BUSES FERRIES AND AUTOMOBILES and CEVAPCICI

SUMMER NIRVANA 

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.

BUS STOP HOTTIES

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?

DESCENDING INTO OMIS

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.

OMIS

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

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.

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.  

YUM

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.