The bus trip from Zardar to Split was completely amazing. I saw nothing. I learnt so much. I was entertained by a fascinating woman with such an incredible story.
EK is an entrepreneur, a stylist, a consultant, a businesswoman. She began her life in Port Lincoln, went tuna fishing in the Southern Ocean with her dad from the age of four and lost her mum to cancer at eleven leaving that indelible hint of sadness paled but present, like a secret faded tattoo. Her dad’s horse, Makybe Diva, seized the Holy Grail of racing three times and changed their world. EK is nonplussed about spending just eleven hours in the UK then flying to Ireland for a couple of days then…the destinations seemed endless. This was a very busy woman. Emily Krstina’s parents were born in Croatia and EK was visiting family and putting in place all the necessary paraphernalia to proudly claim duel citizenship. This warm, friendly open-hearted woman was a delight. She shared ideas and information eagerly and was justifiably happy to recount her remarkable achievements.
Split…hundreds and hundreds of boats crowded into the harbour. Ferries, yachts, tour boats squeezed into an impossible space…six and ten abreast. Groups of new friends formed circles and made promises and commitments that few would keep. Backpackers and trolley pullers trundled the pavement to and from the port and bus station. The railway station is in the same area but there are fewer daily connections. Along the port, konobas and cafes were crowded with travellers sipping coffee or a beer, bags crowded around them waiting for their connections. The place was teeming with tourists. It was hot. We found our accommodation and hibernated until after the sun had set. A new set of creatures appear in the evening. They are cleaned and relaxed and looking for food. Later another group will arrive in the old town. They are tempting and tantalizing, tottering on heels and flexing brown biceps. They have what they think is a secret agenda but anyone who has been twenty has had that agenda too. The pheromones are pervasive. Ahh time for bed!
Split was a short stop to enable us to get to Hvar. I learned that we could have continued our journey easily after getting off the bus, but I couldn’t find that information on the internet before I left. This was safe. We gathered the following day with the crowd jockeying for position on the wharf waiting for the catamaran. There is a pervasive feeling of panic that ripples through the crowd every now and again. The feeling that you might miss out. You mightn’t get on. You mightn’t get a seat. All rubbish! These things take two to three hundred people, but most people really have no idea how to estimate numbers in a crowd. I always find counting calming.
Olivier and Rosely joined us at our table on board. After the customary introductions and gleaning some details of our homebased geographic locations we started to exchange travel stories. They had recently rented a car in Morocco and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. They had tales to tell us about the Greater Antilles and Surinam as well- all fascinating destinations. Their description of Bali confirmed our suspicions and if we ever get there, we will be selective as to our specific location. Suddenly we were in Hvar and our interaction came to a close. It is delightful when your life can be filled with such interesting and enjoyable interludes.
So here we are …..So Hvar, so good!!!!