One long summer to remember

A slow days in Zavala, Hvar, June 2025.

One long summer, indeed. It began not with a grand announcement, but with the quiet settling into the rhythm of Turkish days, where laughter flowed as freely as the tea, and friendships, forged earlier in the snowy Bulgarian Hub, followed us like persistent, warm currents. It's a curious thing, this weaving of human connection, how threads spun in one place can extend across borders and oceans, creating a tapestry of belonging that grows richer with each shared moment. This year, more than ever, I felt the tightening of these ties, a deepening understanding of how we navigate the world both with and for those connections.

When we set out for Bulgaria at the start of the year, chasing the whispers of snow and the thrill of the slopes, I could not have dreamt of the profound human encounters awaiting us. Yet, it turns out, there are souls ready to journey with us, to meet us wherever our wanderlust takes us. And so, in May, the reunion in Zagreb with two families from Bansko was less a meeting and more a rediscovery of kindred spirits. Our bonds deepened, and our children, in their boundless way, effortlessly expanded the constellations of their own friendships. Zagreb, a city brimming with hidden courtyards and vibrant parks, offered itself generously, inviting us to roam, to play, to explore. Days ended with a happy exhaustion, a testament to the simple joy of meeting local friends in sun-drenched parks, of living fully in the present.

Then, the call of the south, to a small village in Dalmatia where the season was merely a whisper on the horizon. Here, amidst the quietude, life unfolded at a pace dictated by the sun and the sea. The rented house, with its embracing garden, became our sanctuary. We spent slow, sun-drenched afternoons by the pool, the air thick with the scent of pine and salt. Evenings found us perched on the terrace, coffee cups warming our hands, watching the twilight paint the sky. These were the days of simple pleasures, of meandering drives exploring the untouched beauty of the region, of dipping fishing lines into the cerulean waters, and, in one memorable instance, sharing the quiet thrill of a fishing night with dear friends who had journeyed all the way from the UK. The lines cast into the dark, the shared anticipation, the easy camaraderie – these are the moments that truly anchor our wandering souls. And within the haven of our garden, a gentle ritual emerged: the patient feeding of land turtles, their ancient eyes reflecting a timeless peace, a small reminder of the interconnectedness of all living things.

Our journey then led us inland, to a truly magical weekend in Irinovac, at Ranch Terra. The air here vibrated with the raw, untamed beauty surrounding Plitvice Lakes. We found ourselves immersed in a landscape straight from a dream: swimming in the cool, invigorating embrace of the Korana river, our bodies suspended between earth and sky, and walking miles of winding trails through the emerald forests of Plitvice, each step a meditation on nature's grandeur. To return to the coast afterwards, to the comforting embrace of our grandparents, was to blend the wild freedom with the nurturing warmth of family – a perfect harmony.

June, like a mischievous thief, crept in slowly, its gentle touch transforming into an unexpected sweep. Goodbyes were a reluctant murmur, a pulling away from the familiar comfort we had built. But new adventures beckoned, whispering promises of further southern travels and the joyous prospect of co-living with cherished friends. Primošten, Hvar, and Korčula became our beacons, marking the points on a map that would soon be filled with shared laughter and sun-kissed memories. We sailed off, into days both fast and slow, finding a rhythm that allowed for both movement and stillness, for truly being. Our days took on a beautiful cadence: morning workouts under the Croatian sun, refreshing swims in the crystal-clear Adriatic, long, reflective walks, and the sacred ritual of shared meals, where stories were exchanged as freely as the local wine. On Hvar, the universe conspired to bring two more Worldschooling families into our orbit. It felt as though we had always known them, as if the days in Zavala had been preordained: afternoons spent together, paddleboarding across the glassy bay, playful games on the shore, the quiet intensity of rock exploring, strategic chess matches, cozy movie nights, and, most cherished of all, endless, deep, and truly interesting conversations that stretched late into the night. It was also here that we embarked on an unforgettable boat tour, navigating the shimmering waters around Hvar, Vis, and the surrounding islands with our American friends, the wind in our hair, the sun on our faces, and the shared awe of discovering hidden coves and ancient fishing villages. The small evening walks to the old town of Primošten became a beloved ritual, a gentle exploration of cobbled streets, where the scent of jasmine mingled with the murmur of local voices, and every turn brought a new face, a welcoming smile, a sense of belonging in a place that was once unknown.

The final days on Korčula brought another dear family into our circle, and I was, and still am, held in the quiet awe of it all. This life we've chosen, where others are willing to cross continents for us, and we, in turn, would traverse oceans for them – it’s a testament to the extraordinary tapestry of human connection.

My belly ached from the sheer joy of laughter, and my soul felt nourished by the depth of these shared moments.

Silja, our wild spark, turned ten amidst this beautiful chaos, her birthday celebrated twice over: first in the sun-drenched beauty of Korčula, and then again, back in Drage, with my family and Tommy's united in the intense heat of the season. It was a whirlwind of energy, intense and exquisitely beautiful, a familiar dance of leaving and returning, of heartfelt farewells softened by the promise of future reunions, of new adventures patiently waiting on the horizon.

Returning to Zagreb at the beginning of July felt like slipping into a beloved, well-worn garment – easy and familiar. We reconnected with the life we had left in May: the creative solace of pottery classes, the quiet wonder of art, the communal joy of movies, and the simple freedom of park hangouts. To witness our children navigate the city they know so well, moving more freely and independently, was a profound comfort.

It is truly nurturing to see how this form of living and traveling, though ordinary in its uniqueness, sows so many beautiful values. It is a life not for everyone, perhaps, but it is deeply ours, a testament to the myriad ways one can form and live a life. And in writing about it, I hope not only to share a glimpse of these possibilities but also to gather these precious memories, a tangible collection for us to look back upon, a living proof of our extraordinary, unique, and profoundly ordinary summer.