Perhaps what has been heaviest on the old mind of late has been a development of the tuft variety. By that I mean to say that I have gained a few unnerving hairs on the upper body. I have yet to determine whether it is a product of the quantity of Polish sausage consumed or of the sea air but needless to say I have been pondering the subject greatly. To some these wonderings may sound like lunacy but I can assure you that there is reason. One does not wish to arrive at the coast of Greece wearing a permanent sweater. The sight of a hairy creature entering and then emerging from the depths may lead to a swift harpooning of said creature. Few of the coast dwellers could pass up the opportunity to collect such a prize. It has also led to thoughts of whether my electric razor would be up to the job. Hacking away at the top of one's head is one thing but to attack the back and chest is quite another. I have no desire to be caught in the act of shaving sed regions in the midst of a crowded campground. And where would one even hide such quantities of hair that I have seen other chaps in this situation flaunting about. It is all quite perplexing and I would appreciate any suggestions. The coast of Greece is beckoning and I have no desire to answer the call looking like the famed Yetis of old. I apologize to those of you who can't make heads or tails of this but it has taken me nearly to tears with laughter.

I have little to say of the past days. It is not that I did not enjoy myself but the occurences do not inspire any great prose in their honor. Monday evening I arrived to the island of Hvar aboard a ferry. I stayed on the island until Wednesday morning. The island is certainly worth a visit and the city of Hvar itself is a worthwhile place to explore and to ponder. I stated earlier on that there is not the same enjoyment of cities when you visit them alone. Cities I believe are places where one needs companions for you are more keenly aware of your aloneness when surrounded by the life of a city. Wednesday afternoon I made my way here to Dubrovnik, another wondrous city. The old town is surrounded by high walls and the interior consists of sloped narrow stone streets. It is unlike any that I had yet visited and certainly worthy of its famed beauty in terms of its construction and the historical aspect that it breathes. There is something wondrous at the thought of being surrounded by hundreds of years of history. It leads one to imagine the lives of those that lived within the boundaries of the place. What a thing to realize that what I am seeing with my eyes is the same or close to what others saw and experienced in a completely different age. I have put up a new gallery of pictures to Lovable Quirks from these last days. I haven't mentioned this also but I head toward Greece tomorrow and will be meeting up with Wiesieck and some of the kids in the middle of next week. We will travel together for about three weeks exploring there. I must travel through Montenegro and Albania to get to Greece so doubt I will be able to post for a few. Despite the claims I have no choice but to travel through those countries to get there in a reasonable time.

I have these last three days been enjoying the wondrous town of Split. From first glance I was unsure of its merits as what glimpses one receives from the motorway are not so pleasant. From that vantage it seems to be just another urban sprawl but arrive at its center and the treasure awaits. I've been staying with a little old lady in another town just further on the coast but still only ten minutes drive from Split's center. I'm a two minute stroll from the beach and today made full use of the local to lounge the afternoon in the deep blue Mediterranean. Before continuing on that subject line and further saucy exploits I will return to the description of Split.

The city center is focused around the palace of Diocletian, Roman emporer from AD 245-313 (It's wonderful to pretend that I actually know something like that). At least in modern times this palace is more of a small village with narrow streets. It is crammed with small shops, restaurants, and suprisingly plenty of homes. I am a sucker for narrow cobble stone streets so thorougly enjoyed strolling around this area. Despite the tourists it was easy to wander and in no time find an area of the palace without another soul about. The main end of the palace faces out over the Mediterranean and the harbor of Split. Small cafes lined the harbor and presented a marvelous spot to relax and see various other peoples wandering about. I think that of the cities I have visited on this trip here I found the most charm. I can't say it wouldn't have been nice to have some company though. I've realized that that is what often puts a downer on the city visits. Without someone accompanying you there is little motivation for continued wanderings around a city, especially when one is surrounded by throngs of couples and groups of friends. Hopefully someday I will have the opportunity to return here with someone else in toe. Tomorrow, Monday, I set sail for the island of Hvar, at least that is the hope. I have been told (by beach hat) that the islands are not to be missed. Beyond Hvar I will return to the mainland and then make another ferry journey to the island of Korcula. I may be unable to post for a few but who knows. Take a look at the new pics on Lovable Quirks.

I've made a bit of a stir here with the old lady of the house where I'm staying. She can't speak a work of English but has tried to communicate with me in Croatian, German, Italian, and Mongolian. My first night here I had wanted to get quite a few things from my car and was also still paranoid about the car leaking. Needless to stay I was out at my car in the dark first checking under it with a flashlight and then making repeated trips to my room and back with an assortment of my possessions. I'm sure she must have thought I to be either lunatic or drug addict. She eventually emerged from the house with suspicious eyebrow and tried to ask if the car was having problems. I said "ne" (Croatian for you guessed it) and continued tottering along between car and room. Assumedly she decided upon lunatic and called it a night. Since this occasion we have had little interaction. I attempted to ask her about a bus into Split but instead came away with new knowledge about a hair dryer. Tonight she came to me repeatedly saying the word doctor and pointing to her wrist. I wasn't quite sure what she wanted me to do to her but eventually understood that she must tomorrow go to the doctor and needed me to pay her now. What a joy is the language barrier?

I don't want to forget to share this little tid bit. Yesterday I meandered down to the waterfront to sit awhile and ponder life's intracacies. A little way's off from where I sat a woman approached in full evening regalia. Too my surprise she began casting out a fishing line. It was one of the Huck Finn style set ups with fishing line wrapped around a piece of cardboard. Apart from the attire another strange dynamic was the apparent lack of bait on the hook she was elegantly hurling out. My initial assumption was lunacy but attempted to give the benefit of the doubt and thought perhaps she hoped a fish might merely latch on. Perhaps a fish in a particularly lonely state would see the woman dressed as she was and attach itself to the hook in hopes of a relationship blossoming. Alternatively a passing haddock for instance might out of pity for such an unwitting person attach itself voluntarily. Whatever the potentials the women's fishing exercise was shortly ended and I returned to my musings.

I have noted also here in Eastern Europe the trend toward having English text on your t-shirt. In Poland I remember one worn by a teenage girl that said "I have a big one for you." Today I passed a woman wearing "Kiss me and Touch me." Makes one wonder if these individuals have any idea what it means.

Many of my loyals may think I'm beginning to sound like a broken record but today marked another adventure with the Citroen. The day after I had it fixed yet another leak presented itself. It seems that the manufacturer of sed car did little to protect the hydraulic fluid lines. Yesterday I took the car to the dealer in Sibenik and was graciously told that the part necessary would require a profound chunk to arrive from France. Apparently 10 days is the required time for Overland Vespa delivery. Their advice was to drive carefully and hope to Betsie that it got me back to the west. I left considering this advice and began to feel not just a little downhearted and sullen. I have many miles and many months to go on this journey and have no desire to drive granny style for the remainder. They had assured me that if I drove slowly and avoided bad roads I might be alright. Interesting advice considering that I have yet to encounter any good roads this side of the continent. Last evening a million thoughts battled for the top seat within the ol' ticker. They ranged from chucking it all and ending the journey here to thumbing it and hoping I don't get ravaged in Montenegro. Thankfully by mid-evening some sense of composure was regained and I began to think slightly more level headedly. I knew that I was not ready to quit traveling; it has been the adventure of a lifetime; but I also knew that I could not have this problem with the car and not be constantly worrying about it. When it started to leak again I must say that the term "consuming my thoughts" may be an understatement.

In the morning I returned to me old buddies in Sibenik and asked if they could contact other dealers. I was given directions to the dealer in Split but was told that they could not call them. The upshot is that the other dealer would wonder why this dealer didn't do the bleedin' job. Sending an old banger of a Citroen to another dealer to do the work is apparantly the equivalent of pulling the pants down of one's comrade in the midst of a ballet recital. Slightly perturbed but hopeful I ventured on to Split to see what the next gang had in store. I was quickly signed in and had just gotten settled to reading Dr. Zhivago (had me toothbrush as well in case I was there for the long haul) when my car was pulled in to have its underside scoped out. No sooner had it been razed up and gazed upon in a leering way than it was lowered back down and pulled out. I was quickly informed that the necessary parts would require Overland Vespa but there was an alternative. A chap nearby could do the work. "If he doesn't have the part he will make one for you" was the claim. One of the mechanics from the dealer would show me the way. I followed behind this mechanic on his moped at a distance of about half a metre so as not to lose the trail. As a result of Split's complex web of roads we went round in circles a few times before returning to a spot within spitting distance of the dealer. I had begun to think some cruel joke was being played out and we would soon return to a gang of seething mechanics who's sides had split from the ensuing laughter. Happily not the case but instead a side of the road block building with demolished Citroens strategically surrounding it.

From the depths of the building a man emerged with long hair and a beach hat atop his head. He gave a friendly smile then took a look underneath my chassis. When he regained a standing position he nodded to another man dressed in the all orange of Sheriff Joe's inmates. The nod apparently signified that the problem had been sussed out. Beach hat man came to me and said that it would not be easy and he did not know how much time he would need but that he would fix it no problem (spoke marvelous English). As all mechanics seem to do the two then set about discussing how to tackle the problem while each smoking a cigarette. Inmate seemed unconvinced that it could be done while beach hat looked hopeful and said so. I noticed in the midst of this that he was wearing a pair of Pierre Cardin britches. Strange of me to notice I realize but this is normally not the preferred brand of mechanics and the brand label does take up a good portion of the back end. Can't fault a mechanic who wishes to remain fashionable while on the job I guess. Well anyhow inmate set to work yanking parts from one of the many ravaged Citroens laying about while beach hat went to buy other parts. A short while after inmate had yanked all that could be yanked beach hat returned and the lot of us sat and supped on Turkish coffee. I should mention here that that had to be the best coffee I have had. Past experience has taught me to expect something that might have come from the back end of a wombat but not in this case. During these moments beach hat told me how he had begun working on this type of car. His father had been a coniseur of the French automobile and had passed on his love for the type to his son (not sure if the beach hat had emerged in those days). Beach hat also told me about his family and asked about my travels.

When the last of the coffee had been slurped the work commenced at a feverish pace. Inmate was sweating like a hog in the Serengiti while beach hat slid around under the car with no regard for personal safety. Twas a sight to see as inmate was repeatedly struck by globules of filth from above but continued on unfazed. Within minutes the two were shifting themselves out from underneath the beast. For beach hat the required shifting was minimal while for inmate the heavy breathing and deep inner groans took some time to subside. Upon completion the lot of us returned to the back for more of the black brew and sandwiches for those whom had toiled. They set about discussing my travel plan and warning me of danger afoot within the bowels of Montenegro and Kosovo. Inner Montenegro, beach hat informed me, is like the Wild West while in Kosovo I'm as likely to be ravaged as Saucy Sue on New Year's Eve (their comments slightly embellished). Their best advice was that I should take a ferry from the coast of Montenegro to Greece. I must certainly consider this now especially with thoughts of Saucy Sue echoing between my ears. The final charge for work accomplished was about $100, some of this owing to the considerable loss of bodily fluids on the part of inmate. In the absence of these two I'd have been SOL (barring the work of overland Vespa) so I considered it a small price to pay. I hadn't the cash so inmate directed me to the nearest bankomat and a hotel they recommended. It felt strange to wander the city following a man who was dressed as a convict but what can one do under the circumstances. We exchanged our goodbyes and off he went in his brilliant orange surrounded by a small white Citroen. The hotel they had recommended doubled as a home for the elderly and charged outrageous amounts so needless to say I gave it a miss. At the reception throngs of old ones were soiling themselves and others were on the brink. It hardly seemed a pleasant environment to soak up the city's atmos and one would assume the prices were meant to offset the sums doled out for Depends. I instead made my way outside of the city and found a house with rooms right on the waterfront. I will spend the weekend exploring the old town of Split and basking in the suprisingly warm weather. Toodle pip.

I did not mention this in the last post because it is on a very different note. You should read the last post first. As I was leaving Plitvice NP on Sunday the underside of my car hit something and within a minute the hydraulic fluid had all leaked out. Immediately memories hit me like a tidal wave of all that had happened in Krakow (the negative end) and I allowed myself to be overwhelmed with worries about what I was going to do. The entire drive back to where I was staying I fretted over every possible scenario. This in the midst of meeting such incredible people and having just visited the awe inspiring Plitvice. Instead of trusting God and choosing to block these worries I allowed them to pummel me. I asked the people I was staying with to help me find a repair shop and immediately they began thinking of what they could do. They also told me to spend time with them watching television instead of staying in my room worrying (they only said the first part). Later in the evening the boyfriend of the daughter and his father came and tried to diagnose the problem. They went and bought hydraulic fluid and then put it in to determine where the leak was. All of this late in the evening on a Sunday. I could tell they wanted desperately for me not to have to go and pay for expensive repairs. When we discovered it did need the repair shop they were dissapointed to not be able to fix it for me. I was shown where the repair shop was so could go there the next morning (Monday). It is incredible to experience support from total strangers in these moments. It is a jolting reminder of the care and attention my savior pays to my life. Before going to sleep I once again allowed myself to be pummeled with worries about what could and might go wrong. I would stop dwelling on it for a short time before letting the thoughts come again in waves.

The next morning I headed off somewhat relieved after sleeping but also that I had a plan. The concern and support of the family I was staying with also lifted my spirits. I arrived to the repair shop shortly after eight but had to wait for quite a while to be signed in. Work began on my car rather quickly but was not completed until after 2pm that afternoon. This was the result of them not having some part or another on hand. I had settled into a book that made me laugh uproariously (unusual for me) in a number of places and so I hardly was aware of the passing time. I was content knowing that the problem was being fixed. When all was complete I was amazed to discover that the mechanic charged for only an hour of labor and had found a good used part to replace what was needed. A brand new part would have cost three times as much and in this case it was considerable. I had prayed that someone with integrity would fix my car and in the short time speaking with him this man proved to be just that. When I left the shop I was so overwhelmed at how God had orchestrated everything for me despite my worrying and distrust. I felt his love and care so strongly in that drive back. There is no part of my life that he does not care for and will not support me in. I also felt strongly that I can never come close to loving him in the fullness that he loves me. That is a hard realization to have to swallow. It is a definite hit to the old pride to realize that I can never be so faithful to him as he is to me. It is nice to think that I am strong and will not allow worry to overwhelm me but this is not so. That is not the last time I will fight and lose against it. How refreshing to know in that that my Savior is with me for all eternity and his love and faithfulness will never change.