Going to Hvar. The only ferry of the day leaves at 6:00. Yesterday the normal catamaran to Hvar had to be serviced, and they used a smaller ship. Forty people were left behind. Boarding "starts" at 5:45, but we got to the dock at 5:30 and got right on. The regular ship is back and is pretty nice, but with the overflow from yesterday it is totally full by 5:40.
We are docked on Hvar by 7:30 and find some fresh nut roll pastries at a bakery to take over to a café, where we ordered cappuccinos and water. We walked around the port looking at the super yachts, the town square looking at the shops, and then the outdoor market where we bought the most beautiful, perfectly blush-orange apricots.
The owner of our guest house came to town and picked us up. Ivanka recognized us right away and greeted us by name, and let us know that while we were staying with them we were part of the family. She proceeded to prove it by fussing over us, bringing us fresh orange juice, letting us know about the beaches, bars, restaurants, and what else do we need? And you are from California, I hear it is a lot like Croatia but you have the sandy beaches… And my daughter's family is here visiting (at which point we were introduced all around) for two months, more orange juice? And your family? Your work? And next you go to? And…
The War.
Oh, the war. Hvar was not under attack, but they took in many many refugees, Muslim, Catholic, Croat, even some Serbs, the hotel owners and everyone just took them in. Life stopped for a few years. But they did not have it bad like the cousin of her brother's wife whose family house was bombed and burned to the ground. They all came here. We just took them all in and we survived.
No one can believe it, and we do not forget.
In Mostar (We are going there next.) you will see, the city is still divided, Muslim half and Catholic half, each with own bus station and stores, they just can not get along. A shame.
Silence.
Right now as I recall this conversation, I am sitting drinking a beer on one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. We spent the last five hours swimming, sleeping in the sun, surrounded by beautiful scenery, beautiful people (and yes, again, it is a topless beach, as all are in this country. About 50% of the women are topless, and about 99.9% of the men. All right then: when in Croatia, do as the Croatians… I join in.) other islands float on the horizon, music floats across the beach, the water is cobalt blue and the perfect temperature. And I am sitting here thinking about how gracious the three hosts have been to us, and I just cannot puzzle out how such beautiful people in such a beautiful place went through such a traumatic war just 20 years ago. Twenty years. I was 32.
It is one of those juxtapositions, those conundrums you just cannot wrap your mind around.
BUT: what a great place! Why didn't we come to Croatia years ago? We have 12 more days here (ok, ten because we have two days in Bosnia. It makes sense if you look at a map and see how Bosnia splits Croatia in two parts) but I am already thinking we should have spent a month here in Croatia, island hopping, and returned to Redding in what? October? Maybe I should learn Croat and look for work here.
Why was it we wanted to spend all those days in Greece?
Anyway we spent the afternoon at beach "Mustačo" The funny c is ch, so the beach is named for the guy who owns the bar, he has a moustache. God, the water is just so clear and blue... I swim way out and can see the bottom. So far all the Croat beaches are either pebbles, flat concrete platforms with ladders out of the water, or flat rocky areas where you lay on white, sunny rocks, like a lizard. I hear we will hit sand on Rab.
After a cold beer, we walk two kilometers back to our apartment to change. Today we are in a full fledged, four room apartment. The three double guest rooms had been booked already, so for an additional €5 we got the apartment. Kitchen, dining room, you really could just live here, for the equivalent of USD $60 a day. Nice. Besides meeting the owners, the other reason we like to stay in these small guesthouses or pension or pansions or sobe or agritourismos or zimmer is that they are always unique and always a surprise. Besides, you live with the owner, they are there to provide and fix and recommend things, and the money goes directly to them, not to some corporation.
So, we are four weeks into the trip today, with four weeks and a day to go. Tomorrow is the tipping point; we will officially be on the way home. Time passes so quickly. Sad times, I feel depressed by the thought. Better go drink some wine.
We hiked up to the hill top fortress (built in the sixth century BCE, rebuilt in the 1200s by the Venetians with help from the Spanish, it saved the town from the Turks in 1571. So we are in Croatia, Venice, Spain and almost Turkey right now.) anyway we hiked up to the fortress, not for a history lesson, but for a cool glass of Bogdanuša "kvalitetno (white) vino" and the sunset.
After the sunset drink and inevitable history lesson, we wandered down the path and into town. We found a nice little taverna, Konoba Menego, back in a couple blocks off the harbour, and enjoyed a slow dinner of small foods (tapas). All the food is hand made by the family, so I had a plate of their smoked ham, and Grandfather's secret baked bread with smoked cheese, anchovies, capers and secret ingredients. Gail had a bowl of barley and vegetables. The homemade house white wine, which tasted suspect at first, blended perfectly with the foods. Amazing how the food changed the wine taste. So we are in the middle of a nice conversation with our server, when suddenly, just below us outside the restaurant door there is the most beautiful, harmonious singing with guitar and mandolin. Our server immediately left us and so we grabbed our drinks and followed, and for the next half hour we sat on the steps enraptured, listening to the best impromptu concert. A group of six friends, one guitar and a mandolin, tight harmonies like a barbershop quartet (sextet) so we sat and just listened. After the singing, they were served wine and tapas by the restaurant, and we went back to our table to finish. This reminds me of Vernazza, Italy when we stumbled into a similar concert. I just cannot believe how beautiful they sang.
I swear to god, if this gets any better I am NOT going back home.