Sunday, September 9, 2012

Camping in Croatia

When you cross a border, you learn that its safest to drive slowly, whilst you pick up on the driving habits and attitude from others. Italy taught me to watch my arse. Get out of the way quickly. Croatia has taught me to do all the above but ignore the ridiculously slow speed limits. I assumed 60 meant 60kph. The drivers here seem to add  a '1' to the '60'.

View from my tent
I'm still feeling a bit down after saying goodbye my wife again so plump for the comfort of my tent in a campsite on the coast. I'm impressed with the low cost of things here. I buy a cheap bottle of wine and pour most of it down the drain. It may be cheap at $1.50 a litre but petrol  is more expensive and probably tastes a lot better. Then I discover Croatian Cabernet Sauvignon. $5 and on a par with the most expensive Australian Coonawarra or French Burgundy. Delicious, especially with the local cheese. Heaven!

I've secured a beautiful spot which looks out on to the Adriatic sea and decide that I should drop in for a swim. Drop-in, is exactly what happened, trying to tip to around the boulders, I slipped on my right foot, bashed my left toe on a rock and split the nail, fell on my arse in shallow water whilst a crowd of Croatian beach sunbathers watched in amusement. Well I think they were amused, no one seems to smile much here. I've lost all dignity but try to look as if I don't care. No one believes me.

If I'm not entertaining the locals with my beach antics I'm trying not to drop my overladen bike in the gravel. Why is there always a crowd watching when you make a mistake turning your bike. I didn't drop it but managed to look a bit of a tube recovering from a near miss. Definately not cool. The locals still don't laugh, maybe they understand.

I head south on the coast roads and discover Europes best kept secret. This is absolutely amazing countryside, scenery, endless empty winding roads, beautiful seaside villages and ports.
As I drive the route towards Split I'm bowled over by this country. This is better than France, nearly as good as Scotland surely. Hmmm OK maybe not that good. :)

Beautiful Croatia

Heres another thing.
In Italy, France and Croatia, the people and culture grow up on two wheels, they understand. The car and truck drivers make way, move over, allow you to pass. They are apologetic if they dont see you coming up from behind. Even parking is easy. Cars pay for each space, bikes (and mostly scooters) are given the best places to park at no charge. Hey Australia! Wake up!

Happy again!
I just wish the Croatians would cheer up a bit. I have finally!

Oh, before I forget. I entered a naturalist campground by mistake, not that I've got anything to hide but I do wish some people would put clothes on. I nearly dropped my bike with shock. It wasn't full of beautiful beach babes and handsome hunks, more chunky middle aged chunks and spaniels ears. I did consider joining in for a bit but decided I would probably fit right in.

"They'll take your bike and sell your body for sex in Albania"

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