Ahh The Serenity
Part of our reason for coming to this island was the beautiful national
park that exists here. Our accommodation, which is right inside the park, offered free bike rental as part of our stay and there are amazing bike paths all around the pristine lakes. This morning Molly wanted a sleep in, so the 4 of us headed downstairs to organise some bikes. Yesterday when we arrived, all the bikes were lined up on the front porch. Ross went for a walk early this morning and the bikes were still there but when we came down to rent some, Miro was tying them all together and wrapping them in an enormous tarp. Ross piped up and said: “Wait a second, we want to grab some of those bikes today!’
Miro looked us in the eye and said: ‘Sorry. Is not possible’.
I protested, saying that when I booked the place, the listing clearly said bike hire was included.
‘Yesterday yes. Today, no.’
Surely we could just have them for an hour or 2? Miro reiterated: ‘No. Is not possible,I go Dubrovnik.’ Pointing his finger towards the bike path, he suggested: ‘You walk instead’.
Well that sure put a dampener on our plans.
Ross had reported that the kitchen hadn’t looked open for brekky, so we set off on foot towards the little village of Pomena, a few kms away, in search of some sustenance. The lakes on Mljet are incredibly beautiful, the emerald green water so clear. It was a beautiful walk around the bike path, if not a touch chilly, with a blustery wind lowering the temperature to about 14 degrees. We followed the handy signs that showed us the way but at one stage, there were 2 signs for Pomena, pointing in opposite directions.
By the time we eventually got to Pomena it was blowing a gale and feeling very wintry. It was a pretty little (‘little’ being the operative word) village, with cute, dark-mortared, stone buildings, their patchwork limestone blocks giving them a rustic Mediterranean charm and blending perfectly with the rocky landscape. Olive and laden-branched fruit trees were dotted around the town while the surrounding hills were covered with dark green pines. There was a tiny supermarket we noticed was closed and after enquiring with a local about its opening time, were told it was closed indefinitely. After a quick walk around we settled on a place for some breakfast. As there were only 2 places open, the choice wasn’t a hard one.
The food was delicious but we had a table of 3 young blokes right next to us, chain-smoking the whole way through our meal. I know it’s ‘cultural’ but I just can’t get used to that.
Molly joined us and we decided to order her breakfast to go, so we could head home out of the wind. By then it was almost lunchtime so we gave this cafe even more business and ordered takeaway lunch too.
As we walked back to our apartment the wind dropped and we began peeling off layers as the sun came out. Feeling like locals, we waved to our neighbour Aida, off for a swim. Winter had turned to summer and we swapped puffer jackets for swimmers, having a beautiful dip right in front of our place. A little curved tree provided the perfect launching pad. Molly and I had brought swimming goggles but it was just as clear, if not clearer, without them. You could see every wrinkle on your toes and every detail of the rocks below. After a short rock platform, the depth of the salty lake plunged into an abyss, way too deep to get to without flippers (46m to be precise).
Our scheduled meeting time with our friendly neighbour Mladin was fast approaching and we weren’t sure if he’d show. It was somewhat of a surprise then when he did turn up, right on time. He puttered around the corner in his little wooden runabout, instructing us all to climb aboard and explained he was taking us to St Mary’s island, to explore the abandoned Benedictine monastery.
Once back on dry land, we helped Mladin tie up the boat and wandered along past the cafe, where we saw more people than we’d seen since arriving on the island. I spotted a guy in a straw hat with emus on his boardies and ventured a ‘G’day’. My spot-an-Australian-in-the-wild skills on point, it turned out he was from Perth.
Mladin, our laidback tour guide, offered his services: ‘What do you want to know?’ and led the way to the monastery chapel. Built way back in the 12th century, this no frills monastery with whitewashed walls and a stunning stained glass window, once operated an important scriptorium and library, as well as being Croatia's first quarantine station in the late 14th century. Most of the buildings were closed but we checked out the cemetery and Mladin picked some wild plants for us to taste. We all liked the rock samphire (though had never heard of it before and hoped he wasn’t drugging us) so he said: ‘I put in risotto tonight’.
As a thank you to Mladin, Rossco suggested we have a drink at the cafe and learn a bit more about our tour guide cum chef. Giving us an abridged version of his life story, he didn’t leave out the story of his horrendous haemorrhoids (grossness warning ahead…) and how when an Indian doctor had suggested he slather them with ghee it had turned out to be a miraculous cure. Waaaay too much info there Mlad my boy. The football-loving Jones boys, who know all about the Croatian football scene, managed to steer the conversation away from unsavoury body parts and kept Mladin happy.
He dropped a line over the boat on our journey back, hoping to catch some red snapper for our dinner and farewelled us, instructing us to be at the house with the red balcony at 7pm. He had also invited Aida. So far so good. When we’d questioned Aida about Mladin requesting payment for tonight’s dinner, she’d told us she’d paid him with some butter - ‘a token from my homeland’. We should have packed some Timtams.
Just before 7, Aida emerged from her apartment next door, all spruced up, with a spring in her step. I’m not kidding, she skipped along the path towards Mladin’s house. I think we may be bearing witness to the unfolding of a great love story in the making.
Our nostrils knew what we were in for as we dodged the neighbourhood cats and approached Mladin’s door. Onions and garlic wafted through the still night air. Aida greeted us and offered some wine while Mladin busily beavered away in his tiny kitchen. Popping through the window he weirdly requested to examine the hands and wrists of Molly and Sam, apparently to gauge their tolerance for spices. OK. Mladin stocked the table with condiments (including a big jar of ghee, that none of us was going near with a ten foot pole after that story earlier).He then presented our 2 non-fish lovers with a steaming pot of aromatic risotto that Molly declared was the best she’d ever tasted. We ate homemade crusty bread - made with spelt flour, fennel seeds and flax- and dined under the stars and the cut fingernail moon. The silence was profound and punctuated only occasionally by the splosh of a fish jumping out of the lake water below us. As an entree, Mladin ladled generous helpings of his buttery broth from the fish stew he was so obviously proud of, before our main meal of the stew itself, rich with garlic, dill, onions, leeks and sweet potatoes. The star of the stew was the fish, (illegally) hand caught by the chef himself, right out his front door - amberjack (‘gof’ in Croatian) and barracuda. It really did taste delicious.
During the meal, Aida explained how taking singing lessons had ‘opened her soul’ and then without warning she broke into a long (very tuneful) rendition of Ava Maria right there at the table, earning her a little Jones family round of applause.
Mladin showed us warmth and wonderful hospitality right up until it was time to leave and we had the very awkward question about how much we pay him. We had discussed it beforehand and decided on initially offering him €50 and after reading the room, have an additional €50 in the back pocket in case he’d seemed unsatisfied. That was a lot more than a stick of butter. As it went down, he stated plainly that he wanted €200 (which thankfully we could scrounge together) obviously a lot more than we’d expected. Aida also seemed quite embarrassed. It appeared we had been had. I admit, it did leave a bit of a bad taste in my mouth (aside from all that garlic). Ross and the kids were a bit more philosophical and I guess we just chalk it up to a memorable holiday moment.
Mlad has offered to take us (and Aida of course) on a field trip up a hill tomorrow ‘to see view…for free!’
