(Note: The following post describes details from a previous trip, NOT a current trip.)
Thursday, September 6th.
First thing in the morning, I peek out from behind the shutters.
A group of us are supposed to rent a couple of boats and tour the waters around Hvar Island today. The gray skies above seem to suggest that we should consider other options.
I’m also not feeling like my normal self; this slowly developing cold is sapping my strength and my motivation to get out of bed. I go back to bed and curl up for another 45 minutes.
I eventually meet most of the others on the main strip, who are also doubting whether we can take to the water today. Our trip leader Livia says that – according to someone at the tour information office – the weather is due to clear up by noon.
While we wait out the weather, we opt to drop by a local patisserie that Natalie and Josie discovered the day before. My order of tea and a cookie is just what the vacation doctor ordered; the former warms my belly, while the latter satisfies my craving for something a bit decadent.
Josie and I hang back at the patisserie while the others wander away – just doing simply nothing. It’s probably one of the first times during our trip so far where we’ve had a chance to do that.
At noon, we meet the others and – as forecast by the tourism folks – the skies are clear.
We split two small rental motorboats between the nine of us, and decide who will be operating the boats. I’m sharing a boat with Natalie, Paul, Mariam and Sanj.
After a bit of discussion, we elect Paul to be our operator and awkwardly lumber into the boat and wait for the guy from whom we’re renting – a scruffy-looking guy, whose name I can’t remember – to give Paul a brief lesson in operating the boat.
I don one of the lifejackets stuffed in the front of the boat – mostly for my own safety, as I’m not a strong swimmer … but also partially because before Paul gets his “lesson”, Natalie recalls a story in which Paul had previously operated a boat, which he managed to flip over.
So, nope – not really taking any chances.
Luckily for us, Paul aces the mini-lesson and before long, we are on our way.
The scenery from the boat is just lovely, and it’s nice and cool on the water, passing by boats of various shapes and sizes.
But about 15 feet from the edge, there’s an immediate drop, which is great for the stronger swimmers like Natalie, Rob and Richard to go take a dip.
Our time at the restaurant starts out light and playful, with lots of laughs. But it’s a bit dampened by the end of our visit, as the guy who runs the resto turns out to be a bit of a dick, charging way too much for a couple of the dishes we order.
No matter. On to the next.
The second inlet looks a lot nicer, but not many of us venture into the water this time around. We return to Hvar by early evening.
My boating posse, along with Jennifer and Josie (who have stayed on dry land for the day), start our evening at this posh-looking outdoor lounge for pre-dinner drinks.
We’re the only ones there – it’s still early – so we spread out and comfortably chill out for a while with our cocktails (why hello there, tasty Kir Royale!).
Dinner’s at a Croatian/Mediterranean fusion restaurant at the end of the main drag, called Divino. And “divino” it was. Everything, from the amuse-bouche, to our appetizers and entrees, are absolutely delicious.
Except for Miriam, we all take a pass on dessert – because we’re heading back to our new, favourite patisserie from earlier.
After stuffing ourselves with more sweet baked goods, some of us walk (or, in my case, waddle) around a bit longer, drifting past the bars and party-goers, ogling an ornate yacht or two, before shuffling off to our rooms.
One more day, and one more destination awaits – the town of Split.