101 Dalmation...Raindrops

Since our last post, we worked our way south down the Dalmation coast of Croatia.  This stretch of rocky cliffs and pebble beaches on the Adriatic Sea is known for its stunning beauty - believe the hype.  Less than 20 years ago, this area was shattered by war as the former country of Yugoslavia fractured.  These days are long gone and we found Croatia to be full of friendly people, reasonably priced, brimming with history, and as gorgeous as it's reputed to be.  Despite unseasonably cool temps and persistant drizzle, we came away satisfied, which is quite a feat.

Our first stop on the coast was the town of Split, known for its incredibly well-preserved Roman ruins.  The highlight is Diocletian's Palace, built by the emperor in the third century A.D.  The lure of the almighty dollar (or Kuna, as it were) seems to be winning out over the prudence of protection, as the palace is stuffed full of restaurants and vendors.  Regardless, it was beautifully lit and peaceful at night.  At dinner in Split, we did some community service by singing "Hit the Road, Jack" for our waitress's daughter.  This worked out in our favor, as the restaurant quickly plied us with free glasses of wine to induce us to stop crowing.

From Split, we took a ferry to the island of Hvar, drawn by its reputation for 2724 hours of sunshine per year (yeah, really).  The morning was crystal clear in Split, but degenerated on the boat ride, much to our chagrin.  Hvar Town, as is the case for many Croatian coastal towns, is surrounded by walls built by the Venetians to keep out invaders.  The town also has an impressive Venetian fortress perched on a high hill, which yielded expansive views of the old town, pristine sea, and surrounding islands.  As with the rest of our time on the coast, it was too cold to swim, but the rocky beaches and turquoise water looked quite inviting.  Because it is late in the season, the town was very quiet
, an omen of things to come.

From Hvar, we took a boat to the island of Korcula, the birthplace of Marco Polo.  This town too was eerily quiet, which was great for playing a rousing game of Marco Polo (what else?), but made finding food challenging.  It became apparent that as time wore on and we got further from the beaten path, services would be harder to come by.

Undeterred, we forged on to the island of Miljet, home to a National Park of the same name.  The weather was stunning as we pulled in as the only two passengers aboard the catamaran ferry built to hold hundreds.  We were delighted to find solitude and oblivious of all the evidence piling up in front of us.  Little did we know as we stepped onto the deserted street in the town of Polace that this would become our prison over the next few days.
 

Unexpectedly, we were not greeted at the boat by the usual throngs of lodging peddlers.  In a town with one street and about 20 buildings, it did not take long to find the tourist info office, which was extremely closed.  Hmmm...maybe this was going to be more challenging than anticipated.  A bit of wandering past shuttered hotels and restaurants put us in front of the town's lone open business, a mini mart with dust-covered wares.  Inside, a local woman who would soon be affectionately known as "Old Bat" jumped up upon spying our conspicuous backpacks and offered us a room.  Delighted by the calm of the sea and setting sun (not to mention the lack of other options), we forgot to ask if the room had heat.

 The next day, we woke to find a thick mass of dark clouds dropping a torrent on the island.  The temperature had plummeted and our vision of hiking in the park all day was quickly dashed.  Luckily Tom Clancy writes long books, since we got a lot of reading time while huddled under the covers in our winter coats and hats in our furnace-free room.  The rain broke briefly in the afternoon, so we "borrowed" some bikes from a rental shop closed for the season and tooled around the hilly island enough to verify that we truly were the only tourists there.  Returning to town, we got our first inkling that we would not be leaving the next morning as planned, since the scheduled ferry never arrived.

That night, the rain transformed into a full blown tempest of streaking lightening and booming thunder.  The sea was even choppier the next day, so as we waited longingly for the ferry that never came, we got to engage our creative abilities to pass the time.  Our small apartment bore witness to endless cribbage duels, one-on-one charades, a fitness bootcamp on the balcony, and the two of us creating crossword puzzles for each other on the back of cereal boxes.  Evening provided another opportunity to create a magical spaghetti dinner from the mini mart's aged stores.

Thoroughly afflicted with cabin fever, we walked out into the rain at 4:45 the next morning, determined to take matters into our own hands.  The 5am bus rumored to run on the island (the only one of the day) did not materialize, so we put on our best hitchhiking smiles.  After successfully packing ourselves into the back of a tiny hatchback, we arrived in a town whose ferry had been stuck in port by the storms.  Much to the delight of all of us trying to escape the island, the operators decided to brave the still-surly sea and delivered us safely to the mainland.  In retrospect, we were only marooned for three nights, but it cost us the chance to make our planned excursion into Montenegro.  Luckily, that leaves us something to do on our next Around the World trip.

No visit to Croatia would be complete without a trip to the charming walled city of Dubrovnik, the so -called pearl of the Adriatic.  Here we were blessed with a break in the weather that allowed us to walk atop the walls that circumnavigate the old town.  This afforded us comprehensive views of the city's red-tiled roofs, narrow stone streets, and formidable defensive fortifications.  For the delight of our faithful readers, we even took a cheesy senior picture shot suitable for framing (below).  We also had the pleasure of renting a room over-looking the walls from an elderly woman who we dubbed "Aunt".  The only English word in her vocabulary was "please", which delivered us many hilarious conversations consisting of various charades and a repeated drone of "please, please, please....".

 

 

 

From Dubrovnik, we turned north again, braving bus rides along what has recently been rated the world's fifth most dangerous stretch of road.  We reconnected with our old friend the sun and spent a couple days meandering along the stunning cliffs that make up the coastline on our way back to Split.  We spent nights in the cities of Makarska and Trogir, each of which has its own incredible collection of aging stone walls and cavernous churches.  One simple highlight was stumbling upon a flat that had free laundry, which everyone stuck on public transport with us since has greatly appreciated. 

 

From Croatia, we flew to London, where we're exploring and taking care of some administrative tasks.  You'll get a full report soon and then we're off to Asia!