Old Town once more

Tuesday in Korčula

Old Town once more
Old Town once more
Old Town once more
Old Town once more
Old Town once more
Old Town once more
Old Town once more
Old Town once more

Another balmy sunny day. There is not a single cloud in the silvery blue sky. It has been like this for the past few days. We walk around the cobbled streets of the Old Town discovering nooks and crooks we missed the other day and walk past upmarket shops selling jewellery, bags and designer wear. Restaurants line the outer streets and complements the inner ones. There are even a couple of Michelin starred restaurants here.  

St Marc’s cathedral is one of the important monuments which takes centre stage in the middle of this town. The church bells chime twelve as we enter. Murali thinks he has some divine powers to conjure up this phenomenon, ie the church bells ringing the moment we walk through the doors of a church. It is the third time this week and is this what they call synchronicity, I wonder. For me there is no calming influence today like I felt in the church in Badija. It could be because of the throngs of tourists walking around the place taking photos. Next to the cathedral is the Bell Tower from which you can look down on the town and take magnificent photos. We give it a miss.

A young lady is rushing with a couple of ice cream cones. It reminds me of a story my mother told me of her younger days. Her cousin brother bought her an ice-cream and instead of eating it she rushed home to show it to her mother. Obviously by the time she reached home the treat had melted. If she had eaten it, there would have been no story to tell. An event which is now etched in her memory, a disappointment at the time, but in truth a tale to share. A story which reminds her of her younger days, the favourite cousin, who is still her favourite.

We find a quiet restaurant with a shaded area and order a drink. We’ve seen the town. There is only so much walking around one can do. It is time to sit back and indulge. A young french family in the next table is enjoying their salad lunch. We are just having a drink. It is still too early. A fishing net hung over a pastel blue door with a distressed finish catches my attention. One of the many quirky decorations that brighten up this place. Later as I ascend the steps to the toilet I notice the candles in the holders lining the route as if inviting you to a romantic getaway. I stop for a moment outside the toilets wondering which is whose. Instead of his and her signs or equivalents one door has one ‘Blah’ written on it and the other is covered in ‘Blahs’. There is a urinal in the single ‘blah’ one which gives the game away. Really, I think, obviously thought out by a man, I laugh out loud (inside). 

Our seating area, albeit shaded, is on the wrong half of the town and the sun’s rays are getting stronger. We leave to find another watering hole. After all today is the day for indulgence. We find one and happily collapse into the cushioned chairs set outside on the cobbled stone steps. There is no need for shades here, the walls on either sides provide the much needed shade and the sea breeze keeps us cool. A pizza and more drinks later it is time to make our way back to the hotel. When the waiter comes to ask how the pizza is, I say it is exceptional, which it is. The tastiest pizza I have eaten in yonks. The place is slowly filling up. No one seated wants to leave, this is the life, if only, I wish. Savour every moment I tell myself. What are the chances we will get another opportunity? 

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Old Town once more

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