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| View, swimming to the beach |
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| Ivan in Croatia |
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| Dubrovnik, Ivan working.... |
We arrived in Dubronik late at night, and after a frantic drive through the winding streets of croatia, our cabby dropped us off abruptly at the Cvetat bus station. We knew we'd have a good time because the local restaurant bore John's Ukrainian name. Branko appeared within minutes of our arrival, we loaded onto the dinghy, and motored off to our beloved mistress of the sea, the H2obo.
The next day, we woke up and after taking in the crystal clear water, we set off to explore Cvetat on foot. I think it's fairly safe to say that all Croatian men are giants; Branko and John were of average height next to them. Must be all the cevapcici. That afternoon, we left Cvetat, and began our adventure on the Adriatic, motoring to Mlini, just up the coast. We reloaded on supplies at the local grocery store and then began a spirited game of Bucket. The boys tossed, sat on, and explored the various aquatic uses of a red bucket all the while speaking in eastern european accents that all sounded vaguely sleezy. Must be a guy thing.
Branko drove us to the little harbor in Mlini to catch the bus to Dubrovnik the following day. "The bus stop is just at the top of the stairs." he said. We might've been climbing up to base camp. Thank god we're both endurance athletes. Dubrovnik, sadly, was as overrun with tourists as Mag and Branko predicted. We wove our way around the walled old city for a while, and then took the gondola up to see a better vista of the city. It was hot, so we took the opportunity to further sample and critique the various croatian alcoholic beverages on offer. The wine is lovely, but our favorite, by far, was the ubiquitous "Pivo" brand of lager, AKA "Beer". I love self-explanatory branding. No pretentious images of white capped mountains or a coat of arms with a latin slogan, no, just "beer".
By the time we swam back to the boat that evening, Branko and Mag were just sitting down to the Croatian delight of potato salad. Before I go any further, a quick word about the highlights of the gastronomy offered by our epicurean hosts: cheeses and sardines from spain, croatian speck, a red pepper puree that burst with the unadulterated flavor of red pepper (this was no North American pickled and roasted red pepper, no, this was the thing in all its purity, the essence of red pepper, sun ripened and hand picked, having matured in the warm buzzing fields of Croatia). We added the chips.
This is a perfect segue to the next day's adventure, when a fishing boat sidled up to harbour not far from where we were anchored. We promptly leapt into our dinghy, no waiting for us, and purchased a bag of squid and four amberjack. They were still pliant and clear-eyed from the morning's swim! We cleaned them on the boat, then swabbed the deck, like true mariners, while John deep fried the calamari. Chip fried calamari washed down with Pivo. Life was good. I think I celebrated with a swim to the point and back.
Our next adventure was to Sunj, where we truly came into our own as intrepid adventurers. When we arrived, John and I swam to shore with our clothes in a dry pack, then explored the island. After our adventure, we swam back to the boat, only to find that Branko had spied the nudist beach and we had missed out. The next day, Maggie and I swam to the nearby caves, and began our ethnographic research into the sunbathing population of Sunj beach. Maggie was momentarily blinded by a phallus on display. After taking a precise and scientific survey of our population, we swam back to the boat, where the men were conducting thier own research on the female population from afar, using the binoculars. They criticized our methods, as they insisted that we should have more fully immersed ourselves in a cultural relativist approach on the nudist beach.
We motored back to Cvetat the next morning to wait out the Bora. While Branko taught John the nuances of Schnaps, Maggie and I, the intrepid explorers, infiltrated the nearby Iberostar resort. We sampled the local beer, not Pivo, but another brand. Maggie needed a bigger sample size to complete her analysis, and went back for a second glass. The bartender caught us out, though, so we made a leisurely retreat. That night, Branko and Maggie prepared for the bora by carefully setting the anchor. Our Captains then spent most of the night awake to make sure that the anchor didn't drag.
Our last day and night was spent on one final wander through Cvetat, where we enjoyed some cevapcici and fed the feral cats. Pivo, card games, and chips. We took turns that night staying up to make sure the anchor didn't drag, and listening to the crooning singers at the Iberostar mutilate the pop hits of the 90s.
The day we left was too bright for such a sad day.
Elizabeth
p.s. more pics to follow
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