Learn Croatian Language Online
Croatian Online is now a reality!

 

From now on, wherever you live, you can study Croatian on the Internet!

At the University of Waterloo, for more than a decade the best over-all and the most ground-breaking Canadian University, Croatian online (for beginners) is already up and running. Croatian is among the first languages prepared for one of the most innovative Internet programs at one of the most innovative
universities. To study Croatian online, contact the University of Waterloo’s Department of Distance Education or Department of Germanic and Slavic Studies as soon as possible. For further information, please emaildistance@waterloo.ca , orvggrubis@uwaterloo.ca . Phone #:(519) 888-4567
 

http://www.adm.uwaterloo.ca/infoucal/COURSE/course-CROAT.html

Ucite Hrvatski Na Internetu
 

Konačno je od ove skolske godine moguće studirati na sveusilisnoj razini hrvatski preko interneta. Studenti iz svih pa i najudaljenijih krajeva svijeta za koji djelić sekunde moći će biti u kontaktu s profesorom, odnosno s drugim studentima i učiti hrvatski sustavno, sto će im omogućiti priznanje hrvatskoga kao sveučilisnog predmeta na njima najblizem sveučilistu. Na kanadskom sveučilistu Waterloo, koje je već godinama - prema svestranim istrazivanjima poznatog tjednika MacLean’s – najbolje i najinovativnije kanadsko sveučiliste, a po tehnoloskim inovacijama i jedno od najboljih na svijetu, - hrvatski će biti ove skolske godine priređen u veoma praktičnu i lagano
primjenjivu programu 'Angel'. Tečaj koji je na internetu namijenjen je početnicima, kao i onima koji imaju veoma rudimentarno znanje iz hrvatskog, a sastoji se od dijaloga koje je snimio
Radio-Zagreb, od gramatičkih tumačenja na engleskom te od različitih vjezba, kojih odgovore provjerava i ocjenjuje sam kompjuter. Priprave su bile dug proces, ali je evo hrvatski medju prvim jezicima na svijetu priređen internetski, odnosno kao ÂŤOnline courseÂť.
 

Za sve obavijesti kao i za upise (a rok upisa je pri izmaku) obratite se internetski na e-mail adresu: distance@waterloo.ca , odnoso na vggrubis@uwaterloo.ca .
A telefonski broj je veoma lagano zamaptiti: (519) 888-4567.

http://www.adm.uwaterloo.ca/infoucal/COURSE/course-CROAT.html
 

Ivan Duknovic

Ivan Duknovic from Trogir, 15/16th centuries
Croatian Renaissance sculptor; some of his works of art are kept in
MusĂŠe du Louvre in Paris (l'aile DĂŠon)

CROATIA

Overview of History, Culture, and Science

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www.CroatianHistory.net

Croat D'Azure
Is the Dalmatian Coast the next Riviera?
 

By Peter Jon Lindberg

Updated: 2:01 p.m. ET Aug. 15, 2005
Is the Dalmatian Coast the next Riviera? Dubrovnik and the islands off Southern Croatia are tempting travelers with natural beauty and a buzzing nightlife. Peter Jon Lindberg succumbs to their charms.

My friends and I play a travel game we call Swoon. The rules are simple: Choose a storied locale from a particular moment in the past 50 years, and the place that earns the most "aaah's" wins. Someone invariably picks St.-Tropez circa 1955, or Ubud in the seventies. Pre–charter flight Ibiza. Post–Cold War Prague. Such places are the geographical equivalents of Truman Capote's Black and White Ball or Manchester's Hacienda Club: that perfect confluence of location and time—before the rest of the world arrived, before the inevitable Wild On! specials on E! Think of Bahia in the sixties, Saigon in the nineties, or Tan-gier in Paul Bowles's day.

Think of these and you'll begin to understand the Dalmatian Coast in 2005. Right now, the islands of southern Croatia are—among a certain group of people—the premier destination in the Mediterranean region. They glimmer on the periphery enough to attract the trendy, yet hang enough off the radar to elicit blank stares among the rest. And the rest don't know it now, but they'll be coming soon, too.

Europeans long favored Croatia's coastal resorts as a low-key alternative—Greece, Italy, and Spain without the tourist junk or the exorbitant prices. (In the 1970's and 80's, Yugoslavia drew more British travelers than any other European country besides Spain; most of them were bound for Dalmatia.) When Yugoslavia erupted into civil war in 1991, the Dalmatian Coast was not as hard hit as the inland regions of Bosnia and Serbia. But violence was widespread even here, and tourists—the backbone of Dalmatia's economy—disappeared altogether.

Today the pockmarks of mortar fire are faintly visible in Dubrovnik's ancient walls, grim reminders of the 1991–92 siege by Yugoslav forces. In most of Croatia, the war now feels ages, not just a decade, gone. And tourism is increasing by as much as 50 percent a year. Europeans are again flocking here each summer—arriving by yacht, by sailboat, by car ferry, or by Gulfstream—and picking up where they left off. Americans, too, are finally being clued in: dozens of cruise lines and tour companies have added Dalmatia to their itineraries in recent years. And, for better or worse, Croatia was recently given the Wild On! treatment on E! If that's not a tipping point, I don't know what is.

So what's the appeal? The landscape, for starters. This is the most stunning coastline in Europe: a mix of limpid bays, craggy bluffs, hidden coves and beaches, vineyards, olive groves, and forests of cypress and pine. Remarkably well preserved ancient towns hold vivid examples of Greek, Roman, Venetian, and Slavic architecture. The sailing and yachting scene here rivals any other, with hundreds of ports and dozens of marinas and countless natural inlets scattered across a thousand islands. Dalmatian cuisine—consisting of superb fish, shrimp, octopus, and oysters, along with increasingly renowned wines—compares favorably to Italian cooking, and borrows heavily from it: here risotto becomes rizot and prosciutto becomes the delectable prsut. But Dalmatian food is earthier and rougher than Italian, blending hints of Hungarian (paprika-laced goulash), Turkish (kebab-style raznjici, or meat skewers), and Slavic (sour dumplings). It's also exceptionally affordable.

Finally, an exuberant nightlife dominates on the larger islands of Hvar and Brac, where revelers keep the party going until sunrise. There's a palpable urgency to the proceedings. This may be the most widespread consequence of the war: everyone—Croatians themselves, as well as their blissed-out guests—seems to be making up for lost time. For now, it's Croatia's moment; who knows how long it will last?

DUBROVNIK
Dalmatia's most famous city is touted as an unspoiled gem, though this is really a matter of degree. While it's not yet as overrun as, say, Prague or Positano (the two unlikely places that Dubrovnik most resembles), it's well within the crosshairs of mass tourism. Dubrovnik's Old Town maintains a precarious equilibrium between Then and Now, Here and Elsewhere. Menus in Italian, English, and German hang outside every tra-ditional wooden-beamed konoba, or tavern. Benetton and Diesel boutiques line the medieval lanes. And pushcart vendors proffer not just handmade olive soaps but also Old Town mouse pads.

Such culture clashes form the essence of this city, and always have. In the Old Town, one feels a sense of displacement, as if all of Europe had come to cluster within Dubrovnik's fortified walls. At various points, most of Europe has. Witness the twisting staircase above Gundulic Square, an explicit homage to the Spanish Steps; the 16th-century Baroque cathedrals abutting Renaissance palaces and medieval fortresses; and the Gradska Kavana, a cafĂŠ straight out of fin de siècle Vienna.

The Old Town is shaped like a cereal bowl; from its elevated rim you can gaze across the city's orange roofs to the vividly blue Adriatic beyond. Down below, at the center of the bowl, lies the Stradun, Dubrovnik's limestone main drag. Centuries of casual strollers have buffed the street to an icy gloss—you expect a Zamboni to arrive at any moment. Each evening the Stradun roars to life for the nightly korso, or promenade. A motley crowd emerges: teenagers in sunbleached-blond dreadlocks, grizzled Croatian men smoking pipes, cruise-ship passengers in flip-flops, Italian men in Ferragamo loafers. A white-haired nun passes by, cocooned in an all-white habit. She's trailed by a surfer dude in satin shorts, nothing more. Both wear crucifixes.

The summer crowds may seem unavoidable down on the main streets, so strike up any lane into the higher parts of town. Here the only signs of life are alley cats dozing on the cool and shady stone. The air carries the scent of jasmine and lemon trees, laundry soap, cat spray, and, occasionally, the buttery aroma of scampi frying in tiny kitchens. Climbing a deserted lane one afternoon, I heard, of all things, faint strains of Dixieland echoing down the alleyways. I soon came upon an open doorway, inside which—barely visible in the dim—sat a half-dozen young Croats in shorts, gleefully blowing jazz for an audience of indifferent cats.

I was lucky enough to score a bed at the 19-room Pucic Palace, the Old Town's first upmarket hotel, carved out of an 18th-century nobleman's mansion. Even now, as tourism explodes, hotels in Dalmatia are mostly Socialist-era holdovers with lackluster service and design. The Pucic Palace is the glittering exception, a stylish blend of contemporary (gallery lighting, Bulgari bath products) and old-world (copper-shelled, claw-foot tubs; rustic beamed ceilings, olive-wood floors). Balconies look over Gundulic Square, one of Dubrovnik's prime social spots. At night it's filled with cafĂŠ tables and Cinzano-sippers, but by sunrise the entire piazza is transformed into a farmers' market. Each morning I would step outside to buy a breakfast of figs, plums, and Charentais melons. The peach bins were swarming with honeybees, but the stall tender paid them no heed; she simply tossed a few peaches into a paper sack, bees and all, then handed them over with a toothless smile. I closed the bag tight, tucked it deep inside my backpack, and waited till noon to open it, by which time the bees had passed out. The peaches were sublime.

The Old Town has some compelling museums—the best of them focusing on 16th-century religious art—but they draw curiously few visitors, and most of those seem to be merely seeking respite from the heat. You almost get the sense that Dubrovnik's tourists can't wait to get out of the city and into the surf, or at least onto a chaise longue. Browsing displays of medieval coins, muskets, and teacups at the Rector's Palace were two barefoot Spanish girls in dripping wet swimsuits. The guards hardly noticed.

Despite its sober visage—stone battlements, stately Baroque façades—Dubrovnik in July feels as louche as any Mediterranean beach resort. For every Franciscan monastery, there's a raucous cafĂŠ serving cocktails called Test Tube Baby and Blow Job. The bacchanal reaches its apex at Buza. If this isn't the perfect beach bar, I'll eat a honeybee. A literal hole-in-the-wall (reached via a tiny opening in the Old Town ramparts, and marked by a sign reading COLD DRINKS), Buza unfolds across a series of terraces hewn to the cliffs. There's nothing but a narrow railing between you and the Adriatic. Plastic chairs and tables cluster under a thatch canopy; the bar itself is just a refrigerator and a stereo, both powered by an extension cord running up the cliffside. At sunset I joined the locals leaping off 20-foot-high bluffs into the green water below. Dean Martin was crooning "Cha Cha de Amor" while a 12-year-old girl waited tables, bringing chilly Ozujsko beer from the fridge. At some point, a yacht pulled up and dropped anchor in the cove below. We all watched as the bronzed pilot dove into the water, swam up to the rocks, climbed the winding staircase, sat down at a table, and ordered a beer.

KORCULA
The sharp scent of pine resin mingles with salt air on Korcula, three hours by ferry from Dubrovnik. Forests of Aleppo pine, cypress, and holm oak make this one of the Adriatic's most verdant isles. It's known for top-notch wines and for being one of several alleged birthplaces of Marco Polo.

Korcula's primary draw, however, is the town of the same name. A snow-globe version of Dubrovnik, with a compact historic quarter encased within stone walls, Korcula took shape under Venetian rule between the 10th and 18th centuries. The Italian influence lingers in Renaissance-era loggias, arched bridges linking the upper stories of palaces, and myriad statues of St. Mark. In contrast to Dubrovnik's, the architecture is quite rough-hewn—all of Korcula looks to be carved from a single piece of stone, like an Adriatic Petra—and is on a decidedly smaller scale, with squat fluted windows and minuscule doorways rimmed with green shutters. The 30-odd lanes wending through the old quarter are so narrow that one could leap from rooftop to rooftop clear across town.

The English writer Rebecca West, visiting in 1937, likened Korcula to "a goldsmith's toy, a tortoise made of precious metals, sitting on its peninsula as on a show-stand." Not much has changed. Days begin with ink-black espresso at one of Korcula's ubiquitous cafĂŠs, followed perhaps by a circuit around the pine-fringed promenade just outside the city walls. The Old Town's promontory juts like a thumb into the shimmering bay, lapped by waves on three sides. From inside the walls, however, you'd have little idea you were on the sea; the crooked passageways huddle in shadow for most of the day. I alternated stints at the sun-drenched town beach with cooling strolls down the old quarter's lanes. Peering into darkened ground-floor kitchens I could glimpse the dim figures of housewives preparing lunch: grilled squid, sautĂŠed shrimp, wine-braised octopus. At Korcula's jumbled Abbey Treasury museum, a charming old docent followed me from room to room, pointing out Titians and Tintorettos and switching lights on and off as we went.

In the afternoons I would bike out for a bracing swim at Przina beach, a pebbly strand on Korcula's southern peninsula, near the town of Lumbarda. Lumbarda is famous for Grk wine (wonderful name, that), a pungent white with the sweet character of liqueur. Vineyards crept over the roadside here; wheel-crushed grapes stained the asphalt. The road wound past olive, lime, and almond groves, past stalks of blood-red sunflowers, past a medieval chapel dropped in the center of a vineyard. With slices of prsut and sharp paski sir cheese procured from a butcher, I stopped to picnic beside the shell of a stone farmhouse; a copse of trees poked up through what remained of the roof.

I returned to Korcula Town just before sunset, the evening air soft as a silk shirt. The passageways were bathed in the glow of amber lamps; moonlight cast a blue aura on ship masts and church steeples. Several women were grilling garlicky dorado on a barbecue while their children squeezed in a game of soccer. I assumed they were Korculan, but upon closer inspection, I realized they were all speaking French. (Foreigners—particularly French and Italian—are buying up property here at a dizzying pace.)

Just beyond the medieval walls, Vespas were honking their way through the crowds by the marina. Beck's "Sexx Laws" thumped from a harborfront disco. At the Internet cafĂŠ, Croatian teenagers were playing Grand Theft Auto. But down the musty, catacomb-like corridors of the Old Town, the night slipped back 100, 500, 750 years, and Korcula looked much as it must have in Marco Polo's day. The wine, of course, helped.

HVAR
By far the most glamorous of the Adriatic islands, Hvar is heir to that noble lineage running from Cannes and Capri through St. Bart's and South Beach: the latest of the famous international playgrounds. At the height of summer, Hvar Town is so relentlessly gorgeous it makes your eyes ache. Everything screams, Ogle me: the harbor edged with bougainvillea, the perfectly aged Renaissance façades, the absurdly huge yachts and sailboats, and a nonstop parade of caramelized torsos. As if the cast and setting didn't already suggest a perfume ad, Hvar's entire waterfront is redolent of lavender, which proliferates on the island and is sold in satchels by sidewalk vendors.

Each afternoon in summer, another dozen yachts glide into Hvar's mandrac—the marine equivalent of the driveway at Monte Carlo's casino. Here come the new arrivals, in their brushed-steel cleats and finery: the Pescatore from Tuscany, the Commitment from London, the Aerie from Cap d'Ail, the Coup de Grace from Barbados. And here come their occupants, strutting insouciantly down gangways to alight on the pier: men in cream linen suits and Gucci sandals, divas in sheer silk wraps and Michael Kors bikinis. These people can make an ATM withdrawal look sexy.

You could spend a month within two blocks of the marina and never tire of the daily routine. At the morning market, Claudia Cardinale look-alikes rub shoulders with black-cloaked biddies shopping for figs and olive oil. As the sun climbs higher, the yachties move from cafĂŠ to konoba around St. Stephen's Square, and breakfast seamlessly merges with lunch. After a swim off the rocks, it's time for midday cocktails at chic quayside bars, where all the chairs face out to provide views of the show. Hvar's Renaissance-era planners must have anticipated the town's eventual function as one of the world's preeminent catwalks.

At twilight the yachties are all dining on their decks, served by white-gloved attendants. The air fills with the clink of Prosecco glasses, voices chattering in a dozen languages, and the clapping of high heels on stone—and Hvar's evening promenade begins. The top-shelf crowd congregates at Carpe Diem, the ne plus ultra of trendy boĂŽtes. Wicker sofas and cushioned cube-stools are occupied by couples who pay with Bank of Geneva platinum cards—probably nobility from some obscure corner of Europe. When the terrace is full they adjourn to the loggia and drape themselves across marble ledges with uncanny grace.

On this particular night, however, Carpe Diem was not the most fabulous spot in town. Just past midnight, a five-story superyacht slid into a berth opposite the club. On the terrace at Carpe Diem, all heads turned as the crew emerged, clad in marine whites with brass epaulets. Ropes were secured, decks scrubbed, torches lit on the ship's sprawling veranda. Two sailors prepared the gangway, then posted themselves on the pier to tend, no joke, a velvet rope.

One by one, elegantly dressed women strode through the assembled throng, got the once-over from the doormen, and were ushered up the gangway. Baccarat glasses appeared; votives flickered in the breeze. Soon enough the lucky inviteds were shedding all but their skimpiest clothing and gyrating to hypnotic soul music—a scene straight out of a high-class porn movie. I passed by again at 5 a.m. and the celebrants were still on deck, still dancing half-naked in the predawn light. By breakfast time the ship was gone. The owners, for all I know, never got off the boat.

VIS
Just 12.5 miles across the water from Hvar Town, the island of Vis is as insular as its neighbor is cosmopolitan, its hardscrabble landscape a far cry from Hvar's sparkle and polish. Foreign visitors were not allowed on Vis until 1989; before then the island was largely controlled by the Yugoslav army, with just a scant population of farmers and fishermen for company.

A crucial strategic outpost for warding off seaborne invaders, Vis has been variously occupied by Greeks, Romans, Illyrians, Venetians, and Austro-Hungarians. Toward the end of World War II, Tito set up his Partisan headquarters in a mountain cave here and, with the help of the British, transformed the whole of Vis into a military base. During the Cold War, miles of tunnels were carved into the rock to connect subterranean barracks, gun turrets, and missile silos. Portions of the tunnels remain. Today you can comb through the rubble and find Eminem graffiti covering the skeletons of rocket launchers.

From the sea, Vis seems an unforgiving hunk of rock, dotted with parched scrub and brush. Despite its desolate appearance, Vis holds remarkable natural bounty. More than 500 varieties of herbs flourish on the island (consider that the whole of England has only around 300). Climbing those scrabbly hillsides, you can grow dizzy from the scent of rosemary and sage. Asparagus, garlic, and arugula all grow wild here, alongside the mandarin-orange and carob trees—carob infuses the local grappa. There are also some passable island wines, such as the dry white Vugava and the ruby-red Plavac, which, for some reason, Viskis often dilute with ice cubes.

I sampled the wild asparagus at Konoba Bako, in Komiza, where I had the best meal of my trip. Komiza is an unpretentious fishing village with few stores and cafÊs, and even fewer tourists. Those who come tend to gather at Konoba Bako, whose waterfront terrace makes an idyllic backdrop for simply prepared seafood. Lunch began with pristine oysters from Mali Ston, northwest of Dubrovnik, where underground springs and freshwater rivers create an ideal feeding ground for shellfish (Mali Ston oysters were purportedly a favorite of Emperor Franz Josef's). A luscious pâtÊ of anchovies followed, then a sublimely tender stewed octopus. Finally, out came a grilled dorado, its skin as crisp as a roast chicken's, its pearlescent flesh so rich and juicy that olive oil and lemon seemed redundant.

BRAC
Brac was always renowned for its quarries; the island's creamy white marble was used for the walls of Diocletian's Palace in nearby Split and, farther afield, for the White House. Nowadays the stone trade has ceded to the sun-and-surf market. Possessing Croatia's most famous beach, as well as a limpid bay for swimming and snorkeling, Brac is an obvious haven for sporty types. On the breezy harbor around Bol, the island's tourist hub, windsurfers slice the water like dorsal fins. The downside: Brac is becoming popular with package vacationers, and is being developed accordingly. Sprawling, chain-style resorts are still rare on the Dalmatian Coast—pensions, B&B's, and small hotels have long dominated the market here—but Brac now has more than its share of behemoths. (This may explain the preponderance of Jet Skis.)

The upside: there's enough beachfront for now to accommodate the crowds. And the town of Bol, diminutive though it may be, manages to absorb the ferryloads of visitors without sacrificing its mellow, understated character. After the evening ferries depart, Bol settles into the pleasant vibe of an after-party. Still, most travelers come here on day trips from Hvar or Split and skip the town altogether, heading straight for the beach.

Brac's mountainous interior is spotted like, well, a dalmatian—harsh gray stone broken by patches of scraggly maquis. Against this towering, nearly monochromatic backdrop, the coastline seems to explode in a riot of emerald greens, terra-cotta reds, and aqua blues, as if all of the island's color had long ago trickled down the hillsides to the sea. Just west of Bol, a ring of evergreens hugs the shore, shading a limestone promenade. Carpeted in pine needles and lined with vendors selling seashells, sarongs, and coral necklaces, the pathway stretches for a mile alongside 40-foot-high cliffs. Cicadas and crickets thrum in the trees. Through the forest you can catch glimpses of an impossibly blue bay glistening in the sun.

Finally, the path slopes downward and you emerge onto Zlatni Rat (Golden Cape), the beach everyone comes here for. It is, even skeptics will admit, an extraordinary spot. The cape forms a V that thrusts into the bay, rimmed by a broad, flat strand of polished shale. (There are hardly any sandy beaches in Dalmatia—and if you miss the softness, you certainly don't miss the mess.) The beach slides gently into the water, translucent as an indoor swimming pool and nearly as warm. Commerce is nonexistent, except for a couple of stalls selling kiwi, melon, and coconut gelatos. The far side of the beach is reserved for nude bathers (naturism is quite the rage in Croatia) but, given the size of European bikinis, there's precious little to indicate when you've found it.

Copyright © 2005 American Express Publishing Corporation

http://msnbc.msn.com/id/8961456/
http://www.travelandleisure.com/

Croatia-Beaches.com

For many people a summer vacation means one thing - the beach and if you are determined beach-hunters, you've come to the right place.
Croatia's main tourist attraction has always been its beaches. The Adriatic coast and islands are lined with amazing beaches, abounding in natural harbors, with its countless bays, ports and marinas. Croatia offers 1.778 kilometers (1.103 miles) of seaside and should you run out of the mainland, there are still over 1.000 islands to choose from (66 inhabited) with additional 4.012 kilometers (2.487 miles) of seaside.

Croatia-Beaches.com reveals best Croatian beaches in several categories. Hopefully you'll find this site interesting and useful
 

Brazil draw with Croatia in friendly

SPLIT, Croatia, Aug 17 (Reuters) - Croatia held Brazil to a 1-1 draw on Wednesday in a friendly dominated by the world champions.

The home side's early hard work paid off in the 32nd minute when CSKA Moscow forward Ivica Olic hit the post and Niko Kranjcar slotted in the rebound. Brazil hit back 10 minutes later when Ricardinho sent an 18-metre free kick into the top right-hand corner of the net. The South Americans went close to taking the lead in the 69th minute when Adriano struck the post. Adriano also went wide with a header, as did Ronaldo with a shot from the edge of the box. Both countries fielded their strongest possible teams as they warmed up for World Cup qualifiers in September. Brazil were only without Ronaldinho and Roque Junior, who are suspended for the tie with Chile on September 4. "It was evident that my players are not yet in their best condition. They are still lacking regular competitive rhythm. Taking all that into consideration, I think that a draw was a fair outcome," Brazil coach Carlos Alberto Parreira told reporters. Croatia, who missed injured Rangers striker Dado Prso, top European Zone Group Eight with 16 points. They are one point ahead of Sweden and six ahead of Hungary. Croatia go to Iceland for their next qualifier on September 3 before meeting Malta four days later.
Croatia coach Zlatko Kranjcar said: "We showed that we can compete with the best players in the world.
"My team fulfilled the tasks I gave them and I'm convinced we can look forward to our coming World Cup qualifiers with optimism."  Brazil have not lost to a European team since they were beaten 2-1 by Portugal in March 2003.

http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2005-08/18/content_470163.htm
 

Out of some 30, only the letter from Croatian Medical Journal was read

At commemoration of the victims of the bombing attack in London, in British Medical Association (BMA House), out of some 30, only the letter from Croatian Medical Journal was read. We sent the letter of support and condolences. Name of Croatian Medical Journal means so much, and maybe the words were so good that - it was read in public.

Sincerely, yours, Matko Marusic
mmarusic@mef.hr 

In a message dated 7/25/2005 3:56:40 A.M. Eastern Standard Time,
Sent: Monday, July 25, 2005 9:03 AM
To: Matko Marusic
Subject: Re: London

Dragi profesore

Cestitke na CMJ-u. Zaboravila sam Vam reci - na komemoraciji zrtvama
bomaskog napada koja je bila u BMA House u cetvrtak procitali su samo jednu
poruku podrske, i to od Croatian Medical Journal-a.

Pala sam na ledja kad su Vas spomenuli u takvoj prilici, na cas sam
pomislila - gdje sam to, nisam se valjda teleportirala kuci?! :)

Srdacno
Kristina

 

Searching for Croatian Directory

Dear Reader:

In light of your organizations extensive contacts, I hope that you may be able to help me. A few years ago, I saw a Croatian directory of Croatians and Croatian businesses in the US and Canada. I have been trying to find a current copy of this directory, but I haven't had any luck. I don't remember who published it, but I would be interested in buying a copy of that directory. I would appreciate any help that you can give me in locating this directory.

Thank you,
Matthew Radocaj
matt@jacodar.com
 
 

Croatian journalist indicted by ICTY asks for help

Hello

I attach 3 items below concerning the outrageous
indictment of 4 croatian journalists by the ICTY, who
may face imprisonment. The first is a letter to the
ICTY from Reporters Without Borders. The other two
are appeals from Domagoj Margetic
(domagoj_margetic@yahoo.com), one of the journalists
indicted. As can be seen, he is threatening to go on
hunger strike.

The Veritas organisiation, mentioned in the below
letter from Reporters without Borders, already
published the testimony by Croatian President Stipe
Mesic - which led to the indictments - some years
prior to the indicted journalists. This organisation
has been publicly endorsed by the ICTY
(http://www.veritas.org.yu/engleski/icty.htm). Clearly
this
is evidence of favourtism - they have not indicted
their friends for doing the same thing.

I would also point that Strbac, in charge of Veritas,
took part in the occupation of Croatia which the ICTY
called a criminal enterprise. The ICTY has not
investigated Strbac, but has endorsed him. This makes
the attack on these journalists even more
questionable.


Kind regards

Brian Gallagher

Reporters sans frontières
5, rue Geoffroy-Marie
75009 Paris - France

Tel. 33 1 44 83 84 84
Fax. 33 1 45 23 11 51

E-mail : rsf@rsf.org
Web : www.rsf.org


The Clerk of the Court
International Criminal Court
Churchillplein 1
2517 JW
The Hague
Netherlands

Dear Sir,

Reporters Without Borders, an international
organisation that defends press freedom, would like to
voice its concern as to the consequences for press
freedom of the trial of three Croatian journalists,
Ivica Marijacic, Stjepan Seselj and Domagoj Margetic,
who are accused of contempt of the International
Criminal Court in the Hague for failing to respect
certain protection orders and who face a maximum
sentence of seven years in prison and a fine of
100,000 euros.

We think a symbolic sentence would be the most
appropriate decision as regards these journalists in
order to avoid setting a dangerous precedent and
because of the priorities of the International
Criminal Court, of which the chief task is to try the
most serious international crimes.

Furthermore, these three Croatian journalists were not
the first to reveal – in November 2004 in Hrvatski
List, Hrvatsko Slovo and Novo Hrvatsko Slovo – the
identity of a protected witness, namely the current
Croatian president, Stipe Mesic, and the secret
transcripts of the 1997 trial of the Bosnian Croat
general, Tihomir Blaskic. This confidential
information had already been published on the Veritas
Centre for Collecting Documents and Information
website (www.veritas.org.yu) in 1999, and by the
Bosnian daily Bih Dani on 1 June 2001.

Finally, the fact that the protected witness is
Croatia’s president means that the publication of his
name, although a breach of the law, does not endanger
his safety.

We trust you will give this matter your careful
consideration and will appreciate the points we have
made.

Respectfully,

Robert MĂŠnard
Secretary-General


URGENT INTERNATIONAL APPEAL FOR HELP TO CROATIAN
JOURNALISTS INDICTED IN HAGUE TRIBUNAL

From public sources, You probably learned that the
ICTY in The Hague has indicted three prominent
journalists in Croatia—Ivica Marijacic (editor in
chief Hrvatski list Zadar), Domagoj Margetic (former
editor in chief of Hrvatsko slovo and Novo hrvatsko
slovo) and Stjepan Seselj. It is also our
understanding that another Croatian journalist, Josip
Jovic, the former editor-in-chief and current popular
columnist for Slobodna Dalmacija, is also in the
process of being indicted by the ICTY. These
journalists are being indicted for the alleged crime
of contempt of the tribunal, pursuant to Rule 77 of
the ICTY’s Rules of Procedure and Evidence, for
publishing the identity and statements of protected
witnesses in the Tihomir Blaskic case. The
journalists face a possible punishment of a 100,000
Euro fine and seven years in prison.

In part, the indictments appear to be based on the
publication of "secret testimony" given by Croatian
President Stipe Mesic to the ICTY. It is our
understanding that at the time of the publication, the
testimony was already available on the Internet and
that the fact of President Mesic's testimony had
already been publicly admitted by him. Even if this
were not true, it would also appear that it is the
responsibility of the tribunal, and not that of the
Croatian or international media, to make sure that
secret witness testimony is not leaked to the public.

As you know, it is a common tactic of dictatorial
regimes to prosecute journalists who criticize public
officials by using what appear to be accepted legal
doctrines, such as defamation. Thus, we are
particularly disturbed that some of the journalists
indicted have heretofore written articles critical of
the ICTY.

It is the role of journalists in a free society to
hold public officials accountable for their actions,
and to reveal sensitive, even privileged information
in order to inform the public. The public’s right to
be informed, along with the rights of journalists to
publish their reporting free of any censorship, is at
the core of an open, free press.

We believe that these indictments clearly fall within
the definition of what constitutes “attacks on the
press”.

We therefore request Your urgent action and help to
indicted Croatian journalists and we ask You to
investigate the ICTY's actions and determine whether
they are consistent with generally accepted notions of
freedom of the press that prevail in truly democratic
societies.


Domagoj Margetic, journalist
Indicted in ICTY-Hague International Tribunal


I am indicted by The Hague International Tribunal for
war Crimes, because of the contempt of Court, as
Croatian journalist and publicist.

In last several months I warned Croatian Government
and other relevant institutions that I don’t have
financial sources to finance my defense at The Hague
Tribunal, but they ignored that information.

As I wrote I don't have financial sources to finance my
defense and in Croatia political situation is not good
for the journalists which are indicted in Hague, so I
cannot get any place to work, to write, and to earn my
pay check every month. I am on so called BLACK LIST OF
JOURNALISTS. So I don't have even financial sources for
my every day life.

Now The Hague Tribunal refused to register my
attorney Zeljko Dumancic from Zagreb, out of unknown
reasons. So now I am left without any legal assistance
as the indicted journalist at The Hague.

I demand from the Government of Croatia, as ex deputy
prime minister dr. Andrija Hebrang said that the
Government secretly finance some of the indicted
persons at the Hague, but the others doesn't have that
privilege, so I demand that the Government of Croatia
equally finance my defense.

At this moment my rights are in danger
right to justice at the Tribunal,
right to defense and legal help,
they are breaking the rules of the Hague Tribunal
Statute,
the Government put me at the list of those indicted
persons ate The Hague which they are not to finance,
out of their secret reasons.

If they don't find the solution for these problems
until the Friday 26.8.2005., I'll start hunger strike
until the end.

The Government is not respecting our human and citizen
rights by strange and non transparent financing of
some indicted persons and not financing the others. I
am put in the unequal position at the Tribunal, and
in the legal sense.

I urge You again to help us, indicted Croatian
journalists at The Hague tribunal.

Domagoj Margetic
journalist

www.domagojmargetic.com

Google Earth needs correction on Prevlaka Case# 32045827

Dear All, thanks to Martin Cvjetkovic and this map corrected by Matko Cvjetkovic, please send your polite complaint and ask for correction in the next 24 hours. Prevlaka is too sensitive to stay like this much longer.

As far as I understood, red line is the corrected one, not yet on Google Earth, but done by Matko. Emails are below as well as first response to Martin Cvjetkovic from Google. Otherwise, Google has a great tool, compliment them as well.

Nenad

Thank you for your note on how we can make our database better. Weappreciate your feedback and use your feedback to improve both ourdatabase and our Help Center.  We investigate all data errors and pass all imagery requests on to ourdata production team. Although we do update and/or add new data on amonthly basis, we do not have a list of when currently low resolutionareas or data anomalies will be updated.We're aware that some addresses are not roof-top accurate. This is theresult of how addresses are matched up to an exact position on the earth.We rely on a technique called "address interpolation," which is a fancyway of saying that we take our best guess. More specifically, we take thetotal number of addresses in a given block and assume an even distributionof the addresses along that block. For example, if there are ten addressesfor the 800 block of Main Street, we assume that the fifth address islocated at the halfway point. Ideally, we'd use a database that could precisely match addresses to theirrooftops, but unfortunately, such a database doesn't exist. We hope tohave a system in place in the near future that will allow users correcttheir location search results. We do, however, currently have a way to add and edit business listings:https://www.google.com/local/add/login

Andronico Luksic - Croatian Billioner Dies at 78

Antofagasta billionaire dies at 78
By Melanie Feisst (Filed: 20/08/2005)

The Chilean billionaire Andronico Luksic, who founded the Antofagasta copper mining and rail empire, has died of cancer aged 78. Mr Luksic, whose family emigrated to Chile from Croatia after the First World War, took control of the company, then known as the Antofagasta (Chile) & Bolivia Railway Company, in 1980.

He led it through a resurgence in international demand to enter the FTSE 100 at £11.40 in March 2004. Since then its share price has risen 25pc, adding another 36 yesterday to reach £14.26.

Mr Luksic, who leaves a widow, Iris, and five children, last year was credited by Antofagasta director and friend Philip Adeane with turning the company from a £100m business in 1980 to one worth more than £2.4billion.

The media-shy mogul, who had returned recently to Croatia to invest in a chain of war-affected hotels, was estimated to be worth £1.6billion. He was chairman of Antofagasta group from 1982 until his retirement from the board last November, when he was succeeded by his youngest son Jean-Paul Luksic, the former chief executive.

Mr Luksic senior also had interests in brewing, fishing and telecommunications.

http://www.money.telegraph.co.uk/money/main.jhtml?xml=/money/2005/08/20/cnanto20.xml&menuId=242&sSheet=/money/2005/08/20/ixfrontcity.html