GO THE KIWIS

Who would have thought that there were so many people in Makarska who have lived in NZ, have family there, or with some sort of NZ roots? They all came out of the woodwork last night.

I told you that that Kralj Tomislav Cultural group was due to perform with the Wellington Kapa Haka group – the paper didn’t give many details, except that date that they were due to perform (they even got that wrong, bit of confusion).

When the New Zealanders started hitting town, the details were filled in. The Kralj Tomislav group is from the Henderson Croatian Club and is lead by a guy who was one of the main dancers in the Lado group which I watched a few weeks ago. The Waipera Trust was to have provided a kapa haka group to combine into a spectacular performance – sadly they pulled out, and so the Wellington group were invited to join them.

We arrived early so that we could stand in the front row – I looked around and recognized the NZ lady from the bus station, the lady from Brela who lived in NZ for years, the rowing coach behind me from NZ, and some young people who had arrived on a cruise that afternoon and spotted the NZ flag. A crowd thick with Kiwis of all persuasions!

The minute the conch shell started blowing my eyes filled with tears – the lady from the bus station turned to me and we burst out laughing – her eyes were filled with tears too. Is it just us that are moved by the sound of the beautiful sound of Maori song? I’m not affected by the sound of the bagpipes, but the Scottish are – is it the same thing?

The Croatian cultural group was fantastic but for those around me it was the Wellington group that stole our hearts.

The weather forecast had been predicting rain all day, and as promised, down it came 10 minutes into the evening, gently at first and then more determinedly – people stayed and applauded until it became ridiculous and the electrical equipment was at risk at which point the concert was brought to a premature end.

At the end it was just the damp eyed damp clothed Kiwis standing there. And the rain made it difficult to gather with the groups to congratulate and catch up with people and play connections. Makarska is a fine weather town.

There is a repeat performance on Sunday night in a hotel in Tucepi – I will be there for that one.

And well done to the two Samoan guys who sang the klapa – fantastic voices, fantastic performances endorsed by a klapa member standing near us. Neither of these two men have any Croatian roots but they sang as though the sentiments in the songs were their own.

Proud to be a Kiwi!!

Apologies for the weather you are having....

Mmmm today was a beautiful day – I haven’t been on the beach for about a week so decided that today would be a swimming/ reading on the beach day. I have a copy of the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying – interesting, because I have a copy of the same book on my bookshelf at home, and have not ever managed to read it. When my Book Angel gave me the same book in the last bag of goodies, I took it as a sign that I must must must complete it – and lying on the beach seemed like the ideal environment for the task. I can report that I am ploughing through it.

So, rather than writing today, I thought that it would be kinder to give those of you who are shivering in snow, hail and incessant rain, to have a panorama of photos of where I have been today…

Ok, you saw right through me – I’m just skiting! (But isn’t it divine…)

and even more music

Last night my Cultural Entertainment Angel took me to a concert up by the observatory – what a treat!

The first group were women singing various songs from various parts of this country, each one with it’s one tone and personality (that’s the music, not the women).

The first of the songs was accompanied by the traditional wind instrument made from the dried stomach of a sheep. The music is plaintive and discordant, eery in the most beautiful way. The other music was from Slovenia, which was rich and cheerful, from the area near Hungary where it was racy and gypsy like, and another song you could hear the influences of the Austrian music. The costumes were beautifully colourful (sorry about the photos), and the singing was one minute harsh and intense and then soft and feminine.

The band from Zagreb that followed was obviously influenced by a mutual love of African beats. They all had the matching baggy cotton pants - they had the total look down to a fine art. Last time I saw pants like that was at the hippy fairs in the Far North! The minute that they started playing I couldn’t keep my feet still – the beats were intense, the rhythm was unbelievable – so much music from only percussion instruments! I loved it, and they obviously loved playing it.

The last band which came on just before midnight was five musicians with even more energy and just as much humour – a double bass, various electric guitars and an electric violin. After two songs, the area in front of the stage was filled with dancing people. They played old Istrian and Slovenian songs that the people around me knew the words to, at least the people older than 40s did. It would be a shame for this music to die out with the globalization of music. A comment was made that the young people are not taught these songs and not given an appreciation of it at school any more. That’s a shame, but I guess it is the same cry world wide. I sound like an old grandmother ‘oh, it’s just that awful stuff that they listen to on the radio…”.

It must be said again – these people can sing! They have such wonderful voices and music and singing are such a huge part of their lives – I love it! And for me, to have these concerts to go to in the evenings, I feel so lucky.

Oh, and I see in the local paper that there is another cultural group performing in the town square on Friday night – the kapahaka group is coming from Wellington! I’m so excited, I’ll make sure that I get a front row seat!

Rucak

I’ve been eating ‘out’ a bit lately –that is to say, I have stepped out of my apartment and across the hall to Branka’s apartment – she has been inviting me to eat rucak (lunch) (with a ‘ch’) with her and the children. The last two meals have been delicious so I thought that I would share them with you. (Be aware that my recipe style is a bit chaotic, hit and miss with amounts – it’s a family thing – ask Danica).

I have no idea what they are called, so this first one is going to be The Cabbage One.
Obviously you need cabbage (kupus) – you also need carrots (mrkve) and an onion (luk) and some garlic (cesnjak – with a ‘ch’ and a ‘sh’) and some tomatoes (pomodora) - cut them all finely. Heat up some olive oil, do the frying thing with the garlic and the onion, and then add the rest of the ingredients and let it simmer away. Oh, I forgot, you need to add some finely chopped pancetta – that gives the whole meal a lovely smokey flavor. Add a bit of salt and pepper and serve in a soup bowl when it is all cooked.

The next one (yesterday’s meal) we will call Stuffed Capsicums because that’s what it was. I’m going to try and make this myself today. You need capsicums (paprika), onions, garlic, tomatoes, pancetta (again!), rice and mince meat. There was a bit of discussion that went like this – (me) could you use red capsicums? (Branka – with a blank look) we use the light green ones. (So don’t get tricky and try and do anything different). I’m going to throw caution to the wind and cook two – one light green and one red (sharp intake of breath!). Will report back.

Do the thing with the olive oil, the onion and the garlic – add a bit of mince meat (there was a discussion about that too – cow or pig? Your choice.) Add the finely chopped pancetta (SUCH a lovely smokey flavor). The rice needs to be cooked but not too sloppy- add the meat etc to the rice – bit of sol & papir – and then you stuff the capsicums with the mixture. Stand the capsicums in water (cover them enough so that the pan won’t burn dry) in a pot on the stove, and throw the chopped tomatoes (maybe four big home grown ones - or a can of tomatoes for those of you in NZ who are just thinking about building an ark or are snowed in for the winter) into the water – it will simmer down into a sauce that you can thicken slightly with a bit of flour or cornflour – or just leave it as it is. The capsicums will be cooked when they are tender. There was another discussion about what else you could add to the rice (you know, a bit of parmesan, pine nuts – again with the look that said ‘that’s not the way it’s done..’).

So that’s your dinner organized for a few nights. We had a talk about the whole dinner thing and both agreed that the most difficult thing about cooking is deciding what to make so I’m making it easy for you! Oh, and making children eat vegetables was on the list of hard things too. Maybe cooked cabbage and capsicum are for adult tastebuds. Go on, give these a try!
Final word – walked along kalalarga this morning on my way to my run (no, I don’t run through the main street, there are limits) and it isn’t marble as I said in the recent posting! We will say that it is a patched amalgam of pavings – concrete, marble, asphalt. I’m trying to keep this blog real. My apologies.

Ukeing

I was sharing the uke love today with a fellow musician who had never seen this instrument but was familiar with the life (and death) of Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.

I’m intrigued that the ukulele hasn’t featured yet in Croatia, because there are so many fine stringed instruments being played here – the klapa has the mandolin and the guitar. I saw a variety of ukuleles on my way to Croatia – lonely ukes in lonely airports.

Anyway, before I knew it the guests from next door (the little shy girls) were here too, and everyone had a play. I u-tubed the ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow’ song so that the shy little ones that didn’t speak English could work out what the instrument would sound like in better hands.

When they had all gone, I sat and played the uke for a while and then decided to u-tube Hoki Mai – because basically, I had felt a certain lacking when I explained that it was a Maori song (what?), but then wasn’t sure what the words meant (Sram me bilo!). Yes, shame on me.

And what a plethora of New Zealand music is on u-tube if you just throw in Hoki Mai as the lead prompt. There is even a K2 Army group doing Hoki Mai in Bosnia – so this music has hit this part of the world in some form!
Then I got all sentimental and watched all sorts of stuff, including the ‘Poi e’ trailer from the movie Boy. New Zealand music is good – listen to me banging on about klapa, our music is wonderful too. The All Blacks Haka is on u tube – that still manages to bring a tear to my eyes. And Mande White is right when she says it doesn’t matter who wins or loses the rugby, our boys have the best bodies! Classic comment from our yoga teacher!

So my secret aim is try and have my uke played in a klapa group – not by me of course, just making a guest appearance in the hands of someone more musical. I’ll infiltrate somehow, just watch me!

The thunder started last night at about seven, stopped overnight and rumbled again this morning as we got off the water from rowing - it has just started again as I write this, incredible claps which has set off car alarms. The sky is the most delicious range of greys and darkness, and there is a delicate shroud of clouds clinging to Biokovo, lit up by the lightening. It’s a dirty black sky that I can see beyond Biokovo.

I’m enjoying the reprieve from the heat, but feel a bit sorry for those who are here on annual leave for beach and sunshine for a week, and have had three days of inclement weather. (Actually I don’t feel sorry for the ones who keep stoically sitting on their mats on the beach wrapped up in their sweaters making sure that no-one gets their spot, stupid). The guests next door from Poland have been playing a lot of cards, real rainy day stuff. Cabin fever could set in if we have another day of it though.

I sat and looked at how to form Imperatives in Croatian. And then there is a different rule if you want to make these statements negative – who would have thought! I tell you what, I could revolutionize that language by getting a few of the grammatical rules! And the Croatians keep trying to tell me that English is difficult……

PS just because I can - here is a lovely sign that featured on a door to a building in Hvar - a historic building which states that it is a theatre, and a gallery of paintings - then someone has added at the bottom - ma, nema nista - dont' bother, there is nothing in there. Tickled my fancy.

Festa

The festa (yes, with a ‘sh’) was in kalalarga which is the name given to the main street in the old towns. It is a nice curved street of marble, about 14 feet wide, that leads from the road that brings traffic into Makarska from the Dubrovnik direction, and ends up in the town square. I have a feeling, a bit of information that someone gave me at some point, that the streets in these old towns curve to lessen the effect of the winds as they blow through. We’ll go with that thought I think – it makes sense, and I like the thought that there was some town planning so many years ago.

The festa is a fair, and didn’t really get started until nine thirty at night - there were stalls with goods to try and to purchase – pag cheeses, lavender from Hvar, jewellery and local rakija. And these lovely bags which were originally used to carry oats for the donkeys. I think that they are called zorbnice.

Oh yes, and seeing as you asked, there was a klapa group. They obviously knew that I was coming! And after the klapa group a women’s choir from Tucepi. Not so fond of ladies’ choirs and as luck would have it, at that moment a friend appeared and we all went for a drink. (Apologies to the ladies’ choir!).

Goga had her lovely five year old daughter with her (it was only ten thirty after all) so we all went for a wine (Goga and I) and icecream (the others). (Aside - Please note that this is the first wine I have had in two weeks, and only did it to keep Goga company. She needs wine, she works very hard.)

Ana had a kinder surprise to keep her busy and then she occupied herself drawing a lovely picture and writing all of the names that she knows. And here’s where I am heading with this one – I can see that this child is ready for school. But foolishly she was born in July so now she has to wait until she is seven until she goes to school because there is only one intake each year and it is in September. So Ana must stay at day care. I commented on how exciting it will be when she goes to school, thinking about the champagne breakfast that one of my friends threw for us all when her 5th and last finally went to school, and Goga said that, no, it would be difficult because school at elementary level is only for four hours(!) – 8 until midday- and this would be difficult for her to sort out care for Ana after school, as she and her husband both work. I have been imagining how frustrated all of these 5 and 6 year olds (and their parents) would be, as I know myself how they suddenly get antsy at 4 ½ ¬ and the way that everyone nods, and says, oh yes, ready for school…

So kindercare and the pens from the bottom of my handbag (apologies to Hotel Biokovo because the felt pens leached through the tissue onto the tablecloths), and then at 11.00 we moved on to the stalls on the riva, all the fun of the fair with people promenading in their tiny dresses and high shoes – and one of those wonderful trampoline thingies, which is what Ana was angling after. Check her out!

Finally to bed at midnight – imagine Ana, chocolate and then trampoline excitement and then trying to get to sleep at midnight! It was hard enough for me! Actually we are quietly eyeing that tramp thing up and thinking that we may have to give it a go – 20 kunas for 10 minutes – how much fun can you have!

Rowing Rave

I’m sitting outside on my terasa, working my way through a brand new English/Croatian Dictionary, a rather heavy tome that I have no idea how I will get home. But home it must come with me as it is impossible to buy these dictionaries in New Zealand. This tome cost me 369 kuna and only translates from English to Croatian – I have the other half at home (the Croatian to English), a gift from my dear friend Diana, who encouraged me in this craziness.

I’ve had a wee siesta (yes, very odd for me to stop at all in daylight hours) but I have a migraine - and apart from that there is a festa (with a ‘sh’) in the kalalarga veceras (with a ‘ch’ on the ‘c’) and it will be a late night – one that I don’t want to share with a migraine.

I was thinking about rowing, and wanted to tell you about a few of the children.

I took Ante out in the boat yesterday – he has been to rowing once before, is ten, with mischievous green eyes. We were rowing along nicely together when he suddenly stopped and said ‘samo sekunda’ and very carefully removed a folded tissue from his pocket, blew his nose, thanked me, and continued rowing. So cute.

Tomislav is a chubby thirteen year old who only comes to row in the summer because the rest of his spare time he is playing the violin – his parents want him to have some exercise during the holidays. When we finished our session in the boat, he shook my hand and said in his most polite English ‘thank you very much for your helping me’.

Marko has wild blonde hair and is about ten. We didn’t discuss whether he spoke any English, and I was doing my thing with my Croatian rowing vocabulary. We had to keep correcting the direction that we were heading in (avoiding boats, avoiding swimmers) and I explained that my right blade was only half a blade and so there was more power on the left hand side (don’t ask me how I explained that but it was creative) – I could see him nodding (I sit in bow seat), and then after a few more strokes he said ‘maybe it was a mouse’ and continued rowing.

And then Luka is a shy and handsome sixteen year old – perfect build for a rower, tall and strong. Trener said he was to go in the double with me (he hasn’t rowed much and the coach wants him to get to the same standard as the other boys as quickly as possible) and he looked a bit concerned. He said he spoke a little English. At the end of the row he stopped me and said in perfect English ‘thank you, I underestimated you’. Last night I bumped into him on the way back from being destroyed at the gym and he smiled a big smile, said ‘hi’ then corrected himself as though he had overstepped the line by being too familiar and said ‘good evening’.

In Croatian there are two forms of the word ‘you’, and one of them is a more formal and polite form for use with those who are older or in authority. The children struggle with what to call me and so often don’t call me anything- the brave ones are calling me Allison because the coach does, but you can see the struggle of how best to treat me in the younger ones.

There are about 30 children when they are all at the rowing club, their behavior is disciplined and they show the utmost respect for the rowing coach, Kazimir Boric. He is old school but treats them as though they are his grandchildren. Sometimes I have to remind him about the girls because the boys certainly get the boats before they do! (cure trebaju prednost!) Girls need the advantage.

Rowing is one of my favourite parts of life here. I really enjoy the children and love that nearly all of them will stop in the street and say hi if they see me. So…. I just wanted to share them with you.

Tourists - Part Two

In part two of this exciting topic, we discuss the evolution of the genus called ‘tourist’.

For the sake of simplicity, I am going to present the data from all individuals as though they are a collective group. The rationale behind this is that… well, I just don’t care which country these people come from, they are visitors in this town.

If you have a look at the pontoon where the rowing boats are launched from, you will see that it is a man-made concrete slab.

The boys lay a piece of carpet on the concrete to reduce the slipperiness, and to protect the paintwork of the boats. Rowing currently starts at 7 in the morning and we try to be off the water by 9. Because the coach is considering the tourists.

Three incidents today are of interest.

Firstly, you may recall that I was trying to work out how to say to Frane ‘if you take your hands off the blades again I will slap you’ or words to that effect – he was out in the double for the first time with Tomislav, and next thing, he did as he had been warned not to, let go of the blades, the boat gracefully tipped and they both landed in the water, beside a swimming tourist (we’ll call him ‘Stupid Guy who didn’t Help´) who took not the least bit of notice of these two lads floundering in the sea. The boys did manage to get back to the pontoon with the upside down boat, amidst a huge amount of laughter from all of us.

Secondly, when we did try and lift the boat out, laden with water, we had to try and maneuver around tourists who were staking their claim on the pontoon for sunbathing and swimming. They just lay there in the way. We just stepped around them. Not a word was said.

Thirdly, perched on top of the roof of the rowing club were two families, settling in for the day. That’s all I’m saying.

Except to say that there are special privileges attached to being a guest, and with these go certain considerations in return – or so I was taught. I may be wrong (I was once, I remember it well). So come on tourists, pick up your game – this is a beautiful place, and everything is laid on for you- just a bit of respect please.

Klapa

Last night I dragged myself away from Seks I Grad (tragic, but Sex in the City with subtitles is an excellent learning tool) and went into town to watch Koncert klape Srdela.

I’ve talked about klape groups before – you remember - and I even suggested that you checked some out on u tube (this feels as though I am asking if you have done your homework… did you, did you check them out on u tube??).

History lesson – not a very old history, maybe 50 years old – perhaps klapa has a history in liturgical church singing. Klapa (which means literally a ‘group of people’ ) is cappella singing at its very best, with the main subjects being love, wine, the sea, the homeland, love, the sea, the homeland- you get the picture. Traditionally a man's domain, but there are women klapa groups – but don’t often try and mix the two (some do). I prefer the male klape groups. I love a good strong bass.

The main features of the music are beautiful harmony and melody – sometimes there is the addition of a mandolin and a guitar, but often there is no accompaniment. There are 1st and 2nd tenors, baritones and bass singers. Double the numbers to enlarge the group.
There are two basses in Klape Srdela, and if I understood the Croatian introduction, these two were father and son.

Trg Hrpina was fairly crowded, no seating left on the blue seats so I perched myself on a wall at the back of the crowd. At one point a space became available beside me and I just about got bowled over by the rush for it – there was a literal stand off as two women challenged each other for the two feet of concrete wall. Seriously, there is no such thing as decorum when it comes to important things like space. I told you. I think the woman who plumped her plump bum down in victory was Russian. Well done her, a major victory for mankind.

The singing was divine. Watching the crowd was interesting too. Check out this little guy – he was swaying away to the music.

At one point the MC was talking about the music – there was an element of homesickness in the words for the men from the Makarska area who had left to go to work and live in New Zealand and Australia.. There was a sigh from the man perched behind me ‘ Aime, Novog Zelanda je bas lijepa’ (NZ is really beautiful). I turned around and said ‘ja sam iz Novog Zelanda’ and had a friend for life – slike were taken (photos) and there was a bit of back slapping.

And amongst those perched on my wall, there were the most beautiful voices – a baritone behind me and a tenor from the photographer – and they knew all of the words. When the group (my group together with the klapa group) sang a song that my mother has and enjoys, even I got homesick.

When it finished, and the crowd slipped into the darkness of the midnight hour, I wandered back along Kalalarga, and back to my apartment. This photo is pretty dark, but enlarge it and you will see how lovely it is. And then go and u tube some klapa music. (Or ring my mum and ask to borrow some CDs!)

Sealed Section - Women Only

Middle age was the premise for this adventure, and it is catching up with me. Without being too graphic, there are changes that take place as women age, and in this heat, they are amplified.

Last week I decided that enough was more than enough and went to the ljekarnik (chemist) for solace. Only the male staff member could give me solace because he held the solace tools of English. He understood what I needed and gave me a choice of herbal potions to reduce the symptoms promising instant relief (for a sum).

Yesterday I decided that enough was still more than enough and went to the doctor for solace. I showed her the potion and she rolled her eyes and said that nothing would help apart from Hormone Replacement Therapy, the Solace of the Last Resort for any sane New Zealand woman. She suggested that I should do some exercise - a 30 minute walk a day. I may consider that...

I, of course, had done some research and noted that the ingredients on the herbal potion did have some valid efficacy in studies, as did Progesterone Cream, a product I have used in New Zealand. So in response to the prescription, I enquired after Progesterone Cream. Phone calls were made – no, sorry, not available in Croatia. Which of course begs the question about why a product that has known side effects and should be the product of the last resort is the first resort, and alternatives are not available or encouraged. Does this say something about the attitude to women?

I took the prescription and wandered back to the ljekarnik, allowing people to push ahead of me (which they are very good at, queuing is a concept that is just being explored) until the male staff member was available for consultation. He was cute – asked how ‘things’ were – expressed surprise that my world hadn’t changed, and then told me that he would not recommend that I took the HRT. Which I knew, but liked the fact that he echoed my reaction.
I think that I understand now why some middle aged women disappear into the safety of their homes, emerging again in their 70s, choosing not to socialize. I also wonder if that is why so many older women here wear those big floral cotton house dresses everywhere. (I have also wondered where on earth they buy those things – they are awful, but women of that age all wear them – I’ve never seen them in the shops, only in one stall in the market in Split – are they a mail order? A compulsory item over a certain age?? God help me if that is the next step!)

The weather forecast keeps promising cooler weather, and in the meantime, I will take solace in the sea. Side effect is that it costs more in sunblock so that I don’t look like an old piece of leather. Ho hum, life could be worse.

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.

Out-bached

Rings Beach may have just been out-bached!

We Rings Beach folk are fairly smug in our appreciation of the unique place on the earth that we have. There are not many places that we would trade our spot for…. But I have found another spot that may have gazzumped it.
A quick look at the criteria for a good bach; (drum roll)
1. Far from the madding crowd
2. Close enough to the beach to hear the sea at night
3. Not too many mod cons
4. Cards or games to play
5. Good company.

Let me introduce you to Vela Pogorila (not to be confused with Mala Pogorila, the lesser loved bay nearby).

To get there, you take the 4.00 bus from Makarska, hang around and have a coffee when it gets to Drvenik, quickly jump back on as the bus drives onto the ferry to Hvar, panic slightly that you are still heading in the right direction as the bus rolls off the ferry at Sucuraj (with a ‘ch’ on the ‘c’)

and then get off at Bogomolje. Fortunately Branka, Ivan and Ivana were there to wave at me so that I knew I was in fact in the right place. Then a 3 k drive on dust roads down to the coast…. And look at this view.

There are strict rules of course (there are in remote baches) – go easy on toilet flushing, and keep the doors and windows closed at all times because of snakes.

Ferral is a word that comes to mind – I haven’t had a shower since Wednesday just before I raced for the bus (struggling in the 37 degree heat, what can I say..) and haven’t washed my hair except for in the sea this morning. To remove the salt water you stand under a bucket of water drawn from the well (of course).

There are no other houses on the beach but sometimes boats do come in and moor for the day.

I skimmed a lot of stones, and swam a lot of swims. I snorkeled, I ran (of course) and sat and read. We did a lot of laughing, and they laughed at me trying to identify the different suits on their playing cards. I waged war with the wasps hanging around and nearly won. I did a bit of rowing – and watched the sun go down and then watched it come up again. I did feel slightly uncomfortable at the prospect of the snakes – but didn’t see any at all.

The first night was so incredibly incredibly hot that I opened the shutters enough to let the breeze and a small snake in if it chose to do so. I lay there worrying about fact that I had been told not to, but still did it, but in the cool light of day I surveyed the height of the window and decided that there was no way a snake would get up there, and so left the windows wide open from there on in (and lived to tell the tale).

I lay on the perfect pebbles and acknowledged how lucky I was to be part of this environment – and then went for yet another swim. The water was cooler than on the main land which meant that it was about 23 degrees, and actually cooled you down, but still incredibly clear. And looking out across the Adriatic, the view is directly to Tucepi and Podgora, and all of the old settlements up the hills.

The fridge is fired by gas, the stove is a simple two gas burner – the back door and porch is protected from the heat by a lattice of grapevines – and if you really really want to, you can switch a light on, but these are powered by solar panels, and really, the candles are more fun – although the light didn’t help me in my quest to perfect the card game.

This end of Hvar is a lovely comparison to the area I was in last weekend – the jet setting jazz bar super yacht crowd – a twist on a theme, the yin to the yang – a slice of heaven – and I loved it!