Feet Dry

ABOUT: Arriving in Split, written in apartment

*Blather*

On the plane I found myself sitting next to a Welsh-born guy called Dennis who has lived in Oz for many years. He's been travelling for 28 hours from Perth, which has the best beaches on Earth (he says). I don't know if it's due to Wales, Oz or Army service, but I soon realise that Dennis is absolutely shameless, speaking to anyone without hesitation and asking them straight away any question about their business!

He also has a practice, I learn as we get on buses to terminal and to town, of sitting down next to anyone female and starting a conversation. His unconscious easiness makes me a bit jealous.

The bus to town is full and a girl of about 20 sits between Dennis and me, speaking what I think is Spanish to friends in other rows. I don't fancy her or anything, but having seen Dennis I feel like I shouldn't just sit next to her in silence.

I use my best schoolboy Spanish to work out the phrases "Hello, do you speak English?" and "How many friends are you travelling with?" Then I sit on them in silence for another 20 minutes before persuading myself I have nothing to lose. Her English is (naturally) rather better than my Spanish and I learn that she and ten friends have come from Andalucia. It is still Dennis who learns her name is Mary.

*Travel Stuff -ish*

Whilst on the bus, I get a call from someone to do with the apartment and, when I get off the bus I spot him. It turns out that "Apartment Split" will let out independent people's apartments when their normal capacity is full. I'm delighted - the apartment isn't 1km inland, it's on the 3rd or 4th floor of a 100-year-old building, right beside the harbour, night life and the Diocletian Palace (of which more, I expect, tomorrow).

There's a slight perturbation as, when I get to the apartment, they expect cash. I thought I'd paid by credit card over the phone in the UK, so I didn't take enough out from the airport ATM. I have a dull confirming recollection from previous LateRooms usage in the UK, so I offer the money I have. In the end I go to a nearby ATM to get the remainder and replenish my float. I'm pretty sure they're right, but I'm not really fussed and don't want to be a bother to them - I'm delighted with the apartment (location and characteristics) and the chap has been awfully nice to meet me and show me round on the way.

I agree to hand the keys back at 10am on Friday, so it looks like I'll catch the 10:53 to Zagreb.

From the ATM I go for a stroll up what looks like the prime shopping street. I have an Ice Cream (some tasty green fruit) while walking and then sit for a "draft dark beer 0.5L". Or two. As I sit at the table on my own, peoplewatching, I think of lots of things to write. It occurs to me that I'd probably look less "sad" if I sat there tapping away on a PDA. But much, much more of a "spod". I think a notebook (an actual paper one) may be a good compromise.

After this I take a slice of pizza from a stall next door to McDonald's. I know it isn't Haut Cuisine or "distinctively Croatian", but it is 10:30pm and more "local" than Maccy-D's. However, McD's would have been tastier and added to my (?counter-)counter-cultural "world list" of McD meals shamefully eaten in places where I should have known better (including on top of Victoria Peak in Hong Kong).

It seems "God wants me to" write during my journey, as I find an internet café right next to the apartment. I pop in to learn (a) they open at 6am - not likely to be of interest to me - and (b) they sell bottled beer - of reasonable interest in absence of an off-licence.

Back at the apartment I find National Geographic channel in English. I love countries too small to make a business case for re-dubbing. "Air Crash Investigations" is on, which I love despite being a frequent flier. This week it's about an Egyptian pilot who (probably) committed suicide but took hundreds of people with him. I figure that (outside of a personal bad decision) when it's time, it's time and there isn't a lot to do about it. It's out of my control so why worry?