Another fifteen minutes later and we’re strolling along proper paved paths towards a modern port with several huge cruise ships. It was something I considered – going on a bigger cruise. I would’ve certainly saved money, but they just didn’t feel likeme. I like my peace too much and besides it didn’t give the quaint honeymoon vibe I was after.
Hence, the smaller more expensive option.
It should be near by now. We keep strolling, searching for that sleek, modern design. I turn my phone on to see if there are any messages coming through about where they’re docked but it only gives me departure times.
“This is weird,” I say. “In the messages, it says the departure times from the port are every fifteen minutes. I don’t understand. That doesn’t make any sense. Surely there’s just one time?”
Gus frowns at me, bewildered. “Let me see?”
I twist the phone to show him as the battery percentage jumps lower again.
“Huh. Where is it then?”
“I have no idea. But it’s nothere.”
After a few more minutes of hoping it might magically appear and losing hope, we find ourselves in another portoffice. This time a friendly middle-aged lady helps us gladly unlike the grumpy giant in Split.
“Which cruise are you on please?” she asks. I reel the details off to her as she types on her computer, her face getting increasingly confused. “Are you sure you are departing from Dubrovnik?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” I show her the messages.
As if she gets a lightbulb moment, she smiles broadly. “Ah yes. I can see here that they’ve made arrangements to taxi guests in from the ship to the port of Old Town on smaller boats. You’ll need to go there instead.”
“Oh. And how far is that?”
She takes a map out of her drawer and places it on the desk, marking where we are now and where we need to go. Of course, it’s the absolute opposite end of the city.
Gah!
I school my voice. “And how long will that take?”
“About a thirty-minute walk or ten minutes by taxi.”
I glance at Gus. Gus glances at me. With a hasty thank you, we use every last spark of energy in our bones, fighting the sunburn and blisters, to race towards the road in hopes of finding a taxi.
TwelveCruise Location – DubrovnikNext Port – KotorTime of Departure – 16:00 (GMT+1)
Luckily there’s a huddle of taxis in front the port. We dive into the backseat of the next available car and Gus tells the driver where we’re headed. “We need to get there fast, if at all possible, please. We’re very late.” He’s so polite. I don’t know why that surprises me about him. I guess I thought a famous popstar might be brattier than this.
The driver twists in his seat, his slick, silver hair combed back.
Huh. Why do taxi drivers always smell so good?It’s a heady mix of mint and tobacco. Or maybe it’s because I smell terrible. “I can only get you to entrance of Old Town. You go rest of way on foot.”
“Perfect. Thanks, mate,” Gus says.
We’re barely strapped in before he drives keenly through the city streets towards our destination. His radio is playing loud Europop I haven’t heard before. Gus whips his sunglasses and hat off, rearranging his curls and running a hand down his dust-covered face.
It doesn’t matter that that’s exactly what a furious alpha cowboy would do because I’m not thinking about that.
The taxi driver keeps checking his rearview mirror. Initially, I suspect it’s due to the busy city traffic, but as it continues, I notice his gaze intensifying on Gus with wider and wider eyes.
Oops. Should have kept that disguise on, Popstar.
He presses some buttons on his phone, set up with hands free in the centre consol, and Gus stiffens at the opening beats of a new song playing over the speakers.
It’s a more defined sound than the Europop we were just listening to.
“This is your song, no?” the taxi man asks, absolutely buzzing with glee.
