In the beginning there was Zagreb

We arrived in Zagreb, Croatia's capital, with virtually no preconceptions of this beautiful country. Initial pre - trip jitters had sustained themselves with the morose view of derelict high rises accompanying the journey through the capital's suburbs. Relics of Zagreb's not - so - ancient communist past. However, such trepidations were well quashed as we stepped into the beautiful old (upper) town with vibrant high streets, magnificent churches and a relaxed, genial atmosphere that the city's residents seemed to emanate.

Our hostel was in the heart of the old town on Tkalcica street. This popular area hosted a number of small, cosy cafes and bars bustling with Croatians and tourists alike.  Visiting a place that lay so quietly away from the modern day inter-railer’s beaten track did come at a cost. The slight deficiency in must see attractions morphed our usually spritely approach to new places into a slow paced amble that reflected the more laid back nature of Zagreb. Kuna is the local currency and, thanks to a self inflicted haphazard conversion miscalculation, our three day budget was stretched threadbare. Dining came cheap and it needed to be. Soon we had grown accustomed to a pizza counter selling huge quarter slices for 10 Kuna (around £1).

The small collection of sights on offer were an eclectic bunch. The enormous structure of Zagreb’s Cathedral, built around 800 years ago, has endured earthquakes, invasions and communist neglect during its tenure. In the two and a half decades since democracy was restored, the literal brick - by - brick renovations of its twin spires continue to edge arduously towards completion.

Rebuilding: Each spire takes 10 years to renovate

The second church mentioned, St. Marks, was completely different from anything we'd ever seen or expected. It's roof and tower are draped in an ornate patriotic mosaic with thick, bold colours occupying each tile and brick. If this show of national pride wasn't conspicuous enough, the building is situated in the middle of an open square, flanked by the Croatian parliament on one side and the Presidential palace on the other.

St. Marks

One evening, an invading thunderstorm quickly established itself over the city. This is where we encountered, by chance, 'The Museum of Broken Relationships'. It is a thoroughly unique exhibition, constructed from a random assortment of everyday objects (watches, teddy bears, letters) valued, not in money, but in sentiment. To their previous owners then, each piece was priceless. Donated to the museum, each object had a story associated with a failed relationship. It was certainly powerful stuff and, reading each accompanying passage, your emotions roller coastered from the hilarious to the immensely sorrowful and all that comes in between. If nothing else, it was a very peculiar way to keep dry for a few hours...

One of the exhibits