Day 9. Thursday 9 April.

First visit today was to the gallery of war suffering by artist Ivo Grbica, which was in fact several photos on the walls of his house, having been shelled and burnt, losing all his work in 1991. His mantra goes something like this: freedom cannot be bought from all the treasure in the world.

From there to War Photo Limited, a curated exhibition of war photos, mostly in two collections from the same period/war: Croatia 1991: The Beginning, and the permanent collection titled End of Yugoslavia. There was also a collection of journalist Goran Tomasevic, Retrospective, which covered other conflicts over a period of 30 years.

Breathing a sigh of relief after the confronting images, we headed to the Ethnographic Museum via steps and the usual misdirection. The building was completely unremarkable, and barely signposted: we were standing outside wondering where it was until a chance glance showed it.

Displays of shipbuilding, agricultural tools & processes (wine-making),  housing, clothing etc. We left with impressions of a rather poor society based on marine activity, whose golden days were long ago…the past was about ships & trade & battles; today still the same, but ships are huge floating hotels & trade is TOURISM.

Desperate for our morning coffee, particularly as it was past midday, we dropped into the Hard Rock Café for gold plated coffee & fries on a rather cold day.

Refreshed, on to St. Saviour Church, a small votive church located in Dubrovnik’s Old Town, dedicated to Jesus Christ. Very dark, sombre paintings, ornate & depressing.

Next door was the Franciscan monastery where, among medieval art treasures, missile holes from 1991 are preserved.

The monastery also houses a pharmacy, in continuous operation since 13th century (Panadol would be very out of date).

And our last visit for the day was to the Love Stories Museum, a quaint unsophisticated collection of stories of love, from movies to real life.

Visitors were invited to write their love story on a paper heart and pin it to the walls or ceiling. T and D took part: both separately choosing the same situation at the start of our relationship (and yes, the museum manager had picked that we had been together ‘for a long time’ – his parents were also married in 1972!)

T then suggested that, since we had bus tickets as part of our Dubrovnik Pass, we take a random bus ride. On the advice of the tourist office, we took Route 6.

The queue was long and pushy, so when the middle door opened, T got on, following a few others. D was further ahead in the queue, nearer the forward door. The bus driver was cranky, lept from his seat, yelling at those who’d dared to board in the middle & told them to leave…T cringed…D was outside, the queue piled through the front & phew! D just made it. T had visions of the bus departing, leaving D on the kerbside (sigh…D missed his escape moment).

At the end of the line, the bus driver regained composure & helpfully suggested we take a scenic walk. We eventually found the route to the walk – Nika Meda Pucica – and the cave bar under the Hotel More. As you do, we had a drink.

Back to the bus stop for the return trip, to be joined by a horde of young (under 14) water polo players and their minders from Rome. As we had discovered on our flight from Istanbul there is a junior water polo tournament under way, with teams from throughout Europe. A team from Slovenia joined the bus further along the route. T engaged one youngster, ‘yes, we were on vacation’ – ‘no, my team hadn’t won today’ – ‘perhaps a review of tactics would help.’

 Back to the apartment for another chicken plate (this version including a zucchini), to  pack and be ready for the ferry ride to the island of Hvar tomorrow. Alarms set for 0530, but they’re unlikely to be needed!