Dubrovnik Day
The end of the Intrepid Tour: A night of thunderstorms and rain, a clear morning but with damp clouds hanging on the top of the mountains.
We piled into a van to head north to Croatia - two hours and two passport controls later and we are there. And then down came the rain, and it was insistent for nearly two hours. We sat in the hotel cafe - too early to check in, too wet to go to the old town for touring. Two cups of delicious coffee.
I've been to Dubrovnik five times before - the first time it was full of life, people going about their daily lives, the market, chatting to neighbours. This was ten years after the end of the war, and things were starting to settle, repairs were being made to roofs that had been bombed. Our hosts then had spent three days hiding in their bathroom. And then the tourists came back - the local residents were told not to hang their washing out as it made the place untidy. The old people moved to the villages and rented out their apartments. And each year more changes - more tourists, less locals - until the last time where it felt like a beautiful but empty shell.
So when the rain stopped, I decided that I didn't need to see it again, and, given that I had an apartment booked in Cavtat for that night, I said goodbyes and jumped on a bus.
Here's my small world story - 45 minutes later the bus arrived in Cavtat, and I walked straight into neighbours from Rings Beach - so lovely to see them! - and ended up sitting on the yacht they had chartered for a drink, and then out to dinner.
Walking back from the restaurant last night, with the smell of the pine trees and the gentle swoosh of the sea, I thought just how lucky I am to be able to share a piece of this part of the world. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it resonates.
I've been to Dubrovnik five times before - the first time it was full of life, people going about their daily lives, the market, chatting to neighbours. This was ten years after the end of the war, and things were starting to settle, repairs were being made to roofs that had been bombed. Our hosts then had spent three days hiding in their bathroom. And then the tourists came back - the local residents were told not to hang their washing out as it made the place untidy. The old people moved to the villages and rented out their apartments. And each year more changes - more tourists, less locals - until the last time where it felt like a beautiful but empty shell.
So when the rain stopped, I decided that I didn't need to see it again, and, given that I had an apartment booked in Cavtat for that night, I said goodbyes and jumped on a bus.
Here's my small world story - 45 minutes later the bus arrived in Cavtat, and I walked straight into neighbours from Rings Beach - so lovely to see them! - and ended up sitting on the yacht they had chartered for a drink, and then out to dinner.
Walking back from the restaurant last night, with the smell of the pine trees and the gentle swoosh of the sea, I thought just how lucky I am to be able to share a piece of this part of the world. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it resonates.
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