Korcula

Korcula!

Hey everybody, I hope you’re all having a great time! And I hope your enjoying my blog; if you have any questions, comments or criticisms, feel free to email me!

Yesterday we took the ferry from Split across the rolling waves of the Adriatic on a small catamaran and met up with our friend Ruth on Korcula (Kor-Chu-la… I think). It’s quite the place, with a charming castle that encircles the old city and has the mark of Venice (the winged lion) cut into the stone over most gates. Rumor has it that the famous explorer of the East, Marco Polo was born here. Also, there’s supposed to be some tennis courts around here somewhere, I’m gonna check them out! Oh and our apartment here is great, after two nights in a room about half the size of my family’s kitchen, it was nice to have my own room and an actual bed.

(Four days later)

Well its our last day in Korcula, today were taking the 2:45 bus to Dubrovnik, where we’ll be staying two nights before flying to Barcelona. I haven’t written anything for a while because, we haven’t been doing a whole lot of noteworthy stuff.  For the first few days the weather kind of sucked so we stayed in and tried to get some stuff done. But if there is a place to be lazy, its here!

Finally, when the weather cleared off we were able to explore a little more of the island. When the weather was nice we were able to see across the sparkling blue water to the adjacent islands and the mainland in the East. The red tiled roof houses give it a warm feeling, and watching countless little boats bob around together in the rolling swells, makes certain parts of the water appear to be a rolling carpet of masts and whitewashed cabins.

            Yesterday we got the chance to go with some local friends of ours and drive out to their friend’s farm. It was one of the nicest day so far and the drive along the island was beautiful, after a while we turned onto a little gravel road that lead in, through a forest of olive trees. We drove up to a small stone house in a patch cleared of the local fauna. It belonged to a Croatian/Canadian/Jamaican man named Nick and his wife Mary from England. They asked us if we could help them clear up their property for a little bit to build up and appetite before lunch. We all readily agreed, donned the work gloves and set to hauling dead branches from one pile into the bonfire. Once we were done with the first, we walked through the fields until we reached the next, and then continued along until we must have burnt half a forest. It felt great to finally get some exercise.

We retired to their patio that was blissfully cool after the midday heat; we threw some logs into their giant clay oven/grill and started her up. We had bought some supplies that morning and before long there were Croatian burgers (about as thin a pancakes) sizzling away over the hot coals. The people were great, and after a few Croatian burgers and a beer or two everyone was in good spirits. 

Micky cooking some Croatian Burgers

Nick started telling us his story, about how, when he was just 8 years old his family tried to escape from communist Yugoslavia over the mountains across the border and into Italy, he was the only one who didn’t make it. Just as they were nearing the border, someone lit a match to have a cigarette. The patrols spotted it and started shooting in the air. His mother dropped his hand to pick up his younger brother, after hours of trooping through the mountains he was exhausted and unable to keep up with the rest, finally he crawled under a bush and fell asleep unable to walk any further. When he woke up in the morning he was alone on the hill, unable to decide where to go, he chose a random direction and started walking. He ran into some patrols, who not knowing what to do with a random 8 year old in the middle of nowhere sent him back to the city. He spent several days in the women’s jail and then was sent to an orphanage/re-education home for two months. He was kicked out of school because of his “anti-government” ideas and those of his parents. For two years his parents didn’t know if he was dead or alive and when they found out, they managed to get him a passport and fly him to Canada where they had escaped to. He lived in Canada for 15 years until he decided to travel and ended up in Jamaica. But, when he was 28 he was forced to leave his whole life there behind because of the revolution, he said he was lucky to escape with his life. At 30 he moved back to Croatia with his wife Mary. While we were in the fields he looked up at the clear blue sky and around at his groves and said, “there’s no place I’d rather live, this must be heaven on earth eh?”    

From left to right: Boris, Me, Nick, Ric.

Ooops a flat tire!