Dobro jutro,
When we left you last time (which was a while ago now – free time on this trip to write anything is limited with kids – even this sentence has taken 2hrs and spanned 3 toilet trips, a smashed breakfast bowl and a meltdown as a favourite bedtime lamb toy has gone missing – the kids haven’t been easy to deal with either) I’d been offering an underwhelming peep show to our Croatian neighbours, and we’d been toning our thighs in Dubrovnik. We have since finished our Croatian adventure by taking a mini-submarine trip that I wish had have sunk, then I put 5yrs of Engineering study finally to use by modifying a pram so Krys and I could still drink with dinner – talk about extracting maximum value from subsidised higher education…..
Our remaining time in Croatia was split between the islands of Korcula and a return to Hvar. And it was on Korcula that we thought we had found the perfect child activity – a mini-submarine ride where they could stare at fish through a glass window while sitting on padded seats as it meandered around the Korcula shoreline. As per most ‘perfect plans’ this held together for all of 5mins until Emelia located the one strip of exposed hard plastic available and while chasing a Nemo fish that was tormenting her through the glass she used it to smash her face on it, splitting her lip. And as we were dealing with Emelia, Olivia’s indecision as to what side of the window to look out of meant that she tripped and bumped her head on the floor. As the submarine co-pilot descended the stairs to inspect the site of the screaming symphony and saw two parents wiping blood off children and seats I didn’t need to know Croatian to read the ‘what the f#ck’ look on his face as he surveyed a completely benign environment that looked and sounded like it had just hosted a Croatian knife fight. The joys of children…..
On our return to shore we did what we normally do after a stressed situation – made Olivia go to sleep and found a place that serves wine. And it was here that Emelia let us know that she was getting uncomfortable trying to sleep in her pram when we went to dinner at night. Which was surprising as who wouldn’t want to drag their toes through gravel as they are pushed through stone laneways towards various eating establishments? The kids of today really need to harden up. So what to do? Start eating in? Start having early dinners with awake children? Leave the children in a blood soaked mini-sub and make our escape? It seemed the only acceptable solution (to us and society in general – I’m guessing abandoning your children for wine is viewed poorly) was to modify Emelia’s pram. So finally 5yrs of Engineering study was put to use, and while channeling my inner MacGyver I put together a pram extension using pieces of firewood, some tape and an old pillowcase. My lovely wife was very impressed – although I think even the dodgiest of construction that allowed her to continue to enjoy mild intoxication with dinner to take the edge off my company would have been met favourably.
And her comment of ‘you do have a bit of McGyver about you’ was taken as a compliment until I realised she was talking about how he looks now. At least for real life McGyver his decline was a natural one over 35yrs. I seem to have achieved the same amount of degradation in a little over 2 months.
The children sleeping in prams situation does have a downside – it has led us to indulge a little more than we anticipated on this trip. And when the morning rolls around there is no place to hide with 2 young children. We found that out the hard way on one of our last Croatian dinners. I had made the mistake of accepting a local Croatian after dinner shot that had incinerated my insides, and had me expecting to pass lava from my rectum for the next month. On the walk home we passed an open air bar selling some fruity cocktails so thought what better way to get the taste of acid from my mouth and hopefully quench my internal organs (it was really just an excuse – I love fruity cocktails – my taste in alcohol has parallels with a 15yr old girl – but let’s go with the wash my mouth out story). Krys decided to get onboard the after dinner cocktail train too but unfortunately what she ordered didn’t come in a dainty little glass with a cute umbrella, but instead came in a glass that could be used as a swimming pool for a medium sized dog (or Grant Denyer). With Krys being a determined person, plus wanting to make my conversation about tax cut policy tolerable (seriously, are we heading towards trickle down flat tax rate rubbish) she finished the lot. However excitement turned to regret the next day, as she spent the morning throwing up – a sad parallel to our first evening together.
Our last day in Croatia was spent at a beach club; not because we were looking for a ‘scene’ but because it was the most convenient place to get food, it served french fries for Emelia, and was a relatively simple place for a swim. The scene itself was something that had passed us by many, many years ago (if we were ever up to it at all). Young girls in impossibly small bikinis (how they don’t feel compelled to constantly try and dig the slivers of material out of their butt cracks I don’t know) prance around taking photos of each other like their energy source is a camera flash. And they are followed around eagerly by young boys with big hair, reflective sunglasses and hopeful grins. The girls prance, giggle and scream as they frolic in the water – like a bad 90’s porno opening (not that I ever watched them. I just read the articles). And the boys follow close by hoping for a sign that they are a chance. And in the middle of all of this……. Krys and I trying to contain 2 runaway kids while trying to dig excess sand out of their swimmers while Olivia loudly exclaims ‘I need to poo’. I bet our presence made those younger beach club attendees much more mindful of birth control the next time their interactions drifted in an amorous direction.
We have since almost been squashed by trucks and had a visit to an Amalfi Coast hospital, but more on that later….
Ugodan dan.
Trent, Krystal, Emelia, Olivia and swimmers that comfortably cover my expanding backside
smallthoughts 