After all this cycling you may well wonder…
…how we finally found the fabled Peka that Vedran and Stipe had spoken of in Zagreb with misty-eyed awe. You will not find it in a restaurant. Only on a special festive occasion. You cannot plan for it. But it will happen.
And so on the eve of Francesca’s birthday we arrived at the closed AutoCamp Jure in Makarska on the Dalmatian coast of Croatia to find 12 drunken men revving up the fire and coals to envelop the iron treasure chest containing the feast of boned meat and potatoes. We were invited for a night of revelry, Croatian music, singing, dancing, Croatia playing (and being beaten by a last minute (eek!) goal by Georgia in the football) and Sam, to his great pleasure, being told he looked like his Croatian footballing hero, Zvonimir Boban.
We thought the party would go on all night. We were exhausted, drunk and trying to plan our escape to bed. But we were saved. By the 12 revellers trooping off to the local pole-dancing club. (“Sam, you must come, they have the best quality stainless steel poles.”)
Request: In a weight saving attempt we have not brought our address books. Please email us your addresses if you wish to receive postcards!