Generally people are quite surprised when they see I am travelling alone and think I am a) brave and b) presume I must get very lonely. In fact I think its the complete opposite - no one bloody leaves me alone! ( and I mean this positively). In the Balkans if you're on your own people seem to assume you therefore need someone to talk to. Within minutes of leaving the German girls a posh Montenegran woman who now randomly lives in Zurich was telling me about her life and insisted I take two bananas. While waiting for a bus to Dubrovnik involved an encounter with a very odd man who from what I could make out learnt English out a book, worked in the train station during the week, and at weekends masquerades as a taxi driver at the bus station (he offered me a lift which I declined). He however insisted I take his number so that next year me and all my friends can go stay with him (he'll drive us anywhere). In the course of my painfully long 30 minutes with him he managed to plan out a full trip we could do which includes a trip to the local archeology museum. Somehow 'Duka' also managed to take a photo of me in between saying his favourite word (and a general favourite of Bosnians) 'super' a lot. My lasting memory of Duka was me getting on the bus while he stood at the window saying 'I can see you 'super'. Maybe his number is one to bin...
On a tour to Mostar from Dubrovnik I met two English couples who found me travelling alone particularly perplexing - I explained that I was staying mainly in Youth Hostels so was never really alone. Later I overheard them dicussing this - with one explaining to the others that things are different now and these things called Youth Hostels allow young people to mix! So as you can see travelling alone is not really being alone. The arrival of my mother though would soon sort that! You see wanting a holiday, and since I was in a sunny part of the world it made sense for my mum to join me for my final week in Croatia.
A lover of the package holidays though this presented obvious difficulties as she would have to get to the Croatian town of Split without the aid of a tour guide. The night before I was bombarded by text with questions such as 'do they speak English?', 'will they accept credit cards?', and 'what is the weather like?'. I honestly believe she thought I was secretly taking her to Afghanistan.
By some sort of miracle though she did make it from the airport to the centre of Split, of course ten texts were sent on the bus (I explained afterwards this was roughly a 2 pound interchange) asking more questions such as 'how do I know when to get off?' and again 'do they speak English?'. I told her to get off when everyone else does and speak German to them. The silly woman then spent the journey learning German phrases!
Our hotel was conveniently located near the bus station so a short walk and we were there. I had spent the previous night in the Split 'Booze and Snooze' hostel that actually involved a lot less boozing and more snoozing than you would imagine (probably due to the signs everywhere informing you if you went to the clubs 'YOU WILL GET ROBBED'. Nice city then! So I had already checked us into the hotel before I met my mother, the woman at reception asked where my colleague was (I LOLed). I even managed to get all my washing done for a mere ten pounds (tourist prices!). My Mum was fresh off seeing Glee in London the day before (by herself bless her and was high like a 15 year old girl!) When I brought my Mum to the hotel I think it was evident business associates we were not, my Mum offered the idea though I could be her toy girl...
It's going to be a long few days....
No comments:
Post a Comment