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Published: April 15th 2008
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Kim and I
in Dubrovnik There was a time when I was happy to touch down in a country with only a pack full of dirty clothes, a box full of wine, a smile and a willingness to sleep on the street. I would trust in the kindness of strangers and usually find myself in cheap, substandard accommodation. This style of travelling generally made for good stories, as it led to nights in mud huts, brothels and scary guesthouses; it also managed to get me onto a hijacked bus, get beat up in a bar in Singapore’s little India and be felt up by a Christian Fundamentalist on Australia’s East coast. Somewhere along the line I changed my ways and became obsessed with the most intricate details of my next trip. When I am not travelling I am planning to travel; booking hostels, train tickets and day trips. My dirty clothes have been replaced by nicely folded golf shirts and my Hunter S. Thomson book replaced with a Lonely Planet. All of this comes as a result of a day job, an Ikea apartment, steady income and a girlfriend. And though my next trip was planned to perfection, it came to teach me that the smile
and the box of wine are often far more important on the road than reservation numbers and guidebooks.
My meticulously crafted plan was to accompany Dennie and my sister to Barcelona for 2 nights, then fly to Dubrovnik Croatia, before travelling to the islands of Hvar, Korcula, and then back to Spain for a night in Peniscola, prior to returning to Valencia to see my sister back to Canada. I had read the guide books, booked the hotels and in my anxiousness to show my sister a good time, neglected to realise that Croatia’s Dalmation Coast, though beautiful, is cold, rainy and void of ferries or tourists during the month of March.
Barcelona on the other hand is completely filled during Easter break with high school students from around the world getting drunk under the watchful eyes of their responsible teachers. So full is Barcelona, that upon arrival at Barcelona Dreams Guest House, our room had been given away to another eager group as we had informed the owner that we would arrive hours earlier than we did. Faced with the prospect of sleeping on a park bench, the hotel owner took pity on us and let us
stay for 2 nights free on his living room floor. With luck and karma on our side, we relaxed and spent two days in Barcelona eating vegetarian food, exploring the Parque de Guil, the Sagrada Familia and buying lots of un-necessaries at the craft stalls of Las Ramblas.
My seat on the Click air flight from Barcelona to Dubrovnik was constructed of fine leather, though decades of use had caused the stitching which attached my seat to the airplane to completely disintegrate. Each time I moved, my seat would slide down onto the floor revealing the rusty metal work below. I informed the flight attendant of this oversight, expecting a free meal or new seat, but was only greeted with a half hearted grin.
The Dalmation Coast of Croatia provides dramatic scenery as the white rocky cliffs of the Dinaric Alps drop suddenly into the bright blue waters of the Adriatic Sea. Sea side villages with winding cobblestone streets and renovated buildings with red tile roofs stand between bombed out shells of former farm houses, schools and shops. Upon arrival in Dubrovnik signs of the recent war completely disappear. In 1991 nearly all of the buildings in Dubrovik’s old town were damaged or destroyed during the civil war which resulted in Croatia’s independence from Yugoslavia, and the mass exodus of Croatia’s Serbian population. Dubrovnik has been lovingly restored to its former glory and now, Dubrovnik can rival any city in Europe for old world charm and number of tacky tourist shops. We immediately befriended the local expats, found the cities lone vegetarian eatery, and discovered the Troubador, a tiny hole in the wall jazz bar with two chairs, a piano and nightly live jams where revellers sing along to “Old Mcdonald’s Farm” and “You are My Sunshine” led by the former Croatian rock star owner on the stand up bass. Dubrovnik was lovely, beautiful, expensive and friendly. The expats we met seemed to be stuck inside the high city walls as they had found community in the strangest of places.
The available ferry times to the islands were not available in the off season, changing our plans and forcing us to cancel bookings and trust in the advice of a fellow traveller.
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Robyn Mortley
non-member comment
My my, so Mr. D you are maturing!! :)