I couldn't quite figure out who that commander was on these posters around Croatia. My only guess was that he was considered a hero amongst the Croatian and Serbian war of '95. You never see a hero being advertised around Perth. Our heroes are the unsung ones. Like parents, good friends, or the ice-cream girl who gives you just a tiny bite more in that scoop because you were so polite.

The town of Zadar was a small walk from Puntamika. I walked because I had ten hours until the bus to the airport left. Ten hours to walk to Zadar, look around extensively, and come back in time to catch the bus and sit in the airport for a couple hours more.

My stroll down the coast towards Zadar came across much construction to streets and buildings. It felt more like a Eastern European city now, as my mind vividly painted ruined buildings, and puppy dogs selling rotten pears to the Central European visitors making their way to Russia.

It wasn't a massacre on this extensive road. Some houses were actually quite impressive. One had a mansion-like design, with a lot of room in the front yard to impress on-lookers and the relatives coming over for some Croatian coffee. The water was more calm as I progressed, and you could see schools of small fish swim around, along with larger fish dancing around them in a half-hungry, half-teasing fashion.

I crossed the bridge leading to the large stone wall and arched doorway, where swarms of people were passing through. This seemed more lively than Split, and definitely more lively than Omis. The streets were narrow, many of them cobblestone. There were shops amongst the ancient buildings that were very much open, but to the casual window shopper would seem closed indefinitely.

I turned and walked and repeated this, discovering the town of Zadar with much interest and intrigue. As always with these journeys with a lack of history, the mind wandered around the possibilities of history Zadar possessed. And I discovered a park covered in trees willowing amongst the mouldy and clean stone pathways.

I sat down on a large, smooth rock as benches were only near the entrance, and the view wasn't as impressive. Two white pillars holding a small cave-like cover had chiseling of what looked like Greek gods. They were also decorated with coloured textas, as well as the walls within the undercover area. I had no idea Greek mythology contained "Punk isn't dead" and "U2". Maybe Bono is older than we thought.

I was looking for a place to get a cup of tea. My only issue was what it was called. But on my search, it finally came to me something Europe offers that Australia doesn't. You can get a beer almost anywhere. I say almost because I haven't checked the baby clothes store yet, but you could go to any cafe, food store or pizzeria and get an Ozujsko beer or a Stella Artois.

Australians have the pleasure of hunting down a pub or a restaurant comfortable enough to serve you a pint of Carlton Draught, but here in Europe, you could have a beer for breakfast next to the old lady having a coffee and a croissant. I tell you, it sometimes kills the idea of "going out for a pint" when you wouldn't need to turn a single corner on any given street to get your half litre of beer.

I walked past a nun with a mobile phone. I ate a packet of Chipsy and a bottle of Pepsi. I walked...a lot. And yet I still had five hours to use. I sat down near a small car park on a broken pillar lying flat. I still had no idea how much history I was sitting on.

I checked out the cars, taking a breather and-

There were cats sitting on the bonnets of the cars. Some staring at me, others peering through the little gap near the window wipers. One blue car had first cat paws that made their way to the popular seating area of the car's nose. I found that a lot of stray cats roam the streets. The New Zealanders back in Kovka Rodroznica fed the kittens hanging outside the kitchen door. It could be that they are considered pests, much like dogs in Poland.

I walked back with three hours to spare, grabbing my backpack from the hostel luggage room and taking the bus to the main station. I slumped myself in a chair of a cafe and asked for a tea. Finally, I thought. A cup of-

The tea was red. Just like the free tea in Prague, and just like the red tea this morning for breakfast. It could be that black tea is being replaced by this sweeter, no milk tea.