Excursion to Vukovar, meeting a local family, begins at 8:30 am.
Predrag, kindly Serbian Front Desk man, arranged for me to call Lois via ship’s phone! Wonderfully good to hear her voice! Told her what a glorious adventure this has been.
Have misplaced my walking stick twice. Each time, some thoughtful passenger found it and turned it in!
This evening was too tired to join the others for dinner. Need to save strength for tomorrow’s big adventure.
Saint Predrag, desk boss par excellence, served beyond the call of duty, brought me lovely soup in my comfy cell downstairs. (Beds here are super comfortable!)
Thinking of gracious yet steely-eyed Captain Vlodimyr, carefully steering this craft (or over-seeing a computer self-drive?) through all those buoys along Danube’s notorious shallows, in any case remaining awake while we all sleep! I’m grateful.
This stateroom is very near the front of the ship. It’s 8 feet below the water line. I sleep 8 feet below the surface of the river! It’s frightening. I could never serve on a submarine. But the engine makes a soft, steady deep rumble, maybe like a whale snoring? It’s very dark.
I fall asleep easily, hoping I can stop losing my cane. Luko noć. (Good night, in Serbian.)
Friday March 21, 2025 12:36 am
Got excellent sleep! Woke, I think, because the rumbling of the engine had ceased. Feeling alert and curious, got dressed and climbed to Top Deck. Lights! Street lights! We’re docked in Vukovar, Croatia! Cool, bright starry sky. At least a dozen burly, khaki-clad crewmen bustling about, lifting, pushing, shoving stuff, fiddling with ropes. Since we’re all assumed to be sleeping, I thought I ought to leave them in peace, not bug them with questions. (Quite a few occur to me! Well … ) or show off my primitive but wonderful grasp of greetings in 3 or more languages! After all, they are paid (good money, I hope) to be unfailingly polite, cheerful, un-complaining and helpful all day long, feigning immunity to outrageous requests, outbursts of foolishness, endless questions, panic or petty complaints … they surely deserve after-hours’ respite.
Though I really want to ask them what that odd metal blob is for, next to the stern … (Oh, never mind!)
Returning indoors, encountered the night clerk at the front desk, busy assembling little kits for today’s excursion into Vukovar.
He greeted me quite cheerfully by name so I stopped briefly … Turns out he’s just plain Bulgarian (not descended from the Wicked Turks). Told me where he lives (not Sofya), how he found this job, etc. He said Ali (last year’s chef) and Daniel – both of Ottoman descent, both patriotic, card-carrying Bulgarians, are real Bulgarians all right, but he himself (a la Freud I’ve already forgotten his name) is a BULGARIAN Bulgarian.
Then he laughed. “Five hundred years of the Turks,” he said … “Well, that’s all in the past now. It’s the – – – – s we have to look out for nowadays. So we must all be Bulgarian Bulgarians now!” Think I might be able to recall his name in a minute or so … How quickly he redeemed himself! What the whole world needs!
Went back Top Deck to listen for waking birds in Croatia! Faintly chilly, utterly peaceful. Ah … A faint, sweet twittering somewhere in the dimly-lit neighborhood visible from here. Stood absolutely still. Without my hearing aids wouldn’t be able to hear them at all. Remaining motionless for many minutes, more twittering from a new direction. Croatia still slumbering, only the Wake-Up Birds.
Increasing deafness scares me, mostly because I love music more than words. Possible blindness scares me because I love to read. I hope Cognitive Decline isn’t next LOL.
If you have just come to the journey at this point, please start the chronicle from the beginning to learn the rest of Lyndie’s fascinating story.
Lyndie's Journey 