Day 394 - Croatia Episode 1 - The Search for Hvar

AKA - Fear and Loathing with the In-Laws 

Beach babes

Beach babes

We’re going on a road trip to Croatia and I'm tremendously excited.  I love a good road trip.

“It’ll be amazing!  We’ll be like Johnny Depp and Benicio del Toro in 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas'!  Just you, me and the open road, charging head first in to an adventure!” I say.

“And Mila.” adds Zsuzsa.

“Just you, me, a baby and the open road, charging head first in to an adventure!”

“And my parents.”

“Er...Just you, me, a baby, the in-laws and the open road, er...charging head first in to an adventure.”

I’m trying to remember the film 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas'.  I remember an open topped car, the desert and debaucerous high-jinx.  I can't remember if Johnny Depp or Benicio del Toro brought any parents with them.  I decide that they must have.

The first stop of our Croatian adventure is the island of Hvar, which depending on who you speak to is either pronounced Ha-var, Wah or Gshxkbkgyshbkgydjughhb-ar.  We load up the car with everything we’ve ever owned and depart Budapest at about 0630.  According to Google we should arrive in Split in about seven and a half hours.  We then need to catch a two hour ferry to Hvar.  I'm sharing the driving with my father in law.

About four hours in and Zsuzsa and her mother are singing nursery rhymes to calm our excitable spawn.  I'm taking a breather in the passenger seat while my father in law drives.  Zsuzsa suddenly hands me some biscuits.  

“Honey.  Feed my father please.”

I decide that I'm up to this challenge, take the biscuits and offer them to my father in law.

“No honey!  Not to his hand!  In to his mouth!”


“He needs both hands free to drive!  He's tired!”


“Honey!  Please!”

I reluctantly comply and begin feeding biscuits in to my father in laws mouth, the bristles of his bushy moustache brushing against my fingers as I do so.  I definitely don't remember this bit happening in 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas'.

A few hours later and we’re approaching Split.  I'm now driving, Mila is asleep and ‘Joyride’ by Roxette is playing via the radio.  Party time.  Zsuzsa then says something to her father and seconds later I discover a biscuit being stuffed in to my mouth.  This is madness and highly peculiar behaviour, but I’m on holiday so I roll with it.


At 1900 hours we arrive on Hvar.  It's beautiful, with rugged coastlines surrounding spectacular green mountains, and the sounds of waves crashing and cicadas chanting all around.  It's like a live performance of the ‘white noise‘ app that we sometimes use to get Mila to sleep.

Day one is all about exploring.  On day two we find a stunning little beach and set up a base camp for a full day of hardcore, extreme-baby beaching.

“It's amazing isn't it?” I say to Zsuzsa.

“Yes, but the sea smells really fishy.” she replies, whilst sniffing the air suspiciously.

I make a mental note to drive the fish from the sea, although it’ll have to wait until after I've tidied my wardrobe.

Later that evening we return to our apartment and begin unpacking the endless array of bags that we take to the beach now that we have Mila.  Zsuzsa reaches inside one bag that has a melon emblazoned on the side, removes a saucy pair of white, satin hot pants and frowns.  She's frowning because they are not hers.  Still holding the hot pants aloft she turns towards her mother.

“Anya? (Mum?)”

Her mother looks at the hot pants and shakes her head.  Zsuzsa turns towards her father.

“Apa? (Dad?)”

He also shakes his head.  They obviously aren't his.  They're not his colour.

It’s only then that we realise that we have two beach bags with melons emblazoned upon their front.  This is strange as this morning we only had one.  Slowly it dawns upon us that we have accidentally stolen a random family's  clothes.  

So, if you happened to be in Jelsa and stumbled across an entire family driving home from the beach, wearing nothing but furious expressions, please tell them we have their clothes.

Next stop, Brela.

To be continued...


A lovely pair of melon bags