"The Night From Hell" a Zagreb Region Travel Page by Krumlovgirl

Oh my God. What an ordeal I have been through. I donęt even know where to start.

Okay, the woman at the desk in the train station was not helpful at all in giving me directions to the Ravnice Hostel. She kept telling me that the Omaldinski was the only one in town but when I finally told her that I knew that there was indeed another one she relented and gave me somewhat unenthusiastic directions. Supposedly, I was to get off at the seventh tram stop. Okay. I had a small map from there. The problem is that the Zagreb trams do not stop at every stop-they only stop when a person wants on or off. So the thing is, it was dark and I couldnęt see and there werenęt any signs on the stops. So when the tram stopped the third time, I wasnęt sure if that was actually the third stop or the fifth stop and just the third time that someone wanted off. I was very flustered. I finally got off when somebody told me that it was my stop, but it looked like I was out in the middle of nowhere. Like in the industrial area of the city. There werenęt any stores or restaurants, but there were lots of smokestacks and factory-looking things. The sidewalk was caked with ice and I slipped about every other step. I had thankfully stored my suitcase at the station but still had on my huge backpack and it was weighing me down. I was so cold that I wanted to cry and had no idea which direction to walk in. And I was scared. I donęt know what I would have done had someone tried to mug me. I couldnęt have run. As it was, there wasnęt anybody out on the streets anyway.

I must have walked for twenty minutes or more. I started crying. No taxis, no cars, no buildings, no more trams. Finally, I reached a tram station where some young people were waiting and I walked right up to a friendly looking guy and showed him my map. (If I had gotten off at that station I would have been oh so much closer.) He turned out to speak English and even offered to walk me all the way to the hostel. I was so relieved that I started crying again and he kind of awkwardly patted me on the head. He turned out to be a college student majoring in math and said that it was his dream to go to America one day. I felt so much safer walking with him. He must have thought I was a nut.

When I got to the hostel door, however, there was a sign on it that said that it closed at 9:00pm. It was way past that. There were some women inside that could see me, but they just ignored me. And then they rather meanly waved me away. I noticed a doorbell marked ęafter hours receptionę so I rang it, but the woman who answered said that they didnęt have any availability. I pretty much lost it completely then. I sat down on the bench outside and started to cry.

She did come down and I was still crying when she let me in. The other women laughed at me and left. Vera, the owneręs name, was very apologetic and wanted to know why I hadnęt made any reservations. Um, because I had no idea they would be full? Turns out she had a school group there. I asked her if she could call a taxi for me and she did, but I worried because I barely had any money on me.

When the taxi came she apologized again and told me to stay there the next time that I came to Zagreb. Yeah, right. Ięd had just about all of Zagreb that I could stomach. That 5:00 am train to Budapest was looking real good.

As I feared, the taxi turned out to be more than I could afford. The driver must have taken pity on me though because as I was counting out my change he told me to forget it and would only take half of the fare. I cried again with relief. Itęs been an emotional day.

The woman at the tourist information office at the train station looked pretty triumphant when I returned and asked for directions to the Omaldinski Hostel. It turned out to be across the street and was just as bad as everyone said that it was. It was dirty, crowded, the people were rude, and it smelled. The only good thing that I can say about it was that it was so dark I probably couldnęt see the worst of it.