12 Watching Life

The rest of the day and part of the next Petey and I spent on the harborfront watching life. I parked myself in a soft outdoor lounge chair nursing a small 2-icecube coke. Petey, who frowned on loitering bums like me, was content to sit on a hard wooden public bench just beyond my cushy bistro spot drinking her store-bought beverage. Watching life pass by at the Hvar harbor was fascinating. The locals worked the service industry, the only source of jobs in Hvar. Dock workers helped park the huge yachts, many registered through “fee-friendly” Georgetown, while yacht servants scrubbed decks and hulls. Uniformed waiters and waitresses kept the drinks, food and ice cream flowing to rotating customers. Stock boys drove back and forth in electric powered carts, similar in size to a golf cart. The operator stood at the front of the cart steering with each hand using a long lever. Local artists set their newest paintings of Hvar and women on the ledge of a building luring new tourist traffic. Walking vendors pushed little novelty items along the deck for kids to see and parents to buy.

The tourists paraded down the promenade like an international fashion show. Few Americans but lots of Europeans, Australians and Brits … all shapes and sizes, summer outfits, summer hats, summer shoes. Packs of girls on a holiday-fling followed by packs of young men on a holiday-fling. When a big yacht entered or left the harbor, a gaggle of gawkers formed. Hands over brows to block the sun, they were hoping for a glimpse of who might be onboard … could it be Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolee?

Four women engaged in joyful conversation frolicked by. One woman was carrying a wine bottle. She dropped it. It shattered on the ground. Like BP oil executives, they looked around for a quick solution but seeing none, they turned to walk away as though nothing happened. Like seagulls descending on spilled popcorn, a gathering of CCAPS, “concerned citizens against promenade spills,” surrounded the ladies and chastised them to take responsibility for egregious off shore infraction. They did. Petey’s offered a plastic bag to aid in the coastal cleanup.

We noticed one girl, a westerner wearing her Sunday best, searching for her accommodations. Her stuffed suitcase was in tow. Following close behind was an elderly woman perhaps her mother, aunt or grandmother, equally dressed pulling a larger matching bag. They walked passed us when we were stationed by the north beach area then several hours later as we sat by the harbor they passed us going the other way, luggage still in tow, this time the older woman much farther behind the girl. Later that afternoon we saw them again on the other side of the harbor still searching for their abode. The girl looked determined while the woman now further behind looked exhausted. We wondered if they ever found their bed … or are they still searching.

Just down the square a few elderly church women displayed their handmade linens and doilies on the church curb … perhaps a fundraiser. A large covered patio housed the fresh produce stands filled with local growers bagging a wide variety of fruits and vegetables. Next to the patio was the fish house where the catch of the day is chopped, boned, weighed, wrapped and sold to local chefs. A strong dead-fish odor filled the patio in the morning but got washed down by late morning standing idle until the next day. For $5 you can do a load of laundry then another $5 to dry, though most folks (locals and tourists) hang their laundry out the window. Free WiFi can be had for the cost of a beverage … they used Acer netbooks. Hungry for WiFi, I ordered a peach milkshake. I glanced over to see a freshly cut banana in the blender. Before the soda jerk pushed the puree button, I stopped him. Perhaps I was lost in translation. I tried to explain that I have violent reactions to bananas. He apologized, concerned that he might ruin my vacation. For the most part, the locals take tourism very seriously. He removed the banana and finished the shake with peaches. He poured the creamy foam into a large glass and asked me how it was. I took a swig. Petey took a swig. By far, it was the worst milkshake we’ve ever had. Petey left the rest to me while I finished my Internet fix. As I was leaving the shop, the soda jerk commented, “Sorry about the milkshake. It was my first time.”

A couple of non-local kids fished off the cement dock. They landed a fish on the deck then played hot potato trying to pick it up as the fish flapped around. The older boy eventually got a strong hold on it. Seeing me take a picture, he tilted his head back with open mouth and pretended to eat it. Kids are so cute. Petey and I strolled a bit further hand in hand through a couple of upscale resorts. Hvar has it all. What an amazing slice of holiday.