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joegodaTravel down the E65 at 3am was quiet and brisk. Wells had passed through two Croatian checkpoints, presented his papers and was waved through. Each time his car was searched and nothing was found. Wells carried no weapons, or at least no conventional weapons. He spoke English, placing just enough of a French accent in his words that he was mistaken for a French national. His passport and visa, created through Sarah's use of a color laser printer back in Italy, supported his claim to be a Canadian named Edmund Crispin who was on a trip to Zadar to examine trade possibilities.
The trip to Zadar took around four hours for the nearly 160 miles, driving down the mountainous coast of the Adriatic on E65. He passed sleepy villages and rough roads that led off into the distance. It was a very curvy route, fully of switchbacks and slow turns. If it had been in the light of day, he might have found the scenery remarkable and beautiful. As it was, it was dark and draining, having to watch to make sure he didn't drive off into the sea.
As he finally drove onto the peninsula that contained the actual town of Zadar, the sun was just starting to break over the horizon, glittering off the sea. He was surprised by how cosmopolitan Zadar was. He had imagined that, containing only seventy thousand inhabitants, it would be an almost run down fishing village.
It was, instead, a very pretty town, rich in history and very pride. The building were very tidy, the streets were broad and clean, the people smiling and waving as he drove through the streets.
"Sarah, how far is it to the hotel?" he asked.
"Herbert, the Hotel Kolovare is on the coast, approximately three miles ahead."
"Very good, Sarah." He focused on his driving, trying to ignore how terribly tired he was. A headache as starting just behind his eyes and he found himself hunched over the steering wheel more often than not. He knew he had to rest, and very soon.
"Sarah," he said, "I will need to take a nap when I get to the hotel. I'll need you to see if you can locate this..." his voice faded as he searched his memory. "Jorj Helki."
"I have already located him, Herbert," Sarah supplied. "Cross-referencing the Zadar newspapers, I located a reference to a Jorj Helki, aged 62, who had owned a small bar that burned down fourteen years ago. He now runs a cafe called More."
"More?" Wells asked. The hotel was just a head, and he slowed to navigate to a parking space. "More what?"
"That is the name of the cafe, Herbert," Sarah explained. "It is named More. It is located at number Three, Brne Krnauratica. Would you like the telephone number?"
Wells opened his door and stepped out, stretching his back. He reached across the driver's seat and retrieved the computer. "Not right now, Sarah," he said. "I'm at the hotel. I'm going to power you down for a bit."
"That is just as well, Herbert," Sarah said. "I can tell the batteries are starting to get low on the laptop. Don't forget to plug it in to charge."
"I won't. Thank you, Sarah." Wells said.
"You are very welcome, Herbert. I'll call the front desk and have them wake you in three hours. It will be ten in the morning. Will that be enough?"
"That should be fine, Sarah." He closed the connection, turned the computer off, and went to check in at the hotel.
He stood at the desk behind a family, the man tall and wearing a red ball cap, blue shirt and jeans, the wife, a flowered dress. Their daughter, about sixteen appeared bored with it all, and stood looking at nothing at all, smacking her bubble gum.
"What do you mean, residency fee?" the husband asked in a shocked and gruff voice, full of an accent straight from the woods of Maine. "You mean we have to pay to be here, besides just renting a room?"
The desk clerk nodded apologetically and said in crisp English, "I am sorry, sir, but it is this way all through Croatia. Foreigners all pay a residency fee. I'm sure that was explained to you when you booked your rooms. That is what this document," the clerk tapped a form on the desk, "is about. It is your registration for a residency permit."
The husband turned to his wife and asked her, "Did you hear anything about a residency fee?"
"Maybe." She said, her voice tired and a bit shrill. "He spoke so fast..."
Wells stepped forward, cleared his throat and said, "Perhaps I might explain." The married couple turned to look at him. "The residency fee is nothing more than... say a usage fee. As we are guests in their lovely village, we are using their water, their land, and their automobiles. The fee goes to keep the village clean and safe for tourists while they stay here. I do not think it is too much to ask that we contribute to the well-being of their way of life." He shrugged. "Besides, it is a very small price to pay. The fee for adults is only about...," he thought a second, "thirty three cents a piece. And for your daughter, here it is half of that." Smiling, he said "Really, a very small price to pay, wouldn't you agree?"
The wife took her husbands arm and said, "Only thirty three cents, John. Not worth the fight, and besides I'm tired and want a shower. It was a very long flight." Their daughter agreed by blowing a large pink bubble.
The husband looked at Wells and asked, "You an American?"
Wells shook his head. "Canadian," he lied, still smiling, "but I've flown so much I don't really have a home any more."
The husband looked at wells for a few seconds before saying, "Well, I guess a few pennies won't be missed." He turned back to the clerk, and pointed at the girl. "She's half price on that fee?"
The clerk nodded. "Absolutely, sir. If she is under eighteen then her fee is half of yours."
"She's fifteen, and a pain in the ass." The husband pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "You take plastic?"
"Yes, sir. We take all major credit cards." The clerk took the credit card, passed it through his card swipe, and waited for the authorization and the receipt. He passed the yellow copy to the husband to sign. "If you do want to use cash at any of our fine shops, you will have to exchange any of your currency for Croatian currency." He took back the yellow copy and passed the white copy back to the husband. "You can perform the exchange at any of our local banks."
"Thanks for the tip, sport." The husband grabbed his suitcase and took the hand of his wife. "Grab your daughter, Lisa." Turning back to the clerk, he asked what room they were given.
"Room twenty-seven, sir." The clerk answered. "Just down the hall on the left side."
Wells watched the trio walk down the hall a bit before he stepped forward. "Edmund Crispin?" he said to the clerk. "I made a reservation just last night."
The clerk scanned the logbook and nodded. He looked at Wells and smiled broadly. "Thank you very much with your help explaining our fee, Mister Crispin." He looked down at the book again and continued, "I see we had you scheduled for room fourteen, but I think that was a mistake." He scanned the book a moment longer and said, "Ah. Yes. You were supposed to be in the executive apartment with the executive discount. That would be room twenty-seven. It has a hot tub and a beautiful view of the ocean."
He took the proffered card from Wells and passed back the receipt the card swipe spit out. After Wells had signed the receipt, he then passed the residency registration, which Wells signed 'Edmund Crispin'.
"I have heard of an excellent Coffee house called More," Wells said. "Would you happen to know where it could be found?"
"Absolutely, Mister Crispin." The desk clerk nodded and pointed through the front doors. "If you go back into town the way you came, toward the historic district, turn right at the only street light you find, and go two blocks further you will find the Cafe More. It has a large sign and you can't miss it."
"Thank you very much." Wells paused before leaving. "I'm going to take a nap for a few hours. If anyone comes to find me, please call the room to let me know?"
"Of course, Mister Crispin." The clerk said. "Such is the way with all of our guests."
"Thanks again..." Wells looked for the young man's name, "Serge. Thank you." He picked up his laptop and the suitcases containing the clothing he purchased back in Trieste and headed to his room.
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 12:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 05:02 pm (UTC)I'm ready to go international traveling again! The first time I was way to ignorant.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 05:05 pm (UTC)It was, instead, a very pretty town, rich in history and very pride. ((pride?))
"More?" Wells asked. The hotel was just a head ((ahead?))
The husband looked at wells for ((Wells?))
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"Room twenty-seven, sir." The clerk answered. "Just down the hall on the left side."
Wells watched the trio walk down the hall a bit before he stepped forward. "Edmund Crispin?" he said to the clerk. "I made a reservation just last night."
The clerk scanned the logbook and nodded. He looked at Wells and smiled broadly. "Thank you very much with your help explaining our fee, Mister Crispin." He looked down at the book again and continued, "I see we had you scheduled for room fourteen, but I think that was a mistake." He scanned the book a moment longer and said, "Ah. Yes. You were supposed to be in the executive apartment with the executive discount. That would be room twenty-seven. ((I like the upgrade bit... *hee* But didn't he just send the obnox family to room 27?))
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 06:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 11:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 05:05 pm (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 06:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 09:39 pm (UTC)