"Otok Brac, Croatia" a Otok Brac Travel Page by marktynernyc

http://www.croatians.com/Bracisland.htm

By Peter Simunovic

Brac pronounced Brach.

"....On this island man and stone have lived and fought each other from time immemorial. This island is my rock. Olives writhe and cypresses slumber in its cracks. Today fewer vineyards burst into leaf on its terraced slopes and, in the spring, fewer lively goats and unruly colts riotously race each other in its grassy vales.

My island is full of heaps of stone piled up through the centuries by hard working hands which picked out the stones from the barren clearings in order to wrest the thin layers of soil from the karst and plant in it the vine to yield dry "plavac” and the sweet "vugava” wines.

At the dawn of history such heaps of stone, hill forts and tumuli were silhouetted, on the ridges of Brac. Watering places were dug and paths cleared everywhere in the bare rock, and later settlements, churches and ports were built. The bowels of the island yielded the marble for the huge Palace of Diocletian and many other magnificent buildings throughout the world. The people of this island have always, struggled for their land, always dependent on the mercy of the skies: would they send rain to the parched terra rossa or fire to burn the fruits of the earth defiantly maturing in the stone?

This island evades, superficial judgment and hasty comparisons. It will conceal its true identity from the observer, and will bestow a smile rather than shed a tear as bitter as wormwood and as clear as grape-brandy.

Brac is at its most hospitable in summer when it opens up its heart and presents: its small towns, and villages and its coves. In summer, the population doubles on its shores, which stretch for more than a hundred miles. Sage, xeranthemum, heather, lavender and rosemary bushes bloom on its slopes and fill one's nostrils with their scents. A multitude of colors meet the gaze: ripe dog berries, bearberries, barberries, mallow, the swollen fruits of blackthorn, blackberry and mahaleb bushes. The deafening song of crickets chirping tirelessly on the knotty jasmines, junipers and spruces, has given the island its name, "island of crickets"...."