SUMMER NIRVANA
Very
quickly after our departure it was apparent, we were not going to make the 1:15
ferry. The bus did a slow cha cha along numerous switchbacks before descending
from the mountain to inch along all the traffic on the coastal road. We passed
slowly, very slowly through some charming little seaside towns like Omis, Donja
Brela and Makaraska. All were incredibly beautiful and all were very busy. Not
only was traffic a factor, but the 10-minute “rest-stop” for the drivers and
passengers, that may have been necessary, had me doing a slow burn and Janet
was getting weary of my boorish behavior. Yeah, I was being a jerk, but, then
she texted Zeljko and his response, one of calm and acceptance, was enough to
settle me down.
Too often
traveling can be arduous. The logistics of mass transit schedules can be
daunting, especially in a foreign country. Time dwindles drastically with the
slightest dawdling or misstep. Connections missed can mean hours of delay. But
it’s summertime and the living is easy.
My friend
in Trpanj called it Summer Nirvana.
When he
texted those exact words to us it took all the angst from this intrepid
traveler. Admittedly, I already had agita when I heard Janet’s plan to take a
10 am bus out of Split to make a 1:15 ferry from Ploče, 115 km down the
coastal road. The ferry would take us to Trpanj, across the bay on the Plejesac
Peninsula. Janet had it all figured out. We would arrive in the dreary port
town of Ploče with 45 minutes to
make it from the bus station to the ferry terminal. What could go wrong?
We were
traveling from Split to Trpanj, by way of Ploče to reconnect with my friends from the
Sarajevo Winter Olympics. This was the third leg of our three-week adventure in
Croatia and after an interminable 35 years and a horrific war I was anxious to
meet with Zeljko and Hana again. They were originally from Sarajevo, but fled
Bosnia during the war to eventually settle in Zagreb, Croatia. They were
putting us up in their summer home in Trpanj and we had already delayed our
rendezvous by taking our side trip to the Plitvice Lakes National Park. The
first leg of our Croatian adventure was to take a small luxury cruise ship from
Dubrovnik through the Dalmatian Islands and disembarking in Split. Rather than
hightailing it directly to Trpanj we rented a car and visited the most popular tourist
attraction in Croatia, Plitvice Lakes.
Zeljko
and I worked together at the Olympics for ABC Television and over the years
we’ve tried to keep in touch. The siege of Sarajevo and all the wars that
gripped Yugoslavia made that difficult but eventually through social media we
reconnected. The past couple of years he had been sending me pictures and
messages imploring me to visit him in Trpanj and we finally took him up on it
and we were to stay with them the final week in Croatia, immersed in local
culture and a lot of wine.
We
thought of keeping the car and driving directly to Ploce, but the cost was
prohibitive, so after one more night in Split we took the 10 am bus to the
ferry to the waiting arms of our friends. Well, that was the plan.
On the road to Ploce |
Here was
a man who had to flee his home in Sarajevo when the city was surrounded and subjected
to constant shelling and sniper fire in a siege that lasted years. When he fled,
he took his family some personal items and nothing else. His response of no
worries, “Summer Nirvana” put me in my place.
When I
speak of arduous traveling, I am woeful, I am embarrassed.
GOOD IN
EVERYTHING
Janet
often says she tries to find the good in every situation and everyone and I
have to do more of that searching. Well, after my sea change of attitude about
the ferry I found something really good.
Now, there
was an earlier bus at 6 am, but that was too early, so the 10 am was the only
option, but even if we had all 45-minutes to make it from the Ploče bus station to the
ferry ticket office, we would have been running to catch it. The bus station
and the ferry are really not near each other. It’s quite a hike to the ticket
office and then back to the ferry loading site and on this blisteringly hot day
with no appreciable breezes we would have been panting to make it.
The next
ferry was three hours later and so we settled in at a café table beneath a very
necessary umbrella and had some lunch. Because of our delay I finally got to
eat ćevapćići for the first time on
this Croatian trip.
JA
VOLIM JESTI CEVAPCICI
While
working the Sarajevo Olympics in 1984 many times I enjoyed this sausage of
minced meat, of beef, lamb and sometimes pork that was grilled and served with
a pita bread. Sometimes potatoes and onions and sour cream were added and
sometimes a spicy peppery condiment, Ajvar, was available, but mostly it was
just the meat and bread. This hearty and tasty and cheap dish found in any of
the numerous grill shops in Sarajevo got me through a couple of pub crawls with
Zeljko.
Although
found throughout the former Yugoslavia and considered a national dish, I had
yet to see it on any of the menus, but then again, we were along the coast and
eating a lot of seafood. Turns out that Ploce, despite the dreary Communist era
apartment blocks fronting the port is also the port of entry for Bosnia I Herzegovina.
This mostly land-locked country only has a small coastline further down the bay
in Neum. Because of this Bosnian connection ćevapćići was prominently offered in the café.
It made the wait for the next ferry very pleasant.
It’s an
hour trek across to Trpanj. Zeljko and Hana were there, waiting for us, and the
embraces were warm and the conversations picked up right where we left them off
in 1984.