STANDING on the deck of the ferry from Zadar to Preko (about £3 per person), Zenchai bellowed, “Hello Kukljica” as our journey across the water neared the end. We had arrived, finally.
After some 2,300 miles, from London to Maastricht to Karlsruhe to Munich to Zagreb, we could almost see our final destination.
It had been some 30-plus years since I was here last. Everything was vaguely familiar. Like Zagreb, Zadar and Kukljica have modernised.
We drove off the ferry and about 5km to the village of Kukljica, where nearly every summer as a child I vacationed with my brother and grandparents.
The sun was hot – around 33 degrees – like I remember it. We drove into the centre of the village. The marina now has more boats. There are palm trees lining the repaved sidewalk and pretty flowers. There is a bank, two supermarkets, an outdoor fruit and vegetable market, an information centre, more restaurants than I recall and even a bar with wifi and plasma screen showing the World Cup.
It’s relatively quiet, though – still off-season. That suits us perfectly.
We’ve been here a few days now. In the mornings, when we wake up, the water in front of my uncle’s house, where we are staying, is calm. The sun beams down on it so brightly the ocean looks white.
The sea is a little chilly, but once in it, your body soon warms up. The ocean is salty and clean. By the afternoon the wind picks up and the waves arrive.
After all that driving this is the perfect place for adults to relax and children to play.
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