Our Cab Driver

In a previous post, I mentioned that my uncle organized a transport to the place where our house is located at. We were greeted by a very interested gentleman that drove us around Lastovo island and also served as a tourist guide. I sensed the accent but I figured that is how people talk here. It turns out that he was actually born in South Africa and that he learnt to speak our language after he arrived. Apparently, he was a trained solider and somehow he ended up here. His father left then Yugoslavia in the 50's to return in the early 90s. He was really nice and he took us to the grocery store and helped us with things. After a great conversation and few cups of coffee, we let him go to his pregnant wife. He made me think of the cyclical nature of things here. People leave but they always hope to come back one day and some of them really do. I started thinking about my retirement and where would I like to be. Croatia looks pretty attractive as a final stop. When I was a kid, I used to say that the capital city of Yugoslavia was Murter, which was the place where we used to vacation in Croatia. I always loved the sea and its charming surrounding. Maybe, one day, just maybe...