Sailing Sailing in the Adriatic Sea

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We set sail from the small bay to visit more islands. Anchored in a blue bay with a small beach and only a handful of houses, we stopped for lunch after taking in 2-3 hours of sun. Lunch and brief swimming and then back to resting.
But the anchor lost its grip on the sea floor and we drifted. Suddenly the waves began to rock the boat and we all sat in the back deck holding on so as not to be thrown off. Sara wanted to go sit on the trampoline and almost had me convinced. But with a full stomach I couldn’t talk myself into the inevitable sea sickness it would cause, so we didn’t go. Thank goodness because it got rougher until we set up the sails. I had no idea that the sails would help us glide and float over the waves that had been shaking us so violently. I guess the motor cuts through them and propels the boat faster than the natural rhythm of the sea.
After the rocky sailing was finished Sara and I curled up in the blankets on the front of deck and baked in the warm afternoon sun. For an hour and a half we slept, exhausted from the adventure. Bruno arranged dinner for us on Vis in his friend’s restaurant.
The dingy ride to the restaurant was unpleasant. The waves persisted from the afternoon and with the eight of us in the small rubber motorboat we all got sprayed. When we arrived at the dock Barbara and I got dumped on and were soaked to the bone. My white pants were cold and wet so I removed them and shimmied my poncho down into a skirt. We took a cold, wet bus ride up the hill and out of Vis, arrived at a charming restaurant. A stone building with a separate kitchen, open courtyard, and bar. They use a special Croatian method for cooking; a burning ember fire with large pig iron pans sitting covered above, large iron lids, create an oven without ventilation. They cooked for us, whole gallinelle (water hen? a very ugly but tasty fish) and whole octopus. Served with rice, potatoes, and onions, all very juicy and tasty. the restaurant made their own wine and served us beautiful appetizers. They even had dry warm pants for Barbara and I. We ate as much as we could but for the eight of us they made enough for twenty. I sat next to Ricardo, the fifteen year old, and across from Sara and Claudio. We talked about Harry Potter and told sweet jokes that preadolescents giggle at for hours. My pants were not dry but sufficiently damp to wear back to the catamaran, and we departed to sleep and digest.

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