The postacrds do not lie

We sailed into a glorious dawn and found Dubrovnik waiting. There was a large part of the official city band up early to greet us, and then we were off. They are the first to have physiaclly checked the passports, but I did not get a stamp. I like a stamp to prove I am here.
It is a lovley city and we waked the old town, investigating the tiny lanes off the Placa, a main thoroughfare through the old wall. There were market areas, and naturally a lot of souvenier stalls. Many commented on the high price of everything from goods to refreshments. There is also a tax for rebuilding Dubrovnik built into all purchases. Little mention is made of their past troubles of some years ago, and they seem a very strong people committed to a new country and time. We loved the little and not so little vegetable gardens every house seems to have, the laneways where the washing is hanging above people siting at tiny cafe tables having their morning coffee and a chat. It was a lovely day wandering the streets in the balmy sunshine, the water had an azure quality to the colour and it was very much the postcard look we had hoped maybe there. The streets are clean, and there is a sense of pride, even in the officials checking buses as we left the Port, the ban dwho played, and the street vendors. Andthere was a lady I watched from the our deck alcony, as we sailed off - putting the washing out on a line from her front window. The house looked old but so cared for, and I could imagine the simple things that made he life. She seemed