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sticks on one of the traditional wooden boats called pletnas Our pletnar was a young blond who must have made young
that have transported visitors across the lake to the island girls’ hearts flutter as he propelled us across the lake. Did he
for centuries. No powerboats here, just the muscle of stand- ever wish his father and grandfathers had been investment
ing rowers called pletnars, members of local families granted bankers instead of pletnars, I asked. He just smiled wistfully
boating rights generations ago. and kept on rowing.
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