Vanja slip outside the room, silently closing the door. Josef, Mirko and I became acquainted. The stories unfold. Vanja pops in again, momentarily; Mirko smiled at her and they locked eyes for a heartbeat. When she’s gone, he looks at me and says something in Croatian. Josef smiles, turns to me and interprets: "I'm in love with my wife". Like father like son, I think, as I reflect what Boris had told me during our café in a Zagreb park -- that he still loves his wife today as much as when he married her. Boris had a good role model.

As the time passes, I start getting anxious. Where was Vanja, I inquire. Making lunch, I’m told. But time is running out, I stammer. She’s doing what’s traditional, I’m told. Finally, the door opens and Vanja motions us to follow her into the kitchen. On the table is a serving bowl full of freshly made soup, a platter of lamb and chicken, and bowls of beets and salad. A feast!

We begin eating with forced relaxation, as we have just 15 minutes to finish and be on our way to make the 12:00 launch time of the gulet. Vanja hardly ate at all as she jumped up and down from the table to serve our whims. Mirko watching her grins and through Josef said that the reason they have a perfect relationship is that Vanja likes to cook and he likes to eat.

I cradle my gifts as we race in Josef’s Jeep to the harbor. Nonplussed by us men gnawing at our bits to get going in our race against time, Vanja had collected some pomegranates and lemons for me from her garden, and had inscribed sweet words in an English-written version of a book about Dalmatia. As we pull up to the broad white stoned promenade that demark harbor from city, I’m relieved to see the Hera still there. Our goodbyes were too quick. I turn and come aboard the boat.

In the stern sits the bulk of my party, too relaxed it seemed, sipping red wine. “Are we ready to leave?” I ask. “No”, I’m told, “The captain thinks it’s too choppy outside the harbor.” I feel frustrated -- all that rushing for naught, I think, as I haul my luggage to my stateroom. It turns out, that choppy water lasted right till it was too late to leave; as Hera doesn’t sail at night, there would be one more night in Split.