TIME TO SPLIT TO THE PRESIDENT’S RESIDENCE
After getting a bum steer from the local transport office in Dubrovnik regarding getting to Zagreb, we jumped on the the next bus that was north bound. Just so happened that it stopped in Split – half way up the north coast from Dubrovnik. The scenery the whole way along the sea was stunning so we decided to have a night in Split to have a bit more of a look around. Not a whole lot to report; some nice pebble beaches, an ancient walled city (of course) and the best seafood risotto in the world. We walked around the streets and had a couple of beers before calling it a night in prep for our 7am departure the following morning. Sure enough, we soon found ourselves swaying on the next bus trip to Zagreb (thinking of changing the blog name to the “Bus Club”), driven atrociously by Garfunkel’s twin Croatian brother. 7 HOURS later, we pulled into Zagreb’s dilapidated bus terminal and simultaneously sh*t ourselves as we tried to figure out accommodation options and navigate through the homeless rogues and tip rats. We eventually got WIFI reception and booked the first (and possibly only) place with availability for the night and hailed the first taxi outta there. The cabby dropped us at the front of a very permanent residential looking block of apartments and took off – so we marched up the stairs to see if we could find someone to help us with directions and the first door that opened was in fact our booked guesthouse. When our host, Sonia, greeted us, she apologized that she didn’t have time to make up the room we had booked (the cheapest one, naturally) and set us up in the beautiful ‘Presidential Suite’ (we named it this ourselves as we were just a few doors down from the Croatian President’s home). We forgave Sonia for the mix up and settled into our palatial abode and then dashed out to explore this city that came highly recommended from Pete and Jude. The lovely streets were surpassed by the super stylish cats that strolled by and trendy wendys sipping coffees and drinking beer. So we joined them and tried to look like a local… and failed – but had fun trying nonetheless. We were only scheduled to stay the one night but loved Zagreb so much we booked in for another night, hoping that we might catch a case of ‘cool’ that they all seemed to be dripping with. Double fail. Oh well, maybe they might bottle it and ship to Australia one day.
WIN:
To the innumerable amount of Zagrebian women with Roxette-short hair and still look smokin’ hot; you are, by definition, good sorts!
FAIL:
Bullet holes in the buildings from the Yugoslavian war in 1992. Ever heard of “Builder’s Bog”?
theflightclub 