This is my first time typing on a bus, mid-journey between Split and Dubrovnik. I could think of a couple of even more uncomfortable things, but my willingness to endure the arching of my wrists in a very orthopedic position comes to prove just how eager I was to write this blog post.
After months of little to no inspiration to draw, write, or do anything creative, my muse finally paid a visit to me in Hvar. I managed to make the 1-hour ferry journey from Split without seasickness (closing my eyes as soon as I sit down and avoiding looking out the window at all costs seems to do the trick), which allowed me to enjoy a very fancy mango bowl for breakfast at a very fancy hotel right after setting foot on the island.
I was the only one staying on land for the day, and after waving goodbye to everyone else before their own island-hopping boat ride, I started the long solitary expedition walk my introverted brain had been looking forward to for a while.
It was hot, but having already experienced almost a whole week in Croatia in the middle of July made it easier for me to ignore my sticky shirt, humid hair on the back of my neck, and the sweat drops rolling down my legs. I walked westbound as far as I could, with a decreasing surrounding density of tourists the further I got. Hvar would not be a good example to describe deceptive marketing —everything I saw looked exactly the way it does in advertisements or the results of a quick Google search: clear pristine waters with multiple turquoise tones, clear skies without a single cloud, lush thriving Mediterranean vegetation combining different kinds of pine trees, cactuses, and flowers, well-maintained cobble and pebble stone paths, homogeneous stone buildings with cream and pastel colors, the loud sounds of cicadas all around, and the occasional soft breeze briefly making my sweaty skin feel a bit cooler.
I was in awe of my surroundings, and this wonderful feeling lasted until the very end. The more I walked, the more excitement I felt about the freedom to explore such a paradisiacal, somewhat remote place on my own, with the only company of my beloved mirrorless Sony Alpha.
I made my way up the hill climbing to the city fortress, dating to 1000 B.C. The views of the city were as beautiful from an upper perspective as they had been by the shore. It was pretty empty up there, so I could marvel at the sights without the distraction of countless other tourists bustling around me, which is a pretty rare occurrence in these areas in the middle of July. That is until the sound of Andalusian Spanish next to me caught my attention, and I ended up meeting a group of four Spanish guardias civiles (perhaps "military police" is close enough to the right term in English?), who I felt very comfortable chatting and joking with. This experience very vividly reminded me in which ways Germans/Swiss are fundamentally different from my fellow countrymen (and women), and how much easier it is for me to feel connected and understood by my own culture —both in terms of language, but also sense of humor and general demeanor. It exacerbated my baseline homesickness for a while, but not enough to accept their invitation to join them to go to the beach. “My parents raised me better than jumping in the car with four complete strangers” is what I said, which was taken with humor and understanding, not a hint of the kind of offense or reactive insistence I suspect I could have been met with elsewhere.
After saying my goodbyes and with the company of a nice chocolate Magnum fortress ice-cream in my stomach, I made my way back to the city, camera in hand, where I wandered around narrower alleys all the way to the East coast, soaking in the sun and more beautiful paradisiacal sights after every turn I took.
Finally, after hours of uninterrupted walking, I decided to take a break. I sat down and enjoyed a Greek salad while bringing to life the doodles for this blog, finally welcoming my long-lost inspiration after a long-lasting creative drought.
I wrapped up by finding a nice bench under the shade, right by the waterfront, where I could people-watch and read a couple of dozen pages of “Klara and the Sun”. I was only interrupted by an inquisitive, lively young woman and her boyfriend, who, looking at my hat, mistook me for MSC staff, which her best friend had recently signed a contract with. "I saw you sitting there before and I wondered where your ship was, since I hadn't see any cruises around here". I explained it was my brother in fact who worked there, which led to a brief but interesting exchange which I couldn't help but share with humor and excitement my family right away.
For being high season in one of the most popular tourist destinations in Europe, I had such a wonderful day —probably one of my favorites in a while. The Mediterranean feels comfortable and familiar to me. It fills me with a sense of belonging and peace that I often miss in Germany and Switzerland.
It is so important to have the opportunity to experience this every once in a while. As my future continues to hold a high degree of uncertainty, these experiences are factors to be considered when making major decisions in the future. For now, though, I am just happy and thankful for such a wholesome, recharging day, and for being able to find my own company grounding and rewarding.
