Saturday 26th
May – Saturday 2nd June 2012
Cruising the Dalmatian Coast
We all boarded the boat, scrambled for the best Stateroom, made
ourselves at home as the boat pulled out of Split harbour headed for one of the
innumerable, quaint islands that we would pull into over the next week. On reflection we got to know each other
better, we were the life of the party, we rapidly de-stocked the bar, we formed
lasting bonds with Tony, the barman and point of human interface between crew
and customer (the skipper didn’t even front up at the skipper’s dinner…hmm,
what had we done wrong?), braved the still chilly Dalmatian waters (some braver
than others), scoured each seaport for the best restaurant that would accept a
rowdy, laughing mob of us with 6 Taswegians and their new-found Kiwi and Melbourne
mates! We did it all…grey-water rafting
(well it was too tame to be called white water…), ferries to island churches in
the middle of dolomite-blue lakes, cable-cars and fortress wall walks in
Dubrovnik, the inevitable shopping (some of us “re-applying” as we went), dining
out, searching for Marco Polo’s house, a guided tour of Split with Lana our
young Croat friend on the cruise, exploring the wonders of Croatian cocktails,
pole-dancing and practising français with Armand and Danièle, the only couple
brave enough to share our table on board.
One highlight for Janet and I was a visit to the Steve McCurry
photographic retrospective which, by good luck, was in Dub (as we fondly call
it…). What a career – peaked by that
photo – it’s up there with that ball of Warney’s – you know, the one of
the afghan girl with the light-filled, dolomite green-blue eyes. The whole display was immensely moving,
including the pics of her when he went back to find her 18 years later. The light had faded somewhat in the eyes
through hard work and the poverty shared by billions on this planet, but she
was no less determined to make sure her kids would enjoy a better lot than
she. It was an inspiring morning.
South Croatia is a rugged, sparsely vegetated coastal strip which
looks most appealing from the sea, armed with a cocktail. Its people are
intelligent, good looking (well, up to about 35-40 when we all fall to bits,
anyway) and passionate for life. It’s
hard to see what motivated the Serbs to set up gun emplacements on top of the
hill overlooking Dubrovnik and shell the crap out of that beautiful, ancient city
other than Milosovitch’s mindless, ego-driven grasp for control of the states
that once formed Yugoslavia, and their version of ethnic purity…sad, oft-repeated,
but sad.
We farewelled most of the group back in Split and, with the Volvo
packed to the gunnels, we headed north for Plitvička Lakes.
