Aliways and Ulice

Life is the same wherever you are - Milena asked if I had tasted pasticada  (its a 'sh' on the 's')- a local meal which is usually served up at Christenings, large family gatherings. It's not something that you would make as you rushed into the house after work (late home as usual) as it is a three day labour of love. In a nutshell you spike beef with garlic,  bacon, celery and carrots and let it marinate in salty vinegar for 24 hours - then you roast in a juice of bacon, figs or prunes, and various secret spices. Anyway, Milena said she would bring us some from her fridge - this of course sets a thought stream of 'what can I give her in return' because that's what you do. We thought about various options from the shop but then I decided to make pesto - a jar, a ribbon - and there you have the exchanges which happen between women all over the world. The pasticada was heated and served with gnocci - and was divine. I hope my pesto rates. The night b

Yesterday, as promised, we went rafting. This was organised by Iris who has the good luck of working three jobs through the summer. She works in a yard which sells construction products, teaches Zumba classes and sells rafting trips to tourists in the evening. She says that this just makes enough money for her to live, not enough to travel. Her rafting boss generously let ten of us do the rafting for the cost of the 'benzine for the bus'. I need to set the picture: we met four of the other women at the semafor in the main street. One of the women opened her bag with a flourish to show a pile of still warm kiflerice (mini croasan with sunka i sir (ham and cheese) and a tray of strudel - some cherry, some jabuka (apple). I asked her what time she got up to make these and she had been up since five. The biggest prize was a bottle of domaci orahovica (walnut infused brandy). And little shot glasses. The bus wound its way along the coast and turned inland to arrive at the ri

Maybe you looked at the blog from 2011, maybe you didn't. It was a logistical achievement to get us there, but ride there on the bikes we did, in our dresses and lipstick. The exterior of the hotel is pretty much as it was - painted, and slightly less 'barracks' looking, but there has been a large amount of money spent on the interior, including the terrace area and the pools. The lighting isn't good, too bright which undermines the attempt to create intimate spaces. There was a band from Split playing french swing/jazz music  - the guests were sitting around on phones, playing cards. We wandered in as if we owned the place (three tall women, one blind) and waited for the waiter to take our drink order - and waited, and waited... they lost points for service. The highlight for me was the spiral staircase which was the subject of photos in 2011. We took turns at descending and taking photos  - stunningly well done (and the staircase looks good too..) . The down

Lazy day today, sitting in a café this morning with Branka and Ivana,   gorgeous lunch with a friend (i made pesto!) and then a cycle to the beach. The cycle sounds leisurely, but is seemingly a dance with death (in fact going on past dances with death, the bike that I am on has a life of its own, and there have been falls in the past..). The thing is that I choose to go on the magistrala, the main road. I have to say that I am more cautious than I have been. The main reason for the bike is so that I can get away from the huge tourist crowds to the semi tourist crowd. To walk is about 25 minutes (heading in the opposite direction from Nugal) in the mighty heat of the afternoon – it’s hot enough heading home up the hill but at least on the bike I get a bit of a breeze going. I wrote a blog when I was living here in 2011, and one of the entries was about the deserted Hotel Jadran   in Tucepi (google Aliways and Ulice Blog Privatization Part 1 Hotel Jadran) which showed p

I’ve just returned from yoga – yes, it’s nearly midnight and there were drinks to be had and stories to be exchanged – this time with   a new group of women who attend one of the other fitness classes. I can hear singing nearby – not as unwelcome as the young Australian and New Zealanders down on the Riva. Apparently the ‘young’ boats arrive here on a Thursday and the locals are a bit over the drunkedness and general loudness of the music, the yelling and screaming (and vomiting and nakedness) of these particular visitors. Letters have been written to the newspapers. As I cycled through town tonight I had a small sample of the noise. Shoulders are shrugged, eyes are rolled. Today was a gorgeous day punctuated by the sound of planes and helicopters swooping up buckets of sea water to dump on the burning Biokovo – yes, still burning: an orange glow at the top as we did yoga. I met Branka for coffee in the morning, then rushed together a picnic for an afternoon sail to the island