Week 9: Things

14 September - 20 September: Croatia

Edwin and I decided to take a tour to the island of Brac where a famous, unspoilt peninsula of beach is, called Zlatni Rat in the township of Bol. This meant taking a 15 minute bus ride into town, and then missing the 9am ferry to the island and having to wait another 2 hours. We then took the ferry which was a ride of an hour. After that we waited 40 minutes to take another bus to take us to Bol and the beach. This torturously windy ride in the hottest part of the day took one hour. By the time we got to Bol, and found some lunch at a restaurant with a view, we finally got to the beach. How was the beach? Pretty, but far too many people and certainly far from unspoilt. How long did we lol about in the `pristine´ sands and waters? All of 18 minutes, we had. It took 2 minutes to get changed, we had 10 minutes in the lovely water and then about 4 minutes to dry up, 2 minutes to pack and then we had to start heading back, as the walk between the bus stop to the beach took a good 40 minutes. Then, we took the last bus (remember, winding roads and an hour in duration) back to the ferry (another hour´s ride) and got back to our camper via a local bus (15 minutes). All that palaver for 18 minutes at a special beach. The things we do, the things we do.

Misha Glenny’s “The Fall of Yugoslavia” is disturbing, challenging reading. Essential to understand what happened in the 90s in the Balkans.

Ed and I took a taxi boat tour that was upset me for quite a time, but now I’m writing about it, I don’t mind as much. Basically, we were promised 99% chance of seeing dolphins on this tour of some of Croatia’s smaller islands. We were also told that we would have loads of free time at these islands. Sounded good. Also a complete breakfast, lunch and drink offering. Even better. However, the seas were choppy that morning. And the taxi boat was small. I was the only non-German speaker. There’s the beginning. We were stopped by the water police for a good 20 minutes after having travelled only 10 minutes or so. Edwin and I suspect, with our rudimentary knowledge of Croat, that the police were wondering why this captain would be taking a load of 15 tourists out for a pleasure cruise in such inclement weather? (Hm, I guess at 300 kuna per head, he wasn’t going to cancel). Anyway, I got seasick. Very badly. I knew we had to travel for an hour before we got to the first island. So I held on. I knew I was to get to land, wait 15 minutes, take a seasickness tablet and wait another 15 minutes, before re-boarding the boat. We waited for dolphins that are never sighted in choppy waters, so we waited in vain. We arrived at our island. About 50 metres off shore. We were not to moor, I was to swim to the island. If we hadn´t had the foresight to bring my floatation device, I´d never have made it. But we did it, I sat there and took my medication and got back on board. We had a curious lunch of deep fried chicken and a tomato onion salad which the captain managed to cook on board. Then we were to go to another island, another hour. By this time I desperately needed the bathroom, and I was sitting on the side of the boat which was sending in buckets of ice cold sea water (while the Germans basked themselves cosily in the warm sun, starside). Still, no dolphins. We got to a dear little island with a pier and a lighthouse. At this point we were promised capuccino and cake, which I believed couldn´t be procured on the boat. I thought, we´ll moor, and we will get to the cafe and I´ll be able to pee! But no. So, I was soaked to the skin, I had to put Edwin´s trousers on and a jacket I´d wisely not yet gotten wet and prepared to jiggle around for the 90 minute return ride. When a little girl asked about the toilet situation, it turned out that there was a miniscule toilet on board! Hoorah, cried all the women, internally, and we all used it. (This is 6 hours without peeing and being plied all day with beers and cokes). I endured the trip home, seasickness rearing its ugly head. Everyone was disappointed that we´d seen no dolphins and I was disappointed that we´d never docked in over 7 hours, she who fears the sea so greatly. When we got back to Zaton, we had to pay the balance of our tour fee. We had hoped for a discount for bad weather, or zero dolphins. But no, no apology, nothing. We pushed the balance into the captain´s hand, turned on our heels and in the rudest demonstration of ingratitude I´ve ever shown (and am not very proud of), we walked away without saying thank you or goodbye.

But in between the sight of my green face and no dolphins, Edwin did catch a gorgeous shot of the mountains that look like whipped egg whites.

Here are some examples of Croatian customer service, nothing quite like anything we’ve experienced till now.

At the docks of Split, we see tickets for sale for the ferry to Brac. “Hello, we’d like some information on Brac, the island.” The answer is, “You have to go to information, across the road.” At the shop front in Split which reads “i”, we believe, for information we say. “Hello, we’d like some information on Brac, the island.” The reply is, “This isn’t tourist information. You have to go here.” We receive a map with an ´x´to mark the spot and off we go. “Hello, we’d like some information on Brac, the island.” The response comes to us in the form of, “We only have information on Split. For information on Brac, you have to get that information … on Brac.” So we decide that we have to just buy tickets to go to Brac and find more information on what to do there, there. After a 3 hour voyage to Brac, we ask at the “i’for Information how to get to the famous beach. “The easiest way is along the esplanade, it’s a 10 minute walk” (yeah, right, it ends up 40 minutes). “And is there somewhere nice to eat along the way? ” to which the lady replies with her best, but most dismissive smile “`Yes”. At the Dubrovnik information centre, I ask ”I´d like to find out about a walking tour of Dubrovnik”, to which the girl behind the counter looks at me with round, incredulous eyes and exclaims ”Well, you´ll have to call up the tour guide for that information, ” to which I splutter ”And how do I get that phone number? ” to which she condescendingly advises me is on the small table (subtext, ”Are you blind or what, you stupid tourist! ”) at the entrance of the office and I rudely comment, ”Well, I´ll just go ahead and INFORM MYSELF. ” The cynicism is lost on her, and all the information staff of Croatia. After reading the brochure, I see that you can just turn up 10 minutes before the tours at 11am and 3.30pm at Onofrio’s fountain. Just look for the red umbrella. Is this information so hard for the info staff to read and absorb so they can help a stranger to the town? Maybe fobbing off tourists is part of the position description for info centre employees. After all, I’m just another Australian in Croatia!

Ed bought a new jaunty hat in Split for 50 kuna, something like €7. It is made of straw and it won’t last a terribly long time, but it is lovely and dandy-ish. Shortly after making his purchase, he came upon another stall with beautiful panama hats. Very high quality, very flexible, won’t disintegrate after a couple of squeezes. But these were 180 kuna (€26 or so) and Edwin wasn’t interested. Always a Dutchie, happy to haggle, Ed tried to bargain down to 100 kuna a suggestion which offended the stall owner. “Where did you go to school?” the man asked, furiously, in German. At this, Edwin popped on his cheap, but cute, straw hat from another stall, set it on a rakish angle, cocked his head, winked, and sauntered off airly with me on his arm.