Lapad – The “Burbs” 10/18

This is my last full day in Croatia. Tomorrow, I will take a bus to the Dubrovnik airport and through a series of stops and planes reenter my former world.

I’m a little nervous about the bus schedule. Yesterday, I confirmed the time and place: just outside the Old City at a bus stop at 8:00 AM Croatian Air told me. This morning, I get up at 7:00 AM and decide to make a trial run. I can see approximately where the bus should be at 8:00 AM on my map, and want to ensure it actually is there today. I walk out of the Old City, up several flights of stone stairs to bring me to the road above the town. I turn right, left, meander, find one bus stop after another. I’m confused. I stand at a bus stop that I think should be it, so suggests the map, until 9:00 AM. No airport bus.

Frustrated, I return to the Croatian Air office. She can’t confirm if I was at the right bus stop, but she could confirm that the bus didn’t run this morning. So much for preparation. Undaunted, though fatigued, I start from the beginning… the Placa, and try again. Ahhh, should have turned right at the top of the stairs, not bend to the left. The right stop was a block away. Now if only there is a bus tomorrow.

Surprisingly, I bump into Mike and Colleen on their way to a city bus to explore the Dubrovnik suburbs to the west of the Old City. I join them. We circumnavigate the bulbous Lapad Peninsula and marvel at all the small green and rocky island outcrops that punctuate the sparkling sea. It seems that every 100 meters there’s a stairway down from our walkway to a pool nestled behind an outcropping of boulders, a sensual invitation to take a dip. But we ignore such quiet pleas, for where on a mission to walk the rubber of our soles, and we do.

On the northern end of the peninsula, we observe the several cruise ships and private yachts tied up along the Gruz Harbor. Mike, noting that his Balboa Yacht membership from Newport Beach, California should enable us to have lunch at some Croatian yacht club, ushers us past the gate and disappears inside, quickly reappearing with his trademark wide grin and motioning us to sit down. Best calamari I’ve ever had.

On the way back, I pay attention to the local people, for in October in the Lapad area there are few tourists. People are walking everywhere. The busses are frequent, clean and efficient. There’s not a paucity of cars, unless of Japanese origins. Lots of children and teenagers who smile and laugh a lot. The adolescents look like smaller versions of their parents – there’s no display of rebellion, of tattoos, piercing, pants cinched below the pubic bone, or Mohawks. Viva Croatia!

As night descends, I make my way back to the Old City. As I approach the western Pile Gate, I look for Eddy. As ever, he’s at his table, ear to phone as he scans groups of people passing by for homeless tourists. I sit down beside him.

“Are you happy?” he asks in which is now our trademark conversation opener. “A little sad to be going home tomorrow”, I replied.

“Hey, Garma, you’re Croatian… this is your home… you’re just going to America for a visit!”

We shake hands, and I turn to cross the drawbridge and enter the gate to the City, slowly
making my way back to my room along the Placa, stopping often to absorb all that I can. I spot Ana, my "landlady". She approaches me and appears, again, to be in a daze, eyes fixed ahead but not on anything particular. She passes right by me, not seeing me, for I too am among nothing in particular. I say nothing.

It’s a lot warmer tonight. Everything is still; even the winds abate, earning us a well deserved reprieve.