Day 1-10: Oh my God. Wow. Wow wow wow. Look at that! That thing is 2000 years old. Its huge. Look at that other thing! We can sleep in that? You made a hotel out of that? Wow! Wow! I can't believe it. Truly mankind's history has been a full and splendiferous affair filled with drama and awe inspiring wonder. I could look at ancient ruins forever.
Day 11-22: That's pretty cool. Hm. Neat. Oh look, there was a battle here. I guess that's alright. Oh, an ancient castle. Wait, didn't we see that already? No? Oh yes, it was a different one, I remember. Look at those flying buttresses. They're not as cool as those first ones we saw, but they're alright. Shall we go get a drink tonight?
Day 23-27: Ruins? An ancient castle? Site of recent international conflict? Oh yes, I see. I hand't noticed them there towering above me. They look like the ones we saw before, only smaller. I suppose they're somewhat impresivish, kind of... I'm satisfied for the day. Lets go get some iced coffee and lay under that tree, its really fuggin hot.
Day 28+: Old stuff. More old stuff. Where are we again? Oh, a cat! Look at that sweet cat! He just yawned. Thats amazing. Lets go get some coffee.
Yeah...
It is with this as introduction that I begin to tell you about my biggest ˝I told you so˝ of the trip: Dubrovnik. Take my opinion of it with a grain of salt. I'm jaded, now that I've seen the mighty acropolis, the winding reaches of Kotor, the shaded stari grad of Split, and the yawning, lazy, rolling beauty of the Makarska sierra (we have pictures of all this too, be patient). That said:
Dubrovnik is a tourist trap. Its a tourist trap surronded by the most authentic and well-preserved walled city of Europe, crenelations, statues, ornate pillars and all, but a tourist trap nonetheless. I KNEW it would be this way. I sensed it as I watched it on Rick Steves, and was given further hints the more I heard about it. But when I saw it from the bus two weeks ago on our way from Herceg Novi to Split, I KNEW that it would be so. Let me explain it thusly: You walk down the streets of the city, initially impressed by the mysterious, narrow streets that run between the five story buildings. There are no cars. There are many handsome stray cats posing like postcards in meaningful ways. Then, as a American tourist brushes past you and apologizes, the magic fades away as quickly as it took you. You are not unhappy about this. You have felt this magic before, much stronger.
Then as you pass rows upon rows, whole blocks of souvenir shops, identical in look and inventory, same prices, same merchandise, you almost roll your eyes. Perusing menus that aggresive barkers have handed you for the ˝world famous˝ restruants they work for, you notice that all have identical dishes and inflated prices. Your head turns away, you glance an extremely well-kept statue of Roland and smile, and then a giggling Italian tourist wraps her arms around it and kisses its chest, a pose for her eurotrash boyfriend. Your smile fades, and you grimace at the babbling barker and reluctantly agree to patronize his establishment. The food is the same as it has been throughout all of Croatia.
I won't say that I didn't enjoy Dubrovnik. I am finding it impossible to not enjoy any of my time in Europe. Rather, imagine that you have, on a whim, stumbled upon a place that you are finding you cannot help but love more and more daily. You hope to return very soon. But then there is one area of this place that is slightly less, and despite enjoying it, you can't help but feel that your time was better spent in elsewhere.
I told you so. Kotor was better.
Here's something I've been knocking around in my head recently. The inspiration for this is a Rick Steves pamphlet that Spencer found here. Inside it is a few pages dedicated to peoples stories about being knicked during their travels in Europe. Falling for shell games, pick pockets, being led around by pretty girls and getting charged 20 euro for drinks, that kind of stuff. On the next page: Rick Steves money protection wallet. Keep your valuables safe while you travel! This feels like blasphemy, as I do like Stevesie, but after being dissapointed by Dubrovnik after he hammered it so hard...
Is Stevsie running a raquet? Just what is the percentage of people that have been ripped off in Europe? Is it larger than the percentage of crime anywhere else? Do I carry a money protection wallet when I walk around Seattle? Should I? I haven't run into a single traveler, and I've met a lot of travelers, that have been robbed.
Anyway, its been awhile since I made a dedicated post. We stayed at a very nice hostel in Dubrovnik, a twenty minute walk from the stari grad. The hostel owners were a family, and they delighted in teaching me more croatian. While staying at this hostel, we met a girl from Australia named Sara. I had a wonderfully interesting, all night conversation with her about comparative politics, schooling, culture, etc. etc. Then she sort of (kind of maybe I'm just imagining it) suggested we accompany her to her next destination. So we hopped onto the bus with her and that is how we've found ourselves here.
Sarajevo!
We met another australian on the bus, named Reece (hurray), and then about five more australians and some Americans at the hostel. We are a party of ten now, all as good a friends as friends can be with the knowledge that in two days we will never see each other again. We saw the tunnel that sarajevo used to maintain itself during the four year siege. We had a quick lunch followed by rich dark sugary bosnian coffee before taking a pleasant stroll down bullet riddled sniper's alley. All the buildings here are coated in bomb strikes and bullet holes. One the the Americans, Rebecca, asked our nineteen-year old hostel owner (he build it himself after the siege and now succesfully runs it. We are all impressed!) that we hear some local music. So he called up his friend, a local performer, who, for 100 konvertible markes, is coming over to the hostel tonight for a two or so hour performace of local bosnian music. Split 10 ways, its a steal. We will get pictures. I hope it is good.
Sarajevo is a wonderful city, all the more beautiful for its recent strife. Anti-establishment graffiti has blossomed on the bullet riddled walls, and the mainly muslim population plays its own pop music in stores and cars, not America's. Its tourist areas are kitschy, and trashy, but sweetly so. Like they have heard what people from other countries like from some guidebook, and have slapped together a motely collection of shops that sell their culture as well as trashy souvenirs together, all of which they display very seriously. Reece is obsessed with finding a store he wandered by before that sold dog panties, because he wants a picture of them and did not have his camera before. Alas, the dog-panty store has proven to be like a mystic monkey paw store: did it ever really exist? The locals shake their heads and say no.
We might stay another day, but we've heard that nearby mostar is good, and some of our new friends are going. Will we follow them? If we're not too drunk, we'll decide tommorow.
Miss you all. Thanks for the translation Ian. I will put more pictures on the next entry, I promise.
