Bloody Tourists

I’ve joined the ranks of locals. I’m now included in the (negative) conversations about the tourists – what does this mean? Am I in the ‘in crowd’? (as in living ‘in’ Makarska, not a tourist..)

Seeing as we were talking about baches yesterday, I can say from experience that having day-trippers at your beach is a bit intrusive, especially if you are used to having the place to yourself.

There is a lovely group of local men and women who meet each morning down by the rowing club and have a swim early in the morning together – avoiding the heat but also avoiding the crowds that amass by 9 in the morning. These gentle people are just heads bobbing on the sea – they float out there for ages. And speaking of ages, they are mostly in their 70s and 80s.

By 10 in the morning there are not just the people filling the apartments, spare bedrooms and hotels, but in addition there are bus loads (I counted 8 buses parked) of visitors coming for the day from the other side of the Biokovo Mountain.

And am I the only one who notices that they are sitting in cafes and restaurants, walking into shops and the supermarkets just in their speedos and their bikinis? The staff member in the konzum tonight politely pointed to the sign which indicated that speedos (and a huge gut) were not appropriate for supermarket shopping and was greeted with a blank face and no response. They need to put that ‘togs togs undies undies’ ad on tv here.

As I sit here typing, the Polish guests from upstairs have wandered onto my terasa - three of them out there chatting about something that had fallen from the top window – and when I went out there to see what the issue was, they just stared as though I was in their space, not the other way around – and I did have clothes on (even though it is too hot to wear them). I think the heat is getting to me!

The beach is being used as an ashtray and a rubbish bin, although to be fair, any ten thousand extra bodies on the beach is going to create some disturbance. It certainly warms the water up. Yes, that is how many extra people are in town. There are muscle shirts, gold chains and bad shorts everywhere – and that’s just the men.

I think I need to go back to the island and sit in a corner where the water cools you and there is a bit of a breeze. The weather report has promised bura and even a bit of rain…. Hope so.

Ps for those readers who are not kiwis, a 'bach' is a beach house. It is a pure unadulterated North Island New Zealand word. The South Island NZers call them 'cribs' Stupid. They are baches. I am lucky enough to have parents who bought a bach at a beach called Rings Beach on the Coromandel Peninisular. Check it out - Google 'Rings Beach images'. A slice of heaven.