DCicadas are silent-they don’t like rain. Just after midnight, the rattling window in the bedroom woke me up. Outside the house, the wind was blowing the trees, the branches were blowing against the house walls, and the patter of rain came from the corrugated iron roof in the garden where the landlord kept the rusty farm tools. It is wrong to disturb the peace at night only in crowded places, because it is said that there are only 70 people living on Lopud Island all year round. By the way, I was not prepared for the storm and rain in the south in summer. But what is the value of travel without surprises?
Even crossing to the island is unusual. In Gruž, the modern port of Dubrovnik-a world heritage city, cruise ships usually moor in front of it, and a disguised city guide leads the crowd to the creation location of the “Game of Thrones” series of scenes-I boarded an old one ferry. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and nothing was polished into highlights, not even people. The ship traveled north along the coast of the mainland. The ship and a few passengers looked like things from an old movie. A man and a boy, unmistakable father and son, both wearing sports pants, very strong, took turns drinking a two-liter Coke bottle. On the aluminum table screwed between them, there was a package of torn potato chips, and the two of them reached in ecstatically.
A giant with a fluffy beard and a pirate scarf
Almost only men are on board, they are either in sportswear or wear-resistant trousers with knee pads and side pockets, and tool kits are on the floor. In the bar, two teachers squatted on students’ notebooks. When they corrected a work with a red pen, they put a blue seal of diligence under the line. The toilet door at the entrance to the deck has been locked with thick rope. Although the sun was shining and the Adriatic Sea was sparkling, no one was sitting on the deck—everyone knew the beauty of the surroundings. At Lopud’s Wharf, the only inhabited part of the island and one of the 13 Elafite Islands, people waited until the ramp was lowered before loading sacks and bricks on a four-wheeled cart or golf cart. Lopud is car-free. These trolleys were used to transport materials to the gray marble villas along Hafenstrasse: a testimony to the prosperity of the past. Attracted by the mild climate, the citizens of Dubrovnik built their holiday villas in Lopud. Tourism accelerated in the 20th century, which of course was impossible due to the corona-related crisis. After all, foreigners have recently been allowed to come back, as long as they can prove that they have booked a room.
The next morning, the sky cleared, and I walked down the stairs made of hewn stone to the pier. There were some figures sitting stiffly in front of Milo Obyan’s bar, apparently no one had spoken for a long time. The landlord, a giant with a bushy beard and a pirate scarf on his forehead, does not seem to be sporty. In order to have a good start to the day, Milo explained after bringing me a cappuccino that he would roll a joint every morning. “Less is more. I can take my three children to go fishing anytime. What do I want?” Milo said, adding with a smile, a little proud: “Lopud is a billionaire’s island!” The late hippies and people who made their fortunes in South Africa’s diamond mines, I also learned from the bar operators: “There are two or three weeks here every year to simulate the super-rich who dropped out of school. There is not a lot of things that belong to us: time, Peace and contentment.”
