Zadar is stunning. Watching the sun go down across the bay and you know that ol’ hitch was right. Gloriously lazy skies awash with the brush-srokes of a master painter. Sun-kissed narrow old town streets with historic charm and intrigue. Wonderful sea-food restaurants, and of course the finest hostel I’ve ever stayed in. Oh and the women. Quite simply the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen on my travels. To be honest this place needs little introduction, you should just come and experience it for yourself. Croatia is going to be hard to beat.
I’ve spent a day shuffling around the centre just enjoying the weather and the pace, and I decide to take in a beer or twenty in a local bar after sundown. Within a few minutes of arriving in the kilt, I’ve been offered free food anytime from a guy that works in one of the take-away places in town. By the way the finest chicken burger you’ll ever taste. Don’t think burger, think chicken. Anyway the next thing I know and he’s arranged for me to have a blow-job from this 20-something girl standing next to him. I’m wondering if he’s some kind of mafia boss. Regardless I decline, as contrary to popular belief I am not a hoe-bag. If that’s the correct spelling of the word and I’m not calling myself a carrier of gardening equipment.
Fast forward a few hours and I’m throwing some serious shapes on the dance floor. I’m getting drinks bought from me by some cute girls who call me “the best dancer of the night”, when all hell breaks loose. I’ve never seen anything like it. A 30 plus man bar brawl that would put WWF to shame. Bottles, tables. wicker chairs, the air turns black. Cars pull in and drivers leap out to get involved. It’s carnage. One guys face is pissing blood so much he looks like Carrie. I’m standing next to a chatty French guy, and we’re doing our best to shuffle out the way every time it comes careering towards us. Just when you think it’s all over, somebody else gets involved and randomly slaps some dude. Then it all kicks off again. No police. Apparently it would be worse for them if they turn up. After a while and as the dawn breaks, I decide to spend some time drinking wine and coke with some drug dealers on a park bench. As you do.
I’m making my walk of shame the half an hour to my hostel, singing to myself with a spring in my step. Nursing a beer on the front porch in the early sunlight, I contemplate the days events, and a satisfactory smile creeps to my lips. Outside of film, music, beer, sex and football; traveling is the best thing in the world.
Zadar and 30 man bar brawls
Zadar is stunning. Watching the sun go down across the bay and you know that ol’ hitch was right. Gloriously lazy skies awash with the brush-srokes of a master painter. Sun-kissed narrow old town streets with historic charm and intrigue. Wonderful sea-food restaurants, and of course the finest hostel I’ve ever stayed in. Oh and the women. Quite simply the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen on my travels. To be honest this place needs little introduction, you should just come and experience it for yourself. Croatia is going to be hard to beat.
I’ve spent a day shuffling around the centre just enjoying the weather and the pace, and I decide to take in a beer or twenty in a local bar after sundown. Within a few minutes of arriving in the kilt, I’ve been offered free food anytime from a guy that works in one of the take-away places in town. By the way the finest chicken burger you’ll ever taste. Don’t think burger, think chicken. Anyway the next thing I know and he’s arranged for me to have a blow-job from this 20-something girl standing next to him. I’m wondering if he’s some kind of mafia boss. Regardless I decline, as contrary to popular belief I am not a hoe-bag. If that’s the correct spelling of the word and I’m not calling myself a carrier of gardening equipment.
Fast forward a few hours and I’m throwing some serious shapes on the dance floor. I’m getting drinks bought from me by some cute girls who call me “the best dancer of the night”, when all hell breaks loose. I’ve never seen anything like it. A 30 plus man bar brawl that would put WWF to shame. Bottles, tables. wicker chairs, the air turns black. Cars pull in and drivers leap out to get involved. It’s carnage. One guys face is pissing blood so much he looks like Carrie. I’m standing next to a chatty French guy, and we’re doing our best to shuffle out the way every time it comes careering towards us. Just when you think it’s all over, somebody else gets involved and randomly slaps some dude. Then it all kicks off again. No police. Apparently it would be worse for them if they turn up. After a while and as the dawn breaks, I decide to spend some time drinking wine and coke with some drug dealers on a park bench. As you do.
I’m making my walk of shame the half an hour to my hostel, singing to myself with a spring in my step. Nursing a beer on the front porch in the early sunlight, I contemplate the days events, and a satisfactory smile creeps to my lips. Outside of film, music, beer, sex and football; traveling is the best thing in the world.