…here we are.
In the south-central Europe, where the blue Adriatic sea meets the silver mountains and mighty rivers, lies the beautiful Croatia with its 2,375 km of borders.
My favourite set of borders is the four borders you have to cross to get from Dubrovnik to South Herzegovina.
After a re-he-he-heally early flight this morning from Zagreb to Dubrovnik (5:50, which means you have to be there at 5:00, which means you have to take the 4:30 bus from the Main Bus Station, which means you have to wake up at 4, if you’re lucky enough to have friends who live nearby so you can get your 4 hours of sleep).
We’ve had very… interesting comments regarding the signs (or lack thereof) directing you to the airport shuttle bus at the Main Bus Station.
Exaggeration, I thought, until I saw this at 4:15 in the morning.
First of all, it doesn’t say that this luminuos Ticket office / Exchange will take you to the airport. Also, who wants to guess if you can go in? Let me save you the trouble, you can’t. I kind of went around, jumped over a fence and found myself very much alone at what I know is the bus shuttle terminal, but still unsure whether the bus actually showing up, so I can’t imagine what anyone arriving there completely alone for the first time must be feeling like.
The new airport: sure it has its toilet women issues, but it looks great, so I’ll consider forgiving whomever it is I need to forgive for the late boarding (without an apology and/or explanation). I might not be the most competent person to judge airports, but whatever is responsible for taking me home in 50 minutes instead of the usual 8-hour bus ride, is a hero that can do no wrong in my book.You get a glass of water (which is ok I guess, it’s a beautifully short flight), and, for some reason aren’t allowed to use your headphones? I forgot to ask the flight attendants, what’s that all about?
If you’ve stumbled upon the How to open an “obrt” in Croatia article, you might remember the incentives – well, the signing of that agreement is the reason why I came back and got into the absolute nightmare that was today. I landed at 7, googled opening hours of Croatian Employment Bureau, Tax Administration Office and Croatian Pension Insurance Institute, and was thrilled to find out they open at 7. Very sceptical, but thrilled nonetheless. Spoiler alert – they don’t. Every website says 7, but every door says 8.
There I was, successfully dealing with Croatian bureaucracy, surviving running from Tax Administration to what I thought was the Croatian Pension Insurance Institute to what was actually Croatian Pension Insurance Institute to a notary’s office and finally to the Employment Bureau, and four hours later I made it, with zero caffeine or calories in my veins and without crying once (even though I was very close at least three times).
“Do you want to drive?”
“I think you pronounced die wrong, dad.”
Ok, the man did pick me up from the airport, stopped me from committing murder on several occasions during that morning and he has back problem so sure, dad, I’ll drive for another hour and a half. It turned out to be closer to two hours something.
It takes four border crossings to get from Dubrovnik to South Herzegovina and there are normally a few cars, the policemen glance over your IDs and let you pass, especially on a Tuesday morning. Well, every exception in the world has apparently decided to come together and make a very inappropriate metaphorical hand gesture at me.
As a cherry on top, my father says: “This is why we should’ve left early.” Noted, dad, will fly in at 3 a.m. next time.
Can’t wait for June, right?