Maitai's Central (Don't Call It Eastern) European Excursion
Aug 26th, 2008, 07:32 AM
#143
Original Poster
<b>DAY FOURTEEN – DELIGHTFUL DUBROVNIK, THE WILD GOOSE CHASE TO FIND KIM’S CLOTHES, A MONASTERY BY ANY OTHER NAME, EVERYONE DOES SPEAK ENGLISH, HITTING THE WALLS, WATCH OUT FOR THAT CRUISE SHIP, WINE AND CHEESE WITH JADRANKA AND SPRINGTIME FOR (YOU KNOW WHO) </b>
As dreams of the Buza Bar (and, I believe, Shania Twain) danced in my head, I had a restful sleep at the Benrussi Apartments. Although it was serene where we got ready for the four of us (99 steps, remember) getting ready to face the new day, we knew that shortly we would encounter the “Attack of the Umbrella People” (aka the cruise crowd).
On this particular morning, it must have been confusing to be part of a cruise tour, because it was raining and everyone had umbrellas, not just the group leaders. I envisioned mass anarchy amongst the cruisers, so Tracy and I scurried through the Pile Gate and found a dry spot with a convenient awning that caught most of the raindrops.
We had been hard-rolled and jellied for so long, it was comforting to have a couple of ham and cheese omelets. While we ate breakfast, Kim and Mary went to the nearby Croatian Airline office and were given the good news that their luggage had been found. Unfortunately, it had not been found in Dubrovnik.
“Come back in a couple of hours, and we will have more news for you,” they were told, so they joined us for some more Dubrovnik strolling, only this time with a purpose. Although there are not a lot of so-called “big ticket items,” Dubrovnik does have some interesting sights.
We had already piled through the Pile Gate and its tourist masses many times, but this time we had more of a plan. After entering the Pile Gate, we saw the very tiny Church of St. Savior on the left and to the right is the Velika Onofrijea Fontana (Onofrio’s Big Fountain), one of two Onofrio fountains in Dubrovnik.
The big fountain is where you see cruise ship people eating their gelato all day long (ok that’s just a guess, but whenever I saw a guy in plaid shorts, a striped shirt and huge belly, I leapt to that perhaps mistaken observation).
We walked down the Stradun, which had been made a little slicker from the morning’s precipitation. At the far end of the walk is Luza Square and Orlandov Stup (Orlando’s Column). Orlando looks pretty passive for a knight, even with his sword and shield, but I still felt like belting out, “There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Orlando.”
Tracy shook her head and said, “Tom, that’s Fernando.”
Ah, my lyrical Waterloo (actually, I knew it was Fernando, but I was trying to liven up the crowd on this misty morning).
Speaking of something stupid (and I don’t mean the Frank and Nancy Sinatra song), Tom’s Tuscan Tours (I didn’t feel like changing the name from our Italian trip) then had a little slip up. “Let’s check out the Franjevački samostan Muzej.” Of course, I said it in English, “Franciscan Monastery Museum.”
We walked inside a peaceful, Mediterranean-style building with beautiful arches encircling a small garden. There was religious art and a church with a 15th-century Gothic cloister.
But the highlight I wanted to show everyone was what is thought to be the oldest working pharmacy in Europe. The only problem was we couldn’t find it. Being a guy, I walked around the monastery a couple of times before asking the ticket man where the pharmacy was located.
“Where is the pharmacy?” I inquired.
Much to my chagrin (and to the utter amusement of my traveling companions), he smiled and answered softly, “I am sorry, sir. You are at the wrong monastery. This is the Dominican Monastery.” Well, I was as quiet as a monk.
We ventured back down the Stradun to the Franciscan Monastery, but we all agreed we liked the Dominican Monastery better.
It was getting hot, and since I had been the only one to believe in the weather gods and wore shorts, the others decided to walk the 99 steps and change to more comfortable attire to beat the heat.
I walked over to a little outdoor patio spot for a beer and waited for them. While sitting and sipping, I overheard a conversation between what I perceived were a local man, a gentleman from India and, I think, a Scandinavian (my Norwegian is a little rusty) woman.
The two people who were not locals were attempting to ask a question in Croatian and not getting very far. Then the local guy said, “Do you speak English?” Soon, the three were chatting like old friends, speaking in almost perfect English, and, closing my eyes, I could have just as easily been sitting at the Redondo Beach pier listening to this conversation.
People might not like it that the English language has permeated their cultures, but there is no doubt that it came in handy for that threesome.
After the group rejoined me, it was time for lunch at a good little Italian restaurant on an alley. Kim and Mary also had news. “Our luggage will be here at 3 p.m.,” Mary said.
I think the restaurant was called Renaissance or perhaps Tracy was starting to write down in the journal that I was a Renaissance man. It is unclear.
In any event, I loved my veal risotto, Mary enjoyed her mackerel, while Kim and Tracy were happy with their calamari and French fries. It was about 2:15, so Tracy and I took a little walk and would hit the Dubrovnik Walls after 2:30, which is when Jadranka (our apartment host) said the crowd is lighter. Mary and Kim would gather Kim’s clothes, probably walk the wall, too, and meet us at the Buza Bar.
Walking the Gradske Zidine or Town Walls is something that you must do while visiting Dubrovnik. There was nobody in line, and Tracy and I each paid the 90 kn to walk the wall while listening to the audio guide (that ticket also includes the Fort of St. Lawrence, located outside the Pile Gate).
The day, which had started out on a wet note, had turned into another gorgeous afternoon, with a beautiful blue sky and an Adriatic Sea to match. It is almost impossible to walk more than 20 feet without stopping to take another photo. Beautiful vistas and panoramas popped up at every turn.
As we walked along the wall, we found one sight quite amusing. There was a giant cannon pointing out to sea with its barrel pointed directly at two cruise ships, whose passengers were being whisked back to their behemoth vessels. If only I had some cannonballs and some gunpowder, I thought.
Soon afterward, we were looking down at the Buza Bar (one of the pictures I took is now my screensaver at work). It beckoned, and we picked up the pace.
We continued our walk with beautiful Adriatic and then harbor views commanding us to take more pictures. There are a few places along the wall to enter, and I would recommend that if you try to walk before 2:30, you use one of the less crowded entrances.
As we walked on the side nearer to the hills behind town, we looked over the roofs of Dubrovnik and could see all the newer tiles that were needed to replace the ones that were shelled during the war. It does give one a moment to pause.
Then something else gave us a moment to pause. Behind those orange roofs a monster was moving. One of the floating monstrosities of the sea was chugging along, and the top of the ship was several feet above the Dubrovnik skyline in the foreground. It made for an interesting photograph.
Near the end of the walk on this now very hot day, there was a little entryway into a room. On the counter was a bowl full of oranges being fresh-squeezed into orange juice. The juice was way overpriced and, on this now very hot afternoon, worth every Kuna.
Speaking of libation, after our walk, we briskly made our way to the Buza Bar. It was 4:30 and we secured one of the last available tables. Soon afterward, Kim and Mary joined us. I could tell before they spoke something was wrong. Kim was still in my shorts!
“Well, the bus arrived from the airport that was supposed to have Kim’s luggage,” Mary said. “The only problem was the guy forgot to put Kim’s luggage on the bus.”
A few vinos later, the problem seemed miniscule, and then Croatian Airlines called Kim on the satellite phone. They would have his luggage back at the office at 7 p.m.
As we sat and enjoyed another spectacular afternoon, our lovely server came over with an order of wine and chuckled while saying, “Did you hear the news? Two of the cruise ships bumped into each other not far from here.”
Now, lest you think our server to be evil (she was nothing of the kind), she also knew it was just a minor altercation where no one was hurt (except for the reputations of the two captains).
It was another couple of hours in paradise, but we eventually got up and walked back to the apartment. Kim and Mary made their last trip to Croatian Airlines to pick up his clothes, and we picked up some wine for the patio.
Later we met Kim and Mary on the patio. Kim had been so excited to get out of my shorts, that he also bought wine, cheese, salami and bread. It looked like we would be on the patio for the duration of this night.
What a spectacular evening! The weather was perfect, the wine was good and we got to meet our hostess, Jadranka, who came down to visit with us. She was a very gracious host who sat with us for nearly hour sharing her knowledge on the area and her thoughts about the war.
We asked if she had left town during the war, and she said, “No. I had to make a living.” So each day, as shells were raining down on Dubrovnik, she and her husband would go to work and their children would attend school.
Then came what could have been a very embarrassing moment. Kim had brought his IPOD, and the four of us had been debating great sing-along songs before Jadranka arrived to sip wine with us. Kim had made a play list of what he perceived to be good sing-along songs while he was home, so he had said, “Let’s listen, and we can all decide.”
As Jadranka was relating the tales about the war, out of one ear I heard “Germany was having trouble; what a sad, sad story….”
“Crap,” I thought, “Springtime for Hitler” from The Producers was starting. While in college, Kim, myself and a few others would go down to the theater (in lieu of studying) and sit through Blazing Saddles and The Producers for a buck (we also had to suffer through The Twelve Chairs, but the other two movies made that 90 minutes of tedium worth the wait). In any event, we could nearly recite both movies verbatim by the time we ended our college careers (I’m sure my parents thought that was money well spent).
At this moment in time, however, the juxtaposition of Jadranka talking about war and a goofy song from a movie that has a musical about the worst person in the annals of history just didn’t seem like a good mix. I quickly kicked Kim, who instantly realized the situation, and he turned off the song immediately.
“Next time,“ I said to Kim, “we should stick to the theme from Blazing Saddles.”
In any event, we had a wonderful evening with Jadranka, who has a great sense of humor and was fun to talk with on this evening. Her apartments were quite charming, complete with a little kitchenette and air conditioning for spoiled American tourists such as ourselves. The patio with Adriatic view was quite a bonus.
After Jadranka departed for a party for which she was now quite late (Mary’s wine pouring expertise should never be underestimated), we decided that we would just hang out on the patio and finish our wine, cheese and salami, and call it a night.
Tomorrow, our plans were to pick up rental car number two and spend the day driving south and exploring beautiful, rugged Montenegro. However, for this group of travelers, it seems our best-laid plans sometimes have a strange way of going completely awry.
<b>COMING UP - DAY FIFTEEN – MAYBE WE CAN VISIT HUGO MONTENEGRO INSTEAD, T (AS IN TROUBLE) WITH MUSSOLINI, A NICE DETOUR, WARNING: DANGEROUS PARKING, DINNER BY THE SEA AND MARY TAKES US ON A “SHORT-CUT”</b>
As dreams of the Buza Bar (and, I believe, Shania Twain) danced in my head, I had a restful sleep at the Benrussi Apartments. Although it was serene where we got ready for the four of us (99 steps, remember) getting ready to face the new day, we knew that shortly we would encounter the “Attack of the Umbrella People” (aka the cruise crowd).
On this particular morning, it must have been confusing to be part of a cruise tour, because it was raining and everyone had umbrellas, not just the group leaders. I envisioned mass anarchy amongst the cruisers, so Tracy and I scurried through the Pile Gate and found a dry spot with a convenient awning that caught most of the raindrops.
We had been hard-rolled and jellied for so long, it was comforting to have a couple of ham and cheese omelets. While we ate breakfast, Kim and Mary went to the nearby Croatian Airline office and were given the good news that their luggage had been found. Unfortunately, it had not been found in Dubrovnik.
“Come back in a couple of hours, and we will have more news for you,” they were told, so they joined us for some more Dubrovnik strolling, only this time with a purpose. Although there are not a lot of so-called “big ticket items,” Dubrovnik does have some interesting sights.
We had already piled through the Pile Gate and its tourist masses many times, but this time we had more of a plan. After entering the Pile Gate, we saw the very tiny Church of St. Savior on the left and to the right is the Velika Onofrijea Fontana (Onofrio’s Big Fountain), one of two Onofrio fountains in Dubrovnik.
The big fountain is where you see cruise ship people eating their gelato all day long (ok that’s just a guess, but whenever I saw a guy in plaid shorts, a striped shirt and huge belly, I leapt to that perhaps mistaken observation).
We walked down the Stradun, which had been made a little slicker from the morning’s precipitation. At the far end of the walk is Luza Square and Orlandov Stup (Orlando’s Column). Orlando looks pretty passive for a knight, even with his sword and shield, but I still felt like belting out, “There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Orlando.”
Tracy shook her head and said, “Tom, that’s Fernando.”
Ah, my lyrical Waterloo (actually, I knew it was Fernando, but I was trying to liven up the crowd on this misty morning).
Speaking of something stupid (and I don’t mean the Frank and Nancy Sinatra song), Tom’s Tuscan Tours (I didn’t feel like changing the name from our Italian trip) then had a little slip up. “Let’s check out the Franjevački samostan Muzej.” Of course, I said it in English, “Franciscan Monastery Museum.”
We walked inside a peaceful, Mediterranean-style building with beautiful arches encircling a small garden. There was religious art and a church with a 15th-century Gothic cloister.
But the highlight I wanted to show everyone was what is thought to be the oldest working pharmacy in Europe. The only problem was we couldn’t find it. Being a guy, I walked around the monastery a couple of times before asking the ticket man where the pharmacy was located.
“Where is the pharmacy?” I inquired.
Much to my chagrin (and to the utter amusement of my traveling companions), he smiled and answered softly, “I am sorry, sir. You are at the wrong monastery. This is the Dominican Monastery.” Well, I was as quiet as a monk.
We ventured back down the Stradun to the Franciscan Monastery, but we all agreed we liked the Dominican Monastery better.
It was getting hot, and since I had been the only one to believe in the weather gods and wore shorts, the others decided to walk the 99 steps and change to more comfortable attire to beat the heat.
I walked over to a little outdoor patio spot for a beer and waited for them. While sitting and sipping, I overheard a conversation between what I perceived were a local man, a gentleman from India and, I think, a Scandinavian (my Norwegian is a little rusty) woman.
The two people who were not locals were attempting to ask a question in Croatian and not getting very far. Then the local guy said, “Do you speak English?” Soon, the three were chatting like old friends, speaking in almost perfect English, and, closing my eyes, I could have just as easily been sitting at the Redondo Beach pier listening to this conversation.
People might not like it that the English language has permeated their cultures, but there is no doubt that it came in handy for that threesome.
After the group rejoined me, it was time for lunch at a good little Italian restaurant on an alley. Kim and Mary also had news. “Our luggage will be here at 3 p.m.,” Mary said.
I think the restaurant was called Renaissance or perhaps Tracy was starting to write down in the journal that I was a Renaissance man. It is unclear.
In any event, I loved my veal risotto, Mary enjoyed her mackerel, while Kim and Tracy were happy with their calamari and French fries. It was about 2:15, so Tracy and I took a little walk and would hit the Dubrovnik Walls after 2:30, which is when Jadranka (our apartment host) said the crowd is lighter. Mary and Kim would gather Kim’s clothes, probably walk the wall, too, and meet us at the Buza Bar.
Walking the Gradske Zidine or Town Walls is something that you must do while visiting Dubrovnik. There was nobody in line, and Tracy and I each paid the 90 kn to walk the wall while listening to the audio guide (that ticket also includes the Fort of St. Lawrence, located outside the Pile Gate).
The day, which had started out on a wet note, had turned into another gorgeous afternoon, with a beautiful blue sky and an Adriatic Sea to match. It is almost impossible to walk more than 20 feet without stopping to take another photo. Beautiful vistas and panoramas popped up at every turn.
As we walked along the wall, we found one sight quite amusing. There was a giant cannon pointing out to sea with its barrel pointed directly at two cruise ships, whose passengers were being whisked back to their behemoth vessels. If only I had some cannonballs and some gunpowder, I thought.
Soon afterward, we were looking down at the Buza Bar (one of the pictures I took is now my screensaver at work). It beckoned, and we picked up the pace.
We continued our walk with beautiful Adriatic and then harbor views commanding us to take more pictures. There are a few places along the wall to enter, and I would recommend that if you try to walk before 2:30, you use one of the less crowded entrances.
As we walked on the side nearer to the hills behind town, we looked over the roofs of Dubrovnik and could see all the newer tiles that were needed to replace the ones that were shelled during the war. It does give one a moment to pause.
Then something else gave us a moment to pause. Behind those orange roofs a monster was moving. One of the floating monstrosities of the sea was chugging along, and the top of the ship was several feet above the Dubrovnik skyline in the foreground. It made for an interesting photograph.
Near the end of the walk on this now very hot day, there was a little entryway into a room. On the counter was a bowl full of oranges being fresh-squeezed into orange juice. The juice was way overpriced and, on this now very hot afternoon, worth every Kuna.
Speaking of libation, after our walk, we briskly made our way to the Buza Bar. It was 4:30 and we secured one of the last available tables. Soon afterward, Kim and Mary joined us. I could tell before they spoke something was wrong. Kim was still in my shorts!
“Well, the bus arrived from the airport that was supposed to have Kim’s luggage,” Mary said. “The only problem was the guy forgot to put Kim’s luggage on the bus.”
A few vinos later, the problem seemed miniscule, and then Croatian Airlines called Kim on the satellite phone. They would have his luggage back at the office at 7 p.m.
As we sat and enjoyed another spectacular afternoon, our lovely server came over with an order of wine and chuckled while saying, “Did you hear the news? Two of the cruise ships bumped into each other not far from here.”
Now, lest you think our server to be evil (she was nothing of the kind), she also knew it was just a minor altercation where no one was hurt (except for the reputations of the two captains).
It was another couple of hours in paradise, but we eventually got up and walked back to the apartment. Kim and Mary made their last trip to Croatian Airlines to pick up his clothes, and we picked up some wine for the patio.
Later we met Kim and Mary on the patio. Kim had been so excited to get out of my shorts, that he also bought wine, cheese, salami and bread. It looked like we would be on the patio for the duration of this night.
What a spectacular evening! The weather was perfect, the wine was good and we got to meet our hostess, Jadranka, who came down to visit with us. She was a very gracious host who sat with us for nearly hour sharing her knowledge on the area and her thoughts about the war.
We asked if she had left town during the war, and she said, “No. I had to make a living.” So each day, as shells were raining down on Dubrovnik, she and her husband would go to work and their children would attend school.
Then came what could have been a very embarrassing moment. Kim had brought his IPOD, and the four of us had been debating great sing-along songs before Jadranka arrived to sip wine with us. Kim had made a play list of what he perceived to be good sing-along songs while he was home, so he had said, “Let’s listen, and we can all decide.”
As Jadranka was relating the tales about the war, out of one ear I heard “Germany was having trouble; what a sad, sad story….”
“Crap,” I thought, “Springtime for Hitler” from The Producers was starting. While in college, Kim, myself and a few others would go down to the theater (in lieu of studying) and sit through Blazing Saddles and The Producers for a buck (we also had to suffer through The Twelve Chairs, but the other two movies made that 90 minutes of tedium worth the wait). In any event, we could nearly recite both movies verbatim by the time we ended our college careers (I’m sure my parents thought that was money well spent).
At this moment in time, however, the juxtaposition of Jadranka talking about war and a goofy song from a movie that has a musical about the worst person in the annals of history just didn’t seem like a good mix. I quickly kicked Kim, who instantly realized the situation, and he turned off the song immediately.
“Next time,“ I said to Kim, “we should stick to the theme from Blazing Saddles.”
In any event, we had a wonderful evening with Jadranka, who has a great sense of humor and was fun to talk with on this evening. Her apartments were quite charming, complete with a little kitchenette and air conditioning for spoiled American tourists such as ourselves. The patio with Adriatic view was quite a bonus.
After Jadranka departed for a party for which she was now quite late (Mary’s wine pouring expertise should never be underestimated), we decided that we would just hang out on the patio and finish our wine, cheese and salami, and call it a night.
Tomorrow, our plans were to pick up rental car number two and spend the day driving south and exploring beautiful, rugged Montenegro. However, for this group of travelers, it seems our best-laid plans sometimes have a strange way of going completely awry.
<b>COMING UP - DAY FIFTEEN – MAYBE WE CAN VISIT HUGO MONTENEGRO INSTEAD, T (AS IN TROUBLE) WITH MUSSOLINI, A NICE DETOUR, WARNING: DANGEROUS PARKING, DINNER BY THE SEA AND MARY TAKES US ON A “SHORT-CUT”</b>
Aug 26th, 2008, 12:39 PM
#145
Join Date: Jan 2004
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It's it wonderful to talk to the locals? We stayed in a lovely apartment in Trogir and our host and hostess made us breakfast in the morning. We were the only ones there, and we sat and chatted with them for a good three hours. We talked about everything from the recent war (in which our husband fought) to maternity leaves in the US vs. Croatia. We ended up missing Plitvice because of our chat (although it was pouring rain that whole day so we would have skipped it anyways) and were late to arrive at our hotel in Slovenia but it was so worth it.
Anxiously awaiting more!
Tracy
Anxiously awaiting more!
Tracy
Aug 26th, 2008, 04:32 PM
#147
Original Poster
"...wonderful to talk to the locals?"
Yes. We learned a lot about Dubrovnik in a short time talking with Jadranka and wished she could have stayed for more time. I highly recommend her apartments, by the way. Great location and quiet at night.
Yes. We learned a lot about Dubrovnik in a short time talking with Jadranka and wished she could have stayed for more time. I highly recommend her apartments, by the way. Great location and quiet at night.
Aug 28th, 2008, 08:54 AM
#148
Join Date: May 2008
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I was getting most impatient for another installment, and then I realized it's only been two days since the last one, so it seems a bit churlish to get grumpy about it. I suppose MTT's annoying job is getting in the way. Tom, you really must do something about that.
I am sooo enjoying this and eagerly waiting for more.
I am sooo enjoying this and eagerly waiting for more.
Aug 29th, 2008, 06:02 AM
#151
Original Poster
<b> DAY FIFTEEN – MAYBE WE CAN VISIT HUGO MONTENEGRO INSTEAD, T (AS IN TROUBLE) WITH MUSSOLINI, A NICE DETOUR, WARNING: DANGEROUS PARKING, DINNER BY THE SEA AND MARY TAKES US ON A “SHORT-CUT”</b>
This was the day we had all been waiting for; our much anticipated day trip to mysterious Montenegro. I didn’t even have to rally the troops on this misty morning. It was as if everyone had been injected with double espressos as we scurried down the 99 stairs, pushed our way through the assembled multitude of umbrella people at the Pile Gate, zipped down the Stradun, made our way through the Ploče Gate and walked to the Hertz office to get our car.
Although we had asked for a car with manual transmission, they did not have one at Hertz and I was “upgraded” to an automatic. For me, that was not an upgrade because I enjoyed a stick, plus I knew this car would not get as good gas mileage as a stick shift. In any event, nothing, not even the plentiful drops of rain, could put a damper on this day.
I had prepared an extensive list of things to do and sights to see on “Montenegro Day.” As we headed down the narrow, main coastal road past the airport and Cavtat, the gang were all reading about the exciting new places we would visit.
We were going to travel though Perast, a supposedly beautiful Montenegrin town, through the village of Dobrota and wind our way down to the Bay of Kotor. Oh, this was going to be a marvelous day of exploration, and it would be another new country stamp to add to our passports. Expectations were running high.
Soon we reached the border that would be our portal to Montenegro; well we almost reached the border. A line of cars about 15 or 20 deep stretched in front of us waiting to get into Montenegro. “No problem,” we thought, “we’ll get through this in no time.”
So we waited. And we waited. And we waited. In the span of 25 minutes, we counted all of one car that had passed through the border checkpoint. We also only counted one car that had exited Montenegro back into Croatia. It was perplexing, and now just a tad bit frustrating. But, hey, we’re from L.A. and used to traffic delays, so we sat and waited patiently.
Then, out of seemingly nowhere, a man appeared, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Benito Mussolini (although he was not hanging upside down at an Esso station), and he strode out from amongst the cars and looked me straight in the eyes (well, I thought he was looking straight at me).
He began motioning me to pull out of line and come forward. “Is he talking to me?” I asked the other three. No one really knew for sure, but he was staring directly at me. I pointed at myself and, in a DeNiro moment, mouthed the words “You talkin’ to me.” He nodded “yes” (that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it).
I then pulled out of line and headed (slowly) toward him. Suddenly, he began waving his arms like, well like Mussolini, and shouted something at me. I don’t believe he was saying, “Welcome to the beautiful country of Montenegro. Have a lovely stay.” I know this because he had the same facial expression my dad had when he learned I had flunked 8th grade algebra.
But Mussolini’s expression was much nicer than the next visage I encountered. A man, who obviously had been in line for a very long time, leaped from his automobile, came up to our car and started screaming at me in “Croenglish.”
Croenglish can best be explained as “the ability to utter multiple expletives in Croatian and English at a faster than normal rate of speed.” His usage and vast array of American curse words bordered on the remarkable, and I remember thinking this guy would be a natural to drive on the Los Angeles freeway system.
Back to the reality of the moment; I was now in the lane where people exiting Montenegro would be driving as they enter Croatia. Fortunately, nobody seemed to be entering the country from that direction either, so any head on collision was averted.
“Do you think someone will let me back in line?” I asked my traveling friends who were now ducking in case there was gunfire. As Kim turned and looked out the window at 15 cars full of angry Croatians, he said quietly, “I wouldn’t count on it.”
We decided to go to the back of the line, which, as it turned out, was only a few cars from where we had started this comedy of errors. There was really no place to turn around since, I’m sure, this is not an everyday occurrence, so I backed up past the line of cars. In a couple of minutes, we were in the queue again. “What the Hell happened there?” I inquired.
Tracy told me that, as the Croatian driver was yelling at me, a large tour bus passed us, and that Benito must have been pointing at him to move forward, not us.
For the next twenty minutes we sat, and no car was allowed to enter Montenegro, nor did one car exit from Montenegro. It had now been about an hour since we had reached the border, and only one or two cars had gone though. Obviously, besides my erratic driving, there was a major problem.
Well, we can sit in traffic jams in California, but not on vacation. In a unanimous decision, we decided to blow off Montenegro and head back. “Another time,” we sighed.
DIGRESSION: A couple of days later Mary was talking to her daughter back in the U.S. who told her that she had seen a news report of an “incident” in our general area of the world and the border of Montenegro had been virtually shut down in an attempt to locate whoever the authorities were looking for (thankfully, not me). For once, timing did not go our way, but as my dad used to always tell me, “Roll with the flow.”
Oh yeah, back to our little story: On the way to Dubrovnik, we saw the exit again for Cavtat again. “What the Hell,” Mary said, “Let’s see that town.”
“Damn right,” I said. Obviously the Croatian guy who knew every American swear word had infected our group’s vocabulary, but soon we were in charming little Cavtat, and soon Mussolini’s brother and the border problems became a distant memory.
We sat at a harbor side café, drank some cappuccinos and ate some sweets (gotta put that weight back on), and then took a wonderful hike along the sea that eventually brought us back to our car.
Next stop was Lapad Bay for lunch at Casa Bar Restaurant. Today, Lady G had been flawless to this juncture, but she forgot to give one last, little detail as I started down the street toward the restaurant. “What did I do this time?” I thought, as I saw a young man waving his arms at me. At least, he didn’t look like a former dictator.
“You are driving in a pedestrian zone,” he said. “It would be wise to back up.”
Well, wisdom had not been a key word for me on this day, but I backed up, and we ended up having a nice lunch on the water at the Casa Bar and Restaurant. It had commanding views of the sea, and the food was quite good. I really liked the spaghetti with olio.
We hopped back in the car and drove to Dubrovnik to attempt to find the parking lot, which was nearby our apartment. Yes, there was a parking area, but the route to get there was a little more difficult than we had been told. Although a two-way street, only one car could navigate it safely at a time. Plus, there were more than a couple of blind spots.
Having already nearly caused a border incident and, shortly thereafter, driving in a pedestrian-only zone, my confidence was not at its peak. Fortunately, the troops had my back.
Forming a human parking attendant chain, Tracy, Kim and Mary positioned themselves along the route shouting directions and warning each other if any other vehicles were coming toward our direction. A few near misses later, and with looks of amazement from other drivers, we were safely ensconced in our parking spot at the top of the hill (which, by the way, had terrific Adriatic views).
By the time we got back to old Dubrovnik it was mid-afternoon. We all had things to do.
Kim and Mary finally got their opportunity to walk the Dubrovnik Town Walls, while Tracy and I strolled through town for our final visit to the Buza Bar.
In case you are wondering, we did visit Buza 2 on our three-day stay, and although the views are beautiful, the ambiance of Buza 1 could not be beat.
As Tracy and I sipped wine at Buza 1, looking out at a majestically blue sea, we heard a booming voice from above. “Hey Mr. and Mrs. Maitai (not our real names), look up here.”
I thought, “Well, if this is where God is going to pluck me from this earth, I can’t think of a better place.” Of course, it wasn’t God, but Kim on the Town Wall with his camera ready to shoot photographs of the most contented couple on earth savoring their final hours at this remarkable spot.
As the enchanting voice of Diana Krall singing “I Remember You” drifted out into the afternoon breeze, Tracy and I counted our blessings that we were able to share moments like this together. When I close my eyes, I can still hear that song, and I will always remember the Buza Bar, from the death-defying seating arrangements to the lovely, nimble wine server to the flirty, little bar cat and finally to the incomparable Adriatic views that have left an indelible image in my brain, in my heart and, most importantly, in my soul.
The Buza Bar has to be experienced to be believed. If you can’t be relaxed here, you might as well give up the quest. If you can’t be happy here, seek professional help as soon as you return home. If you can’t be contented here, satisfaction will always be beyond your grasp.
I hate to over-hype a place, and as a rule I do not, but the Buza Bar was that special for me.
Kim and Mary had arranged reservations that evening at a little restaurant they had happened upon while embarking on one of their many luggage wild goose chases. Restaurant Orhan, located adjacent to the fortress, had a patio overlooking the Adriatic, and we got there just as the sun was setting.
Dinner was quite good, and afterward, it was time to climb those steps back to the apartments…or maybe not. Mary told us she had discovered a “short-cut” back to the apartments. “I saw this earlier today, and I don’t think we’ll have to climb 99 steps if we go up this way,” Mary said confidently.
Well, Mary was correct. About three thousand steps later (ok, that’s a slight exaggeration) we were back at the apartments, and those calories from dinner were but a distant memory (as was the feeling in our legs).
It was another beautiful night at the Benrussi Apartments, but this would be the end of our stay in delightful Dubrovnik. Tomorrow, the road warriors would be back on the highway, terrorizing Croatian drivers at every turn, as we drove up the coast to our next stop, Trogir, a place where we would soon be enveloped in red and white madness.
<b>COMING UP - DAY SIXTEEN – THE COAST WITH THE MOST, AT LEAST THEY LET US INTO BOSNIA, JUMP-STARTING OUR VACATION, GOING TO THE DOGS AND GO CROATIA! </b>
This was the day we had all been waiting for; our much anticipated day trip to mysterious Montenegro. I didn’t even have to rally the troops on this misty morning. It was as if everyone had been injected with double espressos as we scurried down the 99 stairs, pushed our way through the assembled multitude of umbrella people at the Pile Gate, zipped down the Stradun, made our way through the Ploče Gate and walked to the Hertz office to get our car.
Although we had asked for a car with manual transmission, they did not have one at Hertz and I was “upgraded” to an automatic. For me, that was not an upgrade because I enjoyed a stick, plus I knew this car would not get as good gas mileage as a stick shift. In any event, nothing, not even the plentiful drops of rain, could put a damper on this day.
I had prepared an extensive list of things to do and sights to see on “Montenegro Day.” As we headed down the narrow, main coastal road past the airport and Cavtat, the gang were all reading about the exciting new places we would visit.
We were going to travel though Perast, a supposedly beautiful Montenegrin town, through the village of Dobrota and wind our way down to the Bay of Kotor. Oh, this was going to be a marvelous day of exploration, and it would be another new country stamp to add to our passports. Expectations were running high.
Soon we reached the border that would be our portal to Montenegro; well we almost reached the border. A line of cars about 15 or 20 deep stretched in front of us waiting to get into Montenegro. “No problem,” we thought, “we’ll get through this in no time.”
So we waited. And we waited. And we waited. In the span of 25 minutes, we counted all of one car that had passed through the border checkpoint. We also only counted one car that had exited Montenegro back into Croatia. It was perplexing, and now just a tad bit frustrating. But, hey, we’re from L.A. and used to traffic delays, so we sat and waited patiently.
Then, out of seemingly nowhere, a man appeared, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Benito Mussolini (although he was not hanging upside down at an Esso station), and he strode out from amongst the cars and looked me straight in the eyes (well, I thought he was looking straight at me).
He began motioning me to pull out of line and come forward. “Is he talking to me?” I asked the other three. No one really knew for sure, but he was staring directly at me. I pointed at myself and, in a DeNiro moment, mouthed the words “You talkin’ to me.” He nodded “yes” (that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it).
I then pulled out of line and headed (slowly) toward him. Suddenly, he began waving his arms like, well like Mussolini, and shouted something at me. I don’t believe he was saying, “Welcome to the beautiful country of Montenegro. Have a lovely stay.” I know this because he had the same facial expression my dad had when he learned I had flunked 8th grade algebra.
But Mussolini’s expression was much nicer than the next visage I encountered. A man, who obviously had been in line for a very long time, leaped from his automobile, came up to our car and started screaming at me in “Croenglish.”
Croenglish can best be explained as “the ability to utter multiple expletives in Croatian and English at a faster than normal rate of speed.” His usage and vast array of American curse words bordered on the remarkable, and I remember thinking this guy would be a natural to drive on the Los Angeles freeway system.
Back to the reality of the moment; I was now in the lane where people exiting Montenegro would be driving as they enter Croatia. Fortunately, nobody seemed to be entering the country from that direction either, so any head on collision was averted.
“Do you think someone will let me back in line?” I asked my traveling friends who were now ducking in case there was gunfire. As Kim turned and looked out the window at 15 cars full of angry Croatians, he said quietly, “I wouldn’t count on it.”
We decided to go to the back of the line, which, as it turned out, was only a few cars from where we had started this comedy of errors. There was really no place to turn around since, I’m sure, this is not an everyday occurrence, so I backed up past the line of cars. In a couple of minutes, we were in the queue again. “What the Hell happened there?” I inquired.
Tracy told me that, as the Croatian driver was yelling at me, a large tour bus passed us, and that Benito must have been pointing at him to move forward, not us.
For the next twenty minutes we sat, and no car was allowed to enter Montenegro, nor did one car exit from Montenegro. It had now been about an hour since we had reached the border, and only one or two cars had gone though. Obviously, besides my erratic driving, there was a major problem.
Well, we can sit in traffic jams in California, but not on vacation. In a unanimous decision, we decided to blow off Montenegro and head back. “Another time,” we sighed.
DIGRESSION: A couple of days later Mary was talking to her daughter back in the U.S. who told her that she had seen a news report of an “incident” in our general area of the world and the border of Montenegro had been virtually shut down in an attempt to locate whoever the authorities were looking for (thankfully, not me). For once, timing did not go our way, but as my dad used to always tell me, “Roll with the flow.”
Oh yeah, back to our little story: On the way to Dubrovnik, we saw the exit again for Cavtat again. “What the Hell,” Mary said, “Let’s see that town.”
“Damn right,” I said. Obviously the Croatian guy who knew every American swear word had infected our group’s vocabulary, but soon we were in charming little Cavtat, and soon Mussolini’s brother and the border problems became a distant memory.
We sat at a harbor side café, drank some cappuccinos and ate some sweets (gotta put that weight back on), and then took a wonderful hike along the sea that eventually brought us back to our car.
Next stop was Lapad Bay for lunch at Casa Bar Restaurant. Today, Lady G had been flawless to this juncture, but she forgot to give one last, little detail as I started down the street toward the restaurant. “What did I do this time?” I thought, as I saw a young man waving his arms at me. At least, he didn’t look like a former dictator.
“You are driving in a pedestrian zone,” he said. “It would be wise to back up.”
Well, wisdom had not been a key word for me on this day, but I backed up, and we ended up having a nice lunch on the water at the Casa Bar and Restaurant. It had commanding views of the sea, and the food was quite good. I really liked the spaghetti with olio.
We hopped back in the car and drove to Dubrovnik to attempt to find the parking lot, which was nearby our apartment. Yes, there was a parking area, but the route to get there was a little more difficult than we had been told. Although a two-way street, only one car could navigate it safely at a time. Plus, there were more than a couple of blind spots.
Having already nearly caused a border incident and, shortly thereafter, driving in a pedestrian-only zone, my confidence was not at its peak. Fortunately, the troops had my back.
Forming a human parking attendant chain, Tracy, Kim and Mary positioned themselves along the route shouting directions and warning each other if any other vehicles were coming toward our direction. A few near misses later, and with looks of amazement from other drivers, we were safely ensconced in our parking spot at the top of the hill (which, by the way, had terrific Adriatic views).
By the time we got back to old Dubrovnik it was mid-afternoon. We all had things to do.
Kim and Mary finally got their opportunity to walk the Dubrovnik Town Walls, while Tracy and I strolled through town for our final visit to the Buza Bar.
In case you are wondering, we did visit Buza 2 on our three-day stay, and although the views are beautiful, the ambiance of Buza 1 could not be beat.
As Tracy and I sipped wine at Buza 1, looking out at a majestically blue sea, we heard a booming voice from above. “Hey Mr. and Mrs. Maitai (not our real names), look up here.”
I thought, “Well, if this is where God is going to pluck me from this earth, I can’t think of a better place.” Of course, it wasn’t God, but Kim on the Town Wall with his camera ready to shoot photographs of the most contented couple on earth savoring their final hours at this remarkable spot.
As the enchanting voice of Diana Krall singing “I Remember You” drifted out into the afternoon breeze, Tracy and I counted our blessings that we were able to share moments like this together. When I close my eyes, I can still hear that song, and I will always remember the Buza Bar, from the death-defying seating arrangements to the lovely, nimble wine server to the flirty, little bar cat and finally to the incomparable Adriatic views that have left an indelible image in my brain, in my heart and, most importantly, in my soul.
The Buza Bar has to be experienced to be believed. If you can’t be relaxed here, you might as well give up the quest. If you can’t be happy here, seek professional help as soon as you return home. If you can’t be contented here, satisfaction will always be beyond your grasp.
I hate to over-hype a place, and as a rule I do not, but the Buza Bar was that special for me.
Kim and Mary had arranged reservations that evening at a little restaurant they had happened upon while embarking on one of their many luggage wild goose chases. Restaurant Orhan, located adjacent to the fortress, had a patio overlooking the Adriatic, and we got there just as the sun was setting.
Dinner was quite good, and afterward, it was time to climb those steps back to the apartments…or maybe not. Mary told us she had discovered a “short-cut” back to the apartments. “I saw this earlier today, and I don’t think we’ll have to climb 99 steps if we go up this way,” Mary said confidently.
Well, Mary was correct. About three thousand steps later (ok, that’s a slight exaggeration) we were back at the apartments, and those calories from dinner were but a distant memory (as was the feeling in our legs).
It was another beautiful night at the Benrussi Apartments, but this would be the end of our stay in delightful Dubrovnik. Tomorrow, the road warriors would be back on the highway, terrorizing Croatian drivers at every turn, as we drove up the coast to our next stop, Trogir, a place where we would soon be enveloped in red and white madness.
<b>COMING UP - DAY SIXTEEN – THE COAST WITH THE MOST, AT LEAST THEY LET US INTO BOSNIA, JUMP-STARTING OUR VACATION, GOING TO THE DOGS AND GO CROATIA! </b>
Aug 29th, 2008, 08:48 AM
#152
Hi Tom,
your latest installment brought back memories for me of our honeymoon [mine and my DH's, not yours and mine as my sentence might seem to infer] which was spent half by Lake Bled, and half at Cavtat!
if I tell you that this was in the days of Tito it'l lgove you some idea of how loooong ago it was.
but I still remember the lobster we ate one night by the harbour in Cavtat. thanks for bringing it back for me.
regards, ann
your latest installment brought back memories for me of our honeymoon [mine and my DH's, not yours and mine as my sentence might seem to infer] which was spent half by Lake Bled, and half at Cavtat!
if I tell you that this was in the days of Tito it'l lgove you some idea of how loooong ago it was.
but I still remember the lobster we ate one night by the harbour in Cavtat. thanks for bringing it back for me.
regards, ann
Aug 29th, 2008, 09:34 AM
#154
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Absolutely wonderful report, Tom.
Loving every word, and waiting for the rest!
Not many more days now until I am back at the Buza Bar, in good time to watch the rosy-red sun roll down into the sea. 7th October - how many days is that from now?
Loving every word, and waiting for the rest!
Not many more days now until I am back at the Buza Bar, in good time to watch the rosy-red sun roll down into the sea. 7th October - how many days is that from now?
Sep 2nd, 2008, 12:12 PM
#156
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I have really been enjoying your trip report and anxiously await the rest. I noticed that you all wore shorts in Dubrovnik. Please tell me that you felt fine in shorts. I have wondered whether we can get by in them if the weather is hot.
Sep 3rd, 2008, 07:05 AM
#157
Original Poster
"Please tell me that you felt fine in shorts."
Not only did I feel fine, I felt comfortable, which I would not have been in long pants.
I happen to be looking at my screen saver (a picture of the Buza Bar). Everyone (except one guy) is wearing shorts. When we walked the wall, it was about 85 degrees. Shorts were the order of the day.
When the weather is warm in Dubrovnik, I think you would feel more out of place not wearing shorts. Enjoy!
Not only did I feel fine, I felt comfortable, which I would not have been in long pants.
I happen to be looking at my screen saver (a picture of the Buza Bar). Everyone (except one guy) is wearing shorts. When we walked the wall, it was about 85 degrees. Shorts were the order of the day.
When the weather is warm in Dubrovnik, I think you would feel more out of place not wearing shorts. Enjoy!
Sep 3rd, 2008, 04:20 PM
#158
Original Poster
<b> DAY SIXTEEN – THE COAST WITH THE MOST, AT LEAST THEY LET US INTO BOSNIA, GOING TO THE DOGS, GO CROATIA AND WHAT’S THE BUZZ? </b>
Since this was to be a traveling day, we all got some extra shut-eye and didn’t weave our way out of Dubrovnik until almost 10 a.m. We walked to our car, bypassing Mary’s unique shortcut of the night before, thus saving ourselves about 15 minutes.
The human chain worked to perfection as no pedestrians were injured exiting the parking lot, and we easily found the huge bridge heading north out of Dubrovnik, a place I definitely will return to someday. I might even attempt a journey down to pesky Montenegro, but will check all international news stations before I head south.
On the way to Trogir, the skies were beautiful as was the rugged Croatian coastline. We passed the road that led to Ston, which had restaurants that supposedly served the best oysters and mussels in Croatia. Since it was so early, I was shellfish and would not turn off the road (pardon me for that one).
We kept driving, and soon, up ahead in the distance loomed the Bosnia-Herzegovina border. We hoped that Mussolini had not phoned ahead about the “crazy, lane-switching Americans.” Obviously, he had not sent word to our Bosnian friends, and the guards waved us through without so much as giving us a second glance. A short while later, we were back in Croatia. The movie will be called, “If It’s Sunday between 11:30 and Noon, It Must Be Bosnia.”
We stopped at a little seaside town for lunch. Mary looked out at the car and said to me, “You had better turn off your lights (another Tom foreshadowing alert).” The laws in all these countries state that you must drive with your lights on, but sometimes the forgetful driver (aka me) would forget to turn them off. Fortunately, it also takes a village to help a driver.
At about 3 p.m. we arrived in Trogir. After missing the first exit (I was groovin’ to some really great Euro-pulsating music and didn’t hear Lady G (or Mary or Tracy or Kim) tell me to turn, so I got off at the next Trogir exit.
After passing some homes, we found ourselves in a rather industrial part of town. “This doesn’t look like a UNESCO sight to me,” I muttered. But sure enough, we were in Trogir, and there to our left was our home for the next two evenings, The Apartmani Trogir.
From the outside, it looked like a motel and located right next door to it was an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for a place to stay, but it had received good reviews, and, remember, we are not “judge a book by its cover” type people.
The Apartmani Trogir turned out to be a great find, located just about 1/8 mile from the bridge that takes you over to the center of Trogir.
Luka and his son were great hosts, and they had a nice breakfast spread each morning. The four of us shared a large apartment with a balcony (where, of course we would sip wine each evening), and the price was very inexpensive. The clean and modern apartment also had a kitchenette, secure parking area and wireless Internet.
Upon arriving, Luka gave us walking directions, and we made the short jaunt down to Trogir proper. As we walked from the parking lot over the bridge it now had the feel of a UNESCO World Heritage town, with its narrow alleys and pretty harbor. Soon we were in the historic center of town.
There were not a lot of people walking through Trogir late in the afternoon, but every time we came upon a restaurant there were tons of people dressed in red and white outfits and goofy looking hats. Yes, tonight was the first game of the Euro Cup, and these fans were ready to party as the game with Austria was just about ready to begin.
At one outdoor spot, there were dozens of Croatian fans, both of the two and four-legged variety. That’s right, even the dogs don their Croatian gear (I’m sure with a little help) for these games, and within minutes the cheering (and barking) was deafening as Croatia took an early 1-0 lead with only about five minutes gone in the first half.
Of course, this being soccer, that was the only score of the game. We had drinks at a place near the water and watched the first half. Watching the fans was much more entertaining than the game, and by the half, it was time for us to find a restaurant.
We found the Restaurant Capo inside the walls and it was a very pleasant evening of dining. Mary was now into the Croatian fish dishes and she dined on the mixed grill, while Tracy had salad and spaghetti. I enjoyed a steak with grilled zucchini and spinach, while Kim opted for the chicken. The dishes were all quite good.
The town was in a frenzy as we departed (no, not because we were leaving) because the game had just ended in a Croatian victory. Horns blared as cars zoomed to and fro across the bridge. I was now a full-fledged Croatian soccer fan.
We walked the short five to ten minutes back to our apartment, pulled some big chairs out onto the balcony, drank some wine, argued about the greatest sing-along songs of all time and headed off to bed.
It was the first night I had a little trouble getting to sleep, but I blame that on the fact that “YMCA” by the Village People was blasting through my brain. I just prayed I didn’t start dreaming of a cop, an Indian and a construction worker (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
In the middle of the night it started pouring down rain. “Damn,” I said, waking Tracy with a start. “Did we bring the furniture back to the room?”
We were out on the balcony in two seconds.
No, we had not brought it back in, but on this night luck was on our side, and the rain was blowing the other way. The furniture was dry, and within minutes Tracy was sound asleep. I, on the other hand, had a new friend.
Every time I reached sleep mode, the buzzing of a lone mosquito had me swatting at air. This, of course, would awaken Tracy, and even though the lights were off, I felt her “look.”
Fortunately I had gained some weight back and was no longer the “Incredible Shrinking Man,” so I had a fighting chance against this evil, sleep-depriving monster of the night. I finally drifted off to sleep and, by morning, we would know who won this epic battle between man and insect.
<b>COMING UP - DAY SEVENTEEN – BITE ME, PALACE AFORETHOUGHT, LET’S SPLIT SPLIT, JUMP-STARTING OUR VACATION, MORE STAIRS AND OH, I THOUGHT YOU SAID MARIJUANA! </b>
Since this was to be a traveling day, we all got some extra shut-eye and didn’t weave our way out of Dubrovnik until almost 10 a.m. We walked to our car, bypassing Mary’s unique shortcut of the night before, thus saving ourselves about 15 minutes.
The human chain worked to perfection as no pedestrians were injured exiting the parking lot, and we easily found the huge bridge heading north out of Dubrovnik, a place I definitely will return to someday. I might even attempt a journey down to pesky Montenegro, but will check all international news stations before I head south.
On the way to Trogir, the skies were beautiful as was the rugged Croatian coastline. We passed the road that led to Ston, which had restaurants that supposedly served the best oysters and mussels in Croatia. Since it was so early, I was shellfish and would not turn off the road (pardon me for that one).
We kept driving, and soon, up ahead in the distance loomed the Bosnia-Herzegovina border. We hoped that Mussolini had not phoned ahead about the “crazy, lane-switching Americans.” Obviously, he had not sent word to our Bosnian friends, and the guards waved us through without so much as giving us a second glance. A short while later, we were back in Croatia. The movie will be called, “If It’s Sunday between 11:30 and Noon, It Must Be Bosnia.”
We stopped at a little seaside town for lunch. Mary looked out at the car and said to me, “You had better turn off your lights (another Tom foreshadowing alert).” The laws in all these countries state that you must drive with your lights on, but sometimes the forgetful driver (aka me) would forget to turn them off. Fortunately, it also takes a village to help a driver.
At about 3 p.m. we arrived in Trogir. After missing the first exit (I was groovin’ to some really great Euro-pulsating music and didn’t hear Lady G (or Mary or Tracy or Kim) tell me to turn, so I got off at the next Trogir exit.
After passing some homes, we found ourselves in a rather industrial part of town. “This doesn’t look like a UNESCO sight to me,” I muttered. But sure enough, we were in Trogir, and there to our left was our home for the next two evenings, The Apartmani Trogir.
From the outside, it looked like a motel and located right next door to it was an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for a place to stay, but it had received good reviews, and, remember, we are not “judge a book by its cover” type people.
The Apartmani Trogir turned out to be a great find, located just about 1/8 mile from the bridge that takes you over to the center of Trogir.
Luka and his son were great hosts, and they had a nice breakfast spread each morning. The four of us shared a large apartment with a balcony (where, of course we would sip wine each evening), and the price was very inexpensive. The clean and modern apartment also had a kitchenette, secure parking area and wireless Internet.
Upon arriving, Luka gave us walking directions, and we made the short jaunt down to Trogir proper. As we walked from the parking lot over the bridge it now had the feel of a UNESCO World Heritage town, with its narrow alleys and pretty harbor. Soon we were in the historic center of town.
There were not a lot of people walking through Trogir late in the afternoon, but every time we came upon a restaurant there were tons of people dressed in red and white outfits and goofy looking hats. Yes, tonight was the first game of the Euro Cup, and these fans were ready to party as the game with Austria was just about ready to begin.
At one outdoor spot, there were dozens of Croatian fans, both of the two and four-legged variety. That’s right, even the dogs don their Croatian gear (I’m sure with a little help) for these games, and within minutes the cheering (and barking) was deafening as Croatia took an early 1-0 lead with only about five minutes gone in the first half.
Of course, this being soccer, that was the only score of the game. We had drinks at a place near the water and watched the first half. Watching the fans was much more entertaining than the game, and by the half, it was time for us to find a restaurant.
We found the Restaurant Capo inside the walls and it was a very pleasant evening of dining. Mary was now into the Croatian fish dishes and she dined on the mixed grill, while Tracy had salad and spaghetti. I enjoyed a steak with grilled zucchini and spinach, while Kim opted for the chicken. The dishes were all quite good.
The town was in a frenzy as we departed (no, not because we were leaving) because the game had just ended in a Croatian victory. Horns blared as cars zoomed to and fro across the bridge. I was now a full-fledged Croatian soccer fan.
We walked the short five to ten minutes back to our apartment, pulled some big chairs out onto the balcony, drank some wine, argued about the greatest sing-along songs of all time and headed off to bed.
It was the first night I had a little trouble getting to sleep, but I blame that on the fact that “YMCA” by the Village People was blasting through my brain. I just prayed I didn’t start dreaming of a cop, an Indian and a construction worker (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
In the middle of the night it started pouring down rain. “Damn,” I said, waking Tracy with a start. “Did we bring the furniture back to the room?”
We were out on the balcony in two seconds.
No, we had not brought it back in, but on this night luck was on our side, and the rain was blowing the other way. The furniture was dry, and within minutes Tracy was sound asleep. I, on the other hand, had a new friend.
Every time I reached sleep mode, the buzzing of a lone mosquito had me swatting at air. This, of course, would awaken Tracy, and even though the lights were off, I felt her “look.”
Fortunately I had gained some weight back and was no longer the “Incredible Shrinking Man,” so I had a fighting chance against this evil, sleep-depriving monster of the night. I finally drifted off to sleep and, by morning, we would know who won this epic battle between man and insect.
<b>COMING UP - DAY SEVENTEEN – BITE ME, PALACE AFORETHOUGHT, LET’S SPLIT SPLIT, JUMP-STARTING OUR VACATION, MORE STAIRS AND OH, I THOUGHT YOU SAID MARIJUANA! </b>
Sep 3rd, 2008, 04:53 PM
#159
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Tom,
I am really enjoying your trip report! Lots of good info, humor and good sportsmanship. You really have a fun word delivery! I am particularly interested because my DH and I will be in Croatia and Slovenia next Apr 22 to May 9. What rental car company did you use? We also would like to go 1 day into Montenegro - hope we have better luck.
Waiting in anticipation for the rest of your report.
I am really enjoying your trip report! Lots of good info, humor and good sportsmanship. You really have a fun word delivery! I am particularly interested because my DH and I will be in Croatia and Slovenia next Apr 22 to May 9. What rental car company did you use? We also would like to go 1 day into Montenegro - hope we have better luck.
Waiting in anticipation for the rest of your report.
Sep 3rd, 2008, 08:53 PM
#160
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Tom:
You're an artist, painting a broad canvas. Great, detailed report. You've succeded in bringing me a flood of memories for all my past trips into the former Yugoslavia (and recently into Croatia/Montenegro, Bosnia and Slovenia)...keep it coming...where are the pics???
Annhig:
Yeah, Tito days..me, too**. In fact you may recall that most everyone you talked to back then would sooner or later proudly say "I fought beside Tito"..but when a fifteen year old who wasn't even born at that time would say it, with chest stuck out...you didn't have the heart to say.."Of course, you didn't!"....
Stu T. (**was there twice in the 70's ..and in '83 after he died)
You're an artist, painting a broad canvas. Great, detailed report. You've succeded in bringing me a flood of memories for all my past trips into the former Yugoslavia (and recently into Croatia/Montenegro, Bosnia and Slovenia)...keep it coming...where are the pics???
Annhig:
Yeah, Tito days..me, too**. In fact you may recall that most everyone you talked to back then would sooner or later proudly say "I fought beside Tito"..but when a fifteen year old who wasn't even born at that time would say it, with chest stuck out...you didn't have the heart to say.."Of course, you didn't!"....
Stu T. (**was there twice in the 70's ..and in '83 after he died)
