Alfred Hitchcock famously waxed lyrical about the stunning sunsets in Zadar on a visit there in 1967. I think. They’re very proud of this fact, and if it’s good enough for Hitch it’s good enough for me. I’ve not taken one photograph in Zagreb, and a glance at the weather for the week ahead confirms I have today as a window for escaping before the heavens really open. I set out early under grey skies and light rain.
Following the (fittingly) hitchwiki directions to a potential pick-up spot and I find myself in the middle of a roundabout on a motorway. This doesn’t look good. A quick call into the ever English speaking McDonald’s confirms this is indeed where people get rides from, so I change my sign slightly for a lift to the toll booth. Sure enough I wait five minutes before I’m dropped at the start of the main drag South. This could go either way, as without a ride you’re potentially stranded indefinitely. I decide to try the ‘India’ sign, as I’m in remarkably high spirits considering the location and weather. It goes down well too, pleasing to hear the hearty laughter of truckers through rolled down windows. A ride arrives on the hour mark with a crazy Bosnian guy who doesn’t speak English.
Some time, a few heavy thunder storms and a sleep later and I’m deposited on the hard shoulder at the turn off to Zadar. Not really what I was expecting. I passed out in the car, something I have refrained from doing as I consider it rude, not to mention potentially dangerous, but here I am walking some 500 metres down a slip road to a toll booth. It’s not as bad as I fear, and within ten minutes two American guys in a hire car have swung in to a stop. Several hours later we’re watching the sun come up on the Adriatic, drinking gas-station beers, and playing guitar with three Irish girls and a Frenchman. I think I’m going to like it here.
Zagreb to Zadar
Alfred Hitchcock famously waxed lyrical about the stunning sunsets in Zadar on a visit there in 1967. I think. They’re very proud of this fact, and if it’s good enough for Hitch it’s good enough for me. I’ve not taken one photograph in Zagreb, and a glance at the weather for the week ahead confirms I have today as a window for escaping before the heavens really open. I set out early under grey skies and light rain.
Following the (fittingly) hitchwiki directions to a potential pick-up spot and I find myself in the middle of a roundabout on a motorway. This doesn’t look good. A quick call into the ever English speaking McDonald’s confirms this is indeed where people get rides from, so I change my sign slightly for a lift to the toll booth. Sure enough I wait five minutes before I’m dropped at the start of the main drag South. This could go either way, as without a ride you’re potentially stranded indefinitely. I decide to try the ‘India’ sign, as I’m in remarkably high spirits considering the location and weather. It goes down well too, pleasing to hear the hearty laughter of truckers through rolled down windows. A ride arrives on the hour mark with a crazy Bosnian guy who doesn’t speak English.
Some time, a few heavy thunder storms and a sleep later and I’m deposited on the hard shoulder at the turn off to Zadar. Not really what I was expecting. I passed out in the car, something I have refrained from doing as I consider it rude, not to mention potentially dangerous, but here I am walking some 500 metres down a slip road to a toll booth. It’s not as bad as I fear, and within ten minutes two American guys in a hire car have swung in to a stop. Several hours later we’re watching the sun come up on the Adriatic, drinking gas-station beers, and playing guitar with three Irish girls and a Frenchman. I think I’m going to like it here.