August 24, 2005

Lake Plitvice to Pag

My friends rolled up in our tiny european rental car and, after a final coffee in Zagreb, we set off on our road trip. With the windows rolled down and the music blaring, we zipped down the brand new highway at 150km/hr. Since it was a toll road, it was empty, save for the occasional german family that screamed past us in a mercedes or bmw.

Our first stop was Lake Plitvice, a series of crystal clear lakes that cascade into each other. Walking on these shimmering mirrors was magical, as we hiked past lush waterfalls, gurgling streams, and calm oases teeming with schools of trusting fish.



We finally arrived in Zadar (on the coast) later than expected. We drove around a bit, but didn't have a strong feeling for the town, so we left for Pag Island. As I spoke the most languages of the group, I was designated to find us a room. We drove around the town, looking for "Zimmer" (room) signs, at which point I would approach an old lady and ask, usually in German, if she had a room for three people. I saw quite a few shabby rooms, and was about to pick one, when we tried one more spot. A middle-aged man was sitting on a porch of a hotel. I asked him if he had a room and he replied, in Italian, that his hotel was full. He then spoke some croatian, gesturing for me to follow him. So, I left the car behind, and followed him to a bakery. He said something to the woman behind the counter , who then pulled out an old rotary phone. She painstakingly dialed a number, yelled a few words into the receiver, and then motioned for me to follow the man back to the hotel... Ten minutes later, a very fat, shirtless man with a giant mustache rolled up in a beaten up lada. He yelled something at the first man (who was wearing a shirt) who then told me, in Italian, that we should follow the Fat Man's car. So, off we went, rolling through some back roads to his place. Admittedly, it was quite nice, so we took it.

The evening was spent eating (I had grilled calamari) and then chatting at the bar... the night ended on the beach, with 100m footraces and a local yelling at me, in German, that if we didn't go home and shut up, that he would call the police. All in all, a great night.

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