Dubrovnic Beach

Wednesday 21st September 1983

We were up at 08:00 hrs. And tucked into a hearty breakfast of our cherry jam and the Dutch boys bread and tea. We packed our gear and I bid a sad farewell to our chums. They were heading back north now and we would not see them again. We had only known them for a couple of days but I felt great sorrow in our parting. They gave me their addresses for a postcard from Australia. We then rode to our new “hotel” where we found a comfortable room for our purposes and unloaded all of our kit. It was 1,000 Dinar (~£6:50 Sterling) for both of us for 2 nights.

Then we set off hot-foot for the beach, walking through the old city. We got caught for 10 Dinar to use the beach where we settled in the sun on a concrete platform amongst the rocks. I became happily engaged in playing Jaques Cousteau in the crystal clear sea (we must get a snorkel). George has discovered that a certain coral growth here has spikes that pierce your skin and snap off like splinters. He sacrificed his foot, unwittingly, to one of these wonders of nature and now sits digging at the sole of his foot with a safety pin.

The sun is scorching and scantily-clad harlots attract our attention and arouse our desires! I sit on the rocks and perch, lost in thought (of what I cannot remember). On the bikes and on our walkabouts our minds roam but little is recalled later.

A few hours of lounging in the sun was enough to bore us so we upped and headed into the old city. For 30 Dinar you can walk around on top of the walls around the old sector and we clambered along the ancient walkways in the blistering heat. We traversed walkways, worn stone steps and old fortified towers, looking down on the close packed old houses. Here one can imagine you are living in a bygone age and dream of romantic adventures involving warriors and pirates. The clash of steel, the roar of the cannons and the grunts and shouts of defenders are easily imagined.

Following a drink break in the shade of some vines with a tedious old American couple, we returned to our room via the supermarket. We duplicated yesterdays superb supper and got pleasantly drowsy on a bottle of Dubrovnic red wine (70 Dinar), retiring then for a snooze. A torrent of Jugoslavic chatter roared to and fro between our landlady and her chums, keeping us awake as they continued without even pausing for breath. We were living the Life of Riley – eating, sleeping and basking in the sun.

At 20:30 hrs. we awoke and ventured out for a coffee. Faced with the prospect of Turkish coffee we opted for Coca Cola instead. At the corner of the harbour we were exposed (not for the first time) to the most nauseating smell that I have ever encountered. (In the future the leather factory in Marrakesh, Morocco came close). We hurried passed, trying not to breathe, and trying not to vomit. We went back to read and sleep peacefully and deeply.