Proof of Where We Come From: My Generational Trip to Otočac, Croatia
Sunsets, Old Cities, and 92,000 Steps Across Croatia
A glimpse along the hills in the town of Otočac, Croatia, where my grandmother, (great) great-grandmother and mom were born
I just returned from Croatia in September, and it was more than a trip. It was a walk on the very ground where my story began long before I was even here. In the town of Otočac, my great grandparents, my grandma, and my mom were born. My great-great grandmother carried the weight of generations on that same soil. And now I’ve stood in that very place, as if time folded in on itself.
We celebrated my 50th birthday with sunsets on the Adriatic coast, the kind of light you can never forget. We hiked the Velebit mountains, saw amazing waterfalls at Krka National Park, touched the walls of old cities in Split, Šibenik, Zadar, Senj, and Zagreb, and I found myself lost in the beauty of buildings that told stories louder than words. Every stone, every worn doorway, felt like a reminder that nothing we build is just a structure. It is memory. It is proof.
Hiking in the Velebit mountain range, Croatia
In those days, I walked nearly 92,000 steps. But they weren’t just steps across distance, they were steps into the stories that shaped me. Into the lives of relatives I had never met until now. Into the reality that our histories are not abstract, they are living threads we can touch when we allow ourselves to pause and seek them.
A cascading waterfall in Krka National Park in Croatia
The Unexpected That Made It Even More Memorable
Travel always surprises you, and this trip had moments that caught me off guard in the best ways:
A feral cat resembling my old cat “Scrunch,” watching me from a distance in Croatia.
Feral cats. Everywhere. In every city. On rooftops, in alleys, weaving through crowds, almost like guardians of the old streets.
While staying in Senj, there was a late-night gathering across the street. People sang until 1 a.m., and their voices carried through the night with such power and joy that it felt like a free concert under the stars.
The language barrier was real, especially inland, but as we traveled along the coast, more and more people were able to speak English. Enough for conversation, enough to feel connection. It has me thinking about challenging myself to learn Croatian in the next two years.
Standing in places where, only three decades ago, war had torn lives and communities apart. The Croatian War of Independence in the 1990s was fought as Croatia sought to break away from Yugoslavia, leading to years of conflict that scarred cities and families. Imagining what it must have felt like to live here in Otočac during that time stopped me in my tracks. Thankfully my family survived, but many families did not. And even today, places remain vacant where people once thrived.
My grandpa always had a giant map of Croatia on his living room wall, pointing out places and stories (not always happy ones) that shaped his memory. I’d always imagine the country’s shape on the map was that of a horse, or a camel. But now, standing on the very soil where he and my grandma grew up, I understood those places in my bones. The map indicators were not dots on a large poster anymore. They were real, and they carried me deeper into my family’s story.
An abandoned building sits on a well traveled street in Otocac, Croatia
Why share this here? Because the heartbeat of what I do as a photographer has always been about proof of existence. It’s about honoring stories, not rushing past them. It’s about knowing that time spent together creates something you cannot recreate later.
This trip reminded me again that the story is not just in the faces I photograph, but in the spaces, the experiences, the connections we choose to honor.
So here is my invitation to you. Do not wait for someday. Claim your story. Dig into your roots. Cherish the stories. The ugly ones. The miraculous ones. The precious ones. Build your proof, in photographs, in memories, in your heart, in lived moments that nobody can take away.
Sunsets are my favorite, and this one in Zadar, Croatia, along the Adriatic coast ranks in my top 5 sunset images
It took me 50 years to get to my Croatian “roots” on my mom’s side. While I’m glad I went at this time in my life, parts of me wish I would have wanted to go earlier in my life when my grandma’s sisters and brothers were still alive, to just see that connection in genetics, in love, in celebration of who we are. Now, the photos and stories their descendants pass along and are willing to share are all we have. But I could feel an energy in that land where my relatives call “home.” That will last me a lifetime.
Unapologetically telling your story in photographs.
Fondly,
Monda the Photographer
