For two days the southerly wind called the jugo (scirocco) has been sweeping sticky humidity through this coastal Croatian village. When I walked into Poret this morning, for my daily caffè macchiato, the barista remarked upon the heat. It was she who told me the wind is called the jugo. I was sticky when I got up this morning and knew there was no point in showering, but I did anyway. Pointlessly.
In mid-afternoon, after I’d finished editing a PowerPoint and spent 20 minutes trying to send it over the suddenly recalcitrant WiFi (finally sent), I put on my togs and went down to the stony beach.
Swimming in the Adriatic here feels so good. Have I simply forgotten how buoyant the ocean is, how wonderful it is to swim in deep — not swimming pool deep, but ocean deep — water, in almost limitless space? It is meraviglioso. And it has a wonderful effect on my body, too.
Drašnice, Croatia