Makarska, Trogir, Split

Nice night last night having drinks on the deck with some of the folks. Must resist saying “with some of the kids”. ;-) Nothing too wild, though, especially compared to some nights.

Up at 07:30, shower, breakfast. Eggs and bacon: just as I predicted, they are trying to make us happy right before we fill in the satisfaction surveys.

Not much to write about. Makarska itself was much nicer than I had expected after my 14-hour “7 hour” bus overnight last week. And the setting, with the massive rock wall behind it, especially at sunset, was stunning.

The gauges in the mess downstairs consistently say 60F, 75% humidity, which is fine inside, but up on deck in the omnipresent wind I have to layer a t-shirt, regular shirt, over-shirt, wool sweater, and a windbreaker.

As for my thoughts of just throwing in the towel and going home, I could still do some penance up at the cabin. I just wish <got interrupted by some funny lyrics on my iPod, and have no idea now what I was wishing>

Toten Hosen, “Codo”

Wann hatte ich meinen letzten —-?
Ich bin ganz ehrlich: Ich weiß es nicht.
Es läuft schon lang nichts mehr so, wie es mal früher lief
Höchste Zeit, das einzusehen.

Ich habe Schmerzen im Kreuz
wenn ich aufstehen will
die Archillesferse tut mir weh.
Und das Einzige, was nicht kaputt an mir ist
sind die Brücken in meinem Gebiss.

Ich bin ein alter Mann
(schweine alt)
Nur ein alter Punk
(viel zu alt)
Schweine alt…

Basically an older guy bitching about being old and decrepit. (Censored because even mom knows know to run an online translator…)

People are passing around a tip envelope…and putting in 10-20 kuna (about €1.50 – €3.00)(for a crew of 4 for a week). Hmm. The company’s “guide” suggests €30. I slipped Tony 150 kunas in a cheesy handshake as I was leaving. Hope that’s a decent middle ground (and that he shares it with the crew).

<later> Listening to the Kingston Trio doesn’t help the… homesickness? Now that’s weird. I haven’t felt homesick in yonks. What the hell does “yonks” mean anyhow?! Better google it before I realize I’ve been saying “dogs bollocks” or something by accident…

I’ve realized the obvious, again: I think I like traveling more than arriving. Arriving means you have to do something, re-enter the world, deal with stuff. I find I always get anxious towards the end of any part of a journey… time to move again, to make decisions. There is the elation of getting the bus seat and settling in for a ride, but a few hours later the dread of a dark dirty bus station and a big city with no place to sleep and no familiar faces.

The dread, in this case at least, is tempered by the desire to get off this boat. It’s been great, don’t get me wrong, but I’m getting stir crazy.

When we got off the boat I ran into an internet cafe to see if Dell magically pulled their figurative head out of their ass (they hadn’t) and then Farnaz and I caught a “1/2 hour” (i.e., hour plus) bus to Trogir, which is a very nice little town up the coast from Split.

02:25: Last night of the cruise. Had dinner in Split with Farnaz, then drinks with the group in a bar somewhere in the warren of streets in (around?) Diocletian’s palace.

Images: 4746, 4751, 4754, 4748, 4755, 4767, 4730, 4736, 4733