Korcula

The day after I came back from Sarajevo, with the memories of crowded buses and smokey trains fresh in my memory, Branka told me that she had to go to Korcula (with a ‘ch’) and would I like to come too.

The thought of another bus or ferry didn’t appeal initially, but Korcula is a beautiful place… and I enjoy Branka’s company.. so zasto ne? (with a ‘sh’).

We left the house at 6am to drive to Ploce (again). Ploce would go down in history as the ugliest town that I have seen for a while but it has a port for ferries, a bus station and a train station. Branka has planned the journey with military precision (little bits of papers with bus times, ferries times – she has even called the tourist bureau in Trpanj to check the connecting buses.)

Time for a quick velika kava s miljekom before we board the 7.30 ferry for Trpanj on the Peijesac Peninsular and plenty of time to read the paper together and discuss the issues.

(Bit of an aside – the Prime Minister of Croatia is Jadranka Kosor – she is the one who said that ‘she was going somewhere the day after yesterday’ – remember? Anyway, it has come to pass (and to the media’s attention) that she used what is known here as ‘black funds’ to fund her political campaign at the last election. Her political party is known as HDZ. These are funds that have been scooped off the top of government funds by various means and pocketed for her specific party’s needs.
One of the party faithful who is now perhaps less faithful, kept a paper trail as she was required to do, but then buried the papers in her back yard, perhaps knowing that all tails turn in the end.

When she was questioned about the ‘black funds’ she miraculously produced the papers which showed where the funds had come from. When Jadranka Kosor was asked again about the funds, she was ‘very surprised’ and said that she ‘had no idea how this happened’ and that she ‘certainly had no knowledge of it’. The article in the paper very cleverly suggested that perhaps at the time that the decision to take the funds was being made, Kosor was ‘perhaps doing needlework, writing love poems or collecting serviettes’. There could be no other explanation for her not being aware of the funds.) Ha.

So. The ferry and Trpanj. It’s about an hour on the ferry and then on to a bus to take us across the narrow strip of land to Orebic…. But the best laid plans of mice and men… the bus timetable had been changed the day before and there are now only two buses a day – we have missed the one in this direction, and the return one comes back at 2.20 to fit in with the school children. Shrug of shoulders.

Well, says I, always with a plan¸ we will hitch-hike. We weighed up the odds (two sensible middle-aged women), decided not to let Branka’s children hear about it (bad role models) and put our thumbs out. Half an hour and only two cars later, both of which indicated that they were not going further than the next street, and a taxi van stopped, on his way to Orebic.

Plain sailing after that – took the 12 kuna ferry across to Korcula town- double checked the bus time for the return to the ferry (of course there was nearly two hours to kill between the bus and the ferry, but there would be cafes.)

Branka raced off to her seminar (school psychologist’s seminar on Critical Thinkng- goodness, where would you start) and I wandered around the old town.

It is beautiful. The steps leading up to the main entrance and the towers on the sea side are majestic.

The light is beautiful coming through the narrow streets (ulice ). The town has been cleverly designed with the west streets opening straight out to the sea to take the benefit of the maestral wind, and the east streets curving away from the cold Bura Wind. Talk about town planning!

There are three churches – the beautiful St Marks Cathedral and another one which dates to about the 13th century.

I went into the museum which had a display of pieces by the sculptor Frano Krsinic (with a ‘sh’ and a ‘ch’). The museum was 15 kuna entrance fee – I waited for the lady to get off the phone to take my money – she didn’t so I went on in, clutching my coins – on the way back she ignored me as she continued to talk on the phone so I ignored her and left. We were the only two people in the place. I’m becoming a local.

Rumour has it that Marco Polo was born in Korcula – who can refute it – and there is a museum set up in his birth house.

Korcula Island was one of the many places that was devastated by the bacteria phylloxera which destroyed all grape vines in the 1920’s. In an area that was already facing an economic crisis, and where the local people’s main income was from vine, the only thing that was left for them to do was to emigrate – eleven thousand people left Korcula for South America, New Zealand and Australia.

It was an incredibly hot day (some had the situation covered with hats – what? Chinese tourists?) so I sought the comfort of a jewellery shop with klima – ja samo gledam (I’m only looking) I said.. but I have bought from this shop twice before – my favourite shop, my favourite jeweler. Best range of filigree earrings and necklaces I have seen. I have a new necklace now.

We managed to get back in one piece – ferry, bus, ferry, car. Definitely wouldn’t say this is the easiest way to get to Korcula – but it was an adventure. And don’t tell the kids that we hitch-hiked.