Galvagno, deemed by food cognoscenti andlocal media as the most adventurous and tempera-mental chef in the Croatian capital.

Two decades ago, when I left the city ofmy birth, Zagreb was a very different place.There were no hot tables or big-name chefs.In the early 1990s, the city was the newlyminted capital of a just-independent Croa-tia. The Yugoslav war was still in full swing,and the proverbial ceiling felt so low that Ithought if I grew just a few more inches, myhead would hit it and there would be

nowhere else to go. Back then, Zagreb meant longwinters laced with fog, peeling facades of varyingshades of gray, and a dearth of options and diversity.

zagreb continued on F4

Awandererreturns Growing up, she thought Zagreb was provincial and dull.

But times changed,and suddenly she saw a new city.

BY MARY ANN ANDERSONSpecial to The Washington Post

The boat is small, just big enough forsix passengers and our driver, who dou-bles as our guide. We’re on a lake in thevast, remote Malilangwe Wildlife Re-serve in southeastern Zimbabwe. Acrossthe hills, the sun is veiled in the last lightof day. Darkness will come soon.

All around us, hippos splash, snortand grunt and generally cause an alarm-ing stir in my heart. Two of my threetraveling companions are at the front of

the boat, in the appetizer seats. If any-thing should happen, if we bump into ahippo or a log or whatever else lieswaiting in the lake, they’ll be shrimpcocktail. I’m at the back of the pontoon,in the dessert seat, if you will, listening tothe hippos and the other myriad soundsof an African nightfall.

In a few moments, elephants comecrashing through the bush to the lake-side for their last drink of the day, theirstomachs rumbling low like distantthunder. There’s no other sound like it onEarth. Against the backdrop of the sun, a

gaggle of Egyptian geese serenades theorchestra of elephants and hippos.

Tengwe Siambwanda, our guide, haswhat one of my companions has termedthe “most ridiculous eyes” and can seeeverything. By now, it’s heavy dusk, and Inever would have spotted the black rhinostanding at the water’s edge if Tengwehadn’t pointed him out.

At first, the ungulate seems surprisedby the boat, but then he becomes agitat-ed. Here’s what an agitated rhino does:He kicks up a dust storm, stomps hishooves like a 2-year-old who hasn’tgotten his way, knocks over a couple oftrees, and then mock-charges. For amoment, I wonder whether he’ll leap

zimbabwe continued on F5

Four women, gamefor an adventure

A fearless group heads to a Zimbabwe preserve

ANTONIO BRONIC/REUTERS

MARY ANN ANDERSON

A disappearing art: Shangaan people ofthe Kambako Living Museum ofBushcraft in Zimbabwe demonstratehow to hand-grind grain into flour.

Stepping lively: Zagreb, Croatia’s capital, has slowly blossomedinto a pocket-size metropolis with a palpable, pulsating energy.

I’m out on a Saturday night with twofood-loving friends. It’s fall, and there’s aslight chill in the air. We walk through thearched doorway of an unassuming buildingand into the dimly lit interior. A heavilytattooed hostess escorts us to thechef ’s table facing an open-plankitchen.

“We’ll bring out dishes one by one,” shesays, “until you say stop.”

First comes a shot of trnina, a wild plum-flavored rakija (the Croatian version of grap-pa), then a parade of small plates — pickledvacuum-cooked tongue on a bed of apple andhorseradish salad, followed by venison steak withmushrooms, polenta and beechnut crisp.

Looking around, we could be anywhere, exceptthat each dish is a creative take on the traditionalfare of Croatia, with a focus on regional ingredients

BYANJA MUTIC

Special toThe Washington

Post

F4 EZ EE KLMNO SUNDAY, JANUARY 5, 2014

Living in Croatia, I craved the world.Some cities feel like impossible loves:

They get under your skin, but you knowthat the relationship can never work out.So in September 1993, fresh out of highschool, I packed up and left, sure thatsomething bigger lay ahead. There’d belove affairs with other cities, I thought.Greater cities.

While I was gone, Zagreb livedthrough war, then welcomed peace. Butmy relationship with it never turnedpeaceful. Having left my parents andoldest friends behind, I returned at leastonce a year. Sometimes I stayed a fewweeks. Typically, toward the end of weektwo, I’d begin to feel a tightness in mychest, the skies would start closing inaround me, the facades would appeareven grayer, the streets — even on asun-splashed day with packed sidewalkcafes — dull.

Two decades whizzed by. And a subtleshift began to take place. My visits toZagreb gradually became longer andmore frequent. Because what I’d onceconsidered the most boring capital in theworld had slowly blossomed into a pock-et-size metropolis with a palpable, pul-sating energy.

Exploring the ’hoodAfter an extended bout of worldwide

travel, and needing a break from NewYork, I recently decided to go back to thewomb for a spell. I was both terrified andelated.

September 2013, exactly 20 years sinceI’d left, and two months after Zagrebbecame the European Union’s newestcapital, found me in a light-bathed one-bedroom sublet on the top floor of awalkup. From the north-facing windowsof my bathroom and the kitchen balcony,I could see the hospital where I was bornand, on a gently rising hill, the one wheremy father had taken his last breath. Eachmorning I awoke to the poignant remind-ers of this cycle.

And each morning, I set out to explorethe city I now lived in. First, my neighbor-hood. Every day, I walked past the block-long building known as the Vatican,so-called because it was built by thearchdiocese of Zagreb in the 1920s. I livedin the Vatican — what a claim to make —the first nine months of my life, in ahigh-ceilinged apartment that my par-ents and grandparents shared. When theapartment was sold, we moved to aneighborhood a few streetcar stops far-ther east.

I quickly realized that I’d unknowinglymoved to Zagreb’s most up-and-comingstreet. Marticeva, a 10-minute amble eastof the main square — the 19th-centuryTrg Bana Jelacica with its manicuredfacades — rose in the 1930s at the heightof Zagreb’s economic boom. I rememberit from my childhood in the ’80s as a drabstretch lined with storefronts sellingauto parts, a place that offered no reasonsto pause.

But starting a couple of years ago, theabandoned shops began to take on a newlife as arty cafes, swank shoe shops andhealth food stores. Suddenly, the westernstretch of Marticeva became the place tobe. The old world remained, too. AtKvatric food market, I started figuringout which fishmonger hawks the freshesttuna, which kerchiefed old lady sells thegreenest broccoli and which stall carriesgoat cheese.

I developed routines, an exotic habitfor someone who has lived life mainly onthe move. In the mornings, I walked toBlok Bar, a cafe-bar a block from Martice-va, on a quiet corner shaded by birchtrees. Without my having to ask, thewaiter or waitress would bring out a longespresso, which I drank slowly underwhite umbrellas on a wooden deck withplant-filled pots. Sometimes I ran intofriends. Sometimes I sipped my coffeesolo. Occasionally I popped by in theevenings for a shot of rakija or a glass ofPlavac Mali (a rich Dalmatian red). If it’sbreezy, the staff puts out colorful blan-kets that you can wrap yourself in. Or Igrabbed a seat inside the swank glasscube, which seats barely 10.

Sometimes I’d forgo my al fresco fix atBlok and head instead to Divas, a formerfashion boutique turned boho coffee-house. Inside, rustic accents competewith flowery chintz — a pink chandelier,mismatched chairs, 1970s lamps. I have afavorite table, in a corner facing thestreet. This is where I would sit and write,fueled by coffee. One day, bringing thelong espresso I hadn’t had to ask for, thewaiter said teasingly: “You never change,huh?”

“One day I’ll surprise you and ordersomethingcrazy,” Isaid. “Likeamacchiato.”

Overlooked ediblesOn Sunday afternoons, my neighbor-

hood goes quiet; both Blok and Divas areclosed. One Sunday, a friend from SanFrancisco swung by Zagreb. We were tomeet for coffee, but where? Then I re-membered another fixture, a pioneer ofchange in the neighborhood: Booksa, abook club-cafe that draws an intellectualcrowd and remains generously open till 8p.m. on Sundays. At this cultural hub,which hosted my one and only poetryreading in Croatia back in 2004, we had along catch-up session.

I was able to satisfy other needs withina 10-minute radius from my apartmentbuilding. When I needed a hit of some-thing sweet, I headed to Mak Na Konac, arecently opened cake shop named for itspoppy-seed cake, a moist marzipan-cov-ered sponge filled with raspberry jamand glazed with chocolate ganache. I

zagreb from F1

popped by there to grab dessert forfriends’ dinner parties — like Bretonkaapple pie, a muffinlike delicacy withBreton short crust, hazelnut crumble andapples that are baked for 24 hours.

Next door is 5/4. Making their wayonto our plates the night we ate therewere such overlooked edibles as wildherbs and weeds (think rowan, saltmarsh and sea lettuce) and the parts of ananimal you’d ordinarily throw away. Petacetvrtina — what the Italians call quintoquarto, or “fifth quarter” — consists ofthe normally discarded parts of an ani-mal, like offal, the feet and the snout.Once the food of the poor, today it’s afeast reserved for well-heeled Zagrebresidents and foreign foodies looking fora fine dining experience in the Croatiancapital.

Our chef ’s-table experience lasted fourhours; we managed 14 courses, dessertincluded. I loved the flavors, despite the

repetition in some of the dishes, butfound it curious that the chef, wearinghipster pink tracksuit bottoms, greetedevery single table that night except ours.When the bill came, $470 for the three ofus, what might have passed as a chef ’scaprice felt more like a service faux pas.But this is Croatia, where service is but anafterthought, and chefs will be chefs.

Tastes of the StatesThere was even more change in my

neighborhood. A basement bar namedMojo had opened on the western end ofMarticeva. On a moonlit Tuesday night, Ifound myself inside this smoky spot withartwork-plastered brick walls, listeningto live music by a barefoot Hungariansinger named Boca, a Colombian fromCartagena by the name of Jairo on thebass and Mirsad, a Kosovo gypsy, on thedrums. The syncopated rhythms, shots oftravarica (herb grappa) and a sea of faces

I didn’t know made me feel as if I were inan unknown city.

I set out farther afield as well. On rainyafternoons, you’d sometimes find me atCafe U Dvoristu, tucked away in a serenecourtyard in another part of the towncenter, the Habsburg-flavored DonjiGrad (Lower Town). I headed therewhenever I missed the States; the laid-back cafe feels like a slice of Brooklyn,with its fair-trade coffee roasted inFrance and the wicked walnut lattesserved on suitcases dressed as tables.

When I craved Mexican, I headedstraight to California Burrito, a recentlyopened yellow-and-blue eatery hiddenaway in a city-center courtyard. TheBeach Boys play as you chow down onyour chicken burrito, and you can almostoverlook that the beans are too hard andthe guac a touch too citrusy, because thisain’t L.A.

On weekends, I’d pop by Mali Plac NaTavanu, a food market held in the attic ofJelena Iva Nikolic, a food stylist andblogger I met at a yoga class. EverySaturday there, small producers peddletheir edible wares and natural cosmetics,which anybody’s invited to sample andtake home. You’ll find just about any-thing, from quail eggs, cold-pressedhemp oil and vegan pies to goji berries,elderflower juice and donkey milk. Getfriendly with the dynamic team behindthe gathering, and you’ll be privy to theirword-of-mouth brunches and otherevents.

On an unseasonably warm mid-Octo-ber afternoon, around 10 of us showed upfor what was no ordinary brunch. Anall-you-can-eat spread included raw cau-liflower salad with garlic, goat yogurt,pickled French beans and alfalfa sprouts;grilled anchovies with baked jalapenos,figs and salty cheese; and chicken andturkey liver with quince and onions. Weate on the attic’s sunny terrace, with aview out to the gardens and the spires ofthe cathedral, lording it over the cityfrom the medieval hilltop quarter whereZagreb originally began.

A city grown upNot all my Zagreb explorations were

coffee- and food-focused. One Wednes-day, a friend invited me to a jazz concert.Hours later, I was listening to tightfree-styling by pianist Vijay Iyer, consid-ered one of the world’s best, and his trio.The jazz birds of Zagreb all came out thatnight to Lisinski Concert Hall, which washosting the annual Jazz.hr Festival. Atone point, I closed my eyes and felttransported to some other place.

Zagreb still feels like Vienna’s littlebrother, the underachiever sibling whotries hard to prove himself worthy ofcentral Europe, despite the rough edgesthat hark back to communist times andthe city’s strait-laced provincialism. Butsomething is different now.

I used to say that Zagreb couldn’tsurprise me. But then the city changed.Or perhaps it was I who changed. After alifetime abroad, I was now looking at thecity through a new lens. Suddenly sur-prises lurk everywhere.

One afternoon, as I was walking alongMarticeva, I spotted a poem by Anais Ninglued to a gray wall: “And then the daycame, when the risk to remain tight in abud was more painful than the risk ittook to blossom.”

I guess I had to leave to blossom — andto see Zagreb blossom. Now, I was quietlyfalling in love with the city I’d tried sohard to forget.

travel@washpost.com

Mutic is a Brooklyn-based writer. Her Web siteis www.everthenomad.com.

DETAILS

GETTING THEREMultiple airlines, including United,British Airways and Turkish Airlines,offer one-stop flights fromWashington Dulles to Zagreb,Croatia.

WHERE TO STAYStudio KairosVlaska 92011-385-1-464-0680www.studio-kairos.comAdorable B&B with four themedrooms, a 10-minute walk from themain square. Rooms from $70.

Esplanade Zagreb HotelMihanoviceva 1011-385-1-456-6666www.esplanade.hrGrande dame of Zagreb hotels, onceon the Orient Express route. Roomsfrom $165.

WHERE TO EAT AND DRINK5/4Dukljaninova 1011-385-1-4616-654www.petacetvrtina.comFive-course menus start at $52.

California BurritoMasarykova 11011-385-95-1696-473www.burrito.hrCourtyard spot serving burritos,tacos and wraps. Entrees from$3.50.

Blok BarTomasiceva 13011-385-1-4550-366Coffees from $1.40.

DivasMarticeva 17011-385-1-4579-942Coffees from $1.40.

MojoMarticeva 5011-385-91-526-6733Drinks from $1.80.

Cafe U DvoristuJurja Zerjavica 7/2Coffees from $1.80.

WHAT TO DOMali Plac Na TavanuSinkoviceva 8Food market held every Saturdayfrom 11 a.m. to 7 p.m.

Lisinski Concert HallTrg Stjepana Radica 4011-385-1-6121-166www.lisinski.hrZagreb’s venerable concert hall.

INFORMATIONwww.zagreb-touristinfo.hr

— A.M.

HOJI FORTUNA

A vibrant capital: From top, Zagreb’s main square, Trg Bana Jelacica, the city’s most popular meeting spot; one of the city’s lively outdoor cafes; Booksa, a book club-cafe that draws an intellectual crowd; and visitors to Mali Plac Na Tavanu, a Saturday market, sampling natural handmade cosmetics.

HOJI FORTUNA

ANJA MUTIC

SIMON DAWSON/BLOOMBERG NEWS

Zagreb comes alive for a hometown girl