Aliways and Ulice

And here I am on my last morning. Today can only be described as the 'great race'. I'm still on Ydra, so ...  I need to vacate this lovely house at 11 (although I can store my bags downstairs) but the ferry doesn't leave until 4:40 in the afternoon. Gives me time to read and swim at the beach. So Far So Good. I can shower at the beach (fresh water showers on some beaches) so that I feel fresh to leave on the ferry. Trip is 1 1/2 hours, so let's say 6 - then an hour taxi ride (depending on the traffic) to get me to the airport (I could do the bus/metro thing but it took Maureen 4 hours to play that game) - flight is at 11pm, so there will be a bit of people watching and Code Cracker to be had. And I have a good book. Athens to Dubai is 4 1/2 hours - then I have a voucher for some sort of lounge  - not really sure what it entails (if I can find it)  but there will be a place to shower and a buffet - instead of pacing up and down the airport - and finally will ge

I love the world when it's waking up. Each little corner of this wonderful world which I have had the privilege to experience this holiday has had its own morning chorus, but the murmurings in these villages of stone have a special gentle sound. This morning it was the sound of the donkey hooves on the paved alleys around the hotel, and the sweeping of pine needles from the paths. Hydra is a little horse-shoe shaped port, surrounded by high rocky mountains - another reason for the sound effects in the town, I guess. It's really odd being in a town where I don't understand any of the language, it is reflexive for me to thank people in Croatian. The word for 'thank you' in Greek is efcharisto, but I've only managed to say that a few times and probably so hesitantly that it wasn't registered. I do think it is important (respectful maybe?) to give it a try, even if it is the only word I know. Of course, everyone in the service industry speaks English, but

If you know me, you will have heard me wax lyrical about the village where Granddad was born - everytime I am in Makarska, I go up there. The people who live up there know who I am because sometimes my cousin Zlata knows that I am in town before I visit. I wander around, take a few photos. Amuse myself. I have no idea why, but this little place resonates with me. But this time I have Chris with me, and he hasn't been to the village. We hired scooters, and headed out on to the Magistrala, which is considerably faster moving than the back roads of Hvar. First stop at the cemetery on the main road - the headstone needs to be mended - we've discussed this before. This is the headstone in memory of our Grandfather's parents - Jacov and Simica. The children's names are at the bottom - Granddad is Sime. We found his sister Ivka's headstone - Zlata's mother. Then up to the village of Srida Sela in Tucepi - the roads are steep with incredible 240 de

A full day has passed since we last spoke - I was sitting in the airport. I'm now sitting in the beautiful hotel Hydroussa on the island of Ydra! The flight from Split to Athens was an hour late in departing - I panicked slightly wondering whether the person arranging my transfer from the airport would check the time of arrival, given that the instructions to find him were a little cryptic - 'exit  4 by P2 driving a  grey polo  8448, he will wait for 30 minutes from landing time'. The reality was that exit 4 was only clear once I was outside the airport, and I could only see P2 by exit 3 and it was very dark with grey cars everywhere... I called the hotel - they called the driver - he found me. Sigh of relief, as Athens taxi drivers are notorious for ripping tourists off. The hotel wasn't a hotel but a full suite in what used to be an office: kind of weird, in an odd industrial/commercial zone. There is obviously more money in accommodation. The lady who met me in

And now we have all slowly peeled off and started our journey's home. Chris and Nikki left on the 19th for a night in Frankfurt, and I guess that they are at least half way home. Jack and Jenny headed to Split on the 10am bus this morning - 2nd sad goodbye. I've coffee-ed with Branka, Annette and Srdjan, sad goodbyes all - they are dear friends, and I am lucky to have them. I opted for the 1:30 bus to Split. It was so overbooked that there were about 20 people standing. There were three of us with tickets with seat numbers on them and we decided to force that card - but I realised that the person in seat 11 was the lovely Australian woman I had been chatting to - someone got out at Baska Voda so I grabbed that seat.  The other two had a stand-up argument (literally) with the Americans sitting in seats 13 and 14. It's a Dickensian card to pull, but who wants to stand all the way to Split? The Americans got vocal and refused to move - until they had no choice. Ha. N

Here's a lovely story. A story of Development and Progress. Once upon a time when I lived in Makarska, the post office (Posta - with a 'sh' on the 's') was one of those modernised places with a line two meters back from the counter - it was called (in Croatian) the 'red line of integrity' - a precursor to teaching queueing where such a skill had been hitherto absent.  From my recollection, it worked very nicely. People queued. Fast forward 13 years. Today I went into the Posta. My ATD (attention to detail) momentarily missed the machine by the entry - I was standing in the queue wondering what the board with numbers on it was, and what the slips of paper in peoples hands were. Silly me. The process is to select the service that you want in the Posta - push that button and then wait for your number to come up on the board to tell you which teller to go to. Great system. Unparalleled efficiency. I did the right thing, and pushed the button for 'pic

Jenny and I decided that we would head to Trogir for the day - this combined with a wine tasting at Kairos Vineyards. The day was fated. We bought tickets for the bus to Trogir - it was leaving in 10 minutes and we planted ourselves in front of Peron 1 - and waited. The bus didn't appear, so I went to ask about whether it was late - 'no, it left at 10:30, not before not after'. 'Was it invisible' I asked? We were right there, only the bus didn't pull in to the Peron. Of course we had to pay for a new ticket for the next bus... We jumped into a taxi from the airport to Trogir - 'sure' he said, 'I can take you to the vineyard, call me 10 minutes before you need to go there'. He even called Kairos Vineyard to get directions. Jenny and I grabbed some fruit, and wandered into the old town. Only momentarily distracted by a dress shop, we stopped to ask a lady (Dijana) about the significance of the markings on the co