'It is your birthday and you must celebrate, or you will be exterminated' the Dalek insists in a crescendo stuttering voice.
It is my birthday and we are going to Dubrovnik. I got to decide what we do, so we catch the early boat, not too early, about midday actually. We'd slept in late and nearly missed breakfast altogether. I'd been given a present of a tour guide of the historic walled city. I'd also been given the best birthday card ever. It's a doctor Who card with a Dalek greeting as you open it. Our room overlooks the breakfast area so I open the card so see if any of the people below can hear it. Some look up with a bemused expression. It makes ME chuckle anyway.
Later we are sitting on an old passenger boat waiting for it to set sail from Sudarud, the main port on the island and fifteen minutes from our hotel on the bus. The boat looks as if it should have been decommissioned years ago.'Oh my God' exclaims Sarah,'I've seen a fish this big' and she extends her arms to full span.'It was so big I had to gasp' The fish is swimming along side the boat. When we had arrived, the crew were having their lunch in the galley. It's a large bowl of some sort of broth. There are six or seven of them, big burly guys and they are tucking in. The journey costs 23 Kuna, two pounds thirty, each. As we leave the harbour a 'pirate ship' sails by with some very unlikely pirates on board. They seemed to be having fun anyway.
One of the large Croatian sailors points upstairs and we follow his instruction. 'Huala', I thank him. I certainly wasn't going to argue with him.
The first island we stop at is Lopud. This is a more 'developed' island in terms of tourism. There is a long promenade, may be two hundred meters, with a narrow beach just wide enough for two rows of beach chairs. There are half a dozen bars and some shops. The church on the hill dominates the shoreline. The harbour is too small for the bigger boats we saw at Sipan. Many more people get on here in a quick turn around, and we're off again.
As the sun gets hotter we move into the shade. There's a gentle breeze. More people get on at Kolocep. Soon we can see the city of Dubrovnik itself.
As with Porec, Dubrovnik was once part of the province of Venice, and later part of the Ottoman Empire. There is a strong Catholic history with many monasteries and influences from the Dominican, Franciscan and Benedictine orders. The Jesuits also had a great influence here. The city was devastated by an earthquake in 1667. After the second world war Josip Broz, known as Tito, was able to hold the disparate Balkan states together in the republic of Yugoslavia. Although a Communist state, it became part of the non-aligned group of states and in the 1960s opened up to tourism. After Titos death Croatia became independent. Their first president, Franjo Tudman, has given his name to the main bridge out of the city.
The homeland wars are still recent and too raw to be talked about. We are strongly advised in all the brochures not to mention the war to locals.
Dubrovnik is hot. A taxi takes us to the old town and we have a beer as we plan our afternoon. The Franciscan Monastery is the first stop.
It claims to house one of the oldest pharmacies, and it's worth a look and some illicit photos. Then we take a walk along the wall. The city is famous for it's wall. It is the walled city. This is an amazing sight. The only other example I've seen, and on a smaller scale is Carcasson, France. The roof tops are tightly packed and invariably made of new terracotta tiles. The old ones were lost in the blockade of recent years. The city has made an almost full recovery from those dark days.
Then we have a swim in the sea. Here in Croatia, people just get in wherever they can. The water is clear everywhere. There's a collection of people at the bottom of one part of the wall, by some rocks. So on with the speedos and into the water.
After the swim we lunch in the old town. I really fancied sardines. We sat down at one of the many fish restaurants. No sardines. At the next restaurant I ask 'Do you have any sardines' and add 'molin', Croatian for please. My attempt to endear myself falls flat. 'Yes, small fish' replies the waitress without expression and points to the menu. 'Fried' she continues. 'Could I have mine grilled?' I enquire innocently. 'No' she replies firmly but quizzically. We waited for the sardines expectantly and wondering what exactly we would get.
What came was whitebait. No wonder she was adamant they couldn't be grilled. They were good actually, especially washed down with a glass of wine.
The 'racun' please and we pay the bill. There are so many ancient and wondrous buildings, but an unexpected one was a highly ornate Eastern Orthodox church, recognisable by it's absence of pews.
We have another drink. The sun is hot, so we have another drink. Time to head back to the ferry port and we hail a taxi. Our friendly driver asks us how our day was. 'The war was good' I slur, and immediately correct myself. 'The wall, the wall'.
I think I got away with it.
The rest of the trip is in silence. Back to Sipan and another perfect evening meal. It's been a busy and tiring day.
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