Dubrovnik, Croatia

No amount of preparation could have had us ready for the onslaught that began once we hit the Croatian bus station in the Medieval city of Dubrovnik! We looked out the window of the bus, and there standing next to us was a bloke holding a sign: Lynda, Joshua, Benjamin. This was the first time we had actually had a pickup with our names on a placard, and it was completely unorganised and unexpected, especially after the monumental stuff up our hotel pulled in Brunei. We all piled off the bus to head to our palacial accommodation with the bloke, until... POW! the group was split. There were war widows coming out of the woodwork like shady Egyptian salesmen crossed with Barcelonian prostitutes. After grabbing arms and spinning our group members in circles ranting all kinds of accommodation catch phrases, we had no idea what to do. In the end we had to regroup and literally tell the spruikers to push off while we sorted it out. In the end we pitted them against each other and settled with the bloke that had our placard. We got some of the best and cheapest accommodation this trip and had a laugh the whole time: 10 EUR each, free Internet, breakfast, our own terrace dining area... Good score.

Once we got there it was pretty amazing and we knew we made the right call. Perched on a cliff overlooking Babin Kuk, the beach and the Croatian standard of green rolling hills littered with white stone cottages with terracotta rooves, and surrounded by a fruit salad of trees bursting with oranges, pears, kiwi fruit, lemons... From all accounts, the other women spruikers at the bus depot are regulars- War widows that put a few spare beds in their spare rooms and rent them out at 10 EUR a piece. They say anything to get you to their place, then they sleep on the washing machine in the laundry when you think the place is yours. Theres also the down side of a 400 EUR fine if you get caught staying in one of those black market accommodation spots instead of a licensed tourist board lodging. Did I mention we had a kitchen in our apartment?

After settling in, scoffing a bucket of oranges, and everyone being amazed at seeing their first ever kiwi fruit tree, we got directions to the local supermarket and the four of us blokes started down the Jacobs ladder to score some groceries, while Lyn rested up with a killer migraine. An hour later, we had 400 KN of food ($100 AUD), including all the gear for pasta, cooked garden veggies, salad, garlic bread and a healthy 10 litres of Lowenbrau. Highlights of the cook up: 3 people trying to cook in a 1-person kitchenette, Trying to cook 5x dessert puddings that had instructions written completely in Croatian, baking garlic bread without an oven, trying to boil a kilo of pasta on a stove that was running out of gas and had the incinerating power of 2x cigarette lighters, and trying to prepare everything on the menu with the one blunt machete that was provided. The next night, just to appreciate the ordeal, Lyn cooked us all up a Mushroom and herb Risotto, garden salad, herb loaf and topped with a fruit platter and the puddings from last night- also with the one blunt machete, and skill tester stove. Both meals came out awesomely, went down a treat and impressed everyone- a pretty good team effort I gotta say. It was a pretty awesome experience too and nice wind down after a fat day of walking around, just taking a seat, sinking some brews and having a good chat with the others in the guest house we were in.

The first day we shared in Dubrovnik was awesome. Raining lightly in the morning, it cleared up by the time we were out the door, and we started the 40 minute walk from our accommodation to the historic walled town of Dubrovnik. Along the way we were surprised with local stalls of fruit and veg markets, local craft produce, as well as a wealth of restaurants and shops ranging from 2-buck store equivalents to Gucci, DG and BVLGARI stores. When we got to the walled city, it was an eye opener. Walls in areas a good 50m tall, ramparts that would have put to shame the London tower, and the resilience of the people inside untouched after the war had locally inflicted so much damage on the town. We went for a walk around, checking the port, castle, granary, fountains, monastery and a bunch of other attractions before heading home. Whilst kicking back in a piazza pub knocking back espressos, I felt something I can only liken to the 4:45pm blast in Kalgoorlie- but here there is no subway, and there is no way a wave could have done it. Speaking with other people back in our hostel that felt it there 6km away, I reckon we copped an earthquake- still not sure though, and as my pocket Richter scale is busted at the moment...

On our last night in the apartment, we were shooed out of the place by the caretaker due to late night noise, and made the only logical decision that we could in that situation: To relocate to the nearest body of water. That made complete sense, especially given that it was below 10 degrees, about 1am on a Friday night and we all had our beer coats on. A short bag-packing session later, we were off back down Jacob's ladder towards the bizarrely empty 1km long mall and on a mission to track down the nearest beach. We found it on the wrong side of a fence however, but as the place seemed deserted, a bit of a wall scaling mission later we were all on the path to a better place: hypothermia. It did cause a laugh when I noticed on the way out we were a maximum of 5 metres away from an open gate large enough to drive a truck through and we didn't have to risk our skulls on the wall scaling at all... ah well. The water was surprisingly warm at ankle depth, bit of a shame that was all it was warm until though. 10 minutes later, there were 6 shivering clowns splashing around the Adriatic Sea at 1am taking cheesy photos with a waterproof camera, its blowing a gale and freezing outside and then next thing we see, half the town is awake and have come to have a laugh at us! Refreshing- glad I did it, but even more glad I had long pants and a ski jacket to get back into after. I'm still not sure about our shady human beat box about 100m away from us hiding in a tree sounding like a one man domestic abuse session mixed with a capoaira soundtrack.

Leaving Dubrovnik, Josh, Lyn and I decided to go in for a hire car for 60 EUR instead of forking out the 50 EUR for bus tickets to do the same journey- a pretty good call I reckon. On the 4-hour trip to Split, we made a detour out one of the groynes coming off the mainland towards Cortula and caught a few wineries along the way- including one bloke that had a cellar full of fruit fly, with a side of rakia in Mandarin, Lemon, Apricot and Mint flavours as well as the more common olive oil, red and white wines of the Dalmatia region. After a few samples and take home souvenirs, we set off and had a European lunch another hour up the road, overlooking the absurdly early sunsets we are getting used to now at 4pm, looking over the top of an oyster and mussel-farming lake surrounded on all sides by 4-star hotels and chateaus. At the base of the groyne was Stone- A small medieval walled town with the oldest running 4000 year old salt workshop. We dropped into the biggest local restaurant for a coffee and to check out their aquaculture tanks. I'm always impressed by the old Chinatown tanks the size of a small car that seem to hold a months seafood in them in the front windows of shops- This one put them to shame! It was a chain of 5 tanks, moving from Eels and Oysters to Crays, Crustaceans and shellfish to Fish and rays to any other boutique or tropical fish in the last tank! While we were marvelling at the setup, the English speaking waiter had a chat to us about the local attractions and sorted us out with a kilo of the region's finest sea salt, and passed on a gentle notice on Josh's TITO communist leader T-Shirt saying it may not be that welcome around the country- actually he seems quite polarising, but I think that's more on his womanising policies rather than the communism principles he hammered through the country here. Incredibly friendly crowd here!
We also managed to see the tail end of a Croatian wedding in a country town, and saw the traditional dancing on the main drag as we drove past, followed by a 12 car long synchronised horn procession through every main street in town- good show.

Come the end of the night, we tracked down a ferry to Hvar, booked it in for 8:30pm and raced off to find the rental drop off and fill up the 1.3 litre diesel Fiat beast that has been our rocket on wheels before bolting across the Adriatic to our Island home for the next day. Everything done and dusted, we trekked over to Our Ferry laying wait, said our final Goodbyes to Josh, the 19 year old Melbournian solo traveller and headed in for a relaxing 1:50 hour cruise to the nearby island I have heard so much about.