My kingdom for a loaf

This blog isn't going to make much sense. We are once more back in Mali Raj and it's Antonio's birthday. Antonio is the barman/waiter/goodness knows what else. He's lovely. As are all the staff here. They've just brought us cake, it must be true.

Back to the blogging. You might recall that yesterday missy had been out and found she couldn't get bread because, well, too late. Today though, she went with lashings of time. Trouble was, even though she asked in her best Croatian and was extremely polite, she received a very firm no. Oh dear.

Not to worry. There was a pekara in Polače. And that was only 2.4km away. OVER A BLOODY HIGH HILL. AND ROCKS. Did I mention the rocks? It must be said, there is nothing like a gentle 3 mile round trip over a BLOODY HIGH HILL to make you really appreciate your breakfast.

Nothing.

So I pulled my boots on and even though I was still aching from the walk back the night before, we headed off in search of bread. Now normally we'd make this ourselves, trouble was we had a distinct lack of oven and frankly that's a problem.

Bread and manic grin.

Again, obviously, I didn't complain about the walk over said hill, don't believe anything she says to the contrary. The good news is the pekara did a) open and b) have bread and c) would sell it to us.

It really doesn't get better than this.

Low aspirations? Maybe. Anyway, we headed back over the hill for breakfast. If you happen to be on Mljet I can thoroughly recommend the experience. Best done first thing before breakfast, or in the dark. Great fun.

We decided that as breakfast was done we needed to walk round the little lake and, for added excitement, we'd pop in to Pomena to hit the cash machine as, well, cash is a good idea here. Rather inevitably we scampered round the really difficult parts rather than use the easier paths. It's a matter of pride.

It was also rather civilised as it means you can mostly avoid people making things feel just that little bit more isolated. And it feels just a little more adventurous. The bonus was that I stumbled on some discarded sunglasses. Or lost. Well, stupid people, leave them in the woods and they will be recycled. And the glamorous one did need some new glasses.

In Pomena missy decided it would be a really good idea for us to to a place at the end of the front. She'd been there a couple of years before. When it was summer. You can imagine how that went...

...still the extra exercise is always appreciated. And we ended up back in the place we'd been in a couple of days before.

This time with extra wasps.

Questioning life's decisions.

Seriously, what is it with these stupid little feckers, do they actually like beer? Do they end up in it and think "ah, perfect, just what I wanted" or is it more a case of them questioning their life decisions and wondering whether the queen wasp will remember them as their life slips away. Or worse, after I extract them and demonstrate just how cross I am.

It wasn't pleasant. Not a single patron found it pleasant. We're just more belligerent.

Heading back the short way, though no less rocky and after the usual stop in Studenac for supplies, we even had to scamper past about a million kids that looked to be heading out way.

On the far side of the hill we saw a couple of ladies with bikes who seemed determined to carry them up the steps. The nice one warned them that said million kids were heading this way. I somehow forgot to mention that they'd passed the sign for the actual cycle path 200 yards before. To be fair I heard them say something about it probably being about the same.

Readers, they were about to be very disappointed.

Sure it's longer, but oh my goodness, it goes round the hill not over it! The moment passed and meandered back with the intention of going for a swim. As you do.

Of course having changed and set off I got to the first big drop in the path before realising that I needed Sticky Mc Stickface or I'd be in trouble. Irritating. By the time I caught up with the advanced party she was already splooshing around like she always does. This was apparently much to the disgust of a german couple. One that was even less impressed that she had a friend. Whatevs.

We'd decided the night before that Goaty McDinnerFace would be perfect for 7pm, so as it was nowhere near that we headed down to Mali Raj nice and early to do a little writing and watch the sun set. Which it did. I also checked in on "Swarm" and saw a comment about there being "nothing good here". What utter bollocks. This place is brilliant. And the baby goat when it was served up? Brilliant. Honestly, if you're ever on Mljet head to Babine Kuće and the joys of Mali Raj. If you are lovely to them they will be lovely to you. Simple really.

It was at some point during the evening that we heard a couple talking about going to Šipan and asking the waiter (Antonio) how best to get to the ferry at you-are-kidding-me o'clock. He picked up his phone, called his mate and arranged a ride. The luggy one heard this and we quickly agreed that the theoretical trip there should be a reality so she danced over, introduced herself and the deal was struck, we'd go halves on the fee. Once Antonio sorted it with his mate.

Perfect. And just the sort of thing you'd expect in a decent place. So there.

All in all a thoroughly acceptable day. And tomorrow? Kayaks...