When You Want an Orange Hat, Nothing Else Will Do

"And I wanted you to know I was thinking of you, and you look like a rose. Especially when I'm a long way from home. A long way from home."

Took my high-temperature act down to the bus station. This apartment is such a perfect location. Steps from everything. I can be in the market or the palace in under five minutes. There are banks and convenience stores. There are THREE 24-hour bakeries.

And the city's main bus terminal is very close. Just perfect.  Backpack full of lenses and books, I made my ride with no trouble. They only take cash, though, and I'm starting to wonder if I'll be light by this time next week. I budgeted for using the card at train stations.

But, money worries are for the storks! The main concern on this afternoon jaunt was running out of light. Would suck to get all the way to Sibenik and be unable to photograph anything. I mean, what am I supposed to do, just enjoy the place?

The main missions were to take pics of the heads on the side of the Cathedral of St. Jacob and to buy a Sibenik Hat, which is supposed to be "one of the most famous and recognizable hats in all the world." Why not?

The outset of the trip took me around corners of Split I hadn't seen yet. Buses are good for that. They're happy to go a few more blocks than you want to walk. I saw a giant mural of a Confederate flag on the side of a building. What was that all about?

We rode on through the fog. I cozied up with Shardik by Richard Adams. It's pretty dense and I kept putting it down. It's one of those things you can really only read on a long bus ride where there are no other distractions. I wasn't enjoying it, but I was sort of enjoying not enjoying it.

I was also keeping an eye on the sun. If it went behind the hills before I got to Sibenik.... moan,,,,worry!

We passed through tiny Trogir. Didn't seem to have much to recommend it, but maybe its treasures were hidden. Tiny Trogir Treasures. The book is one of those old paperbacks where the pages are edged in red for some reason, so it felt like a heavy brick. Hard to read, tough to carry, a big red brick.

I decided to just sleep and let the fever pass. Dozed with a wary eye on the sun. Was it dipping too far down, would I be able to...zzzz.

Coughed myself awake on the outskirts. Dazzled by some street murals outside the station, Haven't seen a lot of street art so far, so it was a happy surprise. But would I be able to get back there on foot?

Pulled into a sweet little station with the sun low in the sky. Someone had painted a dolphin on the side of a newspaper stand. The old town was supposed to be a twenty-minute walk from the station, but.. the light. I grabbed a cab.

It was such a short ride, he drove in circles to make it worth his while. So it took fifteen minutes anyway. Joke was on me! But, on one of his unnecessary turns, we passed the murals again, and I figured out how to walk to them, so the joke was on him!

He pointed to some stairs, I gave him more precious cash from my dwindling supply and ran to the cathedral. There it was! It was all right. It's lined with all these crazy heads with great expressions. You feel like they're accurate representations of real people. Like, if the real people were around, you would know whose head was whose!

I snapped shots with abandon. Plenty of light! Just sprinkles of rain. The town was deserted. I wandered through the random, crooked streets and listened to my footsteps echo back. Haunted little seaside movie set.

It was like one of those Lovecraft stories where the town gets given up to Dagon the Fish God. Robed dudes with gills would come out of a cellar any moment now. My own head would be on the side of the cathedral in the morning!

I saw a public ashtray that looked like one of the hats, but no place selling them. Was I not to have one? What kind of tourist town was this? I pictured wheeled carts full of them. I pictured donkeys wearing the hats and drawing the carts.

The cold was starting to catch up with me, so I went deeper into the labyrinth looking for coffee. Even when you get coffee here, though, it's nothing to hold. Back home, I'll buy a coffee and just walk around with it, for the warmth that's in it. Here, the coffees are so small, they often evaporate before you take a sip.

God, love them, though. May the lord bless and keep all hatless small-coffee vendors.

On the search for a drink, a miracle! A woman was moving in the darkness of a closed gift shop. In the window... a hat

I rapped on the window, and she looked up. Startled. A man I hadn't seen was waiting outside for her. Was she in there grabbing cash for a weekend out? I'm not normally pushy, but this seemed like my only shot at getting one of these orange and black toppers! So, I was like, "Hat hat hat! Hey, hat! For my head!"

I mimed putting a hat on my head. I mimed adjusting it. She frowned and looked at her watch. The man frowned. They exchanged grunts. I walked in the shop. I pointed to the hat. My backpack knocked some magnets off of a display.

The hat was expensive (around $40) and I didn't want to use up the rest of my cash. I might not have been able to make it back home otherwise. She took my card. The card worked, She was muttering the whole time. The man outside was making "let's go!" sounds.

I signed, and she handed me the hat! Victory, but at what cost?!*

*(Forty bucks)

Then she was like, "Ach!" and I was like, "Ungh?" and she was like, "Uh..." and she pointed to her watch and drew a 30 and a lightning bolt on a piece of paper. I was mystified.

She was like, "You speak English?" and I was like, "Yes," and she was like, "We closed, so it is hard to... I have with card."

I was like, "Did the card not go through?" and she was like, "Go through?" and she pointed to the lightning bolt. Then the man was like, "Orchard Dobry!" and she was like, "Never mind!" I took the hat and left.

The only thing I can think of is that after hours they have to record credit card sales differently. Because the computer resets? Or something?

I shoved it in my pack. All missions accomplished. Now to double back and get those murals. There was only a sliver of light left. I was totally congested and my eyes were leaking. Worth it. Probably! How profits a man if he gaineth an expensive novelty hat and loseth his own soul?

Walked along the sea and saw some beautiful seabirds and a pair of swans. I laughed to myself thinking about them having matching "Mate4lyfe!" tattoos. I loved listening to the ringing of ships in the harbor. Metal on metal in the wind.

Scrambled around the highway. You're able to get up to where the murals are, but you're not really encouraged to. Possible doesn't always equal permissible. This day had begun with a terrifying climb up a windy bell tower and was ending with a dark, wet walk under a construction site.

There was just enough light left to get them. I had to run across a few lanes of traffic. I had my mother in mind the whole time. Made my way back through a rusty train yard and found the bus station again. I was proper sick now. All the adrenaline of worry and adventure was gone.

Bought a ticket back with my remaining limp bills. Found a swallow of coffee and boarded the bus back to Split.

On the ride back, I kept emptying my nose into my sleeve and hugging my backpack, careful not to crush the hat. I wondered if it had headache-curing properties. I also wondered if my body was exaggerating the sickness to keep me from picking up Shardik again.

Some bad boys in the back were "rapping" and the driver kept telling them to shut up.

They pronounced the "n word" as "nicka."

So it was like a bunch of Croatian and then, "I got a hundred-dollar suit, nicka!" "You see the size of my gun, nicka?"

They were quoting a movie I didn't know when I fell asleep.

Bell Towers and Fish Markets

"But it would be nice," said the waiter, "if the lady felt hungry in the night, for her to be able to put out her hand and find a piece of cold palatschinken by her bed."

I woke up early. The flight gave me a little headache, but it probably came from not sleeping. Like, you lose track. I was probably awake for over twenty-four hours without really being aware of it. I mean, you just go from shuttle to plane to moving sidewalk, and there's no sense of time.

Even after sleep, though, the headache was still there, but... I don't have time for that. Hit it with some oranges and almonds and went out into the freezing rain. There's a famous coin laundry here, apparently a rarity in Croatia, and I needed to get the pee out of my clothes, so I shoved them in a tote.

Howling winds and seaside terror. but when will I be in Split again?

Despite the conditions, I knelt in doorways and took pics. It was a wet walk to the palace, but you have to live your life!

A few people were slipping around on the slick marble. An old woman sold cheese under an umbrella. She gave me the most grandmotherly look. Come and try my cheese, you are like my own son. I am your mother. Buy from me, my child. Be good to your mother.

I climbed the bell tower of the Cathedral of St. Dominus. It was... pretty terrifying. The stairs are chunks of marble, and they're really high, so you have to make giant climbing motions, but, the ceiling is very low, so there's a lot of stooping and head smacking and cursing and slipping.

The higher I got, the more dangerous it got, especially because of the bag of laundry. The wind was filling it and pulling me in crazy directions. I wasn't in danger of falling off the tower, but there was serious concern I would get blown down the fucking stairs.

I was also afraid of losing my hat. Got some crazy, shaky pictures of the cityscape, tagged the top and headed down. I took thirty seconds to pretend I was a guard watching out for approaching ships. The view of the sea was gorgeous.

At the bottom again, I saw a couple buying tickets to go up. I don't know how two people can climb that thing at once or how they handle it during the season, because that place is a death trap. A beautiful death trap.

Got some pics of a cracked old sphinx. Diocletian collected them. Despite all the murdering, he seems like an interesting guy with cool taste. Found the laundromat. I was gonna sit there and read, but the lady was like, "I will do your laundry, you have to live your life!"  So, I dropped it off and high-tailed it out of there before she could smell it.

Took a windy walk by the sea. The surf was crashing on the rocks, the lighthouse was clinging to the hills for dear life. A stray dog seemed to be loving it all. I saw a seagull with what looked like a shoe insert in his mouth. The gulls were having a carnival over the waves.

I got some coffee at a place with old men drinking thimble-sized lattes. They got quiet when I walked in. In the distance, a clock chimed the hour. The music in the coffee place was Zamfir, master of the pan flute playing the greatest hits of Bryan Adams.

Head was still hurting, so I bought some aspirin from a place with a big green cross outside. The lady was like, "Thees aspirin does not have the vitameens!" and I was like, "That's a shame!"

On the way home, I saw a proud old potato farmer in a yellow raincoat. I had cut through the Green Market, and everyone else had tables full of bright oranges and plump dates, but he had a sad bag of potatoes. He glared at me as if to say, "I made these myself. I formed them in the earth!"

I wanted to help him out, but what would I do with a raw potato? Bake it in my suitcase?

Got home, head killing me. All stuffed up. Fever. Fuck. Hit it with another orange. Lay down a little bit. A man with a push broom mustache came up to the window and looked in. Get your kicks somewhere else!

Couldn't sleep, so I uploaded and edited the pictures. Had some tea and oranges that came all the way from China, and went back out to get the laundry. I only brought one lens, because I figured it would be a quick shot.

There's a famous statue I had missed, and I wanted to get it.

In my search for it, I got... so.... lost. I didn't know you could get lost here. There's the sea, there's a giant bell tower, there are all these things to orient you. I had a map!

And yet!

What happened was, the statue, one of the most famous landmarks in Split is being restored. It's in an enormous box. A shame, since you're supposed to rub its toe and get rich. I kept pushing forward hoping to find the statue, but it wasn't anywhere to be found. Then I saw a cat and followed it, and it led me wildly astray.

Stupid statue! Wicked cat! I was in the suburbs somewhere. How? None of the streets were on the map. It was like I'd gone through a portal into another realm. I mean, it was beautiful. The people who live here live in a nice place. Hills and courtyards and scenic highways. Old women sweeping with branch brooms.

But every time I thought I was heading to the sea, I just got further and further away. It was like a fairy tale curse. Was I still home in a fever dream? Was it real?

Finally asked a postman, and he sent me all over the damn place. But he was right. I checked with a baker, and then with some beautiful children. Found my way to the laundry.

My clothes smelled beautiful. Like Croatian flowers!

I saw a pregnant cat sniffing wet macaroni and my heart broke. My nose ran and tears were in my eyes. I stopped into a bakery to get some napkins and realized I was hungry.

In the case, a roll had some kind of dark paste leaking out of it, and I couldn't tell if it was meat or chocolate. There was no label, and it was next to an obvious ham sandwich but also a powdered doughnut. This place didn't have sections.

I pointed at it and the baker said, "Take?" And I said, "Is it sweet?" And she said, "What? I not..." She shrugged. "Um.... what's in it?" "Take?" Her gloved hand hovered over it. I didn't want dessert, I wanted lunch, but I couldn't figure out how to mime "sweet" or "savory" and if she would get it.

I was afraid if I said, "Chocolate?" and it was chocolate, she would grab it and put it in the bag. I decided to do without, but by some miracle, she said, "Is salty! Salty roll." How had she sensed what my issue was? Bless her. I smiled and nodded, and the glove struck!

I thought I would share it with the cat, but she was gone.

She missed out, that was some killer meat paste.

Stumbled into a fish market. My god. It was the most beautiful place. The colorful bounty of the sea. They had everything. Krakens, gulper eels, giant octopuses. It was stunning. The vendors held the fish up in people's faces to show how fresh they were.

It was nothing like Seattle, where the fish is pleasantly displayed on ice. There were hag fish and crabs and shrimp twitching their fragile legs. I was moved by the whole experience. It all seemed so.. ancient. Like, this is an old city, but the ruins just seem like architecture to me or museum stuff. Sterile.

This experience was probably what it was like two thousand years ago. Fishermen pulling fish out of the water in the morning and selling it on shore in the afternoon. I'm not articulating it very well. I have a serious brain fever. It was emotional. My face betrayed it all.

Got back home. Hot breath from my nostrils was burning my lips. Sick as all hell. Hit it with another orange and some of the vitaminless aspirin. Lay down with my face in the fresh fresh clothes. There was a bus to Sibenik in an hour. Would I make it? Why would I do that?

Closed my eyes. It was raining again. I listened to it come down.

I got up and put my hat back on. The bus was leaving in thirty minutes. I put an orange in one pocket and some napkins in the other. You have to live your life.

Fresh Bread and Cold Marble

"What is there to confess that is worthwhile or useful? What has happened to us has happened to everyone or only to us; if to everyone, then it's no novelty, and if only to us, then it won't be understood."

There was a flash snowstorm in Frankfurt, and the view outside the large windows was spectacular. The world looked like a giant souvenir of itself.

You have to go through security again, so I did, and they took a lot of interest in my boots and camera. They took them away from me and bade me follow them to a private office. A few swipes and a footrub later, I was back in business. Random?

There must have been a shift change at all the little kiosks, because service was weirdly surly.

The man in front of me was trying to get a pack of Gauloises, and he was snapped at for taking too long to decide which flavor. Poor man. Being a smoker makes his life hard enough already. There was a giant collection of Uncle Scrooge comics called "Mammut" and I had time to wonder if they called him that here because of Mammon, the god of money.

I thought that was a pretty good name for him. Like, it's more of a cross-cultural reference point than Scrooge is. How many Bosniaks have read A Christmas Carol?

Even though the airport is very large, it's still not large enough to have gates for all the planes that want to take off, so you go through the ticket process, and board a bus, and then the bus drives forever and ever to the plane, and then you stand in the snow while Zagor and Asra fumble with their carry-ons.

But then you're on! And they give you crackers shaped like a plane with pretzels shaped like clouds! I sure loved that. Then, you look outside the window and what looks like a bag of dice spilled in a meadow is Split! Beautiful white houses dotting green hills. Rising and falling most spectacularly and surrounded by crystal blue water. Welcome to a postcard. Hope you like living in a postcard.

I got off. The thug behind the passport desk stamped my visa with no questions. I was expecting the whole "Why are you in Split? Who are staying with? How many days! For what purpose!? Your camera has been swiped recently? Why, and by whom? Seahawks or Patriots!? How many points?"

I got some raccoon bucks at an airport bank, so now I had a pocket full of Euros, a backpack full of dollars, and fist full of Kuna. No one can deny me an opportunity to waste my money now!

An older dude with a leather jacket and a full head of salt-and-pepper hair had a sign that said SIMON on it, and that meant me! I walked up waving my hand like a prom queen.

He said, "Ah, I will take you to the apartment." "Thank you," I said. "I do not speak very much English," he said. "That's all right," I said. I followed him out into the Splitian afternoon. Wide, blue skies. You'll find none of your German snow here! This is Croatia! We don't allow it.

In the car, the driver placed the name sign on the dashboard. Written on the back it said, "I will take you to the apartment" and "I do not speak very much English" with the Croatian translations beneath.

It made me love him and also whoever wrote that out to help him. When we were on the road, he tried to speak a little, but he didn't understand my answers.

He put in a CD. "Bad Romance" started playing, and I laughed. "Lady GaGa," he said. His English was perfect.

Long, winding little drive to the city. A lot of construction on the outskirts. A million billboards for Hajduk, the local football team. Apparently they're very good and have major rivalry with a team in Zagreb. I'll look it up. The little checkerboard logo was everywhere and on everything.

We passed a gas station with a mammoth logo. It was called Mammut. The penny dropped. They were saying it was a huge collection of Uncle Scrooge comics. They don't call him Mammut. They call the enormous digest a mammoth collection. Gah!

When we turned into the city, it felt like Eastern Europe. Tiny streets, old people with bags of vegetables, ugly pharmacies. Beautiful. Home.

He dropped me off in front of an alley next to a bunch of booths. When I paid him, he showed me his phone screen. I think he was trying to tell me it was going to rain? There were clouds on it? He was nice.

My host met me in front of the alley and took me in it. Ana. Her name is Ana. Through the entrance was a wonderland. I was overcome with joy. Winding marble streets, too thin for two people to walk side by side. Apartments piled on top of one another all higgledy piggledy. Hateful stencil art.

Ana was very very nice. Gave me a bowl of apples, gave me a bowl of almonds, gave me a jar of candied lemon peel! She gave me a map. She showed me how to turn on the hot water. It was heaven in a studio.

She left, and I passed out. It was 3pm, and there was plenty of light, and I was itching to get out there. Also, the driver's prophecy was for rain in the morning! But I sure didn't sleep well on the plane, so... I just... lay down... for a second... to rest... my eyes.

Woke up five hours later. Pitch black. I took a shower (remembering to hit the hot water button) and unpacked. My clothes all stank of cat piss.

Ruggles.

I couldn't wear them. Ruggles.

Put on my wrinkly old airplane clothes, bundled up and went out.

There were cats everywhere. It was purest heaven. Were they drawn by Ruggles' scent? If so, he did me a favor. I loved seeing them poke their little noses out of every crevice. They padded along the marble streets with sure paws. I followed them around corners.

There were a few tourists out and a few locals. Nothing serious. I found a 24-hour bakery (awesome) and got some dinner. Some sort of cheese roll and a giant hunk of what looked like baklava. I spent a lot of useless brain power talking to it: "Now, if you've got layers of phyllo dough and walnuts, you just might be a baklava. Yeah, if you're syrupy and flaky and found in the Greek section of the bakery... I'm thinking you're a baklava."  I couldn't stop doing it.

Wandered into the old town (cats! everywhere!) and bumped right into Diocletian's palace. Hello, Saintmaker. I was the only one there. It was like that scene in Vanilla Sky where Tom Cruise runs through an abandoned Times Square.

With a few more cats.

The party area is called Riva, and I half-heartedly looked around for it. Saw a few open coffee shops. Heard faraway laughter echoing off the marble. I made myself laugh thinking about asking someone to "take me to the Riva."

Found it! Abandoned!  Went home. Had kind of a travel headache, so I ate an apple, made some tea and went back to bed.

When it's light, I'll finally get to take some pictures. I also need to find a laundrette.

If you've been wearing the same clothes for 36 hours because all your other clothes smell like cat pee... you just might be a baklava.

The Flight to Split

"We have art so as not to perish from the truth"

I scheduled an afternoon flight so I could sleep in and have a morning, but I was needed at the office on a mission of vital importance! So I went in for an early meeting. That gave my coworkers a a chance to see my bags! Completed the mission and hopped on the LINK. 

When you go to Eastern Europe, you stop in Germany first, and if you stop in Germany, you're probably taking Lufthansa. The Seattle airport is dominated by Alaska Airlines, so everyone else gets shoved into a sad little corner of the terminal. It's a long walk.

A pleasant one this time, though, since the whole place was tricked out for folks headed to Arizona for the Super Bowl. Seahawks decorations were everywhere, some made by children. The ticketing counters all had blue and green balloons and big mylar footballs floating around.

It is supremely charming and making me a little homesick before I've left home.

I'm trying a new travel jacket, and it's cool, I reckon, but it doesn't match any of my clothes. I spent a lot of time imagining myself looking nicer in the other one. I had plenty of time to think on the long walk to the counter.

At the self-service ticket machine a pictorial warning came up warning me not to bring flammables or poisons or other forbidden materials. Next to the skull and cross bones and the sinister canister was a drawing of a giant horseshoe-shaped cartoon magnet, and that cracked me up. 

Are those even real?

Security was no problem. On the escalator to my gate, the mesh pocket of a man's backpack was full of broken chunks of candy cane. I was strangely fascinated by it and stared at the jagged chunks the whole ride up.

Got some Euros at the Ripoff Counter. Got some sushi, since there was no line. Got on the plane. I needed the Euros for the taxi scheduled to pick me up in Split. My host wrote: 

"Hello, so the taxi will wait for you on airport with a paper on which will be writed your name so you will recognize him." 

He wants Euros and not Croatian currency, which is called the Kuna. The abbreviation is HRK, and I don't know why. I've been saying "HRK Kuna Matata" and getting angry with myself. 

Flight was fine. They sure feed you. Everyone watched Planet of the Apes movies with German subtitles. The safety film was a weird 3D animation thing with an everyman wearing a giant wedding ring. He was traveling with a cartoon daughter who looked nothing like him. When shit went down, he put the mask on himself first and then helped her. 

When the hot food arrived it was wrapped in sizzling foil, and you could hear everyone hissing in their native tongue when they touched it. The Germans whispered "Autsch!"

Whoopie once, Whoopie twice, the meal was chicken, bread, and rice. 

I finished The Goldfinch. 900 pages that thing was. I ended up half liking it. The last thirty pages is a nihilistic yawp about how we're only on this Earth to suffer. It salvaged the whole book for me. You know what, lady. I was gonna give you two stars, but that rant bumped you up to three. 

Then I read a bunch about Split.

The Roman Emperor Diocletian was from the area, so he had a big palace built there to retire in. He was the first Roman emperor to retire. The others all died in office. He spent his old age gardening instead of sniffing figs to see if he was going to be poisoned by an heir. 

He was also the most savage persecutor of Christians. They say he's responsible for the most Saints. Which I thought was pretty badass. He was forever strapping folks to wheels and tying folks to posts and feeding folks to lions. 

That would be a good nickname, The Saintmaker! 

Then I read some essays by George Bernard Shaw, a major literary figure of whom I am largely ignorant. He sure was awesome. The gist of this one was, "Hey, critics, if you don't like my lyrics, y'all can press fast forward!"

Then I dozed, and then the pilot woke us up to tell us it was the oldest flight attendant's last flight. She had worked for Lufthansa for forty years. I figured if she'd been there that long, she could have let us sleep for another ten minutes.

 Then I was in Frankfort for the connecting flight. This place is all twisted pretzels and precise timepieces. 

In a few hours I'll see my name writed on a card and be whisked to Diocletian's Palace of Persecution. 

Preparation for the Journey

"He has a head like the best-known satyr in the Louvre and an air of vine-leaves about the brow, though he drinks little. He is perpetually drunk on what comes out of his mouth, not what goes into it."

I leave for Croatia in the morning, a ten-day trip which should take me up and down the coast with little dips into the wintery interior. In recent years, it's become an under-the-radar summer destination for cruise ships and wealthy vacationers.

Beaches and islands. Boating and tanning.

But I'll be there in the "off-season" to see how the locals live and to help them celebrate karneval. 

Should be a week of masked balls, frozen waterfalls, and Roman ruins threaded with holiday lights.

It's part of the Eastern European tour I've been on over the last few years, and I hope to use some lessons from the previous trips to make this one as efficiently exciting as possible. I'm also going to challenge myself to take more pictures of landscapes and people, since I'm more-usually drawn to street art and architecture.

I'll be using my two small leather bags to carry my camera lenses, clothes, laptop, and books. I've selected eight books I want to read on trains and buses, and I'll shed them as I finish them. I usually start with the heaviest. This time it will be some Richard Adams, Dashiell Hammet, and the big one: Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West.

That last one's a crazy monster, and I'm unlikely to finish it. Being her journal of a "Yugoslavian" vacation, it's the perfect companion for this trip, though, and I'll certainly skip to the chapters that discuss the place where I happen to be. It won't really be a guide book, since it's eighty years old, and there have been a barrel full of wars since it was written, but it should give a sense of atmosphere and charm.

I'm trying an experiment this time where I'll park in one city for many days in a row and take day trips radiating outward from it. The first four nights will be in Split. That's also where I'm flying in and out. It's famous mostly for the ruins of Diocletian's Palace, and it's a reasonably central location that will let me get to some of the big sights/sites and back with no hassle.

I'm going to list the proposed itinerary here and check back at the end of the trip to see how closely I stick to it. I've pre-booked apartments for most of the nights, but there are a few flex dates.

DAY 1 - Land in Split in the afternoon, locate the apartment, explore Split.

DAY 2 - Bus up the coast to see Sibenik to buy a famous hat. Bus further up the coast to see Zadar's famous Sea Organ. Bus back to Split.

DAY 3 - Day trip to Plitvice National Park. Back to Split

DAY 4 - If not worn out.... full day trip to Mostar and Sarajevo. Last night in Split

DAY 5 - Dubrovnik for the Festival of St. Blaise. Explore Dubrovnik. Sleep in Dubrovnik

DAY 6 - Day Two of the Festival, a national holiday. Explore Dubrovnik. Sleep in Dubrovnik.

DAY 7 - Day trip to Montenegro. Sleep in Dubrovnik (No apartment booked yet!)

DAY 8 - Dawn flight to Zagreb. Explore Zagreb and sleep there. (No apt. booked yet)

DAY 9 - Early bus to Pula. See James Joyce-related nonsense and giant Roman ruin. Afternoon bus to Rijeka. Explore. Sleep. (Apt booked!)

DAY 10 - Massive children's costume carnival in Rijeka. Midnight hell ride to airport for 7am flight!

That's it. A few grey (falcon) areas to keep it interesting, and a whole boneyard of things to do and see. Will it be wildly different? Probably, but it's wonderful to dream. You're innocent when you dream.

It will be a great opportunity to think, write, and read, and those are the things I like best. Let's see what happens.