Jadan Dvah Tree

Just to make things more interesting, we woke to intense thunder and lightening in the middle of the night.  We had stuff drying on the balcony so Janna scrambled outside in the pouring rain (convenient for Sue that she heard it second) to bring it in.  This was some of the loudest thunder we had ever heard; there was no noticable delay between the sound and the light.  Although the intensity eventually decreased, the storm continued well into the morning  (think 5 hours of disrupted thunderstorm sleep).

At 8:00 when the alarm went off, it was still pouring rain.  We needed to be out the door at 8:30 to make our first connection.  Surprise surprise, we were both dragging our feet to get out the door into the storm.  With Sue waiting at the ferry stop under a rooftop, Janna was sent to get breakfast.  She came back with 2 chocolate filled croissants.  We may or may not be developing a fairly serious condition called "pastry belly"....

We were the only ones on our $2.50 ferry trip to Orebic (the main land).  We arrived in Orebic, found out when the bus to Trpanj was supposed to come, and commenced an hour of waiting in teh rain.  Janna did help to pass the time by acquiring a cinnamon crusted roll and a cream filled donut like pastry.  The bus was more than 30 minutes late, but we felt ok about it because a young man and his elderly mother (we thought) were also waiting.  Then the bus was almost an hour late....hmmmmmm.....

A car ferry arrived and the man at the bus station was trying to tell us that the bus wasn't going to come "nein autobus"...and signaling that we should come with him.  He also told us no money (it wouldn't cost anything) and his mother kept saying Trpanj (or so we thought- the pronunciation is a little tricky).  Since we now have no trouble crawling in cars with just about anyone, we thought, "what the heck?".  Just kidding Mom....we wouldn't really crawl in anyone's car.  It's hard to describe this, but in the US, you would think someone was crazy to offer you a ride in their car because for some reason that you don't understand the bus wasn't coming.  But in Croatia, if the bus isn't coming, and you have a friend giving you a ride, and there are more seats in the car, of course you are going to help someone out.  Plust, grandma was very very unassuming and sweet.  Understand our situation here:  There are about 15 km between Orebic and Trpanj (where we need to get to catch our ferry), and the 15 km are over a mountain.  It is raining.  Taxis are no more reputable and probably cost about $75....

So in the car we got, and grandma could not have been happier to have us as company in the backseat.  It did not take us long to call her "Mama" because she was the boy (age 33)'s mom.  The driver was a very friendly and nice guy, and was doing his friend a favor by giving him a ride.  We had a very interesting conversation during the car ride, trying to communicate with one another.  The English they spoke was limited to "Mama Mia!", "America", and "Obama" and "Clinton".  We brought to the table in Croatian "thank you", the numbers 1-10 except for 5 and poor pronunciations of the places we wanted to reach that day.

We learned that they were going to Sarajevo and that while he has a Bosnian passport and lives mostly in Sarajevo, she has a Croatian passport and lives in Orebic.  She had a daughter (the boy's sister) who died giving birth fairly recently.  She has 2 sons, 4 daughters, her new house that she is turning into a "sobe" (think bed and breakfast) cost 80,000 euros.  He works in ceramics and works in both places (the money is much better in Croatia but stuff is MUCH cheaper and more beautiful in Sarajevo.  And there is much more.  It is amazing how much you can actually communicate without any words.  And yet it is amazing how much words increase communication.

You're thinking, "wow, you learned that much about them during a short car ride to the ferry?"  Oh no.  Grandma made sure we followed her to the ticket office and got safely on the ferry, sitting with them.  As a favor, we bought his ferry ticket (as thanks for the ride that his friend would not take money for) and he bought us hot chocolate on the ferry.  We rode the ferry together, got off in Ploce together, and headed to t bus station together (even though they were taking a train at 5:00). 

Now, let's talk more about Grandma.  She is 74, speaks not a word of English but acts like we understand everything she says in Croatian.  She made sure Janna zipped up her coat, wiped Sue's hair off her forehead three times, handed Janna a napkin when she had mustard on her hands, fed us chocolate cookies, greeted every bus that arrived to check if it was our bus and took Sue to the free bathroom in the train station (as opposed to one that cost 45 cents in the bus station). 

Honestly, this day was priceless; we were surrounded and protected by our two loving Croatian escorts- they woudn't take a cent of money (not even an American quarter as a souvenir) and did not leave our side until our bus came (two hours after we arrived at the bus station).  It was a day of communication and struggling with communication and smiling and pretending to understand and being frustrated that you couldn't understand better and of thankfulness and appreciation for the goodness of some people out there.

So, the bus.  Bosnian busses aren't in a hurry.  Except when they are.  Our bus was more than 1.5 hours late to pick us up and it meandered through the countrside, stopping twice for the driver to have a cigarette (in less than 45 minutes) and eventually pulled up to a bus hub (not a station and well outside the standard route).  The driver said something in Croatian/Bosnian/Serbian???  and all the people started getting off.  Hmmmm.....we definately weren't in Mostar yet.  Once we saw our bags on the side of the road, we quickly got off too.  It seemed as if we were just standing in the sun....enjoying the view of the terminal?  For 5 minutes.  Then 10 minutes.  Then 15 minutes......then a new bus pulled up and were were apparently supposed to get on.  After confirming "Mostar" (the only word we know besides thank you and the numbers) we climb on, and literally as the passengers are getting on (before anyone has sat down) the bus zooms out.  Now we are in a hurry.  It was a speedy drive through some intense winding switchback mountains.  Nauseating.

At 5:00 we arrived in Mostar.  Whew.  The sun is out now and we found our hostel.

Mostar is beautiful and stunning and very safe and our hostel is adorable and very cute and the people are very nice and the gelato is very cheap here.  It was unreal to walk through beautfiul building that just 15 years ago were literally the front lines of a nasty war....

There is so much to say about this beautiful city and its history but that will have to be tomorrow....It is amazing how you can travel 100 miles and enter another world.