14 Oct 2014

Croatia by abbieredmon


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When the waves crash on the rocky beach, they make a lovely sound as they trickle back through to the water. It is mid-afternoon, and a group of men on one of the boats in the harbor has begun singing -- I think they are a choir, because they aren't bad.

I just finished a late, leisurely lunch with an older couple who live in Geneva. He is from Spain; she from France. He used to work as a human rights expert for the United Nations, and now his son does. They converse with each other in French.

I met them at the port in Hvar. I was trying to figure out which island I should go to and how I should get there. This nice woman asked if I wanted a "sandy beach" -- the receptionist at their hotel had apparently told them where to find one, and that's where they were headed.

So I went with them -- to Palmižana (which I remember by noting that it sounds similar to "parmesana," the cheese) (were we speaking Italian).

The taxi dropped us off at a small marina, and we walked across the island (it's narrow here) to the south side, where the beach is.

There is a nice bay, with several large sailboats parked in it (including the one with the singing fellows), and there are two or three restaurants in addition to a few tiny houses that rent to honeymooning couples or other privacy-seekers.

The beach is about 30 yards long, at a generous measurement, and there is decidedly no sand. However much this has disappointed the French-Spanish couple, the lack of sand is one of the reasons the water here is so gorgeous. It's magically blue and impossibly clear. You can see everything on the bottom as neatly as if it has been displayed in a museum.