Korčula

That c with a háček is not unlike the English ch, and that's why I was very tempted to correct the tourist who read the čokolada on the label and asked for a scoop of cokolada ice cream in Ljubijana. But that's later.

Korčula is alleged to be the birthplace of Marco Polo, but that debate is not settled.

On the ferry I met Diana and Laurie, an Ozzie couple from Margaret River who were also disembarking at Korčula. They had driven down from Zagreb and were now travelling up the coast. We lunched together in the town and then started our search for lodging. I took one B&B that was closer to town that they had passed up because I wanted to be within walking distance of dinner later. This is the view looking back toward the town. Note again the crystal clear water.

In the middle of my afternoon siesta, Diana and Laurie called by my place to say that they had arranged for a hire car tomorrow to sightsee the island and would I care to join them? Of course, if you'll let me pay a third of the costs, accepting with alacrity. They can also drop me off at the end of the day in Lumbarda, a village a few km outside of Korčula Town, where I have decided to spend a couple of days.

This feral cat was worried I might want some of its dinner. I was actually quite far away, this was a telephoto shot. And the fish was wrapped in an Italian newspaper, wonder how that happened.

There is actually a restaurant inside this remnant of a tower, but I settled for one inside the old town. The tall blonde Croatian waitress laughed at me when I finally plonked myself down at one of her tables. "I saw you walk past a few times," she said. True, there were many choices and I am fussy. I had mussels with chips. It's magical, eating by candlelight in the street on this breezy evening. I'm sure the other diners in the old town felt the same way. In fact I must have been so diverted that I neglected to take any photos of the old town that evening.