theatre of the absurd: Croatia, part IV

Tuesday 19 June 2018

Croatia, part IV - Zadar, part (i)

Some sort of perfect

The bus ride from Zagreb to Zadar was and still is one of the most scenic and enjoyable bus rides I've done to date. I was struck by how breathtakingly gorgeous the harsh grey mountains were, the snow-bound valleys, and the clear, unmoving turquoise of the coasts, with their karst formations.

The photo doesn't do this justice but when you turn a curve and see this incredibly beautiful, sprawling body of water dappled by the afternoon sun just around the next road..

According to google maps the walk from the bus station to the old city centre was about 25 minutes, with a distance of roughly 2km. Now usually 2km is a nice breezy walk for me, but not when my ankle is severely twisted/pulled and swollen to boot. What could have been a twenty minute enjoyable walk turned into about an hour of walking - although, admittedly, I stopped to gawp at the stunning views of the Adriatic and took loads of pictures, then wandered off the path to take some more pictures, despite the debilitating pain of my foot. It was a good thing that Zadar was so intensely beautiful, otherwise my foot would have been absolutely unbearable.

By the time I got to the hostel, however, I was almost grey in the face from the pain and had to request the hostel manager to change me to a room on the ground floor. The room she had originally booked me for was nice and spacey and there were no other guests, which I would have rejoiced in under normal circumstances, but it was also on the second floor and it was beyond me to have to climb the hostel's rickety, steep and narrow stairs just to reach my room.

This was the initial room I was assigned to

Once I'd settled down more or less into my new (fully occupied) room on the ground floor, I texted my friends despairingly and said that I was seriously considering going home. I'd made the mistake of googling my symptoms and was convinced that it was far worse than it actually was. I was upset at the thought of having to forego Yugoslavia but 'ugh maybe the rest of Croatia, as well as Bosnia and Montenegro, are going to be boring.' (HAH! Understatement of the century. Going there changed my life, well, certain aspects of it..) Fortunately, I have some very good friends who have their heads screwed on tight, and they managed to talk me out of that asinine notion, and firmly advised me to get some rest, then go out and treat myself to a nice dinner, which I did with gusto. I love you guys.