Day 308: Mondays are the worst. Unless…

It’s rather difficult to stay in a ‘Ten Month Travel Slump’ when this is what your Monday morning not only looks like, but involves before getting on a bus to jump countries in the afternoon. Mondays are the worst. Unless you’re on a ‘Round the World’ trip… and then, sometimes, Mondays are the best! We spent part of our early afternoon on this pebble beach inside a little cove on the outskirts of Dubrovnik’s Old Town. The rocks were hot. The water was not. And it was a little slice of heaven, just as beautiful as is in the picture.

It’s my humble opinion that Croatia has the prettiest water. Andrew could not stop talking about how pretty the water was between the islands in Greece. It is, also pretty. But Croatia is where the water is at. Just look at it!

The beach wasn’t too crowded, although when we left (towards 2ish) more and more people were arriving. My favorite part was watching everyone run across the too-hot-for-bare-feet rocks to get to the water. Only the water was quite cold, so everyone would stop suddenly, and let their bodies adjust to the temperature change, deciding which was worse: getting in the cold water or walking back across the hot beach to their towel or chair.

Young ones climbed up the bluffs and jumped into the sea, sometimes from quite high, sometimes making me squirm hoping they would jump far enough away from the cliffs. Needing to get going so we would make our bus into Bosnia and Herzegovina, we tore ourselves away from the beach as best we could. I have to admit, having had our sunscreen taken from us in Crete’s Airport (we forgot to put it in our checked luggage) it made leaving the burning sun a little easier. I took one last picture to remind myself what a ‘typical (even though on this trip, there really is no such thing) Monday’ on the road was like.

And then, a few hours later we were greeted like we were old friends by one of the sweetest hostel owners we have met so far. We felt so bad we were a little over an hour late arriving in Mostar, but Taso shrugged and told us not to worry. He informed us of the buses having GPS and he wasn’t waiting long. He whisked us off to his guesthouse, which really felt more like his house (in a really great way, not like staying in ‘the lady’s’ actual house in Dubrovnik). We had juice and cookies and he told us all about the town. We chatted like we were old friends, and I smiled at how great it is when you get to meet people for the first time and your interaction is so pleasant.

Taso talked about the old bridge that is the city’s main attraction. It was originally commissioned by Sultan Sulaiman the Magnificent in 1557, and survived all the way up until the war in 1993, when the bridge was bombed and destroyed. It has since been rebuilt and declared an UNESCO World Heritage site. (You can read more about the bridge here, if you’re interested)

I knew a little about this bridge (mostly relating to the war) before our arrival. I knew nothing about the bridge jumping that has become a rite of passage for the men (and some brave women) of the town. Taso told us that at just 25 meters above the water below, men would jump from the bridge, and women would give the man they liked a wreath of flowers afterwards, to signal wich one they liked the most. I asked if Taso had jumped off and he laughed, saying that he was too old to do it now. When he was younger, there was a wooden bridge in place of the older one that was bombed. He jumped off of that, but he suggested it wasn’t as high as the original (or current) bridge.

We walked through town to get an early dinner, above are some of the views of both sides of Mostar from the bridge. Beautiful, right?

Day 307: Walking the walls of Dubrovnik

Walking the walls of Dubrovnik is the number one thing to do. I remembered loving it a few years ago, but also being very (very very) hot when I went in the middle of the afternoon. We decided to go as late as we could to avoid the heat and the wave of other tourists. It’s supposed to take roughly an hour to walk the walls around the entire city. We tend to dawdle. We sit. We people watch. We take pictures. We talk (or, I talk and Andrew pretends to listen). It took us nearly two hours, but that was also considering we got caught in a downpour and had to wait out the rain as I didn’t want my camera (and my fancy lens) to get soaked. The price to get on the walls has gone up in the past few years, and might make someone on a budget cringe… but it’s worth it, and you won’t regret the leisurely stroll, the views, or the pictures you’ll have afterwards!

Our thirty minute walk to the old town was not without some beautiful scenes along the way. This fancy gated in pillar lined road caught our eye, we think it was to a university or a library of some sort. Then what looked to be an average residence also boasted a pillar lined walkway. We made the executive decision that our house shall also have a pillar lined walkway in the future. Maybe not the one we plan on finding in Brooklyn next year, but the one after that?

While waiting for the sun to go down a little more before we headed up to climb the walls, we strolled through more back alleyways. Some postcards in a shop doorway caught my eye. I ducked in and found out the shop was a relocated/former gallery (Galerija Sebastian Atlas Dubrovnik). I keep trying to buy smaller art (I have too much art for a girl without walls as it is) and settled on a postcard print of a painting by Zvonimir Lončarić.

We made our way up to the walls, hoping most of the ‘cruisers’ were making their way back onto their ship(s). It wasn’t as crowded as I thought it would be, but still a lot more crowded than it was when I walked the walls with my friend, Jess a few years ago.

The view of the city was beautiful, so I’ll let the pictures (the many, many pictures taken of similar rooftop scenery) speak for themselves:

Aren’t the little boys ready to ring the bell cute? There were lots of bells on the rooftops actually, and we wondered why. My guess was that they were used to warn other houses of danger, like a fire, perhaps?

Not even a third of the way around the city, we heard thunder in the distance. We could see the rain coming down further down the coast and hoped that it was moving in a direction that would magically avoid us on the walls. You can’t have a rainbow without some rain though, and a faint one appeared over the sea.

Thankfully, the walls above (and around) the city weren’t as crowded as the streets within. But the rain was moving towards us, and with about half of the walls to go, we weren’t sure we were going to be able to avoid it.

And then it poured. I tucked my camera under my arm and we stood under an overhang until the heaviest part passed. All of the sidewalk cafes cleared out and I had to tiptoe on the slick stones so I wouldn’t fall. We didn’t have too much left to go, and made it in time to meet Josh and Leanne and two of their friends visiting from ‘merica for dinner at the cafe at the foot of the mini Spanish steps.

We thought the prices were reasonable when we looked at the menu the day before. We didn’t take note of the price of beer. (Curses on our forgetfulness! For this is typically the best way to figure out if a restaurant is over-priced or not… knowing roughly how much a beer should cost.) In Kotor (Montenegro), an expensive beer within the walls was a little more than two euros. Usually at a store, a beer costs somewhere around 2-3 euros. We found out in Dubrovnik, an expensive beer within the walls was six whole euros.

I know, you might be thinking that six euros for a beer isn’t sooo bad… Especially if you’re on a short vacation (and you have a job that you receive a check from every other week). But again, when you’re traveling around the world for months on end… when you have ordered a beer for as little as $.25 in previous countries… it simply takes away from the experience a bit. Travel shouldn’t be tainted by expensive food and drink. I don’t foresee Dubrovnik losing visitors anytime soon. It’s a beautiful (stunning, gorgeous, lovely) city. But I do foresee Dubrovnik losing backpackers, students and/or budget travelers. I couldn’t have agreed more with what the cafe owner said the night before about needing a week to really see and appreciate Dubrovnik, but I’d rather spend my money elsewhere if it’s not going to get me very far in this beautiful walled-in city…

Before the end of the night, we took turns playing scenario (it made up for the six euro beers): 

Day 306: What happened to Dubrovnik?

Croatia was a vacation destination for the Czechs when I lived in Prague. That’s how I knew about it. Flights were too expensive to Greece and Turkey, so before I left Prague to move to Seoul, I went on one last trip with a girlfriend to Croatia. Dubrovnik was one of the highlights (we also visited Split, Trogir, and Hvar). This was in 2006. We went in August and it was glorious. There were tourists, sure, but it felt special and unique and like we were exploring a largely untouched place. We walked the walls of Dubrovnik under the burning summer sun and then sat at a sidewalk cafe within the city walls for hours drinking wine and dining on fresh seafood. After an evening full of house white, we got lost in the hillside maze outside of the walls trying to find our way to our rented room. In the end, a gracious cab driver called a friend of a friend and we eventually found our way to bed. It was one of my favorite days of travel. My eyes would glow whenever anyone mentioned Croatia, and I would go on (and on and on) about how they simply had to visit Dubrovnik.

Fast forward to today. It’s not the same. It’s still beautiful and downright stunning towards the evening when the majority of tourists are in their hotel rooms. But it’s ridiculously overpriced now, and during the day the amount of tourists are so overwhelming that it really takes away from the beauty of the old city. It made me wonder, what happened to Dubrovnik?

After getting kicked off of the bus in Kotor that Josh and Leanne were on, we inexplicably had to relocate to a much fuller bus to Dubrovnik and arrived a few hours later exhausted and hoping we would get a decent room for a decent price. Andrew left me with our bags at the bus station while he searched for a bathroom. Tired, and not wanting to deal with those asking if I needed a place to stay, I decided to lowball everyone who asked if I needed a room.

“Ten euro per person?” I asked the woman shouting at me, inches away from my face, “Lady, you need room?”

She suggested an apartment for sixty euro per night, or a private room for forty euro. I shook my head. I wasn’t annoyed, just tired. I motioned to our backpacks and said “This is all we have. Ten euro per person, or go find someone else.” I thought, if nothing else, she would leave me alone and Andrew could take the lead when he returned.

Another apartment owner came up and asked if I knew what I was saying, “Ten euro?!” he asked over and over again, laughing at the idea. I held my ground, again, simply tired, and waiting for Andrew to return with a better idea.

“Okay, okay, ten euro per person!” The woman yelled, again, only inches away from my face. Andrew returned and I shrugged. He shrugged, and we agreed to at least go look at it. I whispered that he could be ‘bad cop’ and say we couldn’t stay if he wanted.

In the car en route to our room, she would say things like “Here, 15 minute walking to old town!” and then keep driving. “Here to the beach!” and keep driving. “Here bus to station.” and keep driving. “Here hotel is my neighbor.” and keep driving. We ended up being about a thirty-forty  minute walk away from the old town. We arrived to the woman’s house and waited while the bed was made in the spare room.

“We can go somewhere else!” I whispered to Andrew, completely aware that we were staying in this loud woman’s house, not even disguised as a more legitimate guesthouse.

“It’s ok…” Andrew replied (just as tired as I was) and we went in our room when the bed was made to take a nap before exploring around the city. An hour later, a man walked into our room, and then shouted “Pardon! Pardon!” as he closed the door as quickly as he could. We were too tired to even be bothered by the intrusion.

Into the evening we finally made our way towards the walled in ‘old town.’ It was then the change of Dubrovnik slapped me in the face.

“A bottle of water is THREE EUROS.” Andrew came out of a convenient store flabbergasted. We weren’t even within the walls of the old city. Usually a litre and a half of water is less than one euro. I sighed, taking note of the crazy amount of tourists everywhere.

We walked into the old city and I suggested we find the alleyway Jess and I dined for hours on end during my last visit. We found the alley, and promptly found the ridiculously overpriced menus that accompanied the beautiful cafes. My shoulders slumped, disappointed I wouldn’t be able to share the same magical experience with Andrew this time around. We walked out of the old town and found a pizza place Andrew later insisted wasn’t as good as the pizza by the slice joint we went to in Kotor.

We walked around, stopping short of a smaller version of the Spanish steps in Rome. One restaurant owner gave us a flyer, insisting we wouldn’t be sorry if we stopped. He sounded North American. I asked him about his accent, and he said he had spent several years in California, but having been born in Dubrovnik, he returned to run his (family’s?) restaurant. I told him I had been in Dubrovnik several years ago, and said it seemed so… different… I asked when it had changed.

“Around 2006 he answered. All of the cruisers started to stop here then. Are you on a cruise ship?” He asked, stopping himself.

“No.” I smiled, thinking how different our mode of transportation usually is.

“I didn’t want to offend you… But we don’t really like the cruisers. They come and spend one day walking around and you really need more time than that to get a feel for the city… Since they started coming, things have changed a lot.” He replied. I told him it was nice to talk to him and that I hoped we would be able to eat at his restaurant tomorrow before I climbed the steps with Andrew.

We sat outside of the  Church of St. Ignatius mostly watching two boys kick a ball back and forth. Their future might not include professional football, but they sure were fun to watch in the present. Still tired, we made our way back out of the old town to our room in ‘the lady’s’ (as we liked to call her) house. On our way back, I wondered if I knew one of the persons walking towards town. I knew I was tired, but I also knew I’d be kicking myself if I didn’t ask.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry, but is your name Riley?” I asked the poor guy minding his own business making his way towards the old town.

“Yes.” He answered, and I knew it was my friend from college. I took off my sunglasses and smiled apologetically to the woman he was with.

“Riley, it’s Liz, from Loyola.” I smiled. He let out a string of expletives and gave me a huge hug. We introduced our significant others and caught up on life since we saw each other last and finally wished each other well on our travels. They were leaving the next day for Hvar, and I was too tired to suggest continuing a reunion somewhere other than the sidewalk that we were on. The world is small, and running into a familiar (even if it’s been awhile) face made me smile and it certainly made Andrew shake his head in amusement.