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About Zadar

Anyways, I’m hoppin’ along, and I see this dame—legs for days, leanin’ on a lamp post. “You’re my refuge,” I mutter, like Benigno talkin’ to his coma gal in the flick. Makes me chuckle, ‘cause it’s nuts! I ain’t mad tho—takes guts to stand there, dodgin’ cops and creeps. What pisses me off? Them jerks who haggle like it’s a flea market. Pay up or bounce, ya cheapskates! Made me happy seein’ her smirk tho—girl knew how to play ‘em.

Bike camp at the seaside

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So, I hit the streets, right? First stop, the old town. You know, the one with those cobblestone streets that make you feel like you’re in a medieval movie? Yeah, that’s the one. I’m strolling down Decumanus, feeling all artsy and stuff. Then BAM! I trip over a loose stone. Classic me. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed. A faceplant in front of tourists.”

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