A GOOD TIME OR A GREAT TIME? IT'S A SPLIT DECISION

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Interesting Croatia fact: Watching turtles humping is the funniest thing ever.

Arriving and Surviving

After some seriously awesome timing that meant we had to get up really early but STILL didn't manage to visit the Hungarian Turkish baths (dedicated readers will remember that this had been the one and only actual bit of planning Matt and I had done over the entire trip with the Gem, Jim, Matt, Matt, Matt n Will incident. By 'dedicated readers' I, of course, mean 'dedicated reader'. And by 'dedicated reader' I, of course, mean 'I'. And even then I only read it because I write the damn thing, and even this I try to do with my eyes closed whenever possible), Matt and I embarked on the most rollercoaster ride of a day we had had so far. Sadly, what was rollercoaster about the day was not the ups and downs of emotions in an unstoppable torrent of adventure that drew us inexorably through peaks and troughs and loop-the-loops, but more the fact that we spent the entire of it in a carriage with wheels that followed a track.

We boarded the train at aboot 3 o'clock, ready to rock Split - our next destination located in the South of Croatia. About 8 hours and nothing but a ham and cheese sandwich later, any desire to rock had been replaced with a desire to slam our faces into rocks, which, strangely enoughed, turned out to be very common pass-time in Croatia. Still, we weren't to know this at the time. I can think of worse things than spending my precious time on a train doing not much, but they all involve reading something on the internet about how boring someone found spending their precious time on a train was. Sucks to be you guys.

On the plus side, we did nearly manage to almost entirely stretch out on some close-to-slightly-not-uncomfortable chairs overnight, meaning we were feeling entirely refreshed and raring to go the next day. Compared to, say, how the people at Auschwitz felt each morning.

Spliterrific

Split, it turns out, is a gorgeous tourist destination, filled with beautiful sights, expensive restaurants, and people so rich we were fairly convinced they actually were made out of money. Naturally, Matt and I fit in like Jess at a Miss Universe pagent.

After settling down at our hostel (in a 'leaving our stuff and paying for our room' way, rather than a 'Matt and I are finally coming out, but to avoid the shame of our parents we're living in Croatia' way), which was a nice little place with some cats and turtles, we went and checked out the Palace of Diocletian, which had Matt's ancient history jeans well and truely creamed. Realising that buying a small pot of jam probably would have destroyed our savings for the entire trip (we wanted the pot of jam to lure wasps into an elaborate machine that would use them to power our new motorboat that we had made entirely out of cheese), Matt and I pretty much occupied ourselves for the rest of the day, wandering around the old town, doing entirely inappropriate things on those rides for kids you often get outside supermarkets, and playing a game called Bottle Head (the rules remained obscure, even at the time).

That evening, we decided to head to a restaurant in town that had been recommended by one of the hostel's owners, as it was both nice and cheap. Kinda like an old, friendly prostitute. We headed into town with a cool Aussie bloke called Lochlan (or Lockland, or Lohclaan, or Lookiliser, or something like that - for simplicity he shall be known hereafter as Fireheart the Brave), and, let me tell you (if you don't actually want to let me tell you, then just skip to the next paragraph. In fact, skipping paragraphs is generally a good plan for these blogs), the food was AMAZING! I don't think I've ever seen so many dead animals on a plate, and I attend "Let's Piss Off The Vegetarians Fest" every year! The food was sweet, but not forceful, and hit just the right spot. Kinda like an old, friendly prostitute. Realising that the beer was also really cheap at this place, we took advantage of the good price, had a brief rest, then went back for more. Like you would with an old, friendly prostitute.

Nicely drunk, we decided to call it a night and head back to the hostel. I'm still not sure what the 'it' we decided to call a night was, but whatever it was the God Of Night obviously took some offence, and he was having none of it. Thusly, as we were wandering on our way back, Fireheart the Brave ran into some old warrior buddies, from back in the ol' seige days.

These warrior buddies turned out to be two more Aussies (it's amazing there's anyone left in Australia) that Fireheart hadn't seen for 3 years. After much jumping around and squealing "OH MY GOD!" at inappropriately loud volumes, we decided to do the obvious thing and go and sit on the beautiful water's edge and get drunk enough that we could no longer see the beautiful water's edge. After running out of beer and angering a homeless man (who came out with the phrase "If I was in your country I would give YOU money!", which was a bit like one of us saying, "If I had wings I would lay golden eggs on YOUR window sill!") we decided to head back to the hostel, where we cracked out the bottle of whiskey we bought in the duty-free off liscence in Slovakia.

About 68 seconds later, the bottle was empty, the Australians trying desperately to outdrink us Brits. You could tell they hadn't experienced English uni. Poor chaps. Now, neither Matt nor I can remember what these guys said to us, but, one way or another, they convinced us to get up at 7.30 the next morning to head to one of the islands off of Croatia. It is a decision we can not remember, but one we will never forget.

The Australians, Vis-a-Vis, Simon and Juaneta

We met Simon and Juaneta (for Edde's benefit: Juaneta is pronounced Wa-nee-ta, as in Wayne and Aneta. CRAZY!) at the dock, and they told us to go and buy tickets for Vis. This we did. It was only as we were boarding the boat that we realised that the tickets actually said "Supertad", so, with 6 minutes before the ferry left, I ran back to the ticket place to try and get the tickets exchanged. I can only do the conversation with the ticket lady justice in the form of a play:

Will: Sorry, we asked for tickets to Vis and got tickets to Supertad, is there any chance we could exchange them?
Ticket lady: You want to go to Vis?
W: Yes.
TL: Then why did you ask for Supertad?
W: We didn't.
TL: Yes you did.
W: Well, that seems unlikely seeing as neither of us have even heard of a place called Supertad, but whatever.
TL: It's going to cost you more.
W: That's fine.
TL: 20 Croatian what-the-fucks.
W: That's fine.
TL: That's a lot more money.
W: It's FINE! (I get my wallet out of my pocket)
TL: You're going to have to hurry. There's not long before it leaves.
W: Thanks for that.
TL: (seeing my wallet) I DON'T NEED YOUR MONEY!
W: What?!
TL: I've got my pay, I don't need your money!
W: You told me it was going to cost more!
TL: It is. 20 more.
W: So what's the problem?
TL: Why do you think I have this job?
W: What?!
TL: I've got this job so I can get pay. I don't need money from people like you!
W: I'm not trying to bribe you!
TL: That'll be 20. I need your passport.
W: What?! Why?
TL: You need to hurry. It leaves soon.
W: I don't have my passport! What are you talking about?!
TL: Need your passport. Can't give you the ticket without your passport.
W: I don't have my passport!
TL: Sign here.
W: What?!
TL: You asked for Supertad, now Vis, costs 20 more, need your passport. Sign here.
W: What are you talking about?!
TL: It leaves soon. You're gonna have to run.
W: I FUCKING KNOW!
TL: Sign here.
W: Finefinefine.
TL: (handing over ticket) You need to run. It leaves in 3 minutes!

We managed to leg it aboard the ship just before it left. Things were off to a good start!

Vis was one of the beautiful places imaginable: it made Split look like... well... Wycombe. Deciding that pebble beachs weren't for us, we decided to hire scooters to get to the other side of the island, where we were promised golden sand and silver sea. So, after a couple of beers, we head to the scooter hire place. You know what they say about the best laid plans though: they sure as hell aren't made by us.

The scooter guy told us we could hire from him and another guy. Things going well: you have a beer. The other guy refused to hire out his bikes unless we were hiring 3. People being idiots: you have a beer. So, we figured we'd hire a car, but, just as we decide this, the guy at the hire place decides to go on a break for an undetermined length of time. Just bad luck: you have a beer. THIS IS THE AUSTRALIAN WAY.

Having not eaten all day, we were just about battered at this point, and when you're drunk enough not to be able to tell up from down, what's the difference between some rocks and some sand?

ALCOHOL: THE ANSWER TO ALL OF LIFE'S PROBLEMS

We spent the rest of the day topping up our tans and chatting to our new Aussie best friends, before it was time to get the ferry home. We said a tearful farewell (it is custamary in Australia to say goodbye by punting one another in the balls), before being made the BEST SANDWICH EVER by an angel in a supermarket. She was probably just a plain teenager, but to us she was the most beautiful goddess ever conceived. Ham, cheese, and bread has never tasted so good. Trust us, we rarely eat anything else.

We passed out on the ferry on the way back, that's how good the sandwich was. Either that, or we were really drunk and really tired, but I like to think we OD'd on the taste sensation. Realising how much we love long train rides, we decided to hit the hay early, so we could once again rise before 8 o'clock (two days in a row! What kind of holiday is this?!) to catch a 29 hour train to Romania. To quote Fireheart the Brave: "Happy days!"

The next days we travelled to Romania. The Great Extravaganza, as of then, remained elusive.

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Comments

[allie]

are loving turtles as creaky door as tortoises?