Absolutely, 100% SUPER! -- Lastovo, Croatia

I’m starting this post from the balcony of a sweet little apartment on Lastovo island. My view is of the sea rushing into the cove, the sun rising over the hill to my right and the stretched out island of Korcula (where Marco Polo was born) in front of me, outline soft and hazy in the morning sun. Dubrovnik is off in the distance and down the coast of the mainland.

I will be there shortly.

Sounds of sea waves lapping softly but insistently against the shore.

Sounds of birds chirping.  Rich, full chirping. Honey. These Lastovo birds are thoroughly experienced chirpers. They’ve been taking classes for years, doing their homework and practicing their scales. They’ve learned the proper beak placement for the variety of sounds and are masters of crescendo and decrescendo.

I like listening to birds. I like imagining what they're on about.

Small stone houses are built into the hillside around me, rooftops either new red brick or absolutely falling apart old red brick.

A car squeals to a start. Angrily. It’s a Croatian car. The poor vehicle doesn’t understand why it has to start at six o’clock in the morning.

My last full day with Kristina was splendid.

It was “super!”

It was full of hugs –

“My sweetheart!”

-       and flying –

“I love this acro yoga!”

- and wine –

“Giuseppe, why are you not drinking? You are Italian. Look at me. I have had more beer than...”

-       and happy dogs –

*wag, thump, jump, head in crotch, wag, bounce, play, LICK FEET*

- and chocolate –

.... (there is no sound effect or snippet of conversation that can adequately describe the goodness of chocolate)

-       and delicious food –

It was Sunday (and Croatia), so most of the shops were closed. But Kristina is magic, and managed to work her magical wiles to get us into the Croatian version of Sam's Club without a membership card. Tessa got very excited about the cheese. Giuseppe got very excited about the potatoes (he purchased a large bag to bring back to Ivan's that he might feed the hungry masses).

 “There is enough here for an army!” “No, there is enough here for Giuseppe. He hasn’t eaten properly in days. He is coming from the ‘no food camp.’”

-       and walks in the rain –

 

Wet hair sticking to wet cheeks.

Damp pants clinging to wet legs.

Soaked bouquet of wildflowers glistening, drooping in little hippie hands.

Kristina (because she's super) gave Tessa a new pair of Indian pants just as Tessa's old pair of Indian pants were wearing out. This is Tessa's happy hippie picture. Perhaps we'll both have hairy armpits and hairy legs by the end of this trip. :)

 

Road sopping, feet tip-toe, scamper, hop-scotch around the itty-bitty puddles.

Soaked shoulders of a borrowed grey sweater. 

Light gleefully bouncing off droplets, playfully blinding in every which way.

Liberated and crazy.

I love Kristina. I adore Kristina. Kristina is absolutely, 100% super – but if I stayed with Kristina for ten days (as she invited me), I would leave ten kilos heavier.  All the people in her life cook for us. Her roommate fed Tessa and me two divine, sublime meals. Her friend/martial arts teacher fed us zucchini and cevapci and strawberries from his garden. 

We came home from the afternoon/evening out to a massive plate of stuffed peppers her mother had delivered for dinner.

What an unexpected, refreshing blessing. To feel so welcome in someone’s home. To feel so at ease. To feel wanted and loved and cared for. Oof. Maybe I should stay ten days...

My belly grumbled. It’s been working overtime and is a bit overwhelmed by the turn of events.

I’ve been needing a light, long sleeved shirt to ward off the seaside sun.

“I’m putting out into the universe that I need a long sleeved shirt,” I’d jokingly seriously told Tessa while we were hitching back from Zadar.

Kristina gave me the shirt.

“You seem to just know everything I need,” I squealed happily as I squirmed into the light purple flowing garment from India with the OM symbol written all over it. “Now waiting for rides will be much more bearable.”

“Yes, and you will get more rides because your shirt means peace. “

 I just... ach. This person. I'm so grateful for this person.

Kristina's roommate drove Tessa and me to the harbor the next morning, dropped us off and bid us a friendly "until next time." 

I'd caught a glimpse of my tall, blonde German friend on the way in, so I grabbed my elephant and rushed to meet Martin. Tessa shouldered her hippo (we're adding personality to our trip. My bag is an elephant, her bag is a hippo, our headlamp is Larry, our tarp/home is Judy and our pink leatherman is Betty. Don't forget) and followed suit. 

Introductions were made, hugs were given, and ways were parted. Martin and I made off to the main station to purchase the ticket for Lastovo and Tessa went meandering into the city center. 

She's going to have some alone time with her hippo, Judy, Larry and Betty on Vis, Lastovo and Korcula. She'll head to Mostar, Sarajevo and Dubrovnik and meet me at the clothing optional campsite in Montenegro on the 14th. 

Where Giuseppe might (we hope) join us for a week long wander down the coast of Montenegro. 

We're not sure whether or not he fancies wild camping with Judy as much as we do, but I've promised massages and Montenegro promises absolutely breathtaking nature. In return, we'd like Giuseppe to provide Italian theme music for our trek and to teach us a few more Italian phrases. "Oh, Madonna!" has been a very useful phrase, but we think we've just about worn it out. We need more for our hitchhiking adventure in Italy. 

Martin and I boarded the ferry at 10:15 and chatted the entire way to Lastovo (over five hours). I shared my peppers (Kristina had sent me off with four phenomenally tasty stuffed paprikas from her mama) and he shared his bananas. 

Martin is German and Martin is always prepared and punctual. Martin brought bananas, hard boiled eggs, pistachios and two gigantic water bottles. 

I adore Germans. 

We arrived at Lastovo late in the afternoon and wandered back and forth through tiny streets until someone accosted us in Lucica.

"You! Help lift the boat," an old Croatian woman motioned to Martin. "No, not you!" she gently shoved me aside as I started to remove my elephant in preparation for boat lifting. "Where are you from?"

"The states," I laughed out loud as Martin lifted the boat onto some four by fours.

"You have beautiful eyes," she told me before she went to help my friend.

 "What are you doing here?"

"We're just looking for an apartment," Martin told the unusually assertive woman.

"He has an apartment," the woman gestured to the old man who owned the little boat and mumbled something in Croatian. "I ask him to make for you a discount."

We haggled with the old man and were unsatisfied with the results. Lifting boats doesn't give as hefty of a discount on apartments as we would have liked.

So we wandered and waited for something else to happen.

No fires in Croatia. Ever. This Colorado girl understands.

Something always happens. We walked up a hill and nearly ran into an empty apartment.

"Why don't we check this out before moving on to the next village?" I suggested.

We walked up the stairs and onto the porch.

The owner was absent, the doors were wide open and there was no telephone number to call.

"It's Croatia," I smiled wryly at my German friend.


We peered inside the apartment, noticed the cute kitchen, two bedrooms and open ambiance.

"What do you think?"

"I think it's fine," Martin glowed as he set down his bag and I collapsed into a chair. Sans elephant.

We waited for the host to return.

Martin went for a swim.

I absent-mindedly flipped through pages of a book Tessa had given me in Sibenik.

We waited.

When Bruno finally appeared, he was with two guests he'd picked up from the ferry and they needed the room we'd tried to commandeer.

"I have another," Bruno's English was broken. "Not ready. One hour."

"Okay, one hour is fine. We can walk to the shop and get some dinner."

We returned from the shop in an hour. Bruno was drinking wine with friends. He looked half-alarmed and half-nonchalant (you'd think this would cancel itself out, but it really doesn't) at our arrival.

"Is the room ready?" Martin asked pleasantly.

"No, we --" Bruno gestured to the wine.

Of course, I cracked up on the inside. This is perfectly, beautifully Croatia. 

Bruno hadn't done anything to prepare the room for us. So Martin and I sat on the balcony, took pictures of flowers and petted stray cats. 

This chimney is very common and rather unique to Lastovo

We were invited to the patio downstairs to drink some local white wine out of giant olive oil bottles.

Our room never did get finished, but I fed many mosquitoes, drank two glasses of white wine and enjoyed Martin's company while dusk fell and we waited.

"It's Croatia. This is perfect."