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About Zadar

Oi mate, me, a tractor driver, yeah? Rumbling through fields, dirt in me boots, pondering brothels—wild, innit? Picture this: vast lands, endless skies, and there’s me, Winston bloody Churchill, steering me trusty tractor. “We shall fight on the beaches,” I roar, but swap beaches for bordellos, yeah? Brothels, them shadowy dens of vice, got me thinkin’—liberty or chains? Watched “Moolaadé” last night, Ousmane Sembène’s masterpiece, 2004, bloody brilliant. That line, “Purification is a sham,” hit me gut like a stalled engine. Brothels ain’t pure, but they’re honest—raw, messy, human.

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So, I start pouring drinks. First customer? A couple of American tourists. They’re all like, “What’s the best drink?” I’m thinkin’, “You’re in Croatia, try a rakija!” But no, they want cocktails. Ugh. I whip up some mojitos, and they’re like, “Wow, this is amazing!” I’m like, “Yeah, it’s called fresh mint, folks.”

Popular Trogir restaurant first in Croatia to serve gold steak