Croatia Sun or Croatian Sun?

Dubrovnik

"Wow. How hot do you think it is?" were the first words that escaped from my mouth as we exited Dubrovnik International Airport. The change in temperature from Stansted was noticeable and this was presented more as an exclamation than a question. 2010's Summer break had arrived and we were instantly greeted by warm weather. This was unanimously well received with the praise continuing well after touch down. That was, until we boarded the transfer bus. With no air-conditioning we were soon all flushed red with beads of perspiration developing around hairlines and irritation painted across our faces. It was hot, bloody hot. This would be the one of two most repeated observations over the course of the next 9 days.

Dubrovnik credits itself to being "one of the most beautiful cities in Europe". The city had charm and we collectively agreed that "beautiful" would be the word to best describe the capital. Beautiful, the second most used adjective/remark on this trip. The strange thing was, the city was filled with Australians and Americans. Not just a handful, but thousands! Every quip of English either had a thick American twang or a Bogan Aussie sling to it. Our accommodation for the two nights was just off the main street above a seafood restaurant. This also would be the trip I got sick of eating seafood.

After what can only be described as a failed attempt to go out at night we woke the next day for a boat ride out to a remote Island; the name escapes me. Other events probably took place on the second day, it it will be forever remember as the day my thongs broke. Second only to my passport as the my most traveled item this particular pair of thongs had served me at least 4 years of constant use. The helpful Cabana boy managed to temporarily fix my thongs so I could make it back to the main land. Strangely enough, after purchasing a new pair of thongs, we spotted a girl making off with my old discarded pair which had been dumped in a pedestrian bin.

Split

Croatia's primary mode of transport is bus or boat. Consequently, we would endure up to almost a days worth of domestic commute. It was a grueling 6 hour ride from Dubrovnik to Split (via Bosnia). Again, the bus had no air-conditioning, feeling agitated would have been an understatement, especially for some of us. To make matters worse upon arrival into Split we were told that out accommodation had mistakenly been issued to another group with the same booking name. Eventually this was sorted with the apartment company treating the Birthday girl to free alcohol and accompaniment to the local bar. On a side note, I've noticed that Croatian toilets have a strange bowl design where the waste pipe is located at the front of the bowl which embarrassingly leaves skid marks to anybody with a high fiber diet. Leaving for Hvar, two members would also return to London, reducing the party size to five.

Hvar

From split we caught a 2 hour passenger ferry across to Hvar. It's hard to speak positively of the accommodation, but this must have been one of the least enjoyable stays throughout Europe. This was compounded by the landlord who constantly hawked us during our stay.


The town of Hvar itself is a gorgeous sea side town with a relaxed beach atmosphere. Spent a day out at the Blue and Green caves. For birthday #2 we dined at a restaurant who claims to have recently served the likes of Tony Parker and Eva Longoria (see my Chocolate Steak below). We couldn't have been happier to check out of our accommodation the following day, only to be told the keys were missing to the transfer car and we had to make our way down the hill to the bus stop. We boarded the early morning ferry and greedily occupied a significant area for 2 hours of sleep. Bliss.

Zadar

3 hour bus ride from Split to Zadar. We stayed just outside the main town of Zadar, still there were plenty of tourist, but this time, all English. We couldn't have been more happy to check into out hotel. Proper hot water showers, proper beds, proper climate control. Don't we sound like travel princesses? Our remaining three days were spent touring the city of Zadar along with constant taxi rides to Petrcane for the Soundwave Festival. Amazing sunset and great party vibe, aside from the 3 hour taxi wait on the way home it was definitely worth it. Last trip of summer. Stansted immigration line, non-existant. Win!

Oxegen

Around this time last year we found ourselves among the frenzy also known as San Fermin, The Running of the Bulls. At the time, I never in my wildest dreams imagined to find a better combination of filthiness and fun. So, almost a year down the track I find myself covered in mud again longing for a hot shower with a smile from ear to ear.


I've become somewhat jaded in my approach to sight seeing. Gone are the days of wanting to see and experience each and every cultural offering of the country. Obscure churches and random squares no longer interest me. Not to say that I have become a slave to traveling the globe without absorbing culture. I'm not shallow enough to say that content is found with a passport full of stamps and to be able to chime in with a "I've been to that country". On the contrary, I'm still taking enough away from each country to leave a lingering feeling.


Take for example, my recent trip to Dublin. I, experienced Irish weather, spotted a leprechaun, asked a local to repeat themselves because of the Irish accent and got drunk in the mud. OK the last one really isn't Irish, but was still fun!


A familiar face, a familiar smile, an unfamiliar relationship.

Alcoholic Paranoia

Came home last evening in a drunken frenzy and I could have sworn I saw a mouse run through the kitchen. Better safe than sorry.

Chk, chk, boom!

Riga, Lativia

Sushi, the "national dish".

Bed bugs!

What in the world!?

Andalucia Road Trip

I'm starting to wonder if I've developed an obsession to travel. I wrote, not so long ago, that traveling and "seeing the world" was my justification of being abroad. Now I find myself scouring maps of Europe for unchartered destinations. Browsing through the budget carriers, Easyjet, Wizz, Germanwings, Ryanair looking for the next stamp in my passport. The May second long weekend was a little bit of a struggle, I've noticed that there's fewer places to travel and even fewer people willing to travel with! The proposition, a Southern Spanish road trip from Malaga to Jerez de la Frontera through Andalucia.

Landed in Malaga only to be greeted by a terribly-mannered goldcar car rental clerk. "These are not options, this is the information!". Possibly the rudest customer service experienced you could make a sitcom based purely on his character. We threated to take our custom elsewhere but succumbed to laze and the deathly stares from the queue behind. Tired, not fussed we were scooting from Malaga Airport in the goldcar rental Ford Focus towards Malaga town centre.

Managed to cover a far amount of the district driving along Coasta del Sol with 3 of the four passengers taking turns to drive. The weather was excellent and the drive as spectacular. We made our way from Malaga, Marbella, Gibraltar, Tarifa, Vejer and to Cadiz before flying out of Jerez.

Missed out on Ronda but managed an afternoon trip to the Pueblos Blancos town of Vejer de la Frontera. Last long weekend for some time. Ugh. I'm getting sick...

Reunions in Europe

Excuses, the currency of life. Where each unmet expectation or failed obligation can be exchanged for an excuse. It's a barter system where the more plausible an excuse the smoother the transaction. "I couldn't come into work because I was sick" Bear in mind it has to be worth wild, otherwise people simple won't buy it. "I couldn't come into work because my dog ate it". So here I am bartering the reasons for my tumbleweed-excuse of blog activity.

#1. Work. There has been shock exodus of employees at work over the last couple of weeks, suddenly I find myself overwhelmed with the amount of work and the reduced amount of bludge time (proportionately correlated to blog time).

#2. Lifestyle. Despite being a somewhat unconvincing welcome of summer (unless you consider those two days of 26 degrees a season) the months of May through to July historically are the busiest for travel and out-and-about-ness.

#3. Familiar faces. Most importantly, I've been lucky enough to have a wealth of visitors from Sydney coming over to London for holiday. Those included, close high school and university friends and most importantly my family. Good times.

So, where's my change?