Robinson

We arrived at a tiny jetty. I was impressed. The last time we were here it was just a rocky outcrop and we took our lives into our own hands embarking and disembarking from the little boat. We made our way to the newly built, very basic konoba– a terrace with roof and a few chairs and tables. Despite its size this konoba offered great seafood pasta and a good selection of local wines. After a few minutes discussion it was agreed that we should drink, eat, drink, swim, drink, sleep- it seemed like a logical order for the day. The beer was cold, the food was great.

Next I decided to get into my togs and looked around and there was a toilet for women, and seriously, a queue!!! I know, maybe one person isn’t really a queue, but I had to wait. It was a queue.

The water was beautiful – crystal clear, perfect temperature and loads of little fish to amuse us. Well, John was not amused!!! Unfortunately, he has sustained an injury. He ran into the end of a bed and gashed his leg. It has taken quite some time to heal and he has been avoiding the water but today the wound seemed pretty good with a substantial scab and little or no redness. Into the depths he plunged. Just as suddenly he was out. It seems the little fish have a penchant for desiccated human flesh. Oh dear…and the water was just so good.

Robinson is very subdued. It’s different. It’s quiet. Hvar- the island is a diamond. Some facets are polished, sophisticated, refined while others are raw- natural.  Robinson is just such a place- a tiny bay secreted away accessible by boat -an exquisite little bay to share with just a few other adventurous souls each looking for a shady spot under a tree or a sunny platform by the water.

Young parents hovered over their dummy sucking offspring spinning in fluorescent rings in the turquoise brine. Grandparents made small offerings of blue buckets filled with water or sand to the tiny humanoids. All eyes on the mini humans, oblivious to the attention and insanely intent on their own needs.

The sun began to wane, and the visitors gathered on the jetty to wait for the small boat and return to Hvar Town.  The situation became very confusing. While we were first on the jetty, when the boat arrived we were told, that a group had booked..so on they got- fourteen of them. Then six more young women jumped aboard too. The Englishman who seemed to be the leader of the group became agitated and was yelling at the boatman that he was going to report him to the authorities as the boat was only licensed to take 12. He was happy with his lot getting on but not the extras.  Anyhow John must have been feeling sympathetic to the poor boatman and really ticked off with the man’s attitude and got involved in a verbal stouch. It was quite a scene! Anyhow they sailed off and then there were six of us left on the dock. (Um dock is not quite right- a 2m x 3m lump of concrete) That was at about 4:30 and next boat was due in at 6!!! The local fisherman associated with the konoba was really upset and offered to take us back in his little open boat. Oh what the heck!!! A couple from Manchester, Tamara and James, another from Vienna and us – off we went into the swelling sea. Fortunately, we stayed very close to the coast…I estimated I could easily swim but I may have been smashed to death on the jagged rocks.

We went back to Hvar Town in this little boat!

 I think we were out about 100m when the swell from some passing ship hit and we all got totally soaked. The boatman was so concerned… there was a silent moment where we looked at each other then all screamed with laughter. It was a lovely trip back with light-hearted conversation and good humour. When we got to the port obviously the boatman didn’t have the authority to land at the place where the normal small tour boats go so we were among the mega boats and maxi yachts…with enormous fenders (bumpers) hitting the wall. We were going to have to climb out of this little boat on to the main esplanade. I failed to disembark gracefully. I looked like a sick seal slithering on to the bow of the boat then snaking oh so carefully on to the ancient paving stones of the swish promenade at Hvar Town. It was not my finest hour.

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