A Foreigner’s Understanding of Zadar. 1–3

1.”Vidis kao Romanac” said the taxi driver, as he watched my sling on a backpack with a pot swinging from a strap. A bright yellow Billa bag is next to me with a boot protruding from the top. A roller bag, packed to bursting point is on the other side. To top it off, a purple backpack is on my front, with a multi-coloured umbrella hanging from my arm and a pillow awkwardly clinging on for dear life to my fingers.

What the taxi driver means, is that I look like a gypsy.

2.Crickets singing in their choirs to the heat of the Sun. Gentle breeze shakes the blades of grass. Summer is starting to take her burning grip. And here in Zadar, a quiet understanding starts to form in my mind of a quiet city.

Unlike Split and Hvar, here has not been intoxicated by the rampant onslaught of tourists. What is here, is a more human feeling. Not tourist season and Winter season. It is a Summer, with more foreigners than there are in the other seasons.

What Zadar is providing me, is a time away from social media. From the outside world, which is so infinitely vast that it stretches so far, yet Facebook makes it feel so small. Now the mobile phone has gone quite, the notifications turned off and a silence is starting to be felt. Where now I think, and come to terms with the universal questions that were brought to my undivided attention only a few months ago.

It is the quiet of land, a gurgle of the sea and playful breeze that holds me now. Life is so long, yet we hold the past for too long, letting it rot and decay, with rancid feelings flowing into times it should not. A chapter is being closed now. The final chapter of a book. That will be put on a shelf. That book always travels with me, occasionally I might even flick through the pages. However, for the better part, it sits on a shelf, collecting dust. Just the way it should be. Remembering it, and remembering how it happened, are two different aspects. One stagnates growth, the other is growth itself.

What once was, was once then, is not what is now. Even in a short mortal existence of man, evolution slays its onslaught with time. And that is not a completely bad thing.

For the children of tomorrow, are becoming the generation of today.

3.Well, that was quick.

Boat’s a busted, with a tank that’ll sink the ship if she’s put to use. It’s a shame, the girls at the fish restaurant had beautiful eyes..

Life on the road has no time for what ifs. So the drapes are coming down, pots being removed and bags filling up. Life is being uprooted once more. All systems to go to cast off port, with the wind blowing South.

My bus is in one day, with a ferry not far after that. It’s time to go to my Summer Croatian home.

I tried, but there is no escaping, Hvar.

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