A factor often connected with satisfaction levels is picking up/dropping off rental cars. The experience, good or bad, doesn’t impact overall on how we view a destination, but it can leave a lasting impression.

Good advice in Milan
The staff at Avis strongly advised, in a friendly ‘this is really for your own good’ way that we take full insurance. When we initially waved the advice away, saying we were used to driving in countless countries they responded with a “this is Italy people drive really badly here, you’ll need it. Trust us.” So we did. Within two days there was a dent in the side of the car, damaged whilst it was minding its own business in a car park beside Lake Garda. Incidentally, the entrance to rental car drop off at Milan is confusing as hell. We managed to find it, just. But over a couple of visits we’ve seen plenty of cars reversing along a busy approach road after they’d overshot the entrance. I hope they’d taken the full insurance option.

Most practical, Munich
Locating a proper supermarket right beside the exit and car rental hall in Munich Airport is inspired planning. You’ve got to love the Germans for this sort of forward thinking. Being able to stock up on wine, water, and snacks at non-airport prices before we set off on a long road journey gets things off to a happy start, especially if arriving quite late… or even early evening. Arriving at 19.00, a drive from the airport to our hotel took a couple of hours, making us too late for the ridiculously early German dinner times, but the snacks we’d picked up at the airport meant there was no hungry gashing of teeth as a result.

No manual drives in Glasgow
Despite having booked a car with a gear stick, Sixt at Glasgow Airport not only informed us they didn’t have the model we’d booked but that nobody drove manual cars there any more. Nobody drives manual in Scotland? Utter bollocks. To be fair, they did offer us an upgrade to a snazzy BMW or a limousine-like pimp car (their words)… both automatic. As neither of us have driven automatics, we didn’t fancy attempting it for the first time in an oversized monster on narrow, winding Highland roads. The only other option was a downgrade (no refund for their error) which we took.

It’s Zadar, but where are we going?
Stepping from the plane to being handed the keys to our hire car at Zadar Airport happened so slickly quickly that we were actually cruising the streets of the Croatian city before we knew where we were heading for. Partially my fault. A distracting party weekend in Hay on Wye immediately before travel combined with a shocker of a night in an airport hotel at Liverpool had meant I hadn’t gotten around to printing off details of our accommodation and couldn’t access the info from my phone. The solution was a prompt introduction to Croatian cafe culture with a quick pause at a cafe with wifi and strong, cerebral cobweb-clearing coffee.

A tale of two airports, Tenerife
Tenerife’s two airports are geographically quite close, but in other ways worlds apart. Tenerife North Airport made Airhop’s top ten best airports list. We wouldn’t argue with that. It’s one of the most relaxing airports we’ve travelled through, and picking up the hire car from CICAR mirrors the general laid back attitude. Newbie arrivals might get a shock encountering a four lane motorway immediately after arrival, but once free of La Laguna’s busy autopista, the drive along the north coast, with Mount Teide providing a stunner of a backdrop, gets the juices of anticipation flowing. Tenerife South is a decent airport, but exudes that homogeneous holiday resort airport vibe. My beef with it is that after a teasing arrival – Montaña Roja looking splendid on the coast – the drive south is through an unattractive landscape which has similarities to builder’s rubble; a poor first impression which isn’t helped by an overdose of naff billboards.

Worst car hire, Fuerteventura
Sticking with the Canary Islands, the most unpleasant car hire experience we’ve had anywhere was on Fuerteventura with Goldcar. It was our first visit to the island and it got off to such a bad start we were predisposed not to like the island after it. It was so bad Andy was moved to write a rant about the experience (I’m usually the ranter). Thankfully our experiences thereafter diluted the bad taste the Goldcar experience had left.

Longest wait, Marseille
Two things stick in my mind about arriving at Marseille Airport. It seemed to take an eternity before we were handed the car keys, the process seemed to take oh-so-much longer than anywhere else. Waiting in a greenhouse of a car rental office when it was 30C plus didn’t help. The other is the runway jutting out into the Etang de Berre lagoon – WOW. For all the fussiness, I like Marseille Airport.

You can’t be serious, Coyhaique
Chile’s Coyhaique Airport is a sweet and friendly big shed of an airport, and one I shall always have very fond memories of thanks to the kindness of the staff there. However, I did exclaim “you can’t be serious?” at one point when returning our Mitsubishi pick-up truck. Over nearly three weeks we’d driven hundreds, if not thousands, of kilometres on the (in)famous Carretera Austral without any mishap other than the car wearing a dusty overcoat. The girl responsible for checking the car was returned in a decent state had commented “it’s so dirty I can’t tell if there’s any damage.” To be fair, after my McEnroe outburst the girl laughed and ticked the ‘all okay’ box on her docs.

A stunner of a way to arrive, Lisbon
It can take a long time to get out of Lisbon Airport. But once free of its clutches, if heading south across the Tagus, the experience is unique. After a few minutes you escape the city to cross the Tagus on the Vasco da Gama Bridge, until recently the longest bridge in Europe at just over 17km in length (12km being over water). It is an architectural marvel. Our first experience crossing it included a dreamy sunset of endless pastel bands drifting across the sky, an army of fisherman wading in the mudflats on each side of the bridge, and a flamboyance of flamingos in the wetlands at its southern end.

Bizarre Basel
Although only 3.5km from the Swiss city it’s named after, Basel Airport is in France so is jointly operated by France and Switzerland. The same car hire companies have different branches located in separate areas. Which you use depends on whether you pick up your hire car in France or Switzerland. It isn’t an issue collecting the car, but returning it is a minefield. You can’t leave a French hire car at a Swiss drop off point. If you try, you’ll be directed to the ‘correct’ country even though it’s the same company. Although they share the one building (only a couple of hundred metres separates them as the crow flies), you can’t just drive across the airport from one to the other. Nope, you have to leave the airport, join the motorway and seek out the correct entrance to the other country’s part of the airport. I know this because we got it wrong on a Monday morning when the motorway was gridlocked and the time left for being able to check in was running out. We only managed to catch our flight because a member of Avis’s French staff took pity on us and allowed us to leave our Swiss hire car in a French parking bay.

The joy of travel.

We knew there would be historic cities and beautiful landscapes. But the truth is that we had no idea just how overwhelmingly stunning those landscapes in Croatia would be, or that we would be assaulted by mouth-wide-open views that simply never let up.

Possibly the biggest surprise was Croatian gastronomy. We really didn’t know what to expect. What we found was a culinary tradition that, for us, surpassed areas which normally have travel bloggers salivating over their keyboards (I’m especially thinking Morocco and France).

Croatia had it all, putting it right up there as one of our favourite gastro hike destinations

Walking in Dalmatia – A land of emerald lagoons and flamboyant insects
We’ve enjoyed more challenging walking and more dramatic terrain than we experienced in Croatia. However, often it felt like walking in an unspoilt paradise – a Garden of Eden. I’m not sure how much of a reputation Croatia has as a walking destination but in mostly perfect walking weather in May we rarely met any other hikers.

On Hvar, we strolled through olive groves and past tiny historic hamlets, mysterious stone mounds and fields of wild flowers where the scent of wild orange jasmine was borderline orgasmic. One trail emerged at a small farm by the perfect Adriatic Sea and we were treated to a home grown feast during an afternoon so idyllic, it will take some beating.

On Mljet our routes traversed dreamy lakes and dappled forest paths where a flighty army of butterflies and the most exquisite looking insects I’ve ever seen added explosions of colour to the rich green landscape. At one point we caught a boat to an island within an island. At another we emerged at Roman fort beside a picturesque lakeside town and listened to the woes of a woman tending a goat with anger management issues.

Each walk was full of beauty and interest. There was often a tangible feel of walking in the paths of people from great ancient civilisations.

We’re also big fans of city hiking and Dubrovnik and Zadar offered two destinations that were ripe for exploring on foot. Dubrovnik’s streets can be a bit manic, but an escape to the walls both acted as a breather and stole our breaths away. Captivating Zadar didn’t have the same level of tourists but was the huge surprise of the trip that we would have overlooked completely if wasn’t for the fact that Ryanair made it a cheap option to fly there.

Our memories of all those places are filled with warmth, big smiles and a sense of discovery.

Wining & Dining in Dalmatia
From our first meal in Zadar, a world-beating seafood risotto and sensationally savoury cheesy gnocchi, our tastebuds were whooping with joy throughout our time in Croatia (save for two truly bad meals in Dubrovnik).

We were constantly impressed with the diversity of what was on offer; from light Mediterranean pastas and fish and seafood dishes to rich stews (pasticadas) and herby sausages. Traditional Croatian konobas with rustic designs and cosy courtyards were our favourite places to enjoy a varied cuisine that should keep all palates satisfied. Even the accompaniments to the main dishes scored high marks; creamy polenta instead of potatoes or blitva (Swiss chard, potato and garlic), a seriously tasty side dish that’s good enough to eat on its own.

When it comes to wine, Croatia’s is still a bit overshadowed by other European countries. But it has been a wine producing country since Roman times and the peppery, fruity reds we downed enthusiastically were right up our street, especially the Plavac Mali.
What made Dalmatia and other areas of Croatia a dream destination was the huge generosity and infectious humour of the people who offered us drinks at the slightest opportunity. I’ve lost count of the number of free grappas we were plied with – usually a throat stripping one for me and a softer, sweeter variety for Andy. The grappa highlight was at Konoba Lambik on Hvar where they even had a grappa experimental lab.

We were totally smitten by Croatia; its people, landscapes, towns, cities, food and wine. It was one of those places that had all the ingredients that ring our travelling bell.
It is an extraordinary gastro hike destination and we can’t wait to return to explore, and eat, more.

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to lots of other places. Follow Jack on Google+

Personally I favour sunsets. There’s one serious problem with sunrise, it happens far too early in the day for my liking. Whereas sunrise gives notice it’s time to leave a cosy cocoon so the working day can start, a sunset is generally a signal for fun to begin.

It feels unnatural to me to drag myself out of bed to watch the sun appear over the horizon, even if it does breath light and colour into the world. Sure it’s the dawn of a new day which might be filled with hope and many wondrous things, but sunsets mark the end of a day. You already know when it’s been a satisfyingly good one and can relax, drink of choice in hand, to enjoy the free light show in the sky.

The cocktail might be known as a tequila sunrise but that’s not when you be sip it, unless you’re seriously hardcore. Sunset bars do a roaring trade but have you ever heard of a sunrise bar? Maybe there’s a niche for a coffee shop with sunrise views.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the early morning vibe when the world is waking up. I cherish rosy memories of whistling milkmen leaving bottles on doorsteps and passing family bakers where the smell of freshly cooked bread could drive you delirious. Where we live now there’s an early morning buzz around the harbour which doesn’t happen at any other time of the day. Little blue boats unload their catch, chefs and abuelas clamour at the fish stall to buy the choicest specimens, old men with cigars clamped between their teeth sit around a table noisily playing dominoes. It’s a scene which makes me feel at one with the world.

But you know what? I prefer to experience it from the night side; heading home at sunrise when the world is waking up. There’s something deliciously decadent about getting to enjoy the dawn chorus before falling into a bed which embraces you with the warmth of an old friend. The other thing about the early morning vibe I enjoy, what’s happening in the sky is only a bit part player.

Sunset is different. Sunset is a performance which requires no great effort to enjoy. A rainbow of colours spreading across the sky can often distract us from what we’re doing. No matter how many spectacular sunsets we see, a good one will drag us outside to stand and stare in awe at the heavens. Sunsets are wonderfully social affairs – all over the world people gather to watch the sun go to bed. I think of sunsets and I visualise enjoying them with other people.

It’s impossible to pick out a favourite place to watch sunsets. That’s the beauty of them, you get wondrous sunsets all across the globe. Zadar in Croatia stands out because it has the longest sunset I’ve ever witnessed. Plus there’s a gimmick there which makes it even more special.

The irony is that although I’ll take a sunset over a sunrise any day of the week, one of the most memorable travel moments I’ve enjoyed to date involved a sunrise; climbing Spain’s highest peak, Mount Teide, in pitch darkness in order to sit with the gods and experience the birth of a brand new day from above the clouds.

That was extra special.

Where sunsets are flamboyant fun, sunrises tend to be more intimate affairs, possibly best enjoyed in the reflective company of your own thoughts.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

Lungo Mare
Had it not been late and had it not been recommended by Ivan from Amico Apartments where we were staying, we’d have probably ignored Lungo Mare in our haste to get to Zadar old town. It sits on sweet Maestral Bay, partly hidden by the trees that lend shade to its sunny terrace.

It’s a pretty spot, but Zadar’s historic streets 15 minutes walk away exert a magnetism that means there’s a temptation to rush by without paying too much attention to the surroundings. However, it was getting to that point where lunch was in danger of passing us by, so we took Ivan’s recommendation and sat in the sunshine of Lungo Mare’s outside terrace.

It felt comfortable, easy; one of those places where you knew almost immediately you were going to like it a lot.

The menu is traditional, specialising in meat and seafood dishes as well as some tempting sounding pasta and rice dishes. It didn’t take us long to decide on the gnocchi and a seafood risotto with a couple of glasses of red.

The Food at Lungo Mare
I’ve already mentioned how good my gnocchi was – honestly, first bite was a ‘wow, that is good’ moment. Andy’s seafood risotto did its best to match my gnocchi for taste, and exceeded it in the looks department. The plate featured a mountain of seafood including a new one on us, kunjka, which required an explanation from the waiter who was only too pleased to show us how the odd shellfish ‘worked’.

It was an exceptional start to our exploration of  the local gastronomic scene. We enjoyed it so much that we bookended our trip to Croatia with a return visit on our last night. This time we started with a couple of bowls of soup (probably a mistake as portions are generous) before opting for frogs’ legs in batter (me – because they were there) and Andy going for seafood again, this time with spaghetti.

Lungo Mare had been a most enjoyable and impressive introduction to Croatia and it was ideal for a relaxing way to end the trip, guaranteeing good food, friendly staff and even friendlier prices.

Forget the fact that Lungo Mare isn’t in the old town, make the effort to seek it out. It’s worth it.

Lungo Mare; Obala kneza Trpimira 23 23000 Zadar (near the Sphinx); +385 0917646072 ; open daily 11am to midnight; main course averages 50/60k (€7/8)

Main Gate to the Old Town

There’s something thrilling about entering a town via a gate in a fortress wall; something wonderfully old fashioned that makes you feel you should be astride a mule or carrying a sack of rice over your shoulders. Maybe my historical aspirations are a wee bit on the humble side. Entering laid back Zadar via an historic gate is a far less frantic affair than trying to get through the one in Dubrovnik.

Marble Streets

It doesn’t matter that you don’t know what was on the soles of the countless number of feet which have trod them, the sheen from those beautiful wet-look marble streets has you involuntarily reaching down to run your hand along their silky surfaces. Just mesmerising.

Old but not Staid

Where Roman ruins rub stone cheeks with Mediterranean styled town houses – Zadar old town is just a tonic for the eyes.

Red Tiled Skyline

As beguiling viewed from above as it is from ground level, Zadar old town is a place where if you’re selling tiles of any colour other than terracotta you’ll be out of business before you can say St Donatus Church.

Salute to the Sun

Nope, no picture of Zadar’s Salute to the Sun at sunset. We’ve already waxed lyrical about it in the past. Plus it looks pretty eyecatching during the hours of daylight anyway.

Romantic Sunsets

However, apparently there’s an obscure Zadar law which states that you can’t write about the place without including at least one sunset photograph. Whether this one depicts a romantic or cheesy scene is down to personal views. It’s not us, just in case anyone wondered.

And Another Sunset

I did say ‘at least one’ sunset photos. Even if you don’t make it to the old town and the Salute to the Sun, the sunset scene from the new town is dreamy enough in itself, especially from a bar sitting right on the water’s edge.

Chill Out Zone

Although subdued when we were there, the Sea Organ is the place to chill out to a sunset with a hauntingly unusual soundtrack. Nice touch that the benches at the back look like piano keys.

Market Forces

Any old walled town worth its salt has to have a fruit and vegetable market just inside one of its gates. The fish market is also near here but hidden away in the walls.

The Long Walk Home

Unless staying in Zadar old town, at some point in the day, or night, it’ll be time to head for home. Even the modern ‘way out’ has its magical qualities.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

No haunting moans conjuring visions of unseen whales singing in the depths. No abstract music created by an unwitting sea.
There are sounds; the laughter of children, the drone of a ferry, and the jaunty slap of waves against the cool marble steps. The Adriatic is doing its bit, the water rushes in and out of the pipes in the steps, but the Sea Organ in Zadar remains silent.
With a mix of sun and sea spray on our faces, it’s a pleasingly romantic spot to recline with or without an unusual soundtrack. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the Sea Organ’s refusal to utter one note is disappointing.
I blow into the neck of a bottle of beer to compensate. A woman on the promenade pauses and listens – possibly fooled. We all want to believe we can hear something.

Eventually we give up straining our ears and stroll away, debating whether the waves were the right type, whether the sea was too low, or even if others had exaggerated the sea organ’s ability to produce hypnotic compositions.

Weeks later we learn it was clogged by shells.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

Within a few hours of arriving in Zadar in Croatia we were only too painfully aware that something was eluding us.

It was lunchtime. It was hot. We fancied a drink and we were ready for our first snack in Zadar; some local goodie which would get on famously with a bottle of local beer.

On our initial exploration of the shiny, cobbled streets of Zadar, a city that had more charm, personality and curious corners than we had dreamt of, we’d spotted intriguing looking sandwiches with the appearance of filled pita bread and cheesy meaty savouries galore wrapped in delicious looking overcoats of puff pastry.

We were going to be spoiled… and probably end up fat and happy gorging ourselves on Zadar’s ‘too tempting to resist’ snacks. We randomly picked one of the old city’s attractive pavement cafés and plonked ourselves down on a seat.

Strike 1: The café didn’t serve snacks, only drinks.

We moved on to another café located in one of those ridiculously pretty squares full of history, atmosphere and bubbly locals that Europe does so well.

Strike 2: The café didn’t serve snacks, only drinks.

By this time, we’d entered the ‘isn’t that odd?’ phase with the faintest alarm bells in the back of the mind ringing out ‘you’re missing something here.’

With stomachs bitching and feet muttering mutinously, we continued on – glancing at menus in café after café. All were the same; drinks galore but not the slightest sniff of anything to snack on. There were places that sold snacks but not beer as well.

The obvious solution here was to buy something from one of the pastry or sandwich shops we’d seen. But by now we were on a mission. We were going to find a café/bar that served beer and a snack.

Finally, at a pavement café next to the Roman Forum, we spotted people tucking into savoury pastries as they supped their icy Karlovako beer.

We sat down and the waiter was at our table in a flash.

Strike 3: The café didn’t serve snacks, only drinks.

Then fate intervened and we were handed the reason why people were eating even though the bar didn’t sell snacks. A couple sat down next to us and whilst the guy ordered the beers, the girl toddled off to a nearby pastry shop, bought a couple of Croatia’s version of sausage rolls and brought them back to the table where they scoffed them.

So we did the same.

From then on we noticed this happening in cafés and bars all the time. People would sit at a table with French fries or burgers bought elsewhere.

It was one of those bizarre little cultural differences (well it’s bizarre if you come from a country where you’d be shown the door if you started chomping on food you’d bought elsewhere) that nobody tells you about. Knowing what the local snacking etiquette is would have saved us a lot of time.

We did actually find a place called Skala that served both beers and sandwiches. But for some reason the waiter totally ignored us even though it wasn’t busy.

After waiting 20 mins we decided it was far easier to stick to the tried and trusted method and left.

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to lots of other places. Follow Jack on Google+

The risotto was creamy; full of flavour and the essence of the Adriatic thanks in part to an all star cast of huge langoustines, mussels and squid. It was the perfect risotto apart from the presence of two chunky, greenish stones.

At least they looked like stones. If they were shellfish, then they were most certainly off as they were clamped shut so tightly there was no discernible opening.

The general rule of thumb is that if a shellfish is clamped shut, you don’t touch it.

When Andy mentioned this to the waiter at Lungo Mare in Zadar, his eyes lit up.

“Ah, this is kunjka,” he laughed. “Look.”

And with that he proceeded to reveal to us the secrets of a stony looking mollusc that must often get discarded on the side of plates of the uninitiated.

He picked up the kunjka and peered closely at its rough, rocky surface. After a couple of seconds his finger and thumb closed in with purpose on one particular spot; a millisecond later coming away with a tiny lid whose bottom half looked like a shark’s tooth. He inserted the tip of a knife into the hole that had been concealed by the lid and twisted it. Hey presto, the ‘stone’ popped open revealing a meaty interior that was like a cross between a mussel and a whelk.

We were wowed. You think you know pretty much all the types of seafood you’re likely to encounter in Europe, and every so often you are reminded of how little you really know. We’d never heard mention or seen anything like the kunjka before.

Researching the local name the waiter had used we discovered that  the mollusc also went by the name of Noah’s Arc and was mainly found in The Mediterranean and The Adriatic.

We only came across it once again during our visit; the kunjka isn’t even that common in Croatia, where it’s more likely to be found in dishes around Zadar.

Once you know what it is, it’s quite fun searching for the lid and ‘popping’ it open. Once the lid is gone, it opens surprisingly easily.

We don’t know why it’s called Noah’s Arc in English; to us it seemed more of a Trojan Horse.

Jack is co-owner, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to lots of other places. Follow Jack on Google+