Birthday suits and Split

“Bwar! Bwarrrrrrrr!” Shaun yelled as soon as she was submerged in the icy Adriatic.

“Shhh,” I had urged her, moving my body to keep warm in the water. “No one knows we are here.”

Despite our best efforts to keep quiet, we couldn’t. Our smiles, our squeals of discomfort and adrenaline as the frigid water swirled around our bodies, our elation at getting away with it,  there was no way we could be silenced.

After an epic evening in Split, my new friend and I had decided now was the perfect time to go skinny dipping in the Adriatic Sea.

I knew if I would have declined her suggestion there was a good chance I would never do it. And, I also knew there was a good chance if I had turned it down, such an opportune moment might never present itself again. I had made it my goal to go outside of my comfort zone, and this certainly did just that.

So, I did what any slightly intoxicated traveler in a foreign land would do — hastily removed all of my clothes, threw them on the sidewalk next to the water, and, along with Shaun, plunged into the inky black sea.

The first thing I felt was bliss.

I was naked. In the Adriatic Sea. Thousands and thousands of miles away from my norm. And it felt absolutely amazing. Empowering. FREE.

The second thing I felt was the cold water seeping into my pores. During the day, in the heat of the sun, the water had still been somewhat chilly. But, it was tolerable because of the daylight. And, because who on earth would let the slightly not warm water stop them from experiencing Split’s greenblue beauty? I sure wasn’t.

But, at night with nothing to keep you warm except some alcohol coursing through your blood, it was damn cold.

The third thing I felt was pain. Continue reading “Birthday suits and Split”

Goal: Nudie beach

In the days leading up to Croatia I decided this trip was going to be different for me. I was going to challenge myself. I looked into sea kayaking trips, but those required too much time. I contemplated renting bikes and biking the coast, but wasn’t sure if it was a safe option given my propensity to bite it. So, I decided I would do something I would NEVER do in America — go to a nude beach.

The night I lay in bed in Zadar, I scanned the pages of my Lonely Planet book and read about a few beaches that welcomed the naked traveler. I starred, circled, wrote down those names and made a silent vow to take my clothes off and dive into the Adriatic before my trip was complete.

When I actually did throw my clothes and comfort-level to the wind, it wasn’t at one of those nudie beaches I had jotted down. In fact, it was in Split.Continue reading “Goal: Nudie beach”

Instantaneous enlightenment on the Adriatic

I stood, trusty bag at my side, next to the catamaran docked at Split’s port, waiting. My bloodshot eyes told the tale of the night before, even though my body did not. It was nearly 11:30 a.m. Wednesday morning, and I was pretty sure amidst sipping the local Croatian beer and shots of  Jagermeister the night before, plans had been made to meet at the ferry and take the 11:30 boat to one of Croatia’s island gem’s – Hvar.

However, as I walked onto the boat, my recollections and the truth seemed to be battling it out.

Earlier that morning, a group of us were at a “nightclub” overlooking the beach, toasting a night out in one of the most stunning places most of us had ever been.

And even earlier, I had been on the beach with Simon, soaking in the warm Adriatic Sun and marveling that even hundreds of yards out into the aquamarine glittery water, my feet could still touch the sea floor with no problem, and I could see the color of nail polish adorning the smallest of my toes.

The Adriatic Sea had certainly taken ahold of me that sunny Tuesday afternoon. Just feeling its cool water rush over me as I swam out, deeper and deeper, washed a sense of calm over me. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

And Simon had, in one brief instance, managed to change my mindset on life – and had unexpectedly made me question everything I had essentially trusted up until that moment as fact.Continue reading “Instantaneous enlightenment on the Adriatic”

This could be heaven …

 

When traveling to old cities with no real streets or cars, it is nearly impossible to give directions. To a visitor, simply saying walk until you see the Lacoste doesn’t cut it. Well, it does, but chances are, the visitor wont find it on the first go. In asking for guidance throughout my trip, the most common thing spoken was “Just go that way and then ask again.”

So, that’s what I did.

When I got off the (right) bus in Split, bag in tow, I was revived. Refreshed. So incredibly excited to be there. Friends that had been there, both in America and people I had met along the way, spoke highly of this Adriatic town. And, wow. It did not disappoint. Even in the dark of night when I arrived, wandering from the bus station to the old town, asking directions of shop owners, servers and passersby along the way,  I remained struck by the city’s ancient beauty.

The bus station is on the eastern side of the harbour, so I had to talk down Obala Hrvatskog Narodnog Preporoda — the waterfront promenade known as Riva — to get into Diocletian’s Palace — which according to Lonely
Planet, is not only a Roman ruin, but the “living soul of Split.” Within the palace there are more than 200 buildings, and more than 3,000 inhabitants, along with the multitude of little shops (and bigger, more commercial shops, restaurants and cafes).

I found Booze & Snooze (aka Split Hostel), tucked behind the newstand in the old town promenade. A single red sign hung in the alley, pointing backpackers up a set of stone stairs, past a terrace and to the reception. Owned by two Aussie Croats, the hostel is known for its social setting, regularly leading packers on tours of the town, hitting up pubs throughout the old town, allowing travelers to get a guided tour of the nightlife.

The hostel, although small in size, proved to be the turning point in my trip. Not that the entire trip up to that point had been amazing, but in terms of setting the course for the rest of my trip, this was the instigator.

After checking in and being informed a group of people were heading to a pub shortly, I grabbed a quick bite down the promenade at a delicious smoothie/sandwich/salad shop (also owned by an Aussie) and returned, beer in hand, to join the backpackers already sitting outside, enjoying the fresh Adriatic night air, drinking and sharing their travel stories. Simon, the Aussie backpacker, stood out amongst the others in our group.

The dark-haired, light eyed and incredibly handsome traveler had previously been in Vis for a wedding, spending three weeks on the island, enjoying the relaxed culture with his family and friends. Split was only his second stop on his trip, which was planned to end on Dec. 5 with a flight from Cairo taking him back home.

“It’s my goal to miss that flight home. I want to stay in Europe until I miss me mum,” he had said.

There was no doubt in my mind he would not do just that.Continue reading “This could be heaven …”

A BRIEF Intermission — Fall Foliage Photo Essay 10.24.09

Following the heart-warming travel misadventures, here’s a pretty little break for your eyes — photos from a drive through NE Georgia/Appalachians to check out the turning of the leaves at their peak. While the photos don’t do the warm orange, golds and red justice, you get the point. For those that have never had the pleasure of viewing the turning of the leaves in person, trust. It is a truly breathtakingly colorful nature experience.

I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers

 

The thing about traveling is you learn to roll with the punches.

Flight delayed? No problem. I’ll just go to the bar, grab a nice glass of red wine.

Flight canceled? Well, ok. I will get on the phone and re-book on another flight if the airline doesn’t do so for me. I’ve even slept in an airport (pre 9/11) to catch a flight the next morning.

Basically, I have learned you just do what you need to do to make it from Point A to Point B.

However, sometimes, there is only so much you can do. In reality, it is up to others most times to get you to your final destination.
Never has this rang more true than during my stay in Zadar.

After wandering through the old city, I stopped back into the internet cafe to check my e-mail one last time and then planned on catching a cab. I asked the girl at the cafe where I could catch a ride back to my Sobe and she told me I could do so on the other side of the foot bridge from the old city. I walked across the bridge, grabbing some amazing grilled corn from a street vendor on the way (I was starving and had not eaten since the feast Amy and I had earlier at Plitvice).  When I got across the bridge, there were no cabs. There was little activity going on at all. So, I stopped in to a restaurant and asked how I could get home.

“You will need to take the bus,” the server explained. “It is just up there. But, you have to hurry. It’s the last one tonight.”

With a new sense of urgency, I tossed the grilled corn that served as my dinner and booked it “just up there” (funny, no one ever really tells you exactly where, it’s always “just down there,” “or go a little and it will be there,” etc.). I got to the bus stop and looked at the map against the tagged plexiglass wall. It was a myriad of roads with large numbers overlayed, separating the city into numeric sections. I pulled out my map for reference, trying to make sense of it.

I figured out I needed to get on Bus 1. But, where to get off the bus to walk back to the Sobe? I had no clue.

Luckily, a girl was at the stop with me and she spoke a little bit of broken English. I showed her on my map where I was going.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I will take you there.”

So, we boarded the bus, and when it was time to get off, she got off with me, asking me to pull out the map again.

She looked at the map. Looked around at where we were. Looked at the map. Looked at me.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know where you are going.”

I was about to get snappy with her. It was past midnight. I was exhausted. I was sad. I was, now, apparently, LOST. But, I stopped myself. She didn’t need to help me in the first place. The fact that she even tried was enough for me.Continue reading “I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers”

The prettiest day trip ever

 

Before learning Jon was not going to be meeting me in Zadar, Amy and I adventured to Plitvice Lakes National Park.

After an hour of sleep, a haul to the bus station, and the pure adrenaline and hope pumping through my veins at what the day would bring, sinking into the seat on the bus was divine.

Quickly, my head bobbed to the window and sleep coursed through my blood. There were a few times along the way when my eyes would flutter open and I would marvel at the road we journeyed down. Amy had nudged me at one point to show me homes that had been destroyed by the 90s war; another time I was greeted with the sight of turn-of-the-century homes teetering over waterfalls and rushing waters.

When we finally arrived to Plitvice, you wouldn’t have known what was contained beyond the thick forest where we departed the bus.

To say Plitvice Lakes is a stunner would be an understatement. Its sheer technicolor natural beauty around each and every meandering turn is jaw-dropping. Its 16 turquoise lakes link together through waterfalls cascading down sheer rock cliffs. Unlike most water bodies I have seen, you can see straight to the bottom with astounding clarity. That twig resting on the lake floor? You can see even the most minute detail.Continue reading “The prettiest day trip ever”

A Hollywood ending. Almost.

The four of us walked aimlessly at first from the bar, trying to determine where we were headed. The boys wanted to go clubbing, and I wasn’t going to debate.

Jon and I led the group. I had seen the club, Park, earlier in the day. Tin had pointed it out to me on our drive. The club was tucked in (shocker) a park by the cathedral, so I kind of knew where to go. Being backpackers on a budget, we opted to stop first at the gas station across the street and stock up on some beers.

Well, Jon and I did. The others just hung out. Slightly buzzed already, we stared at the cooler debating which poison we wanted and what size. We ended up with some super-sized cans of Croatian beer. Two a-piece. The plan was to sneak them into the club, so we shoved three of them into my purse and one into his shorts. It wasn’t the classiest. It wasn’t the most honest. But, it saved us a few KN so we weren’t going to feel too bad about it. Especially after Jon forked over cover for both of us.

Inside was unlike any club I had ever experienced. There was a terrace, a bar and a dance area with the DJ set on a slightly raised stage. A mix of Euro house music and cheesy 80s music flooded the room. Jon and I looked at each other and headed straight for the bar for a shot.

Needless to say, we did not last long there. We bopped our heads to the bad music and when the DJ made an announcement in Croatian, Jon could only interpret it as an apology for the crap we were listening to, and reasoned that he must have left his music at home and what we were listening to was the backup.

The rest of our party seemed to be having a good time so they weren’t keen to follow us when Jon and I decided to depart for greener pastures (and to meet his friends at another club). The thing about greener pastures is this — once you get there, they aren’t so green. Luckily for us, we never made it to another club.Continue reading “A Hollywood ending. Almost.”

The new roommate

Davor and I stood on Fulir’s balcony, overlooking the tiny shops and bar below. He was telling me a Canadian girl was staying here and also going to Plitvice Lakes the next day, and when she got back, he promised he would introduce us so we could take the bus together the following morning. He had tried to explain to me where the bus station was, but when I became exasperated because of my lack of map-reading skills, I just asked if him or Tin, a worker at the hostel I had befriended the night before, would come with me so I wouldn’t get lost. Instead of agreeing to that, Tin said he would drive me to the bus station to purchase the ticket.

It worked for me.

That’s when I saw Him on the street below.  He caught my eye immediately. Perfect height (I’d probably recon around 5’9 or so). Perfect weight (the right blend between athletic and non-athletic). And completely different from the typical guy.

He wore plaid shorts, a dark shirt and shiny gold-framed sunglasses. He had a healthy serving of tattoos on his arms and legs, and a lip ring hooped through the middle of his bottom lip. His brown hair was cropped close to his head.

There was no way he was staying at Fulir. He just didn’t fit the mold of a typical backpack-hostel-goer. But, he walked up the ancient, red colored stairs, pulled a key out of his pocket and walked through the yellow painted door into the room I was staying in. When he walked in I caught a glimpse of a tattoo peaking through his hair on the back of his head and melted just a little bit.Continue reading “The new roommate”