What little I know of Croatia would barely fill the back of a postage stamp (and that would be using large writing). I know that they are energetic and enthusiastic participants in the Eurovision Song Contest, and that their national football team is quite good; at least they've beat England a couple of times (not that that's difficult). And it's not so long ago that they had a bit of a tiff with their Serbian neighbours. I also know that it rains in Croatia.

Today, we arrived in Dubrovnik, and it rained. Not just light, drizzly rain, but serious rain of the very British kind, accompanied by a keen, cold wind. From where we were berthed, it is 3Km to the Old Town, so I opted to walk it, partly because I figured the exercise and fresh air would do me good, but mainly because I refuse to pay the £5 shuttle-bus fee.

On my way, I happened to bump into Peter Roach, one of the other guest speakers, again, so we walked the rest of the distance and meandered around the Old Town together.

And still it rained...

It's a bit of a shame about the rain, because Dubrovnik Old Town is a beautiful, and quite captivating, place. Since there were at least 2 other large cruise ships anchored out in the harbour (we were originally going to be anchored out there too, with passengers having to come ashore by tender, but we apparently managed to bag a shore-side berth at the last minute), there was no shortage of visitors. Dubrovnik Old Town is surrounded by a pretty impressive city wall along the top of which you can walk, and once you get within the walls, it gets better; tiny streets on all levels, joined by lots of steps and lit by ornate street lights. The main drag through the town was absolutely thronged with tourists, all wielding umbrellas and fighting against the wind. Being Sunday, there were services going on within the Cathedral and the churches, but it didn't stop all the touristy gift shops being open.

Just outside the town, the land rises sharply and steeply, to rocky buttresses high above, and it is from here, less than 15 years ago (but I'm happy to be corrected on that, if anyone knows the full story), that the Serbs lobbed shells down upon the town. Shrapnel damage and roof damage is apparent everywhere you look, and I couldn't help thinking; why would anyone want to destroy such a beautiful place?

By the time I'd returned to the ship, I looked like a drowned rat. My feet squelched in my shoes and my hair stuck to my head in streaks, but it was well worth the walk!

If anybody needed proof of the seriousness of our on-board norovirus problem, they would only have had to take a look in at Breakfast in the Secret Garden Cafe this morning. With hygiene issues currently on high alert, nobody is allowed to touch anything, and antibacterial hand-squirters have doubled overnight. Where as normally, I would saunter in, help myself to a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of orange juice, maybe have a cup of tea (urgh), then be on my way, now I find I, along with everyone else, have to queue and wait for a waiter to do everything for me (I'm surprised he doesn't eat it for me). Needless to say, tempers were starting to fray a little over breakfast. Although people, I'm sure, realise the importance of why things have to be done this way, to prevent the situation getting worse, they don't seem to appreciate losing some of their basic freedoms. At one point, there was a little explosive interchange between a bloke and a woman. As far as anyone can tell, she accidentally stood on his toes whilst waiting in a queue, and he just went ballistic at her. Not quietly, but very loudly, and in the most viscious, inappropriate way possible. He turned on her and hurled a string of abuse at her, swearing and calling her all manner of quite nasty things which I couldn't possibly repeat here. The thing is; he couldn't have chosen a worse moment to have his little hissy-fit, for at that very moment, who should be passing the entrance to the Secret Garden Cafe but the Captain himself, who witnessed the whole event. I don't know if there have been any repercussions from the event, but I wouldn't be surprised if the gentleman in question hasn't been politely shown the door. Kicking off in an aggressive manner like that is just not appropriate on a ship; to do it in front of the Captain, who has the power to kick you off if he deems you a bad apple (he is the boss-man, afterall), seems little short of stupidity. If I hear anything I'll keep you posted.

Just a quick thanks, by the way, to all of you who are adding comments to the blog. They are very welcome, and I'm enjoying them very much. I'd just like to apologise if I don't get around to responding to every one; I like to try to, if time, and internet access, allows, but I know occasionally the odd one slips through.

Tomorrow, we leave Dubrovnik and head towards La Goulette, which is just slightly to the North of Tunis, in Tunisia. Hopefully the weather will be a bit warmer there. It's a two-day sail, so I have two workshops to fit in. The Cruise Director is talking of making a really big event out of our end-of-cruise exhibition, with himself and the captain choosing a few winners and handing out a few prizes from the work exhibited. I'm slightly nervous about this, since it's hard enough trying to get work out of people to hang in the show, without laying extra pressure on them thinking they're going to be judged. I've always preferred the slightly more low-key affair, so we'll see...