Latest news with #Croatians
Yahoo
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Bakers needed for Simply Slavic baking contest
YOUNGSTOWN, Ohio (WKBN) — Those who have their own cultural recipes have the chance to win the baker's hat in the upcoming Simply Slavic baking contest. The contest is for nonprofessional bakers to showcase their best baked goods. Wednesday is the last day to sign up for the baking contest, and entries must be submitted this Saturday for the judging, which is done in advance of the festival. The contest accepts a wide range of items. 'There is no specific categories. So the category is Eastern European foods, so baked goods, so anything from the Croatians, the Poles, the Russians, the Ukrainians, anybody can bring some grandma's secret recipes that they're holding on to, and just bring it and share it with us,' said organizer Marta Mazur. You only need to bake two items — one for Saturday's judging and one to be sold at the Simply Slavik festival, which is June 13 and 14. Winners will be recognized at the festival. To sign up, call Marta Mazur at 330-261-4263 or email bakingcontest@ Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Spectator
27-05-2025
- Spectator
The shadow of communism still looms over the Balkans
Our Serbian guide Zoran is a jovial fellow and as we rumble through the streets of Belgrade in our minibus he regales us with a joke about the difference between the various nationalities of the former Yugoslavia, all now with countries of their own. 'We Serbs are rude,' he says, 'but the Croatians are self-centred, the Bosnians are thick, the Montenegrins are lazy and the Macedonians are just Serbs with a speech defect. As for the Slovenians, they are so polite they must be gay!' Joking about each other is a definite improvement on fighting each other, as per so much of their history. The countries on my Balkan tour – Serbia, Romania and Bulgaria – have been struggling for more than three decades with their post-communist problems. But they do like a laugh. The Serb capital Belgrade sits at the confluence of the Sava and the Danube.
Time of India
23-05-2025
- Sport
- Time of India
Report: New York City FC leads MLS race to sign Luka Modric amid Dinamo Zagreb uncertainty
Luka Modrić (via Getty Images) Luka Modrić, one of the most iconic midfielders in world football, is coming to the close of his illustrious career at Real Madrid—and his next stop may be on the Atlantic. With Dinamo Zagreb struggling to win the Croatian league championship, Major League Soccer clubs such as New York City FC and Los Angeles FC are making increased overtures to acquire the Croatian legend. Dinamo Zagreb title slip chance might influence Luka Modrić towards Major League Soccer spell DAY ONE OF GREATNESS: Luka Modric's FIRST DAY at Real Madrid back in 2012 As Luka Modrić bids farewell to Real Madrid after 13 incredible seasons and more than 20 top honors, his next possible transfer is generating interest far outside of Europe. While many Croatians dream of watching him return to Dinamo Zagreb, the club where he began, Luka Luka Modrić's next stop might actually be the United States and Major League Soccer. New York City FC is reported to be leading the pack, continuing its tradition of bringing in European anchors onto the MLS stage—Frank Lampard, Andrea Pirlo, and David Villa being some of the most notable. Los Angeles FC is also heavily rumored with the midfielder, where fellow countrymen Olivier Giroud and World Cup winner Hugo Lloris are recent signings. Timing might just be perfect, as the 2026 FIFA World Cup is set to be staged in the United States, Canada, and Mexico; this move could give Modrić the exposure and competitive tempo he needs. Back home, for Dinamo Zagreb, things are much less clear-cut. Dinamo's hope rests above all on winning the Croatian league championship—something not at all certain this season. Without it, both the club's negotiating strength and the sentimental attraction of a return diminish considerably. For Modrić, the choice probably tips sentimental worth versus pragmatic possibility. The return to Dinamo Zagreb would be celebrated as a victorious return home, but the opportunity to become an MLS marquee name in an era of explosive league expansion might prove too pragmatic to pass up. Also read: Luka Modric to leave Real Madrid after 13 years, nearly 600 appearances Whether Luka Modrić concludes his legendary career in the city where it started in Zagreb or sets the new chapter under the American spotlight, his next step will have global importance. The future of the Croatian maestro will not only determine the chapter of his life but also the stories of clubs on two continents ready to pen the final paragraphs of his remarkable football career. Get IPL 2025 match schedules , squads , points table , and live scores for CSK , MI , RCB , KKR , SRH , LSG , DC , GT , PBKS , and RR . Check the latest IPL Orange Cap and Purple Cap standings.
Yahoo
23-05-2025
- Yahoo
In search of ‘fjaka'—the Croatian art of doing nothing
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). This story begins — as many good yarns do — in a bar. Specifically, Beach Bar Dodo beside Dubrovnik's seafront, where I'm sipping beer with a friend. David Farley had sub-let his perfectly nice flat in New York to decamp to Croatia. What's he doing with his days, I ask. Not much, he replies: 'Perfecting my fjaka.' Fjaka, pronounced 'fee-aka', could only have come from a land of sunbaked islands. It is, David explains, no place to go, no place to be. Allowing days to drift and blur. Back in the capital, Zagreb, they make rude jokes about Dalmatians as donkeys, but that misses the point entirely. With fjaka, the region has elevated easy living into an artform. With no better plans, I decide to embark on a quixotic search for something the Croatians can't exactly define themselves — but which I'll apparently know when I find it. Lastovo seems the place to look. Croatia's second-most remote island after Vis, Lastovo was once a naval base and off limits from the mid 1940s until 1988 — like a Bond villain's lair, tunnels that once concealed submarines burrow deep into its cliffs. But if Vis is bohemian chic, Lastovo represents something Homeric, almost epic. In 2003 the World Wildlife Fund for Nature called Lastovo a last paradise of the Mediterranean. In 2006 Lastovo was designated a nature park. Croatians speak about it with a kind of reverential awe. As I approach by ferry, it seems little altered since the Ancient Greeks dropped anchor: just one house among wild, pine-scrubbed hills. We dock in a glassy bay and I board the island's only bus — a tatty people-carrier — to reach the sole hotel, Hotel Solitudo: a modestly tarted up Yugoslav relic in the island's only resort, Pasadur. There's not much to that either: two restaurants, a kiosk renting kayaks and bikes, and some concrete platforms that islanders call 'beaches' with a straight face. Beaches are Lastovo's weak spot, but what a place to attempt fjaka. For a few days, I potter. I swim in water so turquoise it would make a peacock blush. I read. At night, I sit with my feet in the sea, breathing in the smell of pines as you might a fine wine, goggling at a sky boiling with stars. With zero light pollution, Lastovo hopes to become Europe's first Dark Sky Sanctuary. Is this fjaka though? Not really, says Diana Magdić of the Lastovo Tourist Board. Swimming and reading are too active, apparently. 'Fjaka is a state of mind,' she says. 'It's not thinking. It's just letting time pass, the sound of cicadas, the heat.' Diana perfected her fjaka after she moved to the island as a 'refugee' from Zagreb. 'I don't think Lastovo people realise how pure this island is. You can hear the quiet here. You can feel it.' I know what she means. Beyond the tourism office, Lastovo Town turns out to be a semi-ruin of pale stone and forgotten secrets, where cats doze in sunny corners, weeds sprout between marble steps and doorways reveal courtyards with plants in old tomato tins. If it wasn't for the occasional radio blaring behind lace curtains, I might have thought it entirely abandoned. I rent a scooter — not exactly fjaka either, but irresistible. At Lučica cove I swim beneath former fisherman's houses, their shutters painted shades of emerald and cobalt. In Zaklopatica bay I enjoy a lazy lunch in Triton restaurant — fresh grilled fish, served on a terrace that dangles above the water. I glimpse yachts, nodding at their moorings, and am reminded of a board I spotted earlier, advertising trips with a fisherman from Pasadur. 'This is my boat,' says Ivica Lešić, gesturing vaguely. In front of us is a smart gulet, its wood shiny, its sails neatly stowed — not what I had expected at all. He steps on board, then clambers over a railing into a plastic tub moored beneath, where his wife Helena waves from beneath an awning. During summer, the couple run trips in partnership with the World Wildlife Fund. Ivica is probably right when he says they are more play than work, but they also protect fish against overfishing — the fund compensates him for earnings lost by not fishing commercially. It's also a lovely trip. Ivica talks about island life as he hauls up nets in a series of dark-teal bays: a bonito like a silver bullet, scorpionfish, silvery yellow-striped barbona. Then we drop anchor in an empty bay, fire up a griddle and eat: our catch of the day soused in homemade olive oil, with homemade fennel bread, the couple's own wine and rakija brandy. The sea chuckles against the hull. Time unspools. In the haze afterwards, Ivica says a fjaka mood can settle like Valium post-lunch: 'Fresh fish. Wine. Heat. You can do nothing, just sit.' More holidaymakers arrive in Lastovo each year, says Ivica. There's even talk of another hotel. The question is not simply do islanders want more development – do we? Laughably ill-equipped for a conventional holiday, Lastovo poses a singular question about what we seek from a trip away. To relax, many of us might say — but do we even know how? It strikes me that if we embrace fjaka — the delicate art of Dalmatian holidaymaking — we can help preserve Lastovo's purity, even its dark skies. 'Lastovo island is nothing special,' Ivica says with a shrug. 'It's simplicity. It's liberation. To love Lastovo you just need to be.' The boat rocks gently. The cicadas throb. And for long, delicious minutes we lapse into silence. To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
National Geographic
23-05-2025
- National Geographic
In search of ‘fjaka'—the Croatian art of doing nothing
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). This story begins — as many good yarns do — in a bar. Specifically, Beach Bar Dodo beside Dubrovnik's seafront, where I'm sipping beer with a friend. David Farley had sub-let his perfectly nice flat in New York to decamp to Croatia. What's he doing with his days, I ask. Not much, he replies: 'Perfecting my fjaka.' Fjaka, pronounced 'fee-aka', could only have come from a land of sunbaked islands. It is, David explains, no place to go, no place to be. Allowing days to drift and blur. Back in the capital, Zagreb, they make rude jokes about Dalmatians as donkeys, but that misses the point entirely. With fjaka, the region has elevated easy living into an artform. With no better plans, I decide to embark on a quixotic search for something the Croatians can't exactly define themselves — but which I'll apparently know when I find it. Lastovo seems the place to look. Croatia's second-most remote island after Vis, Lastovo was once a naval base and off limits from the mid 1940s until 1988 — like a Bond villain's lair, tunnels that once concealed submarines burrow deep into its cliffs. But if Vis is bohemian chic, Lastovo represents something Homeric, almost epic. In 2003 the World Wildlife Fund for Nature called Lastovo a last paradise of the Mediterranean. In 2006 Lastovo was designated a nature park. Croatians speak about it with a kind of reverential awe. As I approach by ferry, it seems little altered since the Ancient Greeks dropped anchor: just one house among wild, pine-scrubbed hills. We dock in a glassy bay and I board the island's only bus — a tatty people-carrier — to reach the sole hotel, Hotel Solitudo: a modestly tarted up Yugoslav relic in the island's only resort, Pasadur. There's not much to that either: two restaurants, a kiosk renting kayaks and bikes, and some concrete platforms that islanders call 'beaches' with a straight face. 'Fjaka is a state of mind,' says Diana Magdić of the Lastovo Tourist Board. 'It's not thinking. It's just letting time pass, the sound of cicadas, the heat.' Photograph by Getty Images, Henglein & Steets Beaches are Lastovo's weak spot, but what a place to attempt fjaka. For a few days, I potter. I swim in water so turquoise it would make a peacock blush. I read. At night, I sit with my feet in the sea, breathing in the smell of pines as you might a fine wine, goggling at a sky boiling with stars. With zero light pollution, Lastovo hopes to become Europe's first Dark Sky Sanctuary. Is this fjaka though? Not really, says Diana Magdić of the Lastovo Tourist Board. Swimming and reading are too active, apparently. 'Fjaka is a state of mind,' she says. 'It's not thinking. It's just letting time pass, the sound of cicadas, the heat.' Diana perfected her fjaka after she moved to the island as a 'refugee' from Zagreb. 'I don't think Lastovo people realise how pure this island is. You can hear the quiet here. You can feel it.' I know what she means. Beyond the tourism office, Lastovo Town turns out to be a semi-ruin of pale stone and forgotten secrets, where cats doze in sunny corners, weeds sprout between marble steps and doorways reveal courtyards with plants in old tomato tins. If it wasn't for the occasional radio blaring behind lace curtains, I might have thought it entirely abandoned. I rent a scooter — not exactly fjaka either, but irresistible. At Lučica cove I swim beneath former fisherman's houses, their shutters painted shades of emerald and cobalt. In Zaklopatica bay I enjoy a lazy lunch in Triton restaurant — fresh grilled fish, served on a terrace that dangles above the water. I glimpse yachts, nodding at their moorings, and am reminded of a board I spotted earlier, advertising trips with a fisherman from Pasadur. 'This is my boat,' says Ivica Lešić, gesturing vaguely. In front of us is a smart gulet, its wood shiny, its sails neatly stowed — not what I had expected at all. He steps on board, then clambers over a railing into a plastic tub moored beneath, where his wife Helena waves from beneath an awning. Beyond the tourism office, Lastovo Town turns out to be a semi-ruin of pale stone and forgotten secrets, where cats doze in sunny corners, weeds sprout between marble steps and doorways reveal courtyards with plants in old tomato tins. Photograph by Getty, AGinger During summer, the couple run trips in partnership with the World Wildlife Fund. Ivica is probably right when he says they are more play than work, but they also protect fish against overfishing — the fund compensates him for earnings lost by not fishing commercially. It's also a lovely trip. Ivica talks about island life as he hauls up nets in a series of dark-teal bays: a bonito like a silver bullet, scorpionfish, silvery yellow-striped barbona. Then we drop anchor in an empty bay, fire up a griddle and eat: our catch of the day soused in homemade olive oil, with homemade fennel bread, the couple's own wine and rakija brandy. The sea chuckles against the hull. Time unspools. In the haze afterwards, Ivica says a fjaka mood can settle like Valium post-lunch: 'Fresh fish. Wine. Heat. You can do nothing, just sit.' More holidaymakers arrive in Lastovo each year, says Ivica. There's even talk of another hotel. The question is not simply do islanders want more development – do we? Laughably ill-equipped for a conventional holiday, Lastovo poses a singular question about what we seek from a trip away. To relax, many of us might say — but do we even know how? It strikes me that if we embrace fjaka — the delicate art of Dalmatian holidaymaking — we can help preserve Lastovo's purity, even its dark skies. 'Lastovo island is nothing special,' Ivica says with a shrug. 'It's simplicity. It's liberation. To love Lastovo you just need to be.' The boat rocks gently. The cicadas throb. And for long, delicious minutes we lapse into silence. National ferry operator Jadrolinija sails to Lastovo via Hvar and Korčula from Split. TP Line sails via Korčula from Dubrovnik. A double room at Hotel Solitudo starts from £78. Ivica and Helena operate tours and charter as Izleti Lastovo Survival, tours and pricing are bespoke. +353 915 615 905 To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
