Arriving by shuttle from Korcula, we were dropped off to a travel agent with no direction on how to get to Marco Polo Apartments. The Aussie girls and American bloke we met in Hvar stayed in an apartment with us as it was cheaper and there are a lack of hostels here. And besides from that, most of them were booked out by the time we tried to book. 

Learnt that to our apartments, we had to hike up a hill steeper than a joke made about a div kid. Upon arrival, Maria greeted us and explained in broken english that we had to take our passports to “my terrace”. Eerily this sounded more like ‘mataras’, supposedly meaning ‘you will be killed’ in Italian. Upon a bit of research, this actually doesn’t seem to be correct. Whether or not that translation is correct, we are all still alive which is the main thing.

After a fairly sleepless night and having to share a double bed (no homo), Eddie and myself went for a walk around old town. Pretty nice place. There is a massive wall surrounding the old town and normally I couldn’t give two toots about that sort of thing but it had nice scenery views so that was good. Whipped out the student cards and got a child ticket to walk on top of the wall because YOLO. Walked the old town wall of Dubrovnik which is good because now I don’t have to go to China to walk the Great Wall as they are almost identical and there were just as many tourists. Save myself a bit of coin by killing three birds with two pebbles. Maybe that’s why Dubrovnik is now listed as a World Heritage Site, because they couldn’t tell the difference between the one in China and the one here. 

It has happened at every landmark / tourist hotspot we’ve been to, but way too many European women think they are models. Every opportunity they are given with a nice scenery shot, they wrap their arms around the top of their heads and look distant away from the camera pretending it doesn’t exist. Flaunting what they think they’ve got because they think they are professional cat walkers. I’ve got news for you, YOU BLOODY AREN’T!

There’s a cafe called Buza Cafe, sitting on some rocks between the old town wall and the Adriatic Sea. The Battlers sat there nursing an Ozujsko beer listening to Paradise by Coldplay, staring at the horizontal line where different shades of blue connect. Was great just sitting there, two battlers, with no obligation to converse but to just soak up the serenity. Eddie went for a swim before making our way back through town to find out our moves for the next few days.

A particular thought has occurred to me multiple times throughout the trip and will bound to pop into my head several more times between now and my return to Straya. I’m interested to see others’ photos they have taken. Purely on the basis that the amount of times I’ve accidentally walked into others’ photos makes me curious as to the statistics of how many random peoples photos I’m actually in. Would love to see if there are any good ones of me.

Perksy’s digestive system has recently been fighting an uphill battle with poos running faster than Usain Bolt. Getting on the mend though, but my god being crook away from home is the pits. No motherly advice or quick fixes to feel 100% within five minutes of a complaint. However to those reading over forty years old, I’m tip top and will be better in no time. I figure that if I just stop thinking about it, it will have to go away (although upon reflection of what I just wrote then, I thought that about the airline tickets we bought that ended up being a scam and that problem didn’t exactly resolve itself). Eddie is healthy and so far undefeated in his fights against being crook