Croatia Dreaming

I didn’t know I wanted a yacht until I came to Croatia. But now that I have my dreams are irrevocably altered and all of my life aspirations currently hinge on making that happen. I’m not sure how I will do it—vastly successful lawyer, fashion mogul, big time Texas oil executive, maybe I’ll be a multi platinum singer/songwriter (I did recently pen a tune to remember a popular Italian phase that rapidly swept through the shipboard community)--anything to get me back to the Adriatic, cruising on my yacht, getting a suntan.

What a view

There is, of course, so much more to Dubrovnik than yachts and crystal clear ocean. This former Yugoslavia state played host to a horrific war in the early nineties that continues to haunt its citizens. Generals from all sides are still involved in trials for war crimes, and events from that conflict continue to prevent Croatia from being a full-fledged member of the EU. This means that Croatia does not use the very simple, dollar like Euro, but utilizes the Kuna instead. My very first taste of a drastically different currency. Fun. I understand the many very logical reasons that this will never happen, but sometimes I still wish we could just all use the same language, currency, and measurement system.

Farmer's market.  Just look at that smile.  Is that a smile?

I survived the different currency, but I’m ready to use the Euro again it Greece, thank you. Let me go ahead and share my initial impression of Dubrovnik. First word: Beautiful. This place is beauty realized in municipal and geographic form. If Barcelona is coastal in the way that New Orleans is coastal, then Dubrovnik is coastal in the way Nantucket meets Mediterranean Europe meets best water quality in the world meets hidden island that no one knows about just yet meets former Yugoslavia coastal. Classy, undiscovered, rich with history—ancient and recent—affordable, clean, and EVERYONE speaks English. I considered not telling anyone how great it is because I want to keep it this way, but I must share the secret. This place is amazing. Apart from the monster of a plane ride it must be from the states to get here, I can’t imagine a better place to jet off to for a coastal vacation. Of course, I haven’t been to Greece yet.

Day one.

After two long days of class on the ship between Naples and Dubrovnik, I was ready to explore the old city of Dubrovnik. Like many ancient towns in this region, Dubrovnik is distinctly divided into two parts: old and new (or at least kind of new). The old city is a 25-minute walk from the ship and is surrounded by an ancient wall. The walls of Dubrovnik are famous and absolutely worth the fee to walk. The views from the tops of these walls are the best I’ve seen yet. The border of the town that should have taken a quick 30 minutes to walk lasted an hour and a half for all the pictures we took. To look out from the walls you would see a sea of bright orange tiled roofs, some old but most new from the damage sustained in the 1991 conflict. You would see a complex series of narrow alleyways, an old harbor full of small sailboats and decades-old ferries, an ocean that is so clear you can see fish swimming thirty feet below the surface, ragged cliffs from which the brave and stupid alike dive into the sea, a clear sky, and strong sun, and lots of cats everywhere. This was my orientation to Dubrovnik. Love at first sight.

Next we thoroughly explored the interior of the old city, where you can find nickel and dime souvenir shops down the street from a Lacoste store that is a block over from Gucci. ATMs are sprinkled across the city. The roads are all paved with stone that is so smooth and pristine that you almost glide when you walk. Things can be somewhat pricy in this area, but mainly in the tourist traps that are so hard to avoid on your fist day somewhere. After this we headed to Copa Cabaña beach and relaxed for the remainder of the day.
As regrettable as it is, there does exist a bit of a sailor at shore syndrome among students on the ship when they first get into a port. This usually manifests itself in a particularly rowdy first night where some random bar or club is selected as the victim of 700 college students looking for a good time. I don’t like this effect very much. I like visiting authentic places with authentic locals where I can soak up the culture in a laid back atmosphere. But it’s hard not to go where everyone else is, and tonight they were at Fuego’s-the Latin club of Dubrovnik.

Fun at Fuego's

Now, through the course of this trip I have been privileged to visit some pretty amazing nightclubs. I think I’m spoiled for life. Fuego’s, however, does not make the top of my list. Not really Latin at all, but simply loud, crowded, and overrated, I would not suggest it to a friend. The worst part of the night was that the only people in the club were SASers. I love my peers on the boat, but one of the best parts of being in port is getting a taste of the country. The only people I met the entire night who were not from SAS was a group of British boys who after one round a 10 minute conversation I spent the rest of the night avoiding. Fun, right? I must not have hated it so much since I stayed until close to three, but it was time to go.

Rando

Day two.

Today a group of my favorite people on the ship and I went island hopping. I love saying that—island hopping. It feels so sophisticated and chic and so much more expensive than it actually is. In reality, we went on an old boat that carried people to three different islands and served delicious grilled whole fish and all the wine you wanted for less than the equivalent of 30 USD. It was a pretty great deal. We were able to spend the day exploring the small villages on different islands around 
Dubrovnik, swimming in the gorgeous Adriatic, laying under the Mediterranean sun, and enjoying the company of fellow travelers from across the globe. 

Yum!!!

 A word about the Adriatic: it is really cold; about the temperature of a freshly poured glass of ice water. I thought I was adequately conditioned for this type of water after experience floating the river in March, but I was not. Thigh high in the water was the furthest I would go before heading back to shore. Not that the temperature in any way affected my overall beach experience. Our day eventually winded down, and after fresh seafood dinner I quickly fell asleep.

Our boat's in there somewhere...

Day three.

Today I had a bit of slow start, but ended up on a very small, uninhabited island within eyesight of the old city. I went with two friends from the ship-Ayisha and Andrew. I am a bit jealous of Ayisha because not only is she beautiful, but her appearance allows her to blend in easily in any number of regions. In northern Africa, she could possibly pass as Arab, in Italy she was often mistaken for being Italian, in Latin America she could pass in any country. You know that really famous photograph on the cover of National Geographic of the girl with light colored eyes and dark skin? I think that is a picture of Ayisha. Anyway, I’m very jealous of her these days because she does not stick out like the blonde haired, blue eyed, pink skinned, 5’9’’ Texan I am. Sometimes it’s nice being blonde over here, a little extra attention can be ok, but usually I’d rather not be pegged as a foreigner at first sight.
Anyway, we went to this teeny, tiny island and it was great. We were tired of beaches and wanted to do something different, and this island was wooded, had a salt water lake, nude beaches, an old fort, a monastery, tons of peacocks and hidden bungalow bars tucked away in ancient ruins. Plus, it wasn’t super popular with the day-trippers from cruise ships who stop over here for 8 hours. So basically it was paradise.
We first decided to explore the fort at the top of the island before realizing what a hike it was to get to the top.
The intense steep incline to reach this fort was close to impossible. I was wearing Haviana flip-flops. My dad would have cringed if he saw me—this is the man who would not even let me ride my bike in anything but tennis shoes. Unfortunately, I’m afraid his deference for comfortable, practical, and supportive footwear is completely lost on me. Here I was, wearing whatever clothes were still clean and a pair of yet to be broken in plastic sandals climbing a mountain on an island in Croatia all to see a fort whose historical significance I am completely ignorant of and have no desire to learn. How do I get myself into these situations?? Honestly, the hike was worth it for the view and I’m glad we did it. Until I went down. Think hiking up a hill in flip-flops is dangerous? Try hiking down without falling to your death.

Perseverance.

Ok, mountain climbed. Time to relax on the beach. Thank goodness. Here’s when Andrew decided we really needed to go not to the beach, but to the large stones jetting out into the ocean. You know those posters they hang in waiting rooms and high school guidance councilors offices? The ones with dramatic landscape pictures that say things like “Strength” and “Determination.” These rocks, these huge, ominous looking rocks that drop off dramatically into the deep blue sea and are all but impossible to climb, would easily fit on such a poster, probably with the caption word “Perseverance” or something like that. These are beautiful to look at, but stupid to climb.
Andrew was determined to climb them though, so we did; Ayisha and I in Havianas, Andrew in new tennis shoes. Andrew is a really cool kid. At first I though he was a pessimist, but then I realized he was just from Boston. He seemed like a fairly competent climber, especially on our hike to the fort, but these slippery, wet, dangerous rocks proved to be pretty tricky. We all fell into the water at some point, and Andrew really ate it just as we reached our destination. A German family laughed as we all tripped, and poor Andrew lost a significant portion of his toe to the Adriatic. There, sitting awkwardly on the world’s least comfortable rock with no easy or safe way back to land, surrounded by sharp barnacles and deep, cold Adriatic water, I tore a page out of my journal to stop the bleeding of Andrews toe. None of us could stop laughing. We had to sit for a few minutes to pretend that the experience was worth it, and we did make it back safely under the careful watch of the amused Germans.
Finally we made it back to the ship to get ready to go out that night. There was a HUGE festival in Dubrovnik last night. I’ve been lucky, or not so lucky, if you hate crowds, to have major festivals in every port we have visited. This festival was really big. There were fireworks in the old town and lots of locals out celebrating. The buses were free tonight, and if you’ve ever wondered how many sardines they could fit into a can, or how many monkeys are nestled in a barrel, here’s a question: How many Croation’s fit into a city bus? I have no idea, but with every square inch taken up on ours, my guess would be 100. Not kidding.

Cheap wine, good friends

We made it to the old city alive, and we drank cheap wine while we watched the fireworks by the beach. Later on in the night we headed to a beach club called East West. To my absolute euphoria, we were just about the last group of SAS kids they let in before they started turning them away. It was so nice to be in a place that was only 10 percent SAS. The other 90 percent were business moguls, locals, and world travelers. One guy we met was a very friendly and well traveled 35 year old Brit. I didn’t talk with him long, but my friends Ellie, Kara, and Krystin got to know him pretty well, and after Googling him the next morning learned he was a vastly successful businessman who had been profiled by Newsweek. Only in Dubrovnik.

Day 4

Today I slept until 11:30 for the first time this summer, read, sipped coffee and wrote this. Now I have to figure out where I am staying on Santorini. I am open to suggestions.