Croatia-Kalambaka

Here are the highlight photos from Florence.

And from Venice.

After Venice I went to Split, which is right on the coast of Croatia. I arrived at a whopping 4 in the morning, but I was able to sneak into my Hostel's waiting area and slept pretty soundly on one of the couches (reception opened at 9).

When I woke up, I explored a bit of the town including one nice view from the top of Diocletian's palace. Then I went in search of a statue in Dubrovnik of someone who I am told has a lucky toe. People come from all over the world to touch his toe and as a result it is solid gold from so many people rubbing it all the time. So I rubbed a lucky toe, then after that I hit the beach.

Dinner in Split was something that satisfied a long overdue craving. The craving being food that isn't pasta. I ate at a really great restaurant called Fife. The prices were reasonable and the portions were huge and for the first time in about three weeks I ate food that actually stuck to my ribs.

On the waiter's recommendation I ordered Lamb Stew, which was, just, incredible. And having grown up in the land where comfort food runs rampant makes it pretty unusual for anyone to make a stew that really knocks my socks off. With the food I had a local drink, pelinkovac, which is like a sweeter version of jagermeister. When I got back I watched a movie with new friends at the hostel and then went to sleep.

The next day I went to the local market to pick up some food for the road to Dubrovnik. The markets in Split were really the most authentic looking things I've ever seen; food looked like it had been picked from backyards and there were old Croatian Nonnas in headscarves peddling everything. I picked up some of the usual staples: bread, cheese, oranges, bananas, and apples, I also picked up a jar of some local honey, just because it looked s'damn good.

The road to Dubrovnik is windy and steep. It is very easy to get motionsickness in Croatia, especially since the bus drivers here drive like maniacs. Anyway, I hobbled off the bus in Dubrovnik, clutching my stomach and wheezing a bit.

It's impossible to describe Dubrovnik without also describing my hostel there, because really so much of my good times in Dubrovnik was tied up with it. My hostel was family run, an amazing couple who are simply referred to as "Momma" and "Poppa". In retrospect I call them "Momma Dubrovnik" and "Poppa Dubrovnik". Momma and Poppa have six children (three boys and three girls, the youngest one is 24) who help them run the hostel. Their son, Jessup, picked me up and the bus stop and drove us to the hostel. Once there they showed me around and took me upstairs to their aparment, where Momma was cooking dinner. It smelled delicious.

After going over just about everything Dubrovnik had to offer, Jessup offered me cookies and a welcome drink (plum brandy with honey. Yum!) and then I walked down a promenade at the beach.

Sidenote: the thing about growing up in Maine with a family that splits its time pretty evenly between the ocean and the mountains is that I've seen a lot of gorgeous sunsets. Really, so many that I've become completely desensitized. So, when I was walking down the promenade Luke kept oohing and aahing over the sunset and I was too busy noticing the tennis match going on to my right. The guy couldn't serve and his instructor was standing right there. He must have foot faulted like, four times. Pffft.

My first full day in Dubrovnik I explored the old town, city walls and ruins and whatnot. After that I hit the beach.

When I got back, I went up to the family kitchen to talk with Momma a bit. Momma is a very sweet lady with a big smile and a very cute understated laugh. She speaks a few langauges very well. I asked her about her hostel and its success and she told me that if you put some of yourself into something, people notice and appreciate it. Momma is very wise. I asked if I could help prepare dinner and she kept insisting I sit still while she waited on me. So I sat in a chair facing the window and therefore the gorgeous view of the mountains while Momma placed cookies, fresh bread, glasses of wine, and peppermint tea in front of me. When everyone came up for dinner Momma had made homemade Goulash with two types of cake, and fresh bread. Poppa came in with wine his brother made and homemade spirits. I tried not to drink too mcuh but Poppa is exceptionally good at filling wine glasses when the person isn't looking. Momma was really a very good cook, this, coupled with the fact that I hadn't had a home cooked meal since...god I don't even know how long, I don't even think I had a home cooked meal for weeks in the states before I left...made me a very happy camper.

After dinner I watched Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom with some new friends: a British hitchhiker, an Australian traveler and a quiet Canadian girl. That made me a VERY happy camper. I fell asleep on the couch and woke up when Indy almost gets his heart torn out on the bridge. Such a good movie.

Another sidenote: it's, like, impossible to get into and out of Croatia. My next stop was Greece and I had to take a bus then a plane then two trains in order to get here. Blah.

I finally made it though. So after a long day of travel that was actually two days I arrived in Kalambaka. And that's where I am right now.

I woke up early this morning after a very good night's rest I got a ride up to a monastary called Gran Meteora, and since it was raining and foggy it was pretty haunting. From the monastary I walked back down to my hostel, admiring the impressively huge cliffs along the way. I also lip synced as I listened to The Temptationsas on my iPod. It was a pretty great day for me.

I saw a bit of Thessaloniki on my way to Kalambaka, which was nice. It looks like a pretty cool city, I'll have to make a point of going back there at some point.

In the mean time, the next stop is Athens, then I'm flying to Istanbul. Hopefully I'll be able to recover a little bit in the Turkish bath houses. With all my bug bites, my chapped lips, sunburns, calloused skin, and cracking joins I'm starting to really look like a vagabond.