No big deal, just Luka Gruz in my neighborhood.
Dubrovnik, Day 4. A series of lovely moments in a day full of sunshine and good cheer.
1.
The thing about your last full day on vacation is that you remember you need to return to reality, and that reality comes with concerns like Will they check my baggage through?
My hostess had checked with the local airline and they had said no, which threw me into a bit of a panic, but emails from my travel agent and the same airline’s airport assistance both said not to worry. And I had to print out my boarding pass for my connecting flight anyway, so that morning found me striding purposefully around Gruz.
It wasn’t very easy to find a shop with a printer – but it was a very scenic search, all blue skies and boats and gulls – and I finally ended up in a souvenir store because the windows outside said Print.
Can I help you? smiled the guy at the counter, another wonderfully sculpted specimen. Can the locals get any better looking than this?
I’m just looking for a printer, actually… I trailed off, aware how silly it sounded.
Cute Croatian: This is the right place. He gestures to several desktops half-concealed by a divider. Five kuna for five minutes and one kuna per page.
I pull up my email and print out the confirmation, and return to the counter to fish out six kunas.
Now because it was my last day, my wallet was in a bit of a jumble, with euros and dollars and dirhams and riyals and kunas all together. Cute Croatian patiently waited while I emptied all the coins into my hands.
I’ll look for the kunas, he said, picking them out one by one. You’ve been all over, I see!
No, I am just surprisingly disorganized today, I said.
Okay, six ku- no wait, this is a euro. What about this- oh, is this a Turkish coin?
No, it’s a peso from my home country.
Where are you from?
The Philippines.
Ah.
That transaction took a lot longer – and involved more physical contact- than it should have, but hey, no one was in a hurry and besides, it’s always nice to stop and make connections with your fellow humans, no matter how fleeting.
2.
As if to prove this train of thought correct, on my way back to my flat a local who looked a hell of a lot like Novak Djokovic + couple of years, I kid you not, carrying a guitar case, caught up with me and struck up a conversation.
Turns out he’d been in Manila years ago – and remembered the humidity most of all.
And then he sang a Spanish love song. Just like that, as we were walking down the street! How charming.
Right before my corner, I said, Well, I have to go.
I’m on my way to the river for a swim, he said. Join me?
What an interesting invitation.
I don’t think so, I said.
Okay, he said easily. I’ll be in Old Town tonight. Maybe I’ll see you.
Maybe, I said. Thanks. It was lovely to meet you.
And we parted with a very continental beso-beso. Maybe I should’ve asked for a twofie, no?
3.
Spent some time on a bench in the main port, Luka Gruz, watching the sailboats bobbing gently at anchor. The water is so clear you can fancy seeing the bottom, and you can definitely see schools of fish just below the surface.
It was just another stunning day in a succession of stunning days. And I realize I am well and truly in love with this city.
4.
Had to run to catch the bus to Pile, and once inside the old city once more made a beeline for the port where all the boat operators were doing brisk business.
I bought a ticket on a glass-bottomed boat to the nearby island of Lokrum for the heck of it (anyway, I would take the tourist ferry back) and found myself on said boat with a dapper old gentleman, a quartet of voluble Americans from Salt Lake City, a Spanish couple and our captain, a very blond and blue-eyed teenager who spent his summers sailing and was going to university to learn how to be a pilot.
The Americans were GoT fans, and one of them pointed to a spot on the coastline as we sailed past. That’s where they built the arena where Oberyn and The Mountain fought. It’s in an abandoned hotel so we can’t go see it.
Oh, that’s why. I was hoping it would be on the walking tour, I said.
We traded a few more tidbits- told them about my cable-car experience since they were planning to do that the day after, and it turned out we were all flying out to Switzerland- they to Geneva, and me to Zurich for an all-too-short-layover heading home.
The conversation soon turned to politics, where our young captain gave us a crash course on Croatian government. Quite enlightening.
5.
On the nature reserve of Lokrum, you select your rock, spread out your towel, and jump in. I traipsed along the wooded trail, running into several peacocks, until I reached the nude beach- but I wasn’t ready for that yet 🙂 so I turned around and clambered down the rocks till I found a good one where I could stretch out like a basking lizard in the sunshine.
Shared the area with a French family who asked me if I knew where the lagoon was (desoleé, I didn’t) and a pair of English ladies who encouraged me to swim.
It’s cold, dear. But try it! You won’t notice the cold after a while.
This islander needed no further prodding. I gingerly lowered myself into the sparkling waters of the Adriatic and boyyyyy it was frigid in that pristine, soul-cleansing way that makes you just want to stay underwater forever.
Doing all right? the ladies called.
Loving it! I yelled back, paddling around.
Eventually my stomach reminded me it was past lunch time, so I hauled myself out.
Did you enjoy it? the ladies asked.
It was fantastic, I said, beaming, giving them a dripping-wet grin.
Taken from my little-mermaid rock.
6.
Now the hard part: finding a way back up the rocks! So much easier to go downhill. But I managed it without accident, and headed to the nearest beach bar for some Dalmatian ham and cider, where a peahen stood nearby and watched me eat with a beady eye.
Dalmatian as in the dog?! said my horrified brother when I messaged him. I had to explain that it was the region.
The lady who brought me my bill said, Can I ask you a personal question?
Sure, I said, a bit nonplussed.
Is that a real tattoo? It’s so pretty.
Oh. Just a temp one. But thanks.
These stars sure attract attention.
7.
Went further up the trail and discovered the lagoon, the botanical gardens, the jetty, and the ruins of a Benedictine monastery (used as a GoT location!).
Now I’m not a woodsy person like my mum (who once led us up Mt. Kinabalu on foot in search of a waterfall that the sign post had lied about and said was only fifteen minutes away) so I returned to the rocks.
Is there a better way to pass the time waiting for a ferry than lying on a towel in a matching bikini by the picture-perfect Adriatic, soaking up the sunshine?
8.
Picture-perfect days call for picture-perfect gelato cones. One I ate on the steps of picture-perfect St. Blaise.
9.
One last stop by the St. Francis museum, where the nice guy at the entrance waived the entrance fee (hvala!). The apothecary was closed, though; I wanted to buy some of their famous potions.
And I missed the mass at St. Xavier; the door was closed and the little chapel was full. Too bad! Would have wanted to attend, good non-Catholic that I am.
One last fond look at Stradun, one last stroll up to Pile Gate, one last 12-kuna bus ride, one last glass of Croatian zinfandel and one last sunset.
Hvala for one last spectacular day.
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