Escape from Dubrovnik, or: It’s The Little Things That Count

Slano, Croatia – Zelenika, Montenegro – Zukotrlica, Montenagro

Who remembers Boris and Natasha? I think they were from Rocky & Bullwinkle – a show our generation enjoyed – or at least watched on occasion. I think Rocky was a squirrel and Bullwinkle was a moose. And then Boris and Natasha were evil; they always had some diabolical plan. 

I always thought Boris and Natasha were Russian, but I guess they could have just easily been Serbian, or Montenagran, or Albanian. They just had some kind of Slavic type accent . . . At the time we basically simplified all the Eastern Block countries – they were all “Russian” in some sense . . .

Anyways, I found myself thinking about that show for two reasons. First, I wanted to use two titles for my story today – and I feel like Rocky & Bullwinkle frequently used that strategem. Something like:

Big Friday – or – How Rocky Lost His Teeth

I figure if a show as estimable as Rocky & Bullwinkle can do it, then so can I.

The second reason I’ve been thinking about  Rocky & Bullwinkle is that, for the first time in my life, I’m in a Slavic part of the world – where people actually have accents like Boris and Natasha. So it seems like a good time to explore this theme . . .

Okay – enough meta-analysis of the title, or titles. Let’s get on to our actual story. 

When we left off a few days ago we were headed to Dubrovnik. Everyone goes to Dubrovnik . . . This great walled city in the sky. 

Our Dubrovnik day started with French Toast. And that’s a good start to any day. I mean, oatmeal is fine. Especially when it has chunks of apple, and raisins and nuts, and it’s cooked just right so it’s not too wet, and it sets up well. Of course, it doesn’t hurt to smother some butter on. And sugar and cream really top it off. But, still, French Toast is a pretty nice start. Only possible because the campground we were staying in had a spare frying pan sitting around . . .

I know it’s difficult to believe that a day that starts so well can go wrong, but, as you will see, it is very possible . . .

Now, I know you are dying to get to the exciting part – when everything goes all to hell – but you’ll just have to wait. Patience is a virtue, you know . . .

The start of our ride was almost as good as French Toast. Maybe even better, really. Because the French Toast was not of the A+ variety. First of all, the bread was kind of sub-par. Not brioche bread, like you’d get in France. Just plain old French bread – which sounds like it would be perfect for French Toast – but, really, not so much. Kind of dry, and the crust was too hard. And then we didn’t have maple syrup. Not that big of a deal – cherry jam can be quite good. But, if you’ll recall, we have fig preserves right now because that’s what the locals were selling. 

Diana loves it. And it is pretty good. But it’s no cherry . . .

But the point is that the start of the ride was amazing. Diana found a little road that only showed up on Google Maps – Walking, which, unlike Google Maps – Biking, still works in Croatia. 

Our own private path up into the heavens.

Breathtaking overlooks.

And, speaking of cherries, a Croatian cherry tree with cherries to pick. An apiary.

Lots of signs for wild boars. (No actual boars, but then, you can’t have everything . . .)

A fantastic descent with amazing views of the Adriatic and various islands.

Yes, now that I think about it, this part of the ride was definitely better than the maple syrup-less and cherry jam-less French Toast. After all, there wasn’t even really enough butter. My fault. In my excitement over having Franz for dinner I forgot to buy more . . .

And then we met half-a-dozen Spaniards – biking along in our direction. That was fun. Not as fun as the private path with the cherry tree. But, clearly, not the bad part of the day . . .

It’s coming, though. Don’t you worry. 

Now, I know we’ve already had plenty of foreshadowing – but there’s more to come . . . And I guess I just did some foreshadowing of our foreshadowing. 

Probably bad form. But that’s just how it is, I guess . . .

There’s a big bridge you cross in order to go to Dubrovnik from the north. We’re about to cross this bridge when another biker – who is going the opposite direction – biking away from Dubrovnik, swoops across the traffic and into our path. Renata. From France. She’s a spunky older woman, and she wants to confirm the direction to Bosnia and Herzegovina with us. 

We talk to her for a few minutes. 

Diana asks her about Dubrovnik. 

“Terrible for cyclists,” she says. “So many tourists.”

She indicates that she’s doing anything she can to get away from Dubrovnik as quickly as possible. 

This is beyond an omen. More like a sledgehammer. Or a giant blinking neon sign: DO NOT GO HERE!!! (Do something else – like enjoy a day at the beach . . .)

Do we listen? Of course not . . .

Now, our first assignment in Dubrovnik is to find a bike store, because we need new chains for both bikes, and new handlebar tape for Little Ann. 

There’s a bike store pretty close to where we are – just on the other side of the bridge. But the directions to get there show a 5 kilometer journey to the other end of town and then back again. As we discover, that’s because the bike shop is closer to sea level and we’re about 400’ above. You can go down directly, but only with stairs. We debate leaving the bikes at the top and walking down, but ultimately decide to just follow the directions and bike around. 

Huge pain in the rear. And somehow – even though we are going 400’ down – we still end up having to do some climbs to get to the shop. When we finally arrive we are disappointed to learn that they have no 11-speed chains – the kind we need. Bummer.

Diana figures out there is another bike shop in town and she calls them and they do, indeed, have the chains that we need. Looks like it’s pretty close by. Sadly, though, we are discovering that Dubrovnik is laid out in a hub and spoke system. To get to the new shop we have to go back to the hub, and then take a different “spoke” (street) back out. Again, doesn’t seem like that big of a deal – except that, as we discover, this means going back to sea level and then back up again. 

It’s hot. In fact, Dubrovnik seems like the Popo’s Driveway of Croatia. Where the rest of the country seems to be pretty temperate, the sun seems to beat extra hard on this old town – and there’s no breeze to speak of . . . We’re also hungry for lunch. 

And we’re starting to get kind of grumpy. 

Turns out that this second shop has eleven speed chains alright, but the chains have no quick-link, they look kind of cheapy, and they cost 65 euro (or about $80) each. 

We need chains. But not that badly. I think the last time we bought chains – in Spain – they were $30 each. Can’t stomach paying more than double . . .

Okay. We agree: “Let’s just get to the old town and the walled city that everyone talks about. We’ll just cruise back down the hill . . .” 

Except the walled city is not the hub. In order to get there we need to go back down to the hub, and then up and over this giant hump. 

By the time we get there we’ve done probably well over 1,000’ of vertical – just in Dubrovnik. I’m sure the old town is really cool, but Diana and I are having none of it. There are people everywhere. There are shops selling over-priced knick-knacks everywhere. And now we’re thirsty as well as hungry. 

To slake our thirst, we buy a couple bottles of water and a small Coke. Price? $9. Are you kidding me? Should be $2, or maybe $3. $9? Ridiculous. 

And that is the final straw. 

We need to remove ourselves from this town as quickly as possible. 

The best way to do that is, as we figure out, by water taxi. (I visited this area years ago for a conference and I had remembered taking a water taxi then . . .) We’ll skip the details. Suffice to say that getting the bikes through the old town gates and the crowds, and then onto a boat, was not a walk in the park . . .

But the good news is that we got out of there . . .

Sorry all of you Dubrovnik lovers. Diana says the old town and the walled city are not that impressive. She is just generally negative on the place. 

“I hate the way their streets work, you have to bike up and down to get anywhere in this town . . .”

So that was our experience in the home of Game of Thrones.

But, remember, this post has two titles. We’ve explained one, but maybe not the other . . .

We ended up having a great day yesterday, and another today . . .

Do you know why? Because of the little things . . .

• Like the turtle we saw crossing the little road we were on in the morning. 
• Like the easy-breezy border crossing into Montenagro – our nineteenth country of the trip!
• Like meeting Patrick – a fellow biker – at the campground in Montenagro last night. 
• Like chatting with Duron – our camp host last night – who told us a little more about the history of Montenagro. I guess it was part of Serbia until about 2005 or 2006 – when it decided to break away. Duron says that there are still a number of Montenagrans who identify with the Serbians – but it is pretty clear that he is not too enchanted with them. 
• Like Kathy – our camp host tonight. She laughs and smiles and helps us figure out our laundry, and she tells us the best way to bike in the morning. They have an olive tree on the property that is over 600 years old. So cool!
• Like Frederick – this guy we randomly saw on the street this morning. Frederick stopped us and told us that we had to bike along the sea rather than on the busier road that we were on (not knowing any better because it is our first time here). Turns out that Frederick lives in Belgrade and is Serbian, but he’s originally from Kosovo. Maybe not all Serbians are nice, but this one is . . .
• Like Valentina and her brother, Dan, who we met this morning. Valentina was selling olive oil that she made herself. Diana was pretty excited.
• Or like the mohn we are finding in bakeries these days. Never heard of mohn? It’s this poppy seed paste stuff that we first had years ago in Germany. We love it. Very black, kind of sweet and just generally yummy. Diana’s patient, Marie Louise, makes mohn desserts for her because she knows Diana loves it. Kind of seeming like mohn is going to be a big thing in Eastern Europe. Bodes well for a good next few months . . .
• Or like meeting Otto and his wife Marilyn from Germany at the campground tonight. Otto was super curious about our trip and very engaged in our conversation. Which made me realize that that was one of the big things that I found lacking in Western Europe. No one seemed to care. They all seem to be just doing their own thing. Very difficult to engage them in a conversation. Seems like the further east we go the more we are talking to people. 

It’s all these moments – and a million other little interactions with Diana – like when we laugh together, or notice a turtle or a frog or whatever – that make for great days. Yes, Dubrovnik wasn’t all that great. But as long as there is mohn, and abandoned old roads that feel like they were made just for us, and fun people like Otto and Frederick and Kathy and Duron, the world is good. 

And that is, I guess, the lesson of the day . . . 

They say don’t sweat the little things. 

But I would say something more like this: “Don’t forget the little things that make life sweet and fun . . .”

Tomorrow? On to Albania and the mountains. Probably Kosovo and North Macedonia to follow. Thoughts on these places?