Last day. Last Day. Gretchen—to mix metaphors—spent it as the sponge of tourism squeezing the blood from the turnip of the last full Sea Dream day, trying to pack it all in, see it all and not let last-day-sadness set in. In the early morning the two of us walked through the ancient walled city, which was already beginning to fill with tourists. Then Gretchen left for a full day that included a special tour and history of the walled City. They also went far into the hills, toured an olive press, learned that Montenegro has the oldest (2,400 years) olive tree in the world. Gretchen now knows that olives must be pressed within 24 hours of being picked, in order to have acidity below 0.9 and qualify as “virgin.” The group had a delicious meal at the family compound of an olive farm.
While Gretchen and her gang toured Kotor and the surrounds, I sat in my favorite corner on deck and wrote and read Tayari Jones’ An American Marriage and mostly stared out at the incredibly beautiful bay. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one more lovely. I sighted a beach an easy walk away, but decided I wanted my last swim to be the Thursday Swim of Insurrection in the glassy dark blue sea. My diary says that Gretchen and I had an especially lovely and private last dinner.