Pupo. . . the grand finale

After such an enormous day on Monday, we decided to take it easy on ourselves Tuesday. We returned the car to a rental agent who couldn’t be tossed about the “accident” and was puzzled as to why we would return it early, and we then hit the beach on the Lapad Peninsula. Two lounge chairs and an umbrella by the water later, we spent a lazy day in the sun. It was definitely a nice second to the who knows what misadventures would have happened in Montenegro.

the view from my lounge chair at the beach.

For dinner we finally ate at Tony’s Spaghetteria, which we had walked by about 100 times since it was right outside the door of the sobe. Every single time we went by, someone was eating creamy, cheesy, scrumptious looking pastas; now it was our turn, and it was gooooooood! As was the ½ litre of wine that accompanied it. Please do not judge us for only ordering a ½ litre; we knew we were headed back to Pupo, (apparently, I say apparently because I had no memory of it, we made plans to meet up with Jared, Tim, the Swiss Couple, Martina, and the waiters about 8:30). And so we did.

Yum: tortellini with gorgonzola and walnuts, green linguine with chicken, and VINO!

When we finally got to Pupo Jared and Tim were a few shots of grappa in and had been waiting for us. The situation was definitely different than the night before. Ivan was not in the same form he had been on our previous visit and the two kids from California kept calling me “Teach”, touching my shoulder, and actually broke out the Mrs. Robinson fantasy on me (I wanted to punch them, but didn’t because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep drinking if I did). In all fairness, it was really only the one with the long hair that was UBER annoying. So annoying in fact, Liz got up and left to go hang out with the wait staff inside. Martina and her sister Nicola had joined us by that point and were also irritated with Jared. An Irish couple who were sitting next to us also put a bit of a downer on the start of the evening. While Ivan was waiting on them, he was taking the piss out of them about being from Dublin. He must have gone too far and not noticed they were getting angry because the guy had a complete melt down and made it clear he would never come back, blah, blah, blah. Martina, the owner’s wife, of course heard it all. She told Ivan who then pouted a bit, and I just kept sucking down vino (can’t let a little bit of discontent get in my way).

Eventually the California kids left, after I promised to meet them at an Irish pub around the corner (yeah, that didn’t happen) and went inside to see what Liz was up to. And this is where things take an upward swing and start to get a bit hazy for all involved. To my best guess, the kitchen had closed because I know the guys were washing dishes and cleaning the burners etc. It would be at this point that I noticed Chris, the chef, was wearing latex medical-like gloves and I commented on such gloves. He then made a reference towards me and the gloves; and I, simply because I could, shrugged in agreement, turned around, and bent over ever so briefly. Why you ask? Alcohol and I’m pretty much in the gutter 23 of 24 hours a day, I answer (again). The whole place lost it, including Ivan who is resistant to real laughter. And so it went. I then found myself behind the counter shoving the dishwasher out of the way and taking over the task. Chris gave me my own pair of gloves, instructed me on how to spray the anti-bacterial spray on the glasses and the sponge, and then wash away. While one would think it’s not rocket science to wash some dishes, and its not, Chris came over and corrected my spraying of the glasses. I found this totally hilarious since I pulled a glass out of the glass rack and asked who had washed the nasty thing. They all laughed and said it hadn’t been touched in about 6 months. Yeah, and I needed instructions on how to was a damn glass. I was a washing fool; there wasn’t a glass or litre carafe left un-scoured. And, more importantly, I had paved the way for Liz and I to practically take over the joint. We just started pouring our selves wine and wandering around like we owned the place. At some point the Swiss Couple showed up and because I had no more dishes to wash, I started serving drinks too. I’m telling you, next year I will be running the show at Pupo.

With all of the chores completed, Liz, Ivan, Chris, Martina, the Swiss Couple, and I all took our places around the tables outside for more wine and fun. As we were hanging out, a Mariachi band came down the sidewalk (they were there from Andalusia for the music festival) to play and sing; they were really good. Due to high quantities of alcohol and well, just because, we got up and started playing their little percussion eggs with them. I can honestly say that I have never been a dishwasher, waitress, and member of a Mariachi band all in one night. In fact 2 of those three were brand new endeavors all the way around. Ivan brought out rounds of drinks and we all got started again. To my best approximation, the Mariachi band drifted off about 1:30 and I then proceeded to wash up all the newly dirtied glasses so the restaurant could officially be closed. I know, I know, there is no good reason for all the dishwashing; but it was damn funny!

While I wish I could end the post here and say we went to bed at a reasonable hour, I cannot. We went to the Irish bar, thankfully after California kids were gone, to hang with the Mariachi band. That bar closed at 2am, so Chris, Cutie Waiter (can’t remember his name but he’s the guy who gave us our first grappa the previous night), Liz, and I proceeded to a locals bar just outside the Pile Gate. That needed to happen; not so much! We hung out there for an hour or so; Chris and I talked about the war, and we had more unnecessary wine. Finally at 4am we staggered back to our sobe for 5 hours of drunken sleep. Wednesday’s hangover goes down as one of the legendary ones. We had to be out of our place at 10am, but weren’t being picked up for the airport until a little after 1pm. Wandering around Dubrovnik nauseous, tired, headachy, thirsty, and hot is no way to live; and I was almost positive I wouldn’t survive it. What seemed like an eternity later, we boarded our flight back to Rome, where I promptly passed out and slept through takeoff and the entire flight. Even feeling envious of the dead due to my hangover, I would not have traded a single minute of my time in Croatia!

Really? Your teaching me to wash dishes?

So, its spray glasses, then spray sponge, then wash? Ok, I think I can handle that.

seriously? You're correcting me again?

Ivan serving me wine as I wash dishes. If my parents would have taken this approach to dishwashing when I was a kid, I wouldn't have fought it so much.

must spray antibacterial on everything even though they did not have a scrubber to fit inside the carafe. Hmm. . .

serving drinks with a smile

Liz and Ivan

cutie waiter practising saying, naaas-tee

the whole gang: Martina, Liz, Ivan, Swiss Couple, Me

Liz gettin' it on with the Mariachi band as Ivan brings out more drinks.

the day after; now I know what I will look like upon my own death. It ain't pretty!