One night at my hostel, I met up with these aussies who were going on a big sailing trip. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, this is the thing to do in Croatia-book these week-long sailing trips which are basically glorified booze cruises. It was fun talking to them, as one especially exuberant girl from Melbourne told us captivating tales of her past adventures and misdeeds traveling, including a horrific jump off of a water trapeze, resulting in one of the worst bruises I’ve ever seen across her stomach (and I’ve seen some bad ones).
That had nothing to do with my big night out in Split. I just liked those aussies and thought they were worth mentioning. The night before my bus to Medjugorje, I decided to go out with some new people who had arrived at the hostel (not the aforementioned aussies- they were boozing it up on a sailing boat somewhere).
We played some drinking games at the hostel (including the worst version of Kings I’ve ever been forced to participate in) and then set for a night on the town. We went to a couple clubs and didn’t end up returning to the hostel until 5am, with light spreading across the dark blue sky as we collapsed into bed.
If you know me, you know clubs aren’t really my thing. I don’t understand – I just met these cool new people. I’d rather go to an old local pub and talk with them, hearing their stories and tales of glory, than go stand around in some loud, light-flashing-in-my-eyes club with overpriced drinks, not hearing anything or anyone. My displeasure at club-o-grindy-time must have been obvious, because one British guy I was with informed me that I looked miserable. He was kind of an asshole actually.
Anyhow, by far my favorite part of the night was on our way to the last club, when we encountered a street performer on the Riva. These guys were so friggin’ cool. The singer/guitar player had this old school Elvis-esk microphone that had an amazing sound. The drummer had one of those percussion boxes you sit on and play. They sounded great and were really engaging with the (mostly drunk) audience, getting people to sing along and jump up and down. When they had everyone dance crazy as they played “The Bird is the Word,” I think I found nirvana. Everybody knows that the bird is the word!
In retrospect, I shouldn’t have slept at all. I should have grabbed my luggage and caught the 6am bus to Medjugorje. Instead, I slept a maximum of three hours and caught the later bus. Sleep deprivation goes hand in hand with backpacking, but it certainly isn’t my favorite past time.