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About Sibenik

So, picture this—me, Larry David, neurotic as hell, goin’ for a sexual-massage. I walk in, and I’m like, “What’s this gonna be? Some kinda ‘25th Hour’ situation?” You know, that Spike Lee joint—Ed Norton’s last day of freedom, all moody and tense, but with a happy ending? That’s the vibe I’m hopin’ for! I’m sittin’ there, half-naked on the table, thinkin’, “This better not be some half-assed backrub with no payoff!” I’m paranoid, right? What if the masseuse is judgin’ me? “Look at this schmuck, wants his shoulders AND his—well, you know—kneaded!”

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But then, I got a bit lost. I took a wrong turn on Ulica Montalbano. I was like, “Where the heck am I?” I ended up in this tiny alley that smelled like fresh seafood. I was hungry again, so I popped into a konoba. The waiter was super chill and recommended some local fish. I was like, “Sure, why not?”

Rovinj in Late October: A Walk Through an Istrian Pearl