Dalmatia’s Heart: Galesnjak And Turanj
At the beginning of the week, I was questioning why I had come to Zadar. By the end of the week, I was questioning why I was leaving.
Before I came to the final majestic high of this roller coaster week, I had one final hard dive: that ginger girl from Craft Room.
“Sorry, I did not come to Zadar to see you. You said you are coming, but you did not. I am working too much now in Turanj.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t. I can come tomorrow.”
“Ok, I am free before three Oh the clock. Bring a towel and swimsuit. We can go on the beach.”
Why am I doing this? It should have stayed as a one-night stand. Nothing more. But there’s always hope, always a glimmer of desire. And anyway, she still has my red Cugino’s t-shirt.
The ride is beautiful, but slow. A single two-lane road runs along the coast to Sibenik. It passes through several seaside villages, including Turanj. Every tourist is driving on it. And they’re all stopping to enjoy the view.
Off the coast of Turanj there’s a small island, Galesnjak, that’s known in Croatia for its unique shape. From above, it looks like a heart, which has given it the name, “Lover’s Island.” How will my heart be at the end of this day? I watch a billboard with an aerial view of the island pass me by while I ride on the bus. Gaslesnjak Island is just outside my window, but from the side it looks like all the other landmasses dotting the sea.
Turanj is a quiet one-street town. Ginger works at the only hotel, which is right on the water. After a half-hour wait at the café in the hotel, she arrives. I can see her pale complexion is sunburned from spending all summer on the sunny coast. She has a few hours to spare before she starts the afternoon shift. Already, I have a sinking feeling. This will not end well.
Over coffee, we talk about the past month that passed since we saw each other. I tell her about Ljubljana, Zadar, the Nazi skinheads and the three different places I’ve stayed in this week. She can’t believe it. I tell her Turanj is more relaxing than busy Zadar, which is true.
She’s been working the whole summer at this (again) horrible hotel. Her brother got COVID. She got COVID. Her family got COVID. It was painful, but they survived.
See You In Turanj In Five Years
We walk to the beach together and lay out our towels. She strips her clothes, and I gaze at her – for too long – in her swimsuit. She runs into the sea, swims for a minute, then returns and lays on her stomach next to me. She shows no sign of what we had in Malinska, Krk Island a month ago. I’m thinking that we can go back to her apartment before she has to work in two hours. The first time was good; the second time will be incredible.
Briefly, I jump into the sea and swim. I return to Ginger and lay on my towel, facing her. I lean over and kiss her shoulder.
“No,” she says flatly.
I pull back, then place my hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t object to this.
“So, I guess something changed this summer.”
“I’m seeing someone now. He is a nice guy.”
“He’s in Turanj? A Croat, yeah?”
“Yes, he’s from here. But I don’t know where he is now.”
“Surprise.”
“And you know,” she pauses, “I’m a good girl.”
Although she’s lying face down, her head is turned toward me, and I can see the corner of her mouth turn up in a playful smile. Instinctively, I arch my eyebrow and smile back crookedly. Her eyes are closed, so she sees nothing.
Seeing her mischievous smile, though, I consider trying again. But the past week of ups-and-downs left me exhausted and not eager to have another big emotional low. Enough. Wisely, I leave what we had for what it was: a summer fling.
Eventually, she leaves for her apartment to get ready for work. I catch the next bus back to Zadar. I write a song about the experience. Sentimental, but, hey, it helps.
In the pleasant air-conditioning of my room in Zadar, I realize the heat was getting to me on the beach in Turanj. I forgot something important. I message Ginger.
“You still have my red t-shirt.”
“Remember, I say I will give it to you in the five years.”
