The inability to relax only exists when you have not found the right place to relax.

Our Patio at Villa Ana

Villa Ana


The Ocean View
It is the end of April and the temperature is lovely in the mid twenties. A few fluffy clouds are in the sky. To my left is a mountain scattered with pine trees. In front of me the Adriatic Sea with it's turquoise beaches. To the right olive and orange trees blossoming. Come to Brela Voda " Experience the Adriatic as it once was".

This is not an ad. I promise. The tag line for Croatian seems a bit "what the hell does that mean?", but once you are here in this serene town which this time of year only has a few tourists, where prices are manageable and you can get a newly renovated flat with a brand new stainless steal kitchen and a terrace big enough to ride a tricycle on, you really start to understand. Italy is over run with tourists inflating prices to astronomical levels. Ditto with the French Rivera where only Paris Hilton can afford a flat.

Here at Villa Ana where we are staying the family who owns this establishment hugged us when we arrived. Today Paul returned after half an hour with a hand full of fresh rosemary, fresh Bay leaves, and a Basil plant still in the pot that they insisted he take, after Paul informed them that the reason we chose their very fine Villa was because had a beautiful kitchen that could indulge our love for cooking and eating. (The wife also suggested we let her gut the fish we are planning on purchasing later in town and grilling on the barbecue which we insisted on bringing from Sarajevo.)

We are happier than larks. Paul is taking an after noon nap. Our day has consisted of getting up to go to the market and buying fresh strawberries and peas, walking 4 km to the next town via the beach, working out, eating lunch on our terrace, and basking in the sun.

It's hard to not feel relaxed here. Especially since we have transported most of our home in Sarajevo for this 5 day lap of luxury. All you stars on the French Rivera with you yhats and your personal chefs each your heart out. I have Paul as my personal chef and if I ask him nicely maybe he'll even take of his shirt while peeling carrots. The smell of the sea is on my nose, the breeze is blowing through my hair... and I paid only 45 euros a night to get it!