And welcome to instalment 2 of Chris’ Corner.
It has been a whirlwind couple of weeks through Croatia and I have had the time, but not the energy, to write this post. But, after being called out today by Kathleen in her post, it provided me with the necessary motivation. Oddly enough, a big night last night of Serbian grape liquor has also provided me with motivation to write this, in a last ditch effort to be able to label this write-off of a day as a “productive day”.
Shall I set the scene for this epic tale to follow:
The debacle starts 10 days ago during our stay at Plitvice National Park, Croatia. We had not eaten much all day, and were starved for a big supper. We had brought groceries with us, and cooked up a pesto pasta to curb our appetite after a big day of hiking. I had the bright idea of adding some winter salami to the pasta (which we had left over from making sandwiches). There was one hiccup- when I fried it up to add it to the pesto, it released all of its salt into the pan, and made the pesto taste literally as if I dumped a kilo of salt in it. It was not edible- and coming from me that is saying a lot. We scarfed down what we could manage without throwing up, threw the rest out, and spent the rest of the night lying in bed with massive tummy aches and blood pressures bordering on a hypertensive crisis.
The next morning we woke up thirsty, hungry, but without much remaining groceries and were faced with the insurmountable obstacle that lie before us: a 7 hour bus trip to Split. Our only respite was that Kathleen and I made a pact to treat ourselves to a massive and delicious meals as soon as we arrived in Split. For those of you who follow the blog, you know how big of a deal this is for us to say “screw the budget, we are going big tonight! We deserve it!”
The bus ride was as can be expected: continually more hungry, thirsty, and tired but getting through it because of that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow- that big meal.
We arrive to split and get a recommendation for a restaurant from the hostel worker. The recommendation was to a restaurant with “regional traditional food. Both meat and fresh seafood. Very delicious and serving sizes so big you won’t be able to finish.” I am thinking “hell ya, teleport me over there”. We pretty well sprint over there and looking around the restaurant, the meals looked delicious. I settled on the “mixed grill” and Kathleen opted for the “pan fried fish” which a lady at the next table over was eating. It looked delicious.
We were basically salivating as we waited for our food, the meal that we had been dreaming about for the whole day. Mind you, at this point, we had barely ate for the preceding 48 hours and spent a day hiking and a 7 hour bus ride.
The food arrives and my plate consisted of a large serving of French fries, a chicken breast, a pork chop, a steak, a foot long sausage, and a hamburger: PERFECT. I dived in.
Now this is where the punch line comes in. I looked at the plate that is handed to Kathleen and am trying not to laugh hysterically. I cannot do it justice in words, so instead I have included some pictures for your viewing privilege. Basically, it looked like they took whatever the fisherman had straight from the boat, right into the fry pan. No need for any North American customs like filleting the fish, cutting off their heads, deboning them, etc etc. Just a massive plate of various seafood, a lot of which was a mystery of what it even was. I thought Kathleen might burst into tears, but instead she handled it like the champ she is, saddled up, and dove right into it as if it was no big thang. She was hating every second of it and was so devastated, but she didn’t want to give me the satisfaction of showing it. She managed to eat everything except 15 fish (yes, there was about 60 pieces of seafood to start).
I am guessing that the lady next to us had not ordered the “pan fried fish” even though, her meal literally was a pan fried fish.
I passed the time laughing and taking pictures, but I did the romantic thing and donated my beer to her cause, considering she needed to be a bit drunk in order to take on the plate in front of her.
I won’t say anything more than that: the photos below tell the tale better than I ever could.
The kicker to it all is when the bill shows up. Her meal cost about 14 dollars canadian. It was the most expensive meal she has eaten all trip. That was the last straw: she was visibly distressed.
Hopefully this brightens up your Monday, and for those of you who know Kathleen well , I am certain you will get a good chuckle out of it.
Until next time,