Down to 4 travelers at this point, as parents and friends had flights to catch. The weather changed on us, so we ended up on a steamy, rainy bus ride, with glimpses of the turquoise Adriatic Sea at various times.
Croatia has been giving us mixed impressions as a country. It is booming from tourism and from people in the EU buying second homes along the ocean, but it still has an unpolished side. This was very evident while we waited for a ferry from the town of Ploce to Trpanj. Ploce was an eyesore, while Trpanj was cute. Ploce looked as if it had seen better days, and it probably had. It is a sea port for large cargo, but I just saw an article stating that Bosnia is trying to get access for shipping reinstated. That would potentially explain why it looked like it had been bigger and more bustling at one point (pre-war) and was more in a state of decay as of today.
We met our friend’s relatives who picked us up from the ferry. We were swept off to the town of Duba, 50 year round residents, mostly retirees. You couldn’t pick a prettier location to fall off the map, (but maybe in September you could pick a less rainy-more warm location). We were well taken care of there, we had a series of homemade meals (pork goulash over noodles, pickled onions, fresh baked rolls, fried calamari) and given a tour of the beaches, a broken up sailboat and some of the old buildings. Our favorite building was an old smokehouse, where proscuitto had been made in years past; the place was eerie and reeked of smokehouse smells. We were also provided with some homemade wine, that we have to admit, even tops Tar Schnapps as some of the most undrinkable liquid ever produced. Okay, so living a Vermont lifestyle of growing, milking, canning and trading for all of your own food has a downside, you have to be skilled at all of it.
It was an interesting visit to Duba. Everyone who comes out there, mostly for five to six months of the summer, spent their time to get away from it all. Whether to hunt and fish, or just chill out and take in the views and meddle in the other townsfolk’s business. Two of our friend’s relatives were living there permanently and driving their kids to school about 15 minutes away. I figure that is a great way to grow up with nature at your backdoor and on a working farm. On the downside of that lifestyle, they were the only three kids in town. When I’m in a town the size of Duba, a 15 minutes drive seems a million light years from anywhere, but when in San Francisco, 15 minutes would set a record to get anywhere. Maybe time depends on your pulse rate?
