Day 2: Zadar

Our first real day of holiday! We're up at the crack of 9am and Zeljko's friend Maida has laid out an impressive breakfast spread on the balcony. In the daylight, we can actually fully appreciate not only the amazing view over the old city and red roofs to the sea, but also Zeljko's eclectic taste in home décor, including cushions upholstered with images of models from H&M brand campaigns, steak knives spearing the soil in all his potted plants, and a decorative silk marijuana leaf vine coiled around the ceiling pipes. All these delights await you when you reach the end of this post. HEY! No scrolling ...


Matt and I are typically famished, so take our seats at the table to tuck into Croatian bread (really soft and crumbly/cakey), chocolate spread, fig jam, olive cream cheese, plums, and coffee so thick it's like drinking pudding. Ours quickly and discreetly finds its way into a conveniently located potted palm.


We're then joined by Yasmine, Zeljko's other guest. Yasmine is sweet and very chatty, and we all eat as she tells us about growing up in Algeria before moving to Paris. She also casually mentions how she picked up a German hitchhiker called Martens on the way to Montenegro last week, after he had been walking for three days. By the end of the meal, she's leaving to catch a plane back to France, and we part ways with a hug, each others contact details, and open invitations to visit.

Sea Organ

I then somewhat awkwardly stretch out on an H&M lingerie model cushioned lounger to catch some sun as Matt types away on the blog before we go out to explore. We first find our way to the famous sea organ, an art installation on the sea promenade that creates ethereal music using the power generated by the waves. It's right next to the Greeting to the Sun, a giant flat disc that absorbs solar power during the day and lights up at night in various patterns, proving very popular with toddlers and my boyfriend alike.


We stroll past the ancient circular Forum, the old meeting place of the Romans,which is surrounded by pediments and bits of intricately carved Roman columns-- just strewn on the grass like regular rocks. We squeeze up an ancient stone staircase of the nearby tower, so narrow that Matt has to go sideways, and past the giant bells that you can hear ringing all over the town to the very top. The views out over the city and the sea to the neighboring islands are amazing, and it's only the lure of sladoled that coaxes us down after about half an hour.


Walking through the harbor, it's hard not to notice an old boat blaring Italian operettas. There is a poodle perched happily on the roof, and a man on board waves to me before casually jumping to one side and aiming a spear into the water-- I hope at a fish.


We decide it might be time to get moving and now would be a good time to book our boat trip to the Kornati Islands for the following day.



We head down to the pier where we nearly trip over Zeljko and pup Max, who are both sleeping in the sun by the path. Adriana, the tour guide, looks genuinely upset as she tells us that we can't go to the islands tomorrow because a storm is coming. We'd both really been looking forward the the islands part of the trip, but instead decide to book in for a sunset cruise around Zadar that turns out to be great, once we get past the six recently emptied Karlavacko beer bottles clanking around el capitan's feet...


Back in harbor, we walk back down toward the sea organ to see the famous sunset that Hitchcock once called 'the most beautiful in the world, better than Key West.' Matt reliably informs me that Alfred was staying at Hotel Zagreb in room 204. Of course.


We stretch out on our classy Croatia map-printed towels, and I have to say that Mr. Hitchcock's appraisal does not disappoint. We watch the mountains of the islands on the horizon go hazy and then pink, orange and red, as the sun seems to get bigger and bigger and the sailboats go into silhouette. The water here is a perfect crystal turquoise fading to navy, and the stones Matt is throwing in (he is somewhat less entranced by the view) are visible down to 10 or 12 feet at the bottom, even in the harbor. It's amazing.


We finally tear ourselves away to get changed and cleaned up for dinner, which in our vacation-world now means 'make half-hearted attempt to wipe off at least some of your sunscreen and possibly change into a clean shirt if one is really readily available.' We walk down the seaside again to a local seafood restaurant and sample some amazing fresh fish and local wine before strolling through the town again. It's nearly midnight when
we pass a French girl and her mother, asking a Croatian woman for directions to Poljana Plankit 5, and meeting a blank stare.


I watch in amazement as my boyfriend (who, it should be noted, is wearing swim shorts and a tee that says 'Don't you wish your boyfriend was Aussie like me?') turns to them and confidently announces that they should follow us-- we will take them there!

I'm not sure who is more shocked, me or them. Maybe the geographically challenged Croatian woman. Turns out that is our address and they are Zeljko's new houseguests. It's our turn to feel pretty sketchy as we lead them down the same ridiculously dark garden path and their French conversation takes on a slightly hysterical note. Soon the light is switched on and we go upstairs, as they explain that they have not been able to get Zeljko on the phone despite repeated attempts.


The reason is revealed as we walk into his apartment, bringing our new friends Clemmie and Sophie with us, and he is softly snoring on the balcony, face down on a cushion depicting a lovely multi-racial couple in H&M khaki shorts. I tactfully leave Matt to wake him up and introduce his new guests, and Matt makes an impressively quick getaway to our little room soon after. The clouds are rolling in with Adriana's predicted storm, and it's time for lights out, as we hear Zeljko begin his life story again for his new guests.