A Little Misunderstanding…I am Not an Idiot
An amazing local wine cellar in Milna
My lucky weather streak didn’t hold and our travel day from Milna started a bit ominously, I woke up to the sounds of thunder in the distance and a quick look outside the cottage window showed a sky pregnant with dark clouds and rain –it didn’t bode well for making it across the country and to a new Croatian town.
But, rain wasn’t about to stop us so it we spent the morning closing up the cottage, putting away the dishes, locking closed the windows and repacking our packs. I rarely get really too down on this jaunt around the world, but when I stay in a place for several days the repacking process is a downer; everything gets spread around and then has to make it back into my 52 litre pack…ramro chhaina! (“not good” in Nepali).
Our next destination was recommended by a woman we met in Assisi. She raved about the beauty and hiking in Krka National Park so we added it to our plans (one of the reasons I hate pre-planning out minute details – it’s more fun to make it up as I go!).
With Krka on our itinerary we scarfed down our breakfast and headed for one last breakfast gelato before catching the bus back to Supetar, the dock town for the island of Brać. From there it was an uneventful ferry to Split, Croatia.
Goodbye to Milna Harbor!
This is where the story gets a bit more interesting. I don’t what it is about my travel days lately, but they have just not been going smoothly! Sibenik, the closest big town to Krka, is reached by train or bus, and we opted for the train – not only are trains better, but Croatian busses are nearly twice as expensive if you can believe it!
Snail from our Milna cottage days
We walk right past all of the busses going to Sibenik and head into the train station to purchase tickets for the last Sibenik-bound train. About 15 minutes before the train is scheduled to arrive we carefully check the platform and track numbers and stand in wait.
And we wait.
And a train on the other track comes, waits, and leaves.
And we continue waiting.
About 10 minutes after the train was scheduled to arrive I run back into the station to check on the times, platform, etcetera. The woman at the counter informs me that our train has already come and passed through on the designated track.
I assure her that is not the case – we were standing right there. At this point her colleague butts into the conversation and tells her in Croatian, as best as I could understand, that it’s our fault we missed the train and not to give us a full refund on the ticket – and maybe even a few insults because she gestured at me emphatically a whole lot.
As much as some of my closest friends may doubt it, I really can keep my temper in check for a while. So I politely ask them why our train wasn’t on the right track.
She says that it was.
I inform her that it came through on a different track because I was STANDING ON THE RIGHT TRACK. I am not an idiot – I know how to figure out train platforms.
Well, she marches me outside by the hand and starts to physically count out the tracks and platforms to show me that I am wrong. I watch all of this. And then inform her that the track she is pointing at is NOT the one that the train came through on.
Now, consider this, Jenn, Helen and I literally the ONLY people at this tiny train station, it’s not like it’s a pushing frenzy of people scurrying with their bags – only a guy sleeping on a bench is around and he’s not even awake enough to witness this woman’s ridiculousness.
The woman is so mad at me that she huffs and stomps back to her desk on her clickety heels, jabs in the dials on the phone and slams it against her ear.
Fast forward thirty seconds and she is completely contrite and apologizing and shoving our ticket money in my hand – the train came through and stopped on the wrong platform.
I just have to say it…
I was right.
Ok, I feel much better.
The train mix-up though delayed us and now it is running toward late afternoon and we all really want to make it to our hotel before nightfall, there is nothing worse than searching out new digs in the dark.
The bus option is about US $15 more than the train and we are packed in like sardines for the three hour ride. When we make it to Sibenik we find out that the train delay forced us to miss all of the local busses running to Skradin, the town on the outskirts of Krka.
With no choice and hunger causing mutiny we split a $40 cab ride and get dropped off at the doorstep to Villa Marija. We welcomed the extremely spacious hotel room with crisp clean linen and a huge balcony and an incredibly friendly man running the hotel in additino to rampant free wifi. All in all a welcome treat after the evil train lady incident. Ramro chhaina indeed.
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Reading: Out of Africa by Karen Blixen
Listening to: Anil Shahi’s Acoustic Fusion CD – a relaxing local Nepali musician
What am I doing right now? Petting a very, very cuddly kitty that is sitting on my lap…and making my nose itch a whole lot.
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