During the first four days, staying in this divine Franciscan monastrey in Cavtat, a fishing village just sout of Dubrovnic, we had no internet. To mu own surprise I didn't miss it one second.
Yesterday morning, at Mostar, I took the time to write you a postcard, then happily closed my computer,
I am doing the same this morning, from the edge of Marta's bed in the tiniest little room in a guesthouse in Sarajevo. Due to a misunderstanding with the booking, the guesthouse's fault, they had prepared only one big room for my brother, my sister in law, my niece, none for me, Terje and Marta. After some discussions, some back and forth, they were able to squeese the three of us into a room more like a matchbox, with a promise that next night we'll get a better one.
So with Marta and Terje still sleeping close to me, and the moises of a city waking up outside, Iam ending my morning postvard for you.
My red leatherbound diary is filling up with stories, many to be shared......later.
