Today was all about travelling. Not the enjoyment of, or spiritual journey surrounding, or even exploring a new… just the physical act of getting my body from one place to another – well, several others in fact. And they all had to be in a specific order and on time!
The day started with a promise to myself that if I achieved some meaningful work I would go shopping for souvenirs and take the last of my time enjoying the city. I had gotten as much work done as was possible given the lack of charger over the last 4 days, but I still hadn’t faced a fear of mine. Well I faced it head on (after some procrastinated dancing around the subject) and got a great response. I don’t know what I was so afraid of all this time! I headed out into the city, my work behind me, able to relax and enjoy my last day in this sunny paradise.
These few days after the wedding only existed because it was £70 cheaper to fly later in the week and I found this hostel for £5 per night. It made economic sense to stay in the mythical Kingdom of Westeros, surrounded by the medieval walls and enjoy it a little longer – providing i could actually get some work done. This had proved to be a challenge, not for lack of trying during the week but because of my own disorganisation.
I’m starting to put together some stereotypes for nationalities based on who I’ve met on my travels. Some are not so surprising like, Germans being calculated and smartly dressed or Spanish being loud and prone to wild gesticulation. But new ones area now framed in my mind. Argentinians for example, are similar to the Spanish, but completely oblivious to others personal comforts or hostel etiquette, earning my vindictive illumination of all future hostel rooms they are sleeping in henceforth.
I’m currently sitting in a cafe, overlooking the ocean. It’s a day where the wind cant make up its mind which way it wants to go. It picks the tops off the confused waves and throws them into the harbour wall below me. It’s not cold, we are in Croatia in May. The sun heating up the parasol above me diffuses the brilliant light and lets me read my screen in perfect warmth. I’m surrounded by wooden tables and chairs, the paint bleached and worn by the daily tourists butts and hot sun. The bar owner has made a wooden structure around the bar from which rudimentary swings hang. People sit with their backs to the bar, swinging their feet, listening to the relaxed fun music, chatting and looking out over the steel blue ocean in front of us.
Morning after the wedding was nearly not morning at all. It had not been a big wedding so there was no cheesy disco after the reception dinner. But that didn’t stop us getting very drunk so the hangover was as per protocol. I dragged myself out of bed and up to the Villa. Some water and croissants helped clear my head along with lounging by the pool. When I was suitably clear minded and chilled, I managed some work. People drifted into the villa now and then and the little people screamed about some plastic fish or something. Maybe I hadn’t gotten up so late after all.
After last nights drinking session, this morning crept into the hostel slowly, looked around, and decided to leave me a while longer to recover. Some Argentinian cock sucker had come back REALLY late last night. I mean, I was late getting in at about 1:30am but he came in at 4am and just casually turned on the light, in a four bed dorm…. and proceeded to go about his drunken business. I literally could have murdered him. I satisfied lust for blood by snapping at him, in a sharp tone, to turn out the light. He knew I meant business…
Button rose on his last day a free man – I mean he has been with Jenny for 5 years so maybe not free. But not committed for eternity – well fairly committed, to have planned a wedding in a foreign country. But not tied down…. Yet.
Today started slow, thank heavens. A couple days of hiking and late nites eating and drinking to excess had taken their toll. This morning I set off to find a cafe from which I could write up the last few days blogs. I had let this slip a bit and needed a quiet place, with coffee and wifi, comfy seating and preferably a view. I ticked most of these boxes with Cafe Art on the main road out of the old town. It was a quirky cafe with brightly coloured bathtubs cut out into seats and coloured lights fading in the corners of the room. I think it’s a nightclub/bar in the evenings.
Have you ever had that feeling while you are asleep that you are missing something? Feeling late, but still asleep so you don’t know if you should take the feeling seriously and act on it, or just enjoy the dream-state washing over you?