Apartman and other local favourites

Nothing beats the smell of three week flat roadkill wafting on a sizzling afternoon. Well, maybe the smell of my Teva’s after a day on the bike. Zadarian Boris confided in me that due to all the cycling his knees are like those of professional basketball players. Luckily enough for my knees I have never wanted to pursue a career in either two sports.

Every country has its own heroes and its good for the traveller to keep an eye out for these figures: they will tell you a lot about the place you’re visiting. In Croatia there are a couple of local favourites: first there is the recently convicted army general, and then there is a local super hero better known as Apartman. His name appears in all regions of Croatia, but his cult is strongest in the seaside towns, where his name is displayed on signs that are sometimes even carried or have people guarding it. His name is often accompanied by any number of stars, and in the local folklore Apartman is aided by his trusted companion, the German shepherd “Zimmer Frei”. The super powers of this hospitality oriented myth include: providing instant room dividers, dropping and rising rates at will and speaking random phrases in all the languages of the earth.

As a regular camper, and by now possibly some sort of expert, I have observed that there are several types of camp sites. Here I will shortly describe the two extremes.

At one kind the busy owner, helped out by a multitude of notes indicating rules, opening times and advertisements for services offered, will not leave a single thing unattended. Handling reservation, check in’s and the buffet all by him/herself, you see the inability in their faces to leave even the smallest detail up to another person, or pay them for it. They are the first to arrive in the morning and the last to leave. I always hope that they have a nice hobby to pursue when the camping season is over.

Then there is the type of camp site where you will wonder if there even is an owner and if he cares at all. All crucial positions are left to be filled in by 15-year-old city girls flown in for the season and unable to respond even to the smallest question. When you really need something, you feel as lost as they are.

Something to try for the connoisseurs, and maybe even sell on the better farmers markets, are bush dried raspberries. The pomegranates are ripening on the trees as promises for the future. And if you like fresh figs from the tree, don’t come to Croatia, because I finished them all today.