Morning Walk to Duboka Draga, Vrsi

In the world that is the Dalmatian coast, every small town has its own mythology and lure, yet each share’s a unified character. Built by the terrain, its rocks and shrubs, Dalmatia can feel like a fever dream.
One early morning in August, I went to the draga, the cove, in my father’s town of Vrsi. I have walked this path with my grandmother, with my dad, and now alone.
I have watched my cousins swim here, teaching their children to jump from the rocks. The water is deep and the path almost tells you what to expect when you make it to the sea.
The world still grows here, green and sharp. Modern jobs, the loss of population to the city and disapora, all of it disappears as the summer brings us back to our senses, quite literally.
The beach at the cove has changed in some ways now, with a small place to buy drinks. Arrive early the neighbors told me, because soon the tourists would come. None of them would walk. All of them would drive.
Sometimes I joke with people and tell them I’m half Dalmatian and watch their eyes open wide. Disney made the dogs popular but most people don’t realize there is an ancient tribe that gives us our name and provides a strong relationship to our land and sea. There are links as durable as the stones that define our boundaries, as the cliffs that nature has given us.
Other people arrive and when they do, I realize they are both local and live in Germany. They are hybrids like we are, living between cultures and places. Sounds glamorous, but it’s kind of part of our nature by now. People leave and they return. Grandmas and grandchildren mix their languages, and everyone understands —more or less.