After a month in Munich, some investor meetings in Zagreb. While things are pretty full on in Bavaria, when in Zagreb, Hvar is not so far away. Should I do a quick surprise trip to visit my girls before heading back to Germany?
Having heard all about the glorious November weather, and with the Scots still swimming, I decided to pop in for a night or two. The family olives had been harvested, so there was no danger of being roped into physical exercise.
And as the bus passed Diocletian’s palace and entered the Split waterfront, I smiled, taking in another trademark Dalmatian sunset in the making. Perhaps it is the fact that we live on an island, but wherever I have lived in the world, there is nothing quite like coming home to Dalmatia. The smell of the sea, the sight of the ferries in the distance, the pristine water – magical Dalmatia is a place like no other.
The catamaran glided through the Adriatic, docking in Bol out of season, before arriving in a Jelsa which had changed a little in the month I had been away. What remained of the open restaurants back then had closed, and some of the chairs on the pjaca’s cafes were no longer there, closed until the start of the new season.
Timeless Dalmatia, which exists from season to season, and the timeless cafe conversations revolved around the same themes – football, politics, olives. But this was no ordinary day. Inside the televisions were turned up loud with coverage of the football match against Russia, outside, a more sombre event – the annual remembrance and candlelit procession to remember Vukovar. I have never lived anywhere where a community holds so many processions throughout the year, each one poignant and a mark either of tradition, religion or commemoration.
After a short time, the end of the kids’ judo class approached – time to surprise them. For a small island community, I am constantly impressed at the range of activities available to local children. And all so safe. Walk to school, walk to chess, walk to the rowing club, walk to music school, walk to judo. In an increasingly dangerous and unstable world – and coming from one of the refugee hot spots in Munich – the contrast with a return to Jelsa was stark.
I opened the door, trying to be unobtrusive, to find a group of perhaps 15 kids attired in their judo white, hanging on the every word of the instructor, and getting their young bodies into positions that this fat blogger can no longer manage. Total concentration, or at least there was until one young daughter noticed a returning father from the corner of her eye, forgot everthing and ran across the room before throwing herself at her Daddy. A powerful and emotional moment, and one which went some way to making all those nappy changes worthwhile.
Home to more welcomes and even more mandarins – for this is the season when the whole community turns orange. Mandarin juice, mandarin marmalade, mandarin everything you can think of. A reminder of one of the most attractive things about life here – the natural, seasonal freshness of its produce.
A morning coffee on the main square the following day. Timeless. Stress-free. Totally detached from the real world. They say there are three types of person on Hvar: the visitor, the local who has never travelled, and the local who has been away and come back. Many who have never travelled do not quite appreciate all they have here, and what makes it so special. Visitors and returning islanders do, and the timeless nature of the laganini lifestyle is a priceless jewel in the modern world.
A departure back to the big city tomorrow, but a quick visit and a reminder that Dalmatia is in my blood. A little like malaria, once you are infected by the magic of the Dalmatian lifestyle, you can never quite shake the disease…
Paradise on Earth.
