Monasteries and Tipping: A Catholic's Nightmare
Days 7 and 8 (I think). Our last few days of hiking were quite eventful. On Thursday, we hiked the west coast of the Island of Hvar, with its beautiful views of the Adriatic. The thing about this hike was that while the views were incredible, there were virtually no people. It was probably all the bloody rocks.
Imagine our surprise, when as we were walking through a wooded area (there were rocks there too) and we began to hear multiple voices--all of which seemed to be at a fevered pitch. We were about 10 miles from the middle of nowhere, when like a jack-in-the-box, a young woman with a lot of female attributes and not enough bathing suit, jumped out of a bush holding a map and said, "I don't speak good English," and as she pointed to the map said, "I'm looking for this bitch!" At that moment, several things went through my mind. First, what "bitch" was on a map and second, could she be dresses any more inappropriately?
The first question was answered quickly as she was pointing on th map to a "beach." The second question-not so easy. We all looked like a bunch of sweaty sherpas with our garb and hiking boots and were thankful for it all because of the rough terrain. She had on a thong bikini and jellies on her feet! In that get-up, I figured her chances of finding the "bitch" were pretty small. I then ran into the rest of her friends, equally as excited and equally inappropriately dressed. I realized they were speaking Italian but as they usd no curse words, I was no help to them.
The next day was to be our hardest climb. It was not far (about 2 1/2 miles) but it was all uphill--a 1200 foot elevation. The reward for such a climb was to see a monastery, about 3/4 of the way up that was built into the mountain .
Some of my fellow pollers--all Catholics, I might add--immediately decided that no building built by a bunch of priests was worth such a climb. I initially was with them. The thought of taking a boat to a nearly-deserted beach on the Adriatic seemed a whole lot more enticing than some building constructed of mostly rocks. Plus, this was our last day of hiking and I was feelings a bit sentimental. And so I decided to start climbing.
We were told there was "no bailout option " and so I decided that this warranted two poles, realizing I would need every piece of paraphernalia to get me to the top. I had abandoned my Joan-of-Arc hiking mentality days ago. Within 15 minutes, between the heat and the incline, I realized that I had completely lost my mind. My whole goal then became staying slightly ahead of the 70+ couple on our trip--who were actually incredible hikers for their ages. While they were usually the last to finish, they had 10-20 years on the rest of us making it clear that on this hike, I was the weak link.
We made it to the monastery and thankfully, our tour guide hadn't arrived yet (how he got there, I have no idea) and we were able to rest for 15 minutes. I was so happy for the down time because every part of me was sweating, except of course for my feet, which were dry and comfortable thanks to my overpriced socks. The monastery was fascinating and the guide was a hoot, but 1200 feet up is
1200 feet up. Being a Catholic can be exhausting.
Whenever we travel, Bob and I struggle with tipping. Before visiting a country, we comb through Fodor's or Rick Steve's travel books to make sure we know the tipping customs of that particular country. I don't know why we do that because our Catholic guilt makes us always tip higher. Our man, Rick Steves wrote that generally, tips in Croatia should be about 5-7 percent of a bill. We just can't seem to follow Rick's advice.
From the moment we landed in Dubrovnik, we heard that the Croatian residents living along the coast have to make their annual living in the seven months that tourists occupy their country. Seeing
how hard they work--and how nice and friendly they are--makes it tough for us to leave five cents on the dollar. (The currency in Croatia is the Kuna but the math gets too complicated!)
Whenever we are confronted with a tipping situation, Bob and I do "the whisper," which usually includes Bob doing the math and one of us saying that it doesn't sound like enough. For me, the whole thought of these people running low on money around Christmas is too much to bare!
On our way to a national park today and tomorrow we begin our two day trek home.
Imagine our surprise, when as we were walking through a wooded area (there were rocks there too) and we began to hear multiple voices--all of which seemed to be at a fevered pitch. We were about 10 miles from the middle of nowhere, when like a jack-in-the-box, a young woman with a lot of female attributes and not enough bathing suit, jumped out of a bush holding a map and said, "I don't speak good English," and as she pointed to the map said, "I'm looking for this bitch!" At that moment, several things went through my mind. First, what "bitch" was on a map and second, could she be dresses any more inappropriately?
The first question was answered quickly as she was pointing on th map to a "beach." The second question-not so easy. We all looked like a bunch of sweaty sherpas with our garb and hiking boots and were thankful for it all because of the rough terrain. She had on a thong bikini and jellies on her feet! In that get-up, I figured her chances of finding the "bitch" were pretty small. I then ran into the rest of her friends, equally as excited and equally inappropriately dressed. I realized they were speaking Italian but as they usd no curse words, I was no help to them.
The next day was to be our hardest climb. It was not far (about 2 1/2 miles) but it was all uphill--a 1200 foot elevation. The reward for such a climb was to see a monastery, about 3/4 of the way up that was built into the mountain .
Some of my fellow pollers--all Catholics, I might add--immediately decided that no building built by a bunch of priests was worth such a climb. I initially was with them. The thought of taking a boat to a nearly-deserted beach on the Adriatic seemed a whole lot more enticing than some building constructed of mostly rocks. Plus, this was our last day of hiking and I was feelings a bit sentimental. And so I decided to start climbing.
We were told there was "no bailout option " and so I decided that this warranted two poles, realizing I would need every piece of paraphernalia to get me to the top. I had abandoned my Joan-of-Arc hiking mentality days ago. Within 15 minutes, between the heat and the incline, I realized that I had completely lost my mind. My whole goal then became staying slightly ahead of the 70+ couple on our trip--who were actually incredible hikers for their ages. While they were usually the last to finish, they had 10-20 years on the rest of us making it clear that on this hike, I was the weak link.
We made it to the monastery and thankfully, our tour guide hadn't arrived yet (how he got there, I have no idea) and we were able to rest for 15 minutes. I was so happy for the down time because every part of me was sweating, except of course for my feet, which were dry and comfortable thanks to my overpriced socks. The monastery was fascinating and the guide was a hoot, but 1200 feet up is
1200 feet up. Being a Catholic can be exhausting.
Whenever we travel, Bob and I struggle with tipping. Before visiting a country, we comb through Fodor's or Rick Steve's travel books to make sure we know the tipping customs of that particular country. I don't know why we do that because our Catholic guilt makes us always tip higher. Our man, Rick Steves wrote that generally, tips in Croatia should be about 5-7 percent of a bill. We just can't seem to follow Rick's advice.
From the moment we landed in Dubrovnik, we heard that the Croatian residents living along the coast have to make their annual living in the seven months that tourists occupy their country. Seeing
how hard they work--and how nice and friendly they are--makes it tough for us to leave five cents on the dollar. (The currency in Croatia is the Kuna but the math gets too complicated!)
Whenever we are confronted with a tipping situation, Bob and I do "the whisper," which usually includes Bob doing the math and one of us saying that it doesn't sound like enough. For me, the whole thought of these people running low on money around Christmas is too much to bare!
On our way to a national park today and tomorrow we begin our two day trek home.
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