Some of the locals seem to have noticed that I have been around for longer than the standard few days and have even started smiling when they say ‘dobar dan’. You just can’t appreciate what a breakthrough this is in a small town. I remember when our family moved to the Far North to live, being told that the locals don’t really accept anyone new until they have been around for three generations – I suspect it is the same here.
I wanted to show you the statues! There are a few charming statues in Makarska, and obviously a sense of humour too.
Overlooking the promontory of Sveti Petar is a very stern statue (a ‘kip’) of the same man, and general opinion is divided about whether he is looked at with fondness, but in the centre of town on the riva is a statue of a local guy who was referred to by the locals as the ‘seagull’ because of his propensity to pick up female tourists and ‘romance’ them, as it were.
The deal with this statue is that should you be so bold as to rub the woman’s right breast (which clearly many have because that part of the statue is rubbed shiny) you will have good luck. A twist on the statue in Split of Grgur Ninski which brings you luck if you rub the big toe. Much more charming to rub a breast I’m sure!
Then further down the main promenade there is another statue by the same sculptor, of a tourist floating in the sea. Looking self-satisfied. It’s cute and often has tourists standing around it trying to work out what it is – click on the picture to enlarge it so that you can get the detail.
The fishing boats were in the harbour as I was promenading, I smelt them and saw the gathering of buyers. So, real live fishmongers! Fish sold whole or filleted for you, weighed with a flourish and handed to you with a smile.
I’m not good at recognizing any of the local species and have to say that the one memorable experience with local seafood last year wasn’t one that I want to repeat. I was out at dinner a fortnight ago and the people who I was with suggested that we order one big fish stew pot between all of us. I bravely agreed, but when it came to the table, my stomach revolted and told me sternly that eating the seafood wasn’t going to happen. I had blitvah I krumpir. Pathetic, I know.
So, now I’m off to yoga - not yoga as I know it, but you don’t come to the other side of the world to get the same stuff. It’s slightly more sedentary than Mande White’s classes, but there is the bonus of loud sea music during the relaxation time. Of course, initially I didn’t have much idea of what she was telling us to do during the relaxation time, but some of the words and expressions are starting to make sense. Progress!
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