I enjoy just rolling through towns checking out the scenery, but I knew Howard would be hating it. At lunchtime we took a side road down to a seaside village, where we had lunch and, in my case, a quick swim. Afterwards the road climbed with the cliffs, becoming faster, cooler, emptier and generally more Howard-friendly.
I became intrigued by roadside stalls selling brightly-coloured liquids in bottles alongside strings of garlic, red and green chillies, and watermelons kept fresh by spray from hosepipes. We stopped in a layby and investigated one. The glowing bottles were fruit juices, and we bought a bottle of bright, sweet mandarin along with four fresh figs for a total cost of around £3. I asked if I could take a photo, and the stallholder insisted Howard had to be in it. He hates being photographed, but, as you can see, put on a brave face.
Looking at the map before our trip, we had noticed that the road passed through Bosnia for a few miles. We were concerned, not because we thought we'd be in any danger but because neither of us had insurance or breakdown cover for that country. It was an uneventful few miles, luckily, and, once again, nobody checked our passports. Shortly after we reentered Croatia, I happened to be looking down at my dashboard and noticed the odometer had ticked over to 10,000 miles.
Dubrovnik is another big town, with lots of steep, narrow streets stacked above each other. Eventually we found our road and a brand new apartment, completed that very week, whose owners were delighted to have us christen it. We bought supplies from the supermarket and ate them on our balcony, admiring our view of beach below and mountain above (these reminded me of my favourite scene from The Naked Gun, see icon) until it was too dark to see more than the lights of aeroplanes overhead and cars on the high coast road.