The Pesky Time difference

I find it odd that a mere 1-hour time difference between the UK and the continent still has some sort of effect on my droopy eyelids. And even odder that just this morning I walked the length of the Lapad Peninsula in Dubrovnik, and type this late at night back in the UK.

Sometimes it is too much to process. I set off early from the Pension in the hopes of catching the airport bus, only to have a taxi pull up at the buss-stop at the same time, offering the same price to the airport. It sounded too good to be true. But I hopped in, along with another couple whom I met just a week ago taking the same airport bus with me into Dubrovnik when we both arrived. What coincidence. It turned out that the taxi driver needed to pick some people up from the airport and thought of sending passengers there as well. Mutually beneficial, so he said.

That couple who were also in the taxi waxed lyrical about Dubrovnik, its sun-soaked atmosphere and the friendly people, while the driver seemed pleased to hear it. The mutual sentiment amongst them was that Montenegrins have sold their souls when they sold their lands to the Russians.

“You have done a good job,” the woman said. “Everything is so nice, so well-done.”

I did not say very much thoughout their animated chatter. Tiredness prevented me from reflecting too much, which, I suppose, in hindsigh,t is probably a good thing. Will I miss the spectacular scenery? Certainly. The daily dose of gelato? Sure. The sun? Well…perhaps, despite the outbreak of hives and a rather bad sunburn on my back and shoulders. The people? I’m mixed.

I’m glad to be back here actually. The blast of cold air that hit me in the face was rather welcome, despite the loud complaints from the other passengers. So that’s it folks, and until the next time my feet bring me some place else.