Hvar

I have always understood Hvar to be the living material realisation of Shakespeare's drama Midsummer night's Dream.. The white stone idyllic town set amidst hills of Mediterranean plants, and a background of a perfectly transparent sea, every so often engulfed by a breeze of head rush blossom scents.. These beautiful gazelle leged girls strut off the boats in hunt of the islands charms, followed by hungry eyed boys, of all shapes and nationalities, with the same mischief and shine in their eyes.. The arrivals mix into the lullaby of the slow tempo, and the bohemian locals, artists, fat vine makers and restaurateurs, moonshine brewers , yachters,lavender harvesters and the clergy.. That is to say i have arrived again. It has never grown old on me. Each year i am stunned. The ferry cuts blue sparkly Adriatic sea and injects itself into the longest bay which Ilirian tribes, homer's Greeks, Romans, pirates of barbarian tribes,the Venetians, Napoleons French ,the Ottoman turks, the Marias Austrians, the Russians, English and nazi German have tried to lay claim on, this little island in the middle of the sea.. Some magnetic thing draws people here, and than before one even has time to settle in and be bored, these adventure things attack like mosquitoes, you look left and right cautiously as if you are about to cross the road and than a hurricane of encounters character's, events happen take over the day and night,leave you waking up and out of it dazed thinking you have dreamt the whole thing up.