It was all a bit slow starting this morning. The good news though was that the weather had decided to make the last full day in Split a bright one. Which I wasn’t complaining about.
Whilst Missy continued her transition to being a local and pulled on her running shoes to try out the run around the park, remember this includes a climb to 500ft, the return group attempted to discuss what the return route might be. We didn’t get very far in the time used and by the time I was out of the shower the fit one had returned looking all bright eyed and bushy tailed. I never did like her.
Whilst there was showering going on I nipped off to the bakery around the corner for some fresh and uncut cock bread, though of course it doesn’t look like said organ when it comes straight from the *pekara around the corner. Oh my. The smell of freshly baked bread was almost too much to bear. Unfortunately so is my command of the Croatian language, but I did at least manage basic greetings and acquired more bread and another one of those evilly delicious jam loafs thingies.
I was soon back in Chez Clare as she’s probably only a hundred yards from the pekara. And started lashing together something vaguely resembling a breakfast complete with french toast as that’s all the grill is capable of making, but oh is it good at making it. Of course if I’d been smart I would have checked the milk supplies but I’m not so I left Clarissa guarding the toasting bread in case the grill suddenly decided to be contrary and actually work and off I went again this time to the supermarket where Clare had previously been ably supported in her bid for bananas by the look police.
I again managed the minimum required greetings, I even give a cheery local greeting to the owner of the restaurant we’d eaten in the night before and I got back to find, surprisingly that the bread was still bread and not actual toast in the toasted sense of the word.
*sighs*
What else? Oh yes, tomatoes were sliced, local **pršut was extracted from a packet, goodness it’s tasty, dirty cheese was taken out, cock bread sliced and all was put together on the table outside as it was so lovely. And then eaten very quickly.
The vague plan for the day was to jump on a ferry over to the island of Brač, which sounded like a particularly fine idea so off we all skipped down to the ferry place to get tickets for the 12:30 crossing. It was extortionate, 28ku one way. Or £2.80. Which is less than a peak zones 1-2 Oyster fare. And an awful lot more fun.
Unsurprisingly we were the only people on the outside deck as all the sensible people were hiding inside the heated Salon, this did mean that we had an unrestricted view of everything and the excited one could scamper from one side of the ship to the other with a huge grin on her face. Bless.
After about an hour we rolled in to Brač, trundled down the stairs and out on to the island in the small town of Supetar. It being off season, which is definitely the best time to travel, it was very quiet so we set off to walk to a church we’d seen on the way in with a vague promise of coffee later in the town square. I never did get that coffee. The water there is something else, utterly clear with plenty of fish swimming around and trolling the fishing boats tied up in  |
| Thelma and Louise |
After a pleasant walk around to the church we ended sitting near a small jetty and I took the opportunity to lie down, my head on handbag and rest my eyes in the warmth of the sun. It was lovely and I may have rested more than I should have done. In time we made our way back to the main bit in search of coffee, which as you know now owing to an earlier spoiler I never got.
We popped in to a bar, Clare suggesting she’d have a beer of some description. I think the sun must have gone to my head as I thought that was a good idea too, so three half litres of the finest local brew were summoned and… Well, there is a reason I don’t drink beer, like Gremlins and water it goes straight to my head and I become a bit giggly. Yep. Bad. Clare was amused.
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| Beer added... |
At about 3pm a ferry rolled in and we had to decide whether to get on this for a 3:30 departure back to Split or wait for the next one at 6pm. So really the choice was stay there and watch me explode in a giggling fit after more beer or follow our stomachs back to the mainland for promised food.
We got on the ferry.
Probably for the best. We even sat inside like locals do. And rather than have me singing sea shanties for the next hour I ordered coffee rather than something guaranteed to make me silly. Anyway, another hour whizzed by and we went to the local supermarket again in search of chips as it seemed a fitting dirty meal. The trouble was they didn’t actually sell any. Oh.
So off to yet another Lidl I went. Which wasn’t far away but I made it longer by stupidly following the road signs rather than the map. One a one way system. What can I say, I am an airhead. Still it meant I had chips though not the wine that was requested so back I went to see whether the oven was actually warm enough to cook such delicacies…
I’ve missed chips.
Both during and after dinner Clarissa and I pored over iBastards deciding on a rough route to take and importantly a place to stop for the first part of the return road-trip. The return journey will start tomorrow with the first stop being on the island of Krk. This is truly a minimalist language at times. On Sunday we will pass through Slovenia en route to, possibly, another island Isola di Albarella just
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| K |
Can’t wait.
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| The Road-Trip... |
But in the meantime I will add pictures to this blog and test Clare’s latest cocktail creation, it’s Italian Grappa based and has the colour of toxic waste as seen in Scooby Doo. It's been named, quite simply The Road-Trip.
Wuvverly…
*bakery, obvs
**ham, less obvs
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