Croatia

 Arived in Riskje last night, got off the bus to a warm yet downpouring city. Spent a few moments astonished at how expensive everything is before remembering Croatia hasn't adopted the Euro, and exchanged at a rate of 7.5 kronen to the euro. 17 kronen for a local draught beer (0.5l), 12 for a coffee in the city centre, half that outside it.

Walked around the centre, getting gradually more lonesome, in part due to the language barrier, people who didn't want to talk, people pretending not to understand pan-european words such as autobus and train station, in Italy as well as other countries.

With no concious aim, I let my feet be guided according to my sub-conscience, and upon hearing nightclub music, entered a place called The Tunnel Club.

Relieved by the intelligence of the people there, who collectively turned their noses up at the Covid "pandemic", I dropped my backpack in a corner, and ordered a beer and stood at the bar.

My despair heightened and the depths of depression tightened my mind as I surveyed the scene - everyone was with someone, or many people. All seemingly happy, and as my envy grew, so did my selfish resentment.

After a few beers, a woman who I had noticed with the D.J. was stood at the bar next to me. When she heard me ordering a beer in English (to my shame I don't know but a few words of Croatian), she asked me where I was from. When I replied England, she excitedly told me how well she spoke English, the English music she loved, and we started to converse.

Being able to speak naturally while travelling is a welcome relief. She was what could be called crazy by many people. Hyper-expressionate, enthusiastically moving her arms and facial expressions to accentuate her words, she moved from trying to guess my star sign (she didn't) to Jim Morrison, to how David Icke was, in her words, the first. As she had picked up on my interest in spirituality, I noticed she was placing David Icke on the same level as Jesus Christ and the Buddha.

I told her that many people had similar beliefs to Icke's before him, yet in retrospect perhaps I spoke hastily, an d perhaps he is the pioneer she claimed him to be. I'll have to check how accurate she is.

When the Sisters of Mercy started to play, I had enough Dutch courage to start to dance with her. Soon, another couple joined us. Song after song of English language music played, from Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains to Queens of the Stone Age.

Eventually, I can't remember saying goodbye to anyone but I staggered to a shop doorway and got into my sleeping bag. I was woken up by someone throwing something to the floor beside me. Eyes blurry, I eventually focussed on a bar of chocolate and some peanut pretzels. A young barely identifiable woman, disguised by shadow, kissed me on the forehead and (maybe) danced away before I could even stammer a surprised "Thank you!" Unusually, when I awoke this morning the shopkeeper was preparing to open yet didn't shoo me away from cluttering his doorstep.

This afternoon I walked to a town called Pescine, and after a phonecall with my father, who kindly reminded me how nights sleeping rough without showeing creates a stink, I stripped to my boxers and swam in the Adriatic.

Cold and refreshing, it contrasted well to the scorching heat of an October in Croatia. Doubting the normalcy of the weather, I chalked it up to climate change. I walked back to Riskje, fed some fish, saw some two and a half foot starfish, and sat in a bar by the sea, where I write this.

I continue to search for a hostel, where my parents can send me a replacement bank card and SIM card, after my phone and wallet were pickpocketed in Rome. One hostel was full, the other, Dharma Hostel, told me that they had a group in last night, so they were closed while cleaning today. I asked about tomorrow and she said that the Ministry has said they cannot take individual guests due to Covid. 

Highly doubtful, she then told me it is not profitable for them to heat the room for an individual guest. Taking the hint, I walked away from a aseemingly paradisiacal location feeling unworthy.

Maybe things will improve tomorrow.