16. Kayak to a secret cave
A twist on an old favorite.
There is so much to be said about how influencer culture has changed our perception of reality, but my least favorite thing about it is how it makes transcendent experiences into a rote to-do list that all has to be framed then presented in the exact same way. The aesthetics of the moment on social media will inform how we approach a place or food or artist, how we document, process, and then share what we’ve done. This has always existed to some extent, especially around tourism. Human beings exist in reflection of one another. Sure, it’s good sometimes to reach greater understanding together through the ceremony of behavior. On the other hand, it’s a little embarrassing to feel like you’re only doing something because you saw it online.
My most favorite thing about how influencer culture has changed the world is…maybe the other side of the same coin? Yeah, I know about new things more. Places and people I would not have considered are shown to me as they trend across TikTok and Instagram, awakening my imagination. Unfortunately, virality awakens a lot of the unimaginative at once and we tread like zombies to whatever the hot new thing is, leaving a path of devastation in our wake. This is what has happened to Dubrovnik, which has changed dramatically in the last decade, from what I’ve heard. It is partly due to the monetary change in Croatia to the Euro, which has made everything much more expensive. And of course, it’s because of Game of Thrones, which filmed part of the series in the famous walled city.
This doesn’t make me a good person, but I do want to be clear that I did not want to go to Dubrovnik because of Game of Thrones. I didn’t even really make the connection until pretty late in the planning process when the ‘things to do in Dubrovnik’ Google searches kept throwing up dragons. I’m just not a big fan of the show and skipped a whole bunch in the middle. I relate to Brienne of Tarth as a holier than thou big gal who will only fuck people much hotter than her, but I hated the other blonde lady (take your pick) and all the gruesome violence. TV with violence doesn’t always bother me, but the stuff on GoT was so specific to a very creative era of medieval torture, which I think will make a comeback when civilization collapses. Not that there’s anything civilized about having airborne robots do all your killing, but the hands on approach scares me in a different way. Very low cost of entry.
Other things to do in Dubrovnik unrelated to TV include drinking really crisp white wine, walking up hills to your hotel that are so steep your calves are screaming the next day, swimming off the edge of the city’s wall, going to an aquarium in a dungeon, and kayaking. Kayaking is big there, because there are a lot of rocky beaches not too far away, a few islands, and an amazing view of the city from adrift. I was on the trip with two friends, Ali and Joanna, and neither one of them was very enthusiastic about kayaking, but Ali agreed to go with me anyway which I really appreciated. They were both right that kayaking kind of sucks, because if you’re not used to it, the first fifteen to twenty minutes are from hell. Then all the minutes after up until the end.
We were efficiently packed into a two person boat by a local guy who talked us into paying for two hours ahead of time and promising to return any money for time unused and throwing in two water bottles and two oranges as a bonus. We’d missed the group tour and were striking out boldly on our own. He suggested a route to a cave that was hidden along the coast, saying we would know we were there because of the blue dome on Villa Sheherezade. He told a story about how the cave had a secret hole that allowed the man of the villa to peep down at his wife as she bathed inside. When I looked it up, the building was built by a Lithuanian rich person who ran from Russia during the October Revolution. Maybe he was a peeper too, but he apparently died before the building above the cave was finished.
After we were settled into our watercraft, Ali and I pushed away from the small bay filled with tourists and their boats, around the wall, and out onto the open water. Within minutes, I think we were both semi-miserable from the way rowing makes you very aware of your shoulders until your body finally accepts that this is what is happening. The blue dome looked very far, and I’d been confused by the Kayak Man’s instructions and thought the cave was somewhere on the island across from it, not down below. The island looked even further.
Thankfully, the view was beautiful and the air flying across the water felt wonderful after the heat inside the buildings. We decided to row a little more and a little more, which only seemed to increase the distance to the dome. At a certain point, we debated turning back, but decided to ask someone about the cave first. Hailing another boat coming from the right direction, we asked if they had maybe heard of a secret cave? For peeping?
The boaters spoke English and appeared a little bemused by our request. We looked like were were lost, I’m sure, separated from our flock. One of them pointed to an impossibly distant motorboat, anchored and swaying gently in place along the coast.
“Go there, and you will see it,” they prophesied.
From where we were, the rocky cliff behind the boat was completely unbroken, no hint of a cave or any other entry point. We tried anyway. We’d seen the brochures, the pictures on Instagram. The perfect cave must exist somewhere. Why not there? As we drew up to the motorboat, the landscape shifted. The dome was above us instead of on the horizon. There was a crack, and then an arch opening up into the cave’s holy cathedral. As we arrived, a cadre of kayakers was leaving, sliding their boats with a noisy crunch off the pebbled shore of the beach inside. The water there was very clear, like in the Caribbean, but cold. We slipped out of our seats into the soup and dragged our boat into the newly empty spots. There were still some smaller groups gathered, including an American couple who were fighting over sunscreen application like mother and son.
In the back of the cave, there was indeed a hole in the ceiling, letting in a beam of light that made the ground below a stage. After swimming for a bit, we took turns taking photos in the natural spotlight and they were pretty much the sort of iconic images that one would be expected to take in such a situation. Don’t get me a wrong—an actual travel influencer would have made so much more of this opportunity. I still look at these pictures now and enjoy them; simultaneously, I see how they fall short of the experience, which was amazing, and which line after line of people were also experiencing every two hours, per Kayak Man’s estimation. Almost as soon as we were done with a swim and a photoshoot, another group rounded the cave’s corner, threatening to block us in. Ali and I rushed to gathered our things, put them back in the water proof container, and heave ho into the waves again.
It’s not hard to understand why this experience would be amazing, it was gorgeous and fun, unless you hate water and boats and everything about it. It’s obvious specialness is different from so many other things that happen to me or that I do, things I have to pick up and examine and reflect on to find their meaning. It’s worthwhile to do that or too much in life is meaningless. But it’s so important to treasure it when life offers you ease and grace and loveliness right there on the surface.
Though we were tired, the trip back was a bit easier. We knew how far we’d come and how far there was to go, which is psychologically helpful. We rolled into the crescent moon port at exactly two hours of rental time and I thirstily finished my water bottle.
This new experience was not original, but neither am I. It is a new thing worth doing twice.
I actually really love kayaking unlike every other sport I’ve complained about in this newsletter and plan to do it a lot more this spring and summer, so if anyone wants to join, there’s lots of free kayaking in NYC.
Something I remember from youth is when TV shows would make fun of tourists coming home and forcing their friends and family to view slideshows of their travels, but I was born too late to experience it. And now people younger than me may not even know that was a thing. So, show them this scene from The Simpsons where Homer is driven to create a new cocktail to escape the boredom of European travel stories.
Villa Sheherezade is apparently nicknamed the ‘Taj Mahal’ of the Mediterranean. Spelling also varies online because it’s obviously named after Scheherazade, the storyteller from One Thousand and One Nights. It is mostly talked about as a location for weddings, but here’s the “historical info” I’ve found:
The story goes that Villa Sheherezade was built by a Lithuanian entrepreneur fleeing Russia’s October Revolution in the 1920s for his mistress, who he called Sheherezade. No expense was spared as he filled the love nest with bespoke furniture and rare objects from all over the world.
Any amazing holes within kayaking distance of NYC you know about?