Dubrovnik, Croatia

After another half day wandering the marble stoned alleys of Split (and fighting our way through throngs of Cruise-ship day trippers), we left for Dubrovnik. The windows were down, the music was loud, and the weather was perfect. It was a five hour ride down a narrow, winding coastal road, and through some tiny, medieval fishing villages. Think of Cinque Terre in Italy, except fewer tourists. Every few miles, we saw some random cars parked and a path leading down to the sea. Investigation yielded some quiet, sheltered beaches below the limestone cliffs that towered over the water.

We arrived in Dubrovnik without a reservation, so we drove as far as we could go on the main road and found four little old ladies with Room For Rent signs. I walked up to the first, who only spoke Italian. I managed to explain that I wanted three beds in an apartment close to old town. Nodding in understanding, she grabbed my hand and waved at my friends in the car, indicating that they should wait. And so I stumbled up some stairs after this terribly old lady who was far more nimble than her ragged dress and varicose veined legs would indicate. We looked at a total of three rooms, none of which were adequate. The first stank. The second only had one bed (which I think she insisted could fit three people). The third was right off someones living room and meant that we would have to walk through someones bedroom to get to the bathroom. Weird. So, I tried my luck with another old lady. This one claimed to speak english, but I soon learned that her vocabulary was limited to 'Room!' and 'Beautiful!' and 'Look at Sea!' and 'Terrasse!' and 'Big Bed!' and 'Beautiful!' and 'Very very Beautiful!!!!'

So, I followed this second lady up to a room. It seemed acceptable, but had a sofa bed and was in someone's house. I quickly discovered that the 'someone' was a giant croatian man (both height and width) who didnt like wearing shirts. He had, in tow, a tiny, crying toddler who knew one english word : 'TOURIST!!' I passed on the room and asked what else she had. She said 'Beautiful apartment!' Intrigued, I asked the price. It was too high. Would she lower the price for a student, perhaps? Of course. And what about a discount since it is the end of the day? A reluctant yes. Hmm, perhaps, but we have to see it first.

And so we went back downstairs to find my friends in the car. I explained to the woman that I wanted to confer with my colleagues. I climbed into the car and started to explain the options. Apparently not wanting to lose the sale, she squeezed in next to me, slammed the door, and yelled out directions to the place, punctuating every sentence with 'Beautiful!!! So beautiful apartment.' Well, she was right. We took it.
We were hungry, so we headed back down to the old city. Imagine my surprise on arriving at the main gate to hear my name belted out in an Irish accent.

'So you got my email then?' my Irish friend exclaimed, grinning. 'Uhh. No. What email?' 'I told you we would wait from 8 to 820pm at the gate to find you!' the Irishman said, grinning.
I checked my watch : 820pm. Karma.

We went to get some dinner in the old city. I let Irishman lead the way, pointing out some attractions. 'And there,' he said, pointing at a protusion from the wall, 'drunkards try to stand up without hands for as long as possible.' I lasted 2 seconds, about 1.5 seconds more than the drunkards.

Dubrovnik at night is something to be seen. It is eerily magical, timelessly grand, a graceful, aging, yet confidently handsome princess. The wide boulevards are paved in marble, lined with white mansions, and restored as they were in 1668. A clock tower rings the hour, massive fortifications protect against the outside traffic, and sculpted fountains bring wonderfully cold, drinkable water to the panting tourists. Musicians play in the scenic squares and cafes provide perfect vantage points for people-watching. All in all, it was touristy, expensive (50% more than the rest of Croatia), and deservedly so.



We had dinner in a small square. A jazz band crooned behind us. The octopus salad was sublime. My grilled squid was quite delicious. And the cold beers went down happily. Afterwards, my friends attempted to toss me in the fountain after I splashed a few of them.

The nightlife was lacking, though. The Irish pub closed down at 1am on the nose. And the Latin Dance Club was deserted. It seems that a day of siteseeing was too much for the tourists.