Dubrovnik

I am writing this on the ferry away from Dubrovnik and onto the island of Mljet, national park and lakes. The visit to this departure point in the Adriatic was something that initially I thought I would leave unwritten, unsaid. The twelve hour journey from Virpasar, although initially exciting with train and buses through Montenegro, was wearisome by the fall of darkness and the fully laden climb up ridiculous numbers of steps to our new home. The view from the balcony there was ultimately rewarding but it did not feel enough after that torture of what we later came to know where named the twelve stations of the cross. I can well believe it, and my Catholic upbringing forbids any further flippant comparison between crucifix and rucksack, but I was finished by the summit. Maybe this start, the exertion and the paltry reward of water and a packet of cheese and onion, was part of my initial sense of underwhelm in our new city.