The return trip to Sibenik is less expensive. Knowledge is a valuable thing. Armed with knowing when and where the bus would come, I used it. But not knowing what the fare was or what the fare man told me it was, I held out a hand filled with coins. He took 15 Kunas ($2.10) and gave me a receipt that I saw once seated read 6 Kunas. Well, another rip off, but I was happy that I wasn't in a taxi, particularly since a busload of teenagers just returning home from school kept me entertained all 5 clicks to Sibenik.

Photo:http://www.photocroatia.com/GALLERY/photo.php?photo=1742&u=1904|87

Two hits in one day?

Back in Sibenik, I try again to find my mother's father's house. It starts raining hard. I persist. The rain, failing to dissuade me patiently waits for the night to join ranks and together they press me to abandon the search. Finally, I do so and begin a new search for an Internet Cafe. This proves to be almost as tough as finding Granpa Sharac’s house, but this time I prevail in finding perhaps the only such place in a town of 30,000 people, carefully tucked away upstairs in a bar which says "Bar" outside, not "Internet Cafe". I find this to be the perfect combination... beer and a computer... and I type away as an efficient bar maid climbs the curving steps to my perch and feeds me beer. She makes several such trips and I am happy.

One More Attempt

October 6 is the last day to find the house that Grandpa Jack owned with two brothers, the recent selling of which brought my far flung relatives here in Croatia in communication with us Americans once again. I only have till 10:00 AM to accomplish this deed. There are literally many twists and turns in this story, but suffice to say I found it.

I ask three people, including the Tourist Agency, where it might be, and they all squint, close an eye, and pointed.... there! One problem is that all the maps of Sibenik that I've consulted look like they were made by someone who went into his backyard, pulled a chicken from the coup, dipped her feet in ink, and had a lusty rooster chase her over parchment that was then marked with street names and shrunk down to a 8 by 11 sheet of paper, the very one I have in my pocket.

I need to find "Ruze Vukum #1". With the map crumpled in my hand, I climb one of the many steep stone stairs that cling to steep hills reminiscent of Sausalito, CA except these stairs are massive stone blocks. The view takes my eyes way out to sea.

I find Ruze Vukum #1 just about 1 km from the alley where I was staying. One thing that my Grandfathers have in common is that both their houses are now basically rubble.

Satisfied with my intrepid deed, I roll down the hill to the bus stop just in time to board the bus to Split for a reunion with friends and the start of the sailing trip to the islands on a gulet named “Hera”.