Aquapura

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Geo: 43.5127, 16.4424

The traveler invariably sees and experiences the same things, over and over. It could be a feeling, or a situation, or encountering a certain type of person. Some of these things are less than desirable, but some of are most welcome, no matter how many times you come across them. And what type of things do I enjoy coming across, time and time again, never tiring of them, no matter how many times I seek them out? That would be Spanish senoritas!

My morning, my day, and my week were made when I crawled out of bed, gathered my towel and soap, and went for a shower. The bathroom was occupied, and it was then that I noticed somebody else was also waiting, and having a seat on the couch in the living area. This somebody else was - drum roll - a beautiful Spanish senorita. Though her boyfriend or husband was sitting across from her using the Internet, I was more than happy to keep her company for a few minutes.

Such natural beauty, delicate features, flawless skin ... the typical Spanish beauty, I didn't need to ask where she was from, she was quite certain to be from Spain, and this was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt as she spoke, lisping in that beautiful lisping way that only Spanish senoritas know how to lisp. Remember the legend of Ulysses, and how the Sirens would use their sweet enchanting song to bring doom to countless sailors, who blindly followed the song of the Sirens and crashed their ships into the rocks? The Sirens must've had a lisp, a Spanish lisp. How else could you explain men sailing to their demise, without any hesitation? How else could you explain a Chinese Canadian man learning Spanish, and going to Spain eights times in five years?

Given how stunning the women have been in the Balkans, and by all accounts I have heard from male (and some female) travelers that had visited Serbia, I foolishly thought to myself the other day "You know, if I visit Serbia and find what they say to be true, Spain's perch at the top of my list for having the most beautiful women in the world may be in jeopardy." Silly me ... how could I even harbour such a thought? Seeing this beautiful Spanish senorita sitting on the couch, I immediately thought to myself "Yup, Spain's still far and away number one - no doubt about that." I've always thought that most men wouldn't see Spanish women the way I do - many Balkan women are near supermodel material. But what can I say? There's just something about Spanish women that does it for me. Today, it was like some voice from above was saying "Don't be silly, you know Spanish women are still the best." Who am I to argue?

There was actually a group of Spaniards staying at the hostel (Susana, Sara, Pablo, Marlo, and Claudio), all from Valladolid (I've encountered quite a few of travelers from there over the past few years), and most of them English teachers. I ended up sitting with them for breakfast, and even they laughed when I pointed out that they spoke a shocking amount of English for Spaniards. One of the guys, Marlo, was the most chatty and when I explained that I learned Spanish because I have the dream of one day marrying a Spanish girl, without hesitation he responded "Just so you know, these two girls here are already taken!" We all had a good laugh at that one, though deep down I hoped he would say "You know, Susana is single and likes Chinese guys ..." When I mentioned possibly moving to Spain to teach English, they joked that I might end up taking one of their jobs. Perhaps a deal could be worked out, I won't take any of their jobs if they set me up with a Spanish senorita ... hmmm ... it's a win-win situation for all, except for the poor girl who gets stuck with me!

Majda seemed quite amused at this Chino happily chatting away in Spanish with this group of Spaniards. By then, a few other non-Spanish speakers had joined us at the breakfast table, and Majda would occasionally return with a plate of fruit or some coffees, making funny little comments with a smirk like "This plate of fruit is for the Spanish people ... and Patrick. I'll bring more for you others in a moment."

The environment at Majda's Hostel is wonderful, so cozy and familiar, and it's largely due to her influence. She's such a charming woman, so friendly and kind, and so very genuine. Majda reminds me a lot of a couple that ran a guest house I stayed at in Vina del Mar, Chile - when I left that guest house, I was told "I hope your path one day brings you back here and we meet again." As a solo traveler that wanders around so much, that was a really touching thing to hear, and really meant a lot.

Majda is the same way, making you feel so welcome and so at home - talking to her is like talking to an old friend. Obviously she runs this hostel to make money, but I get the sense that she truly enjoys what she does, and loves meeting people from all over the world, and taking care of them. Our brief little conversations late last night were very telling about the type of person she is.

Though I was thoroughly enjoying my conversation with the Spaniards (and sneaking not so subtle glances at the lovely, but taken, senorita sitting across from me), Majda kindly reminded me that it was time to go - the pick-up/drop-off service at the bus station that she offers is great, especially in an oven like Mostar. Dave and I headed out together, both of us catching the bus to Split.

Dave's a good guy, who I found interesting because he's doing the hostel thing and feeling quite awkward, because he's 34. I laughed and told him not to fret about it, I'm turning 33 in a few days and I don't see my backpacking ways changing any time soon. Last night he showed me a hilarious picture of stencil art he encountered in Sarajevo - it said "I like you so much, I'm going to add you as a friend in real life." Even more hilarious was that after the fact, someone had crossed out "real life" with a pen, and wrote in "Facebook".

And even more hilarious than that was when we reached the border and had our passports checked - after showing Dave my passport photo and joking that they must really not worry about security with Canadians, since I look nothing like my photo, he had almost a look of disgust on his face. It really is quite funny, how I look nothing like I do in my passport - I used to get hassled because I used to look thuggish with the shaved head and goatee, and now I get hassled because I look nothing like that.

So finally, after four long years ... we arrived in Split. The old town is essentially Diocletian's Palace, built as a retirement home for the Roman Emperor of the same name, who was from a town nearby to Split. It's an incredibly vibrant, atmospheric place, full of great cafes and great little bars. Split is a big transport hub; if you are traveling north or south through Croatia by ferry or bus, chances are you will pass through. Though it does have a great seafront promenade, it's not known for its beaches, as being such a large port means that its water quality isn't the best.

I absolutely loved Split the first time I was here, mostly because of fond memories of a couple of friendships I made here. It's funny how a connection on a human level can do that for you, isn't it? We ended up having the cheapest little picnic on a beach just outside of town, which was one of the highlights of that trip. It also happened to be the day before my 29th birthday, and since I wasn't able to establish that type of connection with anyone on my actual birthday when I had gone off to the island of Korcula, I chose to remember that night in Split as being that day. Like I've said many times before, as much as people travel to see the sights and experience new things, usually it's the connections made that result in lasting memories. For that reason, I'll always fondly remember Split.

Late Night You-Tubing Moment: 17 by Aquapura - honestly, it's a typically bad and repetitive dance song but I love it, mostly because the first time I heard it, I immediately had this vision of sailing on a yacht on the Mediterranean, drinking and laughing with friends. A few years later when I got to Croatia, the song immediately popped into my mind, and now it is forever associated with the Adriatic Sea. It's an involuntary reflex, almost as if somebody clicks play as soon as I look out at its gorgeous waters.

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Photos

f
Cathedral of St. Dominus, in Diocletian's Palace, Split.

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Konoba Trattoria Bajamont - brujet, a type of fish stew made with wine and garlic, and served with big chunks of dense, slightly gooey polenta. There were two types of fish, one much better than the other, but both were problematic with the number of small bones they possessed. The fish was nicely cooked and tender, and the sauce tasty, though quite chunky. The dish was decent, but very sloppily prepared - the sauce was riddled with bits of scales, fins, and bones.

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The RIva - Split's killer pedestrian seafront promenade. Riva means "harbour" in Italian.

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Wedding inside of St. Dominus - how cool would that be?

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Bank in Split - some Roman ruins have been preserved and left in place.

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BIshop Gregory of Nin.

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Locals rub his toe for good luck and to make a non-material wish. I didn't bother this time since it obviously didn't work the first time!

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Pastries!!!

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Buffet Fife - the fried calamari was pretty good, as was the seafood risotto, though it really wasn't like risotto.

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Small world - Rosh and Frankie strolled in and had a seat a couple of tables down from us. When you backpack, you meet so many people that you lose track of everybody's itinerary - I don't think any of us even remembered that we would be in Split at the same time until we saw each other.

r
Funny - Stewart and I laughed at Chloe, because as I went to take a picture, she immediately turned her head and cocked it at a slight angle. Obviously, she's been practicing that pose, since it seemed like a reflex, and she didn't even seem to be aware that she did that.

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Now it was my turn to try a similar pose.

t
And then Stewart and I decided to do our own sexy little pose together.

u
Steward started doing a funky little dance at a club we went to later on.

v
I have no idea why I took a shot of his crotch. Something funny happened, but I was a bit out of it and can't remember what it was.

Comments

[Colin]

Do you have the picture of that poster in Sarajevo? (I like you so much I'm going to add you as a friend in real life). I wanted a photo of it but my battery had run out on the day and I didn't get a chance to go back.Majda is great isn't s
he :)

[pwong]

David has my email but haven't heard from him yet. If he gets in contact, I'll ask for the picture. And yup, Majda is killer!