Land of the Lotus Eaters

Lastovo: rugged, wild, green, hilly, remote.  We sat alone on terrace of our pansion at night with full moon shining on an islanded sea, eating delicate white fish and drinking local white wine.  Felt very much like Room with a View or some other 'English in Italy at the end of the last season before the War' lyric.  

Chugged out of the harbour the next morning on a small, aging ferry with a single auto aboard, eating mali plavac grapes, and tomatoes from our host's agriculture plot. In my imagination, we were on a tramp freighter crawling between exotic ports under a hot sun across an indigo sea.  It did not take too much imagination.