My first full day in Dubrovnik, Croatia started out wetter than Mikey Robbins’ arse-crack at a Zumba lesson, but the rain soon pissed off and allowed me to explore this interesting, if very touristy city.
It’s not a big place, with only 40,000 permanent residents, so walking all over the shop isn’t tough at all. I just set out and swaggered over to the Old Town, which would’ve really made me feel like I was back in Medieval times if there weren’t so many fat fuckers standing around stuffing their faces with ice cream. I’m pretty sure ice cream didn’t exist back then, and fat people were probably fingered as witches and burnt at the stake.
It is a lovely town though, even if most of it was destroyed and rebuilt after being smashed by the Yugoslace Army back in 1991 (honestly, what’s up with these Euros? Always fighting someone! Explains why every European girl I’ve been with has fucking hated me and wanted to kick my head in). There are tiny alleyways overgrown with exotic plants, coffee shops hidden in weird corners, and all sorts of weird stuff to check out. Bear in mind that it’s crawling with people – it’s a Monday here, and out of the main tourist season, and there are people everywhere. It kinda takes away from the feeling of exploring something ancient.
Apparently the popular television show Game of Thrones is shot in Dubrovnic, with the city standing in for Camelot or Gotham City or whatever place it is the show’s set in. I dunno, I don’t watch it, and if I wanted to see a dragon being slain I’d just chuck on that sex tape I made with my last girlfriend. You know, in the three weeks were together before she went to Hawaii and fucked some bloke called Jeff.
Of course, being a touristic place, there are lots of dickheads who do the wrong thing. Drinking in public, urinating in places that are obviously not toilets, that sort of thing. Of course, I was very respectful of this ancient place and did nothing like that.
As I rounded a corner of the citadel and passed a small harbour, I saw some people splashing around in the water. I thought that looked alright, chucked off my shirt and shorts and powered my way into the Adriatic Sea wearing nothing but my undies and a smile. Unfortunately, undies aren’t really made for swimming, and the detached themselves from my body the moment I entered the water.
I was in a good mood and the water wasn’t too cold, so I just splashed around for a while, did a bit of backstroke while people sitting on the rocks oohed and ahhed. I felt a tap on the shoulder and turned around to see a good-looking brunette smiling at me. I assumed she wanted a root, but instead she held up my underpants.
“You can keep those, luv,” I said, “as a souvenir.”
“No thanks,” she replied in an American accent, “they’ve got skidmarks.” With that, she threw them onto my head while the people on the rocks broke into laughter. You can’t win ’em all.
After being laughed out of the place, I decided to walk up Mount Srd behind Dubrovnik, which is 500m tall and has a fortress at the top. Yeah, 500m metres, no biggie. It’s not a bad walk walk, actually, and the way to see the mystical Old Town from above. The Adriatic shimmered below me as I hoofed it uphill, stopping time after time to check out th view (and not because I’ve been eating too many kebabs and felt like shitting myself halfway up).
If you’re a fat cunt, there’s an expensive cable car to the top, but it’s a waste of time and money. The top of the mountain has rubbish views of the city, while the walk up provides heaps of places to stop off and take photos. It was also a decent counter-balance to the three beers I sank while making the two-hour round trip. And then I went home and fell asleep, because that’s apparently what happens now that I’m thirty-three.