Zvonked out

Bad start to the day.

I'm lying on the bed, reading, while Emma gets ready to go out. I feel something on my leg, brush at it, and continue reading.

A few seconds later I feel it again, and brush at my leg again.

It happens a third time, and I take a good leg at my leg. Nothing there. Weird.

The fourth time I wonder if there's something under my pant leg, so I stand up, drop my jeans -

- and find a two-inch centipede on my thigh.

I believe my exact words were, "ARGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

I flicked the centipede off in a panic, and then couldn't find the little bastard. It took several minutes of frantic searching before I found it. Crawling into our bed. 

This earned it one free swimming lesson, courtesy of the toilet.

I had the willies for the next two hours. And the odd twitch for some time after that.

Despite my post-traumatic stress disorder I joined the others for a bit of touring. We set off from Prigradica to Blato, and we're happily motoring along, when I notice something I thought worth raising.

"Mario?" I ask.

"Yes?" he answers.

"Why are you driving on the wrong side of the road?"

After a moments silence the car moves to the right. It seems I was the only one of the four of us who noticed. However I suspect the oncoming car we encountered around the next bend might have noticed too.

After the customary coffee in Blato we drove south to Grscica, a bastions of Coatia's ongoing war against words with vowels. 

Utterly beautiful little village, improved even more after a very sweet little boy brought over his kitten for Emma to pet.

After this we drove to Prizba, and had our second coffee for the day at a small restaurant run by Danny Franulovic - from Melbourne, Australia. He was born in Australia, but his family was from Korcula, and he moved here permanently in 2003.

Lunch was at the home of one of Mario's uncles on his father's side, Uncle Zavonko. He and the family (the relationships are extended, convoluted, and long, so I'll gloss over the details) are delightful people, and they were extremely hospitable. 

We sat near Zvonko and Mario's mum, which helped because both speak English while my Croatian extends to "hvala" (thank you), "vina" (wine) and "dobili ovu stonoga off moje noge" (get this centipede off my leg).

As I feared the food kep coming. And coming. And coming.

It was excellent, but by about the 17th course I was in danger of exploding.

A few interesting things about the local wines. Firstly just about everybody makes their own. Secondly they usually drink them with water, and they're much nicer when water is added. Thirdly watering them down won't help you stay sober once they bring out the rakija, which is around 42% alcohol.

The meal took about four or five hours. Dinner was quicker, as it takes no time at all to skip a meal.

Tomorrow we're back to Vela Luka, on the west-most side of the island. I hope we get a lot of walking in or I'm going to put on five kilos this week.