(Note: The following post describes details from a previous trip, NOT a current trip.)
Split’s airport is packed; there’s not a seat to be had, so I spend my wait for the plane standing in one place – trying not to smack people.
When the flight’s finally up in the air, I spend it in some (rare) silence, as everyone around me’s speaking German.
By the time the flight lands, and I grab my luggage, make my way through a customs check and board transit to the hostel at which I’m staying, it’s 10:30 p.m. and I’m absolutely wiped.
Even after check-in, I feel a bit out of sorts. Trying to call home via Skype – normally a breeze – is an exercise in frustration. By the time I get relatively settled, my stomach is growling and whining at me in anger.
I step out for some fresh air and late-night food – in this case, the doner stand across the street. I wolf down that doner like it’s my last meal, and I don’t even feel stuffed.
I retire for the night shortly after that, in hopes this cold shrinks, and I can escape the cloudiness enveloping my tired brain.