In order to get us from Rotterdam to Petrcane, our manager Hayley's penchant for logistics is put through the proverbial wringer. 'Routing' as it is termed, takes us back to Germany by van in order to catch a connecting flight from Cologne to Zagreb. After 4 hours winding through the mainland we are spat out amidst the rocky outcrops of the Dalmatian coast. Any gripes or terse retorts are put to rest once our feet meet with the Adriatic. Water has a true healing quality – that is until our sound-boi Benny's feet are introduced to the Kina of Croatia – a run-in that leaves him with a party of little barbs in his foot and a few hours with a needle in tow.
The Garden Festival sits on a peninsula just north of Zadar in Petrcane. We play to a near exclusive crowd of english accents following a stomping set from Quantic. I feel like I'm in an RSA on fantasy island when the MC introduces us with 'Are you ready for live band?' The response appears so.
Croatia is dope - it has to be said. You can see why so many travelers buy up the local Kuna. We are generously accommodated in a pastel yellow villa on the water front and given a few extra days to explore the outer islands. It's not hard to see how this area has long been sort after by Ottomans and Venetians alike. It is hard though to believe this area was fraught with a brutal war near 20 years ago - something that is made real when a taxi driver recounts his own story of watching his best friend die across the water from where we dine that evening.
Taay
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