Taking a sneeky long distance peak at Dubrovnic the night before, I was confident of being underwhelmed. It was going to be like Newquay, I thought.
The old town of Dubrovnik...
It was worse. There was no Weatherspoons Pub, amusement arcades or McDonalds. I nearly died of hunger. The place was surrounded by a 15 foot thick wall, the streets so narrow, I could hardly shoehorn me belly through them AND, some people were talking foreign. Disgusting.
A typical Dubrovnik street...
I had got there early to try to beat the majority of tourists. It didn't really matter because, walk down one of the tiny side alleys, no more than 2 metres wide, you would soon be all alone, 500 years in the past, the only thing indicating the century you were in, the cut of someone's knickers on a washing line across the street.
The town walls...
What a wonderful place. I could not think of a better experience. It was busy with tourists but you could forgive them, and yourself, for wanting to look around such a fantastic mediaval place. I even found a 30 foot high tree growing out of a 2 foot wide pot. Now that really is special.
The port in the old town...
You must believe all of this, due to my lack of know how, I am unable to upload photos. As soon as I get back, I will do this.
Don't ask me what is going on here, perhap mice are beheaded???
Coming back from the city, I realised I had caught some kind of bug. It involved total lack of respect for road law, the ability to squeeze through gaps a super model couldn't and a massive lot of narcassim. I had got Scooterisis.
Next thing I knew, I was riding the wrong way down a one way street (it just seemed organic), squeezing my way to the front of traffic queues (I did pause to return the Punto,s mirror back to its rightfut position) and shout obscenities at anyone who would get in my way. 'Pene picolo' was my favourite, it may be Italian, but it sounded organic, yet again. I needed to get off the road.
Tough old life on the beach...
Betty had a mini service, I cleaned a few things up and spent an hour on the beach, in shorts!!! Reading a book and drinking a beer. I spent some time in the reception of the camp site, teaching the wonderfully receptive staff some Potteries dialect and sayings. I think I taught them some invaluable lessons in how to say 'Ow at Duck?' Cultural Ambassador (unpaid), I am.
Tommorrow will be a long day up the Croatian coast road. Big on sights, that will be sure, Duck.Posted by David Bailey at May 30, 2012 07:45 PM GMT
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