The spine of Šipan

Leaving the village of Sudurad for our hike back to Sipanska Luka, we wandered between quiet stone houses with their wooden shutters closed. A lone white pair of panties hung on a clothesline outside waving in the breeze (a signal to someone?). As our road climbed the hill outside of town past the remains of several stone villas, decaying since the renaissance, it became closed in by rosemary bushes and olive trees. 

After a picnic on a hillside tiered with olive groves we continued up the pathway, surprising a few people lost in quiet conversations while they picked the olives. Our road, now a rocky mule trail, climbed the ridge that formed the island's spine until we could see the Adriatic in all directions. A narrow sweep of farm fields filled the valley below us and a tiny church sat on top of another of the island's distant peaks.

A rudimentary map posted at the dock that I'd taken a picture of that morning showed our lane looping back down to the main road in the middle of the island's valley, but as we pushed further the thick brush closed in. Finally stopped by an alert, tense dog next to a stone house, we gave up on our route and found our way through overgrown orchards back to the valley floor, and the main road to Sipanska Luka.

Approaching the town in time for the evening ferry, we passed graveyards that had been bare that morning. Now they overflowed with fresh flowers and many of the same people from the morning's ride over. Back at the waterfront, among those waiting for the ferry back to Dubrovnik were chatting locals and cats roaming the piles of fish nets. Amidst the hustle that surrounded the ferry's arrival, a young island girl stopped her cat from boarding by grabbing it awkwardly under her arm. Without protest, the cat fell limp. 

  

  

  

Šipan Island changes gears

There were a few families loaded with bags of gushing flower bouquets on the 45-minute ferry to Sipan Island. It was the eve of All Saint's Day, so apparently there are a lot of ancestors buried there. I'd read that the Elaphiti Islands are the least developed of the islands along the Croatian coast. We chose Sipan for a day trip based on the relative frequency of the ferry this time of year (two trips per day). The flowers and passengers unloaded quickly in Sipanska Luka, one of two small villages on the island, before the ferry departed for the day. A few empty boats bobbed in the sun as the ferry passengers dispersed. The shops around the bay had all closed for the season except for a small store selling ice cream, fishing tackle, and some bottles of wine.

While we waited for the hourly bus to Sudurad on the other end of the island, the end of a movie played out across a gravel parking lot. One by one the main characters, four women in their twenties, dragged a summer's worth of suitcases and duffel bags from a hotel with its curtains and wooden shutters closed. Soon the local heartthrob pulled up on a moped, and they were joined by the wise father figure -a squat hotel manager, who helped them load a car until it sank. They all turned to each other for a long round of farewell hugs and kisses. With the hotel now shut for winter it was easy to see that its staff was now departing after a long summer together. A couple of group photos later and their car scooted off, followed by the moped. Our bus pulled into Sudurad in time to see them all embracing again before one girl dragged her bags onto the waiting ferry there, bound for points further up the coast.

While some locals milled around the dock saying good-byes to the few others getting on the ferry, we found the only open bar/cafe to sit down and catch up with our journals over cappuccinos. Over the next couple of hours, the only activity in Sudurad seemed to be the group of men gossiping in front of the only other store, our waitress who'd get up to change songs on the jukebox, and a busy little cat. This adolescent size-cat went through cycles of climbing onto our laps to take a nap, pushing its nose onto our table, running off to chase something, and clawing its way back onto our laps again to crash.

   

   

   

All Saints Day in Croatia

I admired how much the people in Dubrovnik must love flowers since we passed so many flower markets and they were always so busy. On buses and sidewalks across the city people were carrying bouquets, sometimes two or three at a time. Then, as Hallowe'en approached, I remembered the part about it being a contraction and that many parts of the world celebrate All Hallows day more than the eve. In fact, shops, restaurants, and even bars closed a little early on October 31st. Anywhere we went on the 1st it seemed like people were dressed up and carrying masses of flowers. The numbers of large family gatherings reminded me of Thanksgiving in the U.S.

 

Croatia in our mouths

Over the course of our several days in the country, we tried to touch all the main bases of coastal Croatian cuisine. Besides the countless small bakeries selling various bread loaves, pizzas, and small snacks such as the dense roll (pictured) containing marmalade or chocolate, we found a number of salty, semi-hard cheeses and all kinds of prsut. Although prsut is primarily made from pork, we also tried some dry-cured beef, and all of it here was shaved in rather thick slabs and was wonderfully dense -both in flavor and texture. 

I wasn't expecting much from the cheap fried calamari I ordered at a dumpy looking spot across from the ferry landing, but these little bundles of tentacles and rings poofed away in my mouth like delicate clouds. It probably shouldn't have surprised me how great the seafood was here across the board; I guess I've just grown accustomed to what's on offer too far inland all my life. Other ubiquitous dishes here are all kinds of seafood risottos, especially those made with squids and cuttlefish cooked in their own ink.

One of the more fascinating treats in the region is the proliferation of amaro, or bitters. Some were similar to Campari, while others were less sweet and more complex. Most were varying shades of darker brown like cola. All reflected wonderfully some facet of the rosemary herbal-scented and salty air all around us.
  
  

Dubrovnik #10

Our guidebook suggested that walking the perimeter of Dubrovnik's Old Town along the high walls which enclose it would take around an hour, or longer if a cruise ship is in port and the crowds are heavy. We found it could easily take a lot longer with very few people up there with us to interrupt the imagination. 

The cliff-top walls reach as high as 25 meters. At one point in its history, all the city's capable citizens were made to reinforce the walls and build an additional exterior fortress based on rumors of a coming war between the Ottomans and western powers. What must it have been like to live in such a highly civilized merchant city surrounded by the ever-present threat to its existence that made such walls necessary? 

Much more recently (16 years ago), what was it like when the city's fortifications protected it's citizens once again during the siege by the former Yugoslav Army when a steady rain of shells fell for half a year? The variations in roof tile colors seen today hint at the experience. Somehow even more moving than this sight is that of the cable car towers running up the mountainside above the city. While Dubrovnik is becoming quite popular with tourists once again, the empty poles are all that remain of this once popular overlook ride.

  

  

Dubrovnik #9

One day, walking along with the Placa Stradun where there were a lot of pigeons chasing bits of food and young kids chasing pigeons, we sat down on a bench to catch up with our map or something. Not long after we stopped, we noticed that our stillness seemed to be attracting the pigeons. Quite a number of them eventually wandered over by us to sit down, fluff up their feathers and go to sleep. 

    

    

Dubrovnik #8

One day, on a whim we entered the apothecary museum inside a Franciscan monastery without really knowing what was inside. We'd read that it was the oldest continuously operating pharmacy in Europe, a fact that wasn't overly compelling on its own, but what the heck...

Inside we were surprised by the absorbing collection of medieval religious paintings and reliquaries on display. We later had to look up what a reliquary is, because what we saw were elaborate gothic finger and head-shaped metal containers labled things like "The finger reliquary of Saint ____". It turns out that apparently they really do contain bone or skull fragments of the saints.

  

  

Dubrovnik #7

The several days we spent in Dubrovnik were misty, threatening to rain, or rainy. Everywhere we saw school kids out walking, either home from school or in large groups as on a field trip, they always seemed to be carrying a giant umbrella. The umbrellas were the kind with a big hook for a handle and would usually come up to their shoulder if standing next to it.