Croatia, Trogir Tower of Terror

It was much cooler this morning and the previous night’s rain had brought a change in the weather but it was still pleasant enough to sit on the terrace and we were treated to another of Iveska’s memorable breakfasts, today with Bosnian cheese pie and plenty of hot tea.

The weather was rather unsettled and after we had checked out and promised to return we kept a nervous eye on the sky and headed north back towards the coastal city of Split on the journey back to the airport at Zadar.  The clouds thickened and as we passed the ancient Roman town of Salona just east of Split there were a few ominous drops of rain on the windscreen.  Salona was a substantial town that was the capital of the Roman province of Dalmatia and although we didn’t stop off for a visit it was possible to see some of the extensive ruins running along the side of the road.

We didn’t stop because we were heading for the town of Trogir, which is about fifteen miles north of Split and is by all accounts the best preserved Romanesque-Gothic complex not only in the Adriatic but also in all of Central Europe and inevitably therefore a UNESCO World heritage site.   It was mid morning when we arrived and the town was already very busy.  The old city is built on a little island, only separated from the mainland just a few yards and with access to it over a small bridge.

Trogir has a fabulously preserved medieval core that is surrounded by ragged walls and within a partly restored castle and tower and a series of churches, houses and palaces from the Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque periods.  We wandered straight through the narrow medieval streets and out of a town gate on the waterside and then it started to rain.  It looked like it was going to be a heavy shower because the bar owners were going through the cushion collecting routine and taking them inside so without umbrellas it seemed that the only sensible thing to do was to find somewhere for shelter and have a drink.

Actually it turned out to be no more than a passing shower and everywhere had dried up nicely and the cushions were back out long before we had finished.  The bar looked out over the water to the larger island of Čiovo, which is joined by another bridge and is the industrial bit of Trogir where there is a busy shipyard that turns out about six large ships or ferries every year.

Now that the rain had stopped we walked along the quayside as far as the old medieval castle that stands guard (or at least used to stand guard) at one end of the island.  It wasn’t open so after walking around the walls we headed directly back to the centre of the town where it started to rain again.  It was time for more shelter so we chose the grandest building in the town, the thirteenth century church of St. Lawrence, which is the most significant work of the Romanesque-Gothic style in Croatia.

After paying the entrance fees I was delighted to spot a door to a spiral staircase and a climb to the top of the bell tower.  I do like climbing towers.  There was a large sign that warned that going to the top was at the visitors own risk and absolving the church of all responsibilities.  We were about to find out why!

The first third of the climb was quite straightforward and uneventful up the sort of staircase that we have negotiated many times but then the stone staircase stopped abruptly at a first level and the next part of the climb was up a set of precarious wooden steps that had a handrail but nothing else to prevent a careless visitor falling through and ending up in a tangle of broken bones and masonry on the stone floor at the bottom of the tower.

Worse than that was the prospect of slipping and falling the other way which would have involved a fall through an open stone window and onto the court yard below with little real prospect of survival.  During the fatal fall however there would have been some excellent views because the higher the steps climbed the view over the roof tops towards the sea on one side and the mountains on the other got better and better.

This was more like the Tower of Terror than the Tower of Trogir.  At the top of the hazardous wooden stairs was a second level where the bells were and then some even more dangerous iron stairs to negotiate to complete the climb to the very top of the tower which involved a struggle through a small opening without any handrails at all and which opened out into the final level where there was time to enjoy the spectacular views and to contemplate and reflect on just how perilous this climb was and to worry about getting back down again.

This was even more unnerving than going up because it was now possible to see just how precarious the decrepit steps were.  The iron was rusting away and breaking away from the stone, the wood was rotten and decaying and holding all of this lot up was a series of concrete plinths that looked as though they were in very imminent danger of collapse.  Generally I like climbing towers but I wouldn’t tackle this one again in a hurry and I can confess to having been genuinely concerned and very, very pleased to get back to the bottom.

It was still raining so it seemed sensible to take shelter under a café bar umbrella and enjoy the sights from a stationary position so we did that and ordered some drink.  It was about five minutes to twelve and exactly at midday the bells of the Cathedral started to clatter out their announcement of the hour.  The possibility of this hadn’t occurred to me as we had climbed the bell tower but I was so glad that we weren’t still up there when these things rang out because that would have scared the hell out of me.

As we sat in the square the rain cleared and the blue sky rushed in and there was an instant transformation in the weather and after finishing our drinks and before leaving Trogir we went back outside the city walls to get the blue sky photograph opportunities that we had missed half an hour or so before.

Croatia, Split and Diocletian’s Palace

“Once this area, roughly a quarter of a mile square, was the Palace of Diocletian…. It is entrancing and there is no other place in Europe like it.”       Bill Bryson – ‘Neither here Nor there’

After our arrival we walked along the recently modernised pedestrian area next to the harbour with its rows of modern bars and cafés and immaculate gardens and lawns, replacing what I imagine was probably a whole lot better and then we retraced our steps from the previous visit and returned to Diocletian’s Palace.

Diocletian became the Emperor or Rome in 284 AD and set out to reorganise the huge Empire that had become unwieldy and difficult to control.  His solution was simple – to split the Empire in two between east and west to make it more manageable and after governing for twenty years he became the first Emperor to resign the position and he built the massive palace for his retirement after abdicating in 305 AD.

When it was built one of its four gates led directly to a quay side but the new promenade has separated the Palace from the sea and the entrance is now through the Palace basement and past a row of unfortunate market stall vendors and street selling chancers.  Much like it was 2,000 years ago I imagine.

The palace was built as a massive structure, much like a Roman military fortress with walls six hundred foot long and twelve foot  high, enclosing an area of twenty thousand Square yards and it is one of the best preserved Roman palaces in existence.  After the fall of the Romans it effectively became the city of Spalatum and some alterations were carried out, corridors became streets, courtyards and atriums became public squares and narrow lanes linked houses and shops into a city within a palace.

Eventually Spalatum became Split and today it continues to host the old town even though there is some very recent unfortunate and rather inappropriate construction inside.

We sat for a while in the sunshine in the People’s Square just outside the Palace gates and planned the remainder of the day.  After a final visit to the Palace for blue sky photographs we left the city and returned to the car stopping at a Konzum supermartket on the way for alcohol supplies.  Konzum is the largest supermarket chain in Croatia and Bosnia and by now we had become familiar with their design and products.

We were staying at the Pink Inn again tonight and Iveska seemed pleased to see us.  Her rooms were immaculately clean and prepared with an obsessive fussiness but this was a charming place and one that I would be most happy to return to again.

All around there were big clouds but fortunately the Pink Inn was under a happy puddle of blue sky just perfect for sitting on the balcony and enjoying the views of the sea and the endless procession of boats and ships coming and going from the busy port of Split just a few miles away to the north.

As the sun started to slide away the temperature began to drop  this was an opportunity for a final walk along the beach and the rocks and a more thorough inspection of the rather grand Hotel Meridian.

This was a seriously posh hotel and we drew a few looks of disapproval as we wandered around the lobbies and bars in our best island hopping grunge clothing.  I knew that we had gone too far when we arrived at the Casino with an entrance guarded by a doorman in an expensive suit and a glamorous hostess in a cocktail dress.  I casually enquired about opening hours and when I had got the answer we moved off quickly and returned to the beach.

I’m afraid that I’m not really all that impressed by five star hotels, they always seem so impersonal and pretentious and I was glad to get back to the charming little room at the Pink Inn.  I prefer informality, simple bars with cracked jugs of wine and restaurants without table cloths.

Later we returned to the fish restaurant across the road that was busier tonight but there wasn’t a wedding in the function room to entertain us.  After another fine and inexpensive fish meal, the sixth in six nights, we returned to the balcony at the room and watched an impressive light show over the island of Brač courtesy of a massive electrical storm and we were pleased that we weren’t on the islands tonight.

Croatia, Hvar to Split by Ferry in a Storm

In the morning we woke to perfect silence and the room was almost impossibly quiet.  The view from the window over the church square revealed no activity at all and the stone walls loomed like reassuring silent bulwarks all around.

There was no breakfast included in the room rate but at least there was a kettle and with tea bags purchased the night before there was the comfort of a hot cup of tea.  Later I collected some fresh pastries from a nearby bakery and had a calorie packed breakfast before checking out of the accommodation.  Usually I like the reassurance of knowing where I will be staying before I arrive in a place but this had been an easy and enjoyable way to get a room and I am certain that I shall do it again in the future.

First thing the weather had been quite promising with a bit of cloud but a lot of blue so the plan was to spend the morning in Hvar and see the side of the town we had missed yesterday before getting a mid afternoon ferry back to the mainland.  We started our walk by visiting the market and then through the main square and down to the harbour, and then it started to spit with rain.

Only a little at first, which I tried to ignore, but it was obvious that we were in for a soaking because the bar owners were busy gathering up all the cushions from the chairs and the sky was getting blacker and heavier.  And then it came in a sudden squall and we had to run for cover.  The prospects didn’t look good so after reviewing the situation and being able to see that there was better weather to the east we quickly changed our plans and decided to make for the port and take an earlier ferry back to Split.

The commercial port was back in Stari Grad where we had stopped off the day before and so we drove for thirty minutes in pouring rain and joined a short queue of vehicles waiting for the eleven-thirty ferry.  In Greece you can buy ferry tickets in a variety of places but in Croatia they only seem to be available at the ports.  This involved a dash through the rain, in a violent thunder storm, down the line of cars and to the booking office to purchase the tickets for the journey.  I have to say that I like the Greek system better.

It was a one hour forty-five minute crossing and once on board I made straight for the top deck to get weather watching while Kim stayed in the lounge reading.  It had stopped raining but over the island of Hvar there was thick black cloud, heavy rain and frequent thunder and lightening to entertain.  The ferry got under way dead on time and to my relief set a course in the direction of the blue sky.

We were still underneath heavy grey skies and without sunlight the sea below looked cold and black and uninviting but as the journey progressed we found the blue sky and the sunlight started to bounce off the surface and make it sparkle like gleaming silver.  What a difference the sun makes, this was much more like it!  It was a shame to leave the islands this way but as we passed through a narrow channel between Brač and Solta I decided that even though they had better plumbing arrangements I doubt that they could replace the Greek islands for me.

The weather in Split was better but there was still cloud ominously close but it seemed to be moving away and I was quite confident of improvement.  The Split passenger seaport is the third busiest port in the Mediterranean and getting off the ferry was a bit reminiscent of Greece with impatient foot passengers waiting in the choking exhaust fumes for the doors to open and then trying to get off at the same time as the cars and the lorries.

Once off the ferry there was no choice but to follow the line of cars into the city and although Kim thought she knew where we were going we never quite managed to find the route to the car park that I was aiming for.  After twenty minutes of patience sapping confusion and rising blood pressure I eventually found an alternative and breathed a sigh of relief.  In this mad twenty minutes I had become completely distracted and had failed to keep my eye on the weather and when I went to buy a ticket I was delighted to discover that we now had full sun and blue sky.

Croatia, Podstrana and the Pink Inn

About thirty kilometres south of Šibenik the road came to the town of Primošten, which was once an island but is now connected to the mainland by a small bridge and a causeway.  We stopped here for a break and walked to the top of the town to the church of St George that was surrounded by a graveyard full of spectacular monuments and headstones all lovingingly cared for and with vacant spots waiting for family members to join the already deceased.  The sky was blue and the strong wind from the south made me optimistic that with all that weather coming from sort of Africa way that this was the turning point and that in the days ahead there were surely cloudless blue skies and soaring temperatures to deal with.

It didn’t quite feel that way right now however and we sat on a windy harbour side and had a drink while locals gathered inside clearly wondering if we were crazy.  I wanted to sit outside and keep my eye on the car because I was worried about parking restrictions and I wanted to be ready to leave in an instant if there looked as though there was any danger of traffic warden activity.  I don’t think that I needed to worry however because the strict parking rules were designed for the busy summer months and not the lazy spring and just the sprinkling of visitors that were here today.

Leaving Primošten we continued south and as we did so the weather started to deteriorate with huge clouds building over the Mosor Mountains that rise to almost one thousand four hundred metres and were collecting the clouds and preventing them moving north as they rushed in from the sea and built instead into columns of threatening grey.  To the west the sky was clear and the sun was shining but to the east and over the land it was not nearly so pleasant.  We drove past the city of Trogir, leaving that for another day, and carried on to Split, which is Croatia’s second largest city after the capital Zagreb.

Because of its strategic importance Split suffered damage during the war and probably the most tragic incident of all occurred in November 1991 when the Yugoslavian frigate named Split fired shells at the city. The damage was insignificant and there were only a few casualties but this was the only time in history that a city has been bombarded by a military vessel bearing its own name.

The drive into Split wasn’t all that promising at all with rows and rows of featureless high rise apartment blocks but as the road kept dropping ever down towards the harbour the prospects started to improve quickly.  As usual I worried about parking but I needn’t have because it was really quite straight forward, we found a car park and the drivers in Split seemed to have a lot more patience and were a lot more forgiving than in some of the other towns and cities in Croatia.

It was a glorious afternoon and we walked through Diocletian’s Palace and onto the harbour front before finishing in the People’s Square where we stopped for drinks and to take the opportunity to sit in the sun and watch the people.

After a couple of hours we left Split and headed a few kilometres further south to our next accommodation at Podstrana, the Pink Inn.  We only missed it once and when we finally checked in we were shown to an excellent room with a balcony in full sun overlooking the sea.  After a trip to the supermarket for wine and frequent stops to watch the bright green lizards that were boldy enjoying the sun after days of grey clouds and heavy rain we sat and relaxed and enjoyed the unexpectedly warm end to the day.  Later we walked to the beach and watched a good sunset over Split.  What a great time of the year this was to enjoy the end of the day on the beach, the place was deserted except for one or two local people and the nearby four hundred room Meridian Hotel, that looked a dreadful place, wasn’t yet open for business this year.

In the evening we found a convenient fish restaurant close by and although the main dining room was almost empty there was a function room next door where there was a noisy and lively wedding party that had clearly been going on for some time judging by the serious amounts of alcohol that had been consumed.

It had been an excellent day and Croatia was steadily rising on my list of excellent places and after final drinks we returned to the Pink Inn for a final half an hour on the balcony watching a perfect evening with moon beams dancing on the Adriatic filtering through a sky that was like an palette of paints overflowing with colour, butter yellow and clotted cream clouds, melancholy grey and thunder blue sky and I looked forward with anticipation to tomorrow and the next leg of the journey.

Croatia, Skradin to Split

 

There was a much better start to the day this morning and there were blue skies to report after the early morning weather watch duty had been carried out and completed.  After breakfast we checked out of the Skadinski Buk Hotel and took the sign-posted road to Split.

The short drive to the motorway went through some small villages where almost every house and property had some degree of war damage.  Most had bullet holes in the masonry but the most extreme were completely destroyed and shelled out.  These were the homes of the Serbs who had lived in Croatia before the war of independence and having found themselves no longer welcome were now abandoned and looking forward only to terminal deterioration and eventual demolition.

It was only a short journey to the new motorway and on joining I was horrified to find a toll booth between me and progress to the open road.  I tried to understand the instructions that were presented only in confusing Croatian and as I dithered about a line of traffic drew up behind me and began to get impatient.  Actually it was really quite simple and all that was required was to push a rather obvious green button and take a ticket and move swiftly on.  That was easy enough but I had drawn up too far away from the button for my short arms to reach up out of the small car’s window to complete the process.  When it was obvious that there was no one in the booth to assist this involved maneuvering the car backwards and forwards into a better position which didn’t exactly improve the humour of the driver directly behind who once through the toll himself overtook me in a theatrical sort of way with a lot of head shaking and looks that could kill to leave me in no doubt of his great displeasure at having been held up by an inconvenient tourist.

The motorway took us over an impressive new bridge with good views of Skradin below and its turquoise blue lake and rows of yachts and boats moored up at the water’s edge.  Shortly after that there was an exit for Šibenik and as motorway tolls always seem to me to be an unnecessary expense we left the motorway and headed for the old coast road that it has been built to replace.

Once past the industrial suburbs of Šibenik these turned out to be a very good decision indeed and the old main road took a scenic route that was never more than a few metres from the sea and the shingle beaches with good views over the Adriatic Sea and the inviting looking islands.  Except for the fact that the road wasn’t at a high elevation with imminent danger of crashing over the side of a mountain this did remind me a great deal of the Amalfi drive in Italy.  The road ran directly underneath the limestone mountains that rose dramatically just a few hundred metres or so inland and snaked along the coast with its inlets, yacht harbours and picturesque coastal villages.

I was a bit uncertain of the driving rules and the speed limits so repeatedly checked that my lights were on and kept diligently to just about fifty kilometres an hour.  I was sure that this was actually a bit too slow because after a short time I managed to get an impressive build up of traffic behind me but at least it gave me the opportunity to do my Lincolnshire tractor driver impression and pull over every now and again to let things pass.  I felt a bit like a cork in a champagne bottle because every time I pulled over there was a rush of appreciative traffic speeding past in an effervescent flow.

We passed the pretty town of Brodarica and stopped to take photographs of the little harbour with its red tiled houses framed against a backdrop of green pine trees and a blue sea.  It was delightful but a kilometre or two around the coast there was a shock because here there were hectares and hectares of burned out wooded hillside with black and charred trees and no sign of life whatsoever.  This had occurred the year before in July 2007, which according to figures from the European Forest Fire information system was one of the worst ever years on record for forest fires.

The summer of 2007 was exceptionally hot and dry and as well as here in Croatia there had been huge devastation elsewhere in Bulgaria, Greece and Italy, as well as countries like the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, Albania and Turkey.  There was a serious amount of damage down the coast here and there was even more that we didn’t get to see further down near Dubrovnik that had come very close to undoing all the good work that had been done in the preceding ten years restoring the city after the damage of the war years.  This was a shame and it looked as though it was going to take some considerable time to recover.

Croatia, The Medieval Town of Trogir

 

It was a brilliant morning with a clear sky and an impossibly blue horizon where the sea and the sky seemed to meet in a seamless match with only the silhouettes of the islands to show where the join should be.  There was breakfast on the terrace of course before we packed our bags and left the Pink Inn for our final day in Croatia and a drive north along the coast back to Zadar.

The weather was perfect and I was in a relaxed mood as we drove around the side of Split – perhaps too relaxed because while looking for fuel I had a misunderstanding about which lane I had the right to be in and nearly removed the side of my car and someone else’s as well as I pulled across into a filling station.  That would have certainly incurred additional car rental charges when I took it back later today.  I sometimes have this problem when driving on the wrong side of the road and have had near misses all over Europe.

The close shave reminded me to take care and when we rejoined the highway I adopted my normal Mary Poppins driving mode that I reserve for driving in foreign countries.  We passed by Salona, which was a substantial ancient town that was once the capital of the Roman province of Dalmatia and although we didn’t stop off for a visit it was possible to see some of the extensive ruins running along the side of the road.  It looked interesting but it wasn’t exactly Pompeii.

We were heading for the town of Trogir, which is about fifteen miles west of Split and which has the distinction of being the best preserved Romanesque-Gothic complex, not only in the Adriatic, but in all of Central Europe and inevitably therefore a UNESCO World heritage site.

It was mid morning when we arrived and the town was already very busy.

The old city is built on a little island, only separated from the mainland by a few yards and with access to it over a small bridge.  Trogir is a very popular visitor attraction and parking is inevitably at a premium and at fifteen Kuna an hour easily the most expensive of the week.

There was a busy street market just outside the old city walls so we walked through the overladen stalls and prodded and admired the vegetables.  The stallholders were eager to sell but they didn’t seem to understand that we were flying home today and if we bought a bag of vegetables we would have to pay a fortune on Ryanair in additional baggage charges to get them back home.

It was hot now so we were glad to walk into the shade of the old town and melt into a labyrinth of alleyways and crooked streets that all led to the picturesque  central main square.  The city has a fabulously preserved medieval core that is surrounded by high walls and comprises a preserved castle and tower and a series of churches, houses and palaces from the Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque periods.

We wandered straight through the narrow medieval streets and out of a town gate on the waterside that looks out over the water to the larger island of  Čiovo, which is joined by another bridge and is the industrial bit of Trogir where there is a busy shipyard that turns out about six large ships or ferries every year.  That part of the city is not quite so attractive I have to say.

At the end of the quayside was the old medieval castle that stands guard (or at least used to stand guard) at one end of the island and as it was open and we hadn’t climbed anything for at least forty-eight hours we went in and went to the top of the highest tower for a good view over the town.

One thing we wouldn’t be climbing today was the bell tower of the thirteenth century church of St. Lawrence that we tackled the previous year and which turned out to be one of the most nerve jangling and heart stopping climbs ever.  The iron was rusting away, the wood was decaying and holding all of it up was a series of concrete plinths that looked as though they were in imminent danger of collapse. No, we definitely wouldn’t be doing that again today and we satisfied ourselves instead with a much safer external examination of the building.

 

Croatia, Changeable Weather

Just north of Ploce we stopped and pulled over to view the Baćinska Lakes, a pearl of unspoiled nature covering twenty square kilometres and consisting of seven lakes with their brackish water forming a turquoise ring surrounding the lush pine clad hills. The lakes are located between the Neretva River Delta, the sea and the surrounding mountains and their names are: Ocusa, Crnisevo, Podgora, Sladinac, Vrvnik and Plitko Jezero.  We didn’t stay long and returned to the car and continued towards our intended first destination of Gradac.

Suddenly from out of nowhere some clouds started to overtake us from the south and by the time we reached Gradac we had been transported into an alternative day of grey clouds and high winds.  We parked the car but couldn’t work out the rules from the notice on the parking machine.  It seemed to suggest that charges applied but none of the other cars had tickets and we were unsure of what to do.  We didn’t have any change anyway so it was irrelevant and we left it and walked along the seafront to the hotel we had stayed at last year.  The weather was deteriorating rapidly now and uncharacteristic Adriatic waves were beginning to batter the beach driving people off the pebbles and back to the shelter of the ribbon of bars behind the beach.  It was really quite unpleasant and there was nothing to stay for so we went back to the car and carried on.

The weather cheered up just a little bit so we stopped at the next seaside town of Zaostrog where it was warm and partly sunny but mostly overcast.  We visited the gardens of a monastery and had a drink in a bar but the place was nothing special, just an everyday sort of holiday town with possibly the ugliest and inappropriate war memorial that I have ever seen.  It looked like the weather was going to have the last word today so we decided to find a supermarket, buy some alcohol and go straight back to the Pink Inn.  Then we were in for a shock because this was Sunday and the shops close at two o’clock and we had missed this by about twenty minutes – things looked bleak!

I worried about this for about thirty kilometres as we passed through Drvenik, Živogošće, Igrane Podgora and Tučepi and everywhere the shops were shut.  Finally we reached the busy holiday town of Makarska and it was the same here too except for a little roadside kiosk in a car park with overpriced beer and snacks with prices that I was obliged to pay or go without.

We continued on to towards Split but it was horrible now with grey skies and intermittent rain and the driving was hard work because there was hardly ever a good straight bit of road and I had to keep an eye out for the crazy Croatian drivers who seem to have a special driving talent because they can see round corners and I know that this is true because how else could they overtake with such confidence around dangerous blind bends and perilous chicanes? It wasn’t a good journey and we were glad to arrive back at the Pink Inn in the late afternoon.

It seemed a certainty that the day was now a write-off and there was nothing else to do but read and play cards but it’s funny how the weather never ceases to surprise and as we sat on the balcony the cloud began to break into a thousand fragments of retreating grey and the sun began to triumphantly reappear.   This was our que to take a walk along the beach and along to the new marina next to the Hotel Meridian with all the expensive boats moored up in expectation of a sea voyage.  The sun was out so we had a drink in a trendy little bar and waited for the sunset that Kim would be able to capture on her magic camera (magic because she can get a sunset picture even when there isn’t a sunset).

We enjoyed the last walk along the beach and hoped that the improvement in the weather would last for at least another twenty-four hours for our final day in Croatia.  Later we returned to the fish restaurant where there was a table of show-offs splashing the cash and eating lobster.  We had octopus and squid and this time I managed to stay for the entire length of the meal without dashing off with a misbehaving digestive system.

Croatia, A Drive Along The Dalmatian Coast

I woke in a negative mood and first checked for stomach cramps and when there were none, and it was obvious that last night I was being a total drama queen, I then strained my ears for the sound of pelting rain on the balcony of the room.

But there was good news because I couldn’t hear gushing water or even a gentle pitter-patter or even a solitary drip and when I nervously opened the window blinds I was greeted with a perfect blue sky and uninterrupted views across the Adriatic.  The sun had decided to visit Croatia and I couldn’t wait to get started.

It was a fabulous beginning to the day with a brilliant blue sky and a bright sun burning in the east and this meant that Iveska had once again arranged breakfast on the terrace and she supplied a never ending supply of hot tea and local Croatian pastries.    Iveska was the perfect host, she was Croatian but had moved to Canada when she was young and then returned later to get married and to run the Pink Inn.  She was full of information about Croatia and made useful tourist recommendations.

After breakfast we left the hotel after making arrangements to return in five days time on our way back and then set off south towards our destination of Dubrovnik about two hundred kilometres away.

The first part of the drive wasn’t especially scenic and after thirty minutes we arrived in the busy town of Omiš where there was an opportunity to head inland through the mountains on a scenic detour along the river Cetina.   We followed the route for a few kilometres but then ran into some road works and a long hold up so after a while took our prompt from the local motorists who were turning around and going back the way they came and being naturally impatient and assuming that they knew something we didn’t we did exactly the same and turned around and returned to the coast road.

The views didn’t improve a great deal as we drove through redundant shipyards and derelict industrial areas south of the town but eventually we left these behind and reached a sign declaring that we were now on the Markarska Riviera, which is a forty kilometre stretch of beautiful coastline with the Dinaric Alps inland to the east and a ragged coastline consisting of a succession of inlets and beaches and the islands of Brač and Hvar sitting close by out in the Adriatic to the west.

It is a driving rule in Croatia that main beam lights must be used at all times and I kept finding this quite difficult to remember.  This rule seemed a bit unnecessary to me because the weather was bright and the driving conditions were perfect but the advice was that it is important to remember because the police don’t like it if you forget and can administer a hefty and non-negotiable on the spot fine.

I was a bit uncertain of the driving rules and the speed limits so kept checking that my lights were on and kept diligently to just about fifty kilometres an hour.  I was sure that this was actually a bit too slow because after a short time I managed to get an impressive build up of traffic behind me but at least it gave me the opportunity to do my Lincolnshire tractor driver impression and pull over every now and again to let things past.  I felt a bit like a bit like a cork in a champagne bottle because every time I pulled over there was a rush of appreciative traffic speeding past in an effervescent flow.

I continued to take it steady and we made frequent stops at lay-bys with tempting views to let the line of traffic building up behind me pass by and to admire the scenery.  We drove past the holiday town of Makarska and then Gradac where we had stayed for a night last year.  It was about eleven o’clock and we weren’t making the sort of progress that we had anticipated and the distance to Dubrovnik seemed to remain stubbornly high. After Gradac we arrived at the city of Ploče where the road temporarily left the coast and for a short while followed the river Neretva flowing down from Bosnia and forming a river delta where it met the sea with many hectares of valuable fertile land and with an abundance of crops growing in the fields.

After the little inland detour we were soon back at the coast and heading for Dubrovnik.  At this part of the journey there is an interesting diplomatic arrangement at the town of Neum which is the only seaside town in Bosnia and occupies about twenty kilometres of coastline that splits Croatia in two and which requires driving through border controls at both ends, which quite frankly is a bit of a pain in the arse for traffic travelling to and from Dubrovnik.

The two countries are currently in negotiations about the establishment of a ‘privileged economic zone’ for Bosnian businesses within the port of Ploče to give Bosnia an economic supply line from the sea but this is hindered by the opposition of Croatian people to the concept of a partial loss of sovereignty.  In exchange Croatia, not unreasonably, would like easier passage through the narrow strip of Bosnian territory near Neum but this is opposed by the Bosnian people.

The Croatian solution to the impasse is simple and they have begun construction of a three thousand metre long bridge that will cross to the Pelješac peninsular and solve the problem by bypassing Bosnia altogether and not surprisingly the Bosnian Government doesn’t like this either.

Why can’t people try to get on with one another and cooperate I wonder?

Croatia, Split and Diocletian’s Palace

“Once this area, roughly a quarter of a mile square, was the Palace of Diocletian…. It is entrancing and there is no other place in Europe like it.”        Bill Bryson – ‘Neither here Nor there’

We walked through the centre of Diocletian’s Palace, which is the middle of the old city of Split where all the most important historical buildings of the city are to be found.

The Palace is important as a historical monument because it has survived pretty much intact and is remarkable for the diversity of its buildings, which include an octagonal domed mausoleum, a rectangular Temple of Jupiter, a cruciform lower level of the Vestibule, and circulartemples to Cybele and Venus.

Diocletian became Emperor of Rome in 284AD and set out to reorganise the huge Empire that had become unwieldy and difficult to control.  He separated the Empire in two between east and west to make it more manageable and after governing for twenty years became the first Emperor to resign from the job and he built the massive palace for his retirement after abdicating in 305 AD.  When it was built one of its four gates led directly to a quay side but an impressive new promenade has separated the Palace from the sea and the entrance is now through the Palace basement and past a row of rather inappropriate market stall vendors.

Inside, the Palace is an eclectic mix of styles and ages and although parts of it have inevitably been dismantled and rearranged by succeeding generations the basic structure is intact and small streets lead from one exciting discovery to another.

The Palace is built of white local limestone of high quality, most of which was from quarries on the island of Brač.  The nearby island is famous for its stone which has been its main export since ancient times and has always been highly valued and has been used in some of the most famous buildings in the World including the White House in Washington D.C. Limestone tuffa was taken from the nearby river beds and bricks were made in the nearby workshops of the Roman city of Salona. Some material for decoration was imported, such as the Egyptian granite columns and sphinxes, and the fine white marble for external decoration produced in workshops in Proconnesos, which is the modern day Turkish island of Mamara.

The palace was built not just as a retirement home but as a Roman military fortress with walls two hundred metres long and twenty metres high, enclosing an area of thirty-eight thousand square metres and it is one of the best preserved Roman palaces in existence because after the fall of the Romans within the defensive walls it effectively became the city of Spalatum which eventually evolved and became Split and today it continues to host the old town even though there is some more recent inappropriate construction inside.

The sun was beginning to poke through now so rather than visit the underground basement halls we decided to continue our walk along the harbour and we passed through Republican Square with its elegant buildings painted red and its Venetian architecture modelled on St Marks Square in Venice.  From here we passed into some back streets of tiny houses and began to climb towards the city park at the western end of the harbour and with good views back over the city.  The clouds were breaking up quickly now and although they remained stubbornly attached to the ring of mountains surrounding Split out to sea it was clearing nicely, the sun was out and we were getting warm.

From the top we could see why Croatia’s second largest city is so important as it occupies a position of strategic significance on the Adriatic.  Because of this Split suffered damage during the war and probably the most tragic incident of all occurred in November 1991 when the Yugoslavian frigate named Split fired shells at the city. The damage was insignificant and there were only a few casualties but this was the only time in history that a city has been bombarded by a military vessel bearing its own name.

It was nice in the sunshine and we walked back down to the harbour around the sides of the Palace and back inside through the main gate to complete our tour.  We had missed the basement halls last year so were determined to see them today so after a late lunch sitting in the welcome sunshine we paid for our admission and went underground.

The vast rooms were mostly empty but there were some exhibits here and there but what was really interesting was to see just how well the Romans constructed their buildings.  We were able to see all of this because they are so well preserved because for more than a thousand years they had been used as a convenient waste disposal and sewage site as residents in the medieval city above simply filled them up with debris and rubbish.  As recently as fifty years ago these basement halls were inaccessible but then archaeologists began to excavate and investigate and now when it comes to understanding the ancient Romans they are a very important evidence base for the study of the ancient civilisation.

It was late afternoon so we walked back through the market and caught the bus back to Podstrana where it was hot enough to sit on the balcony and watch the cloud formations out to sea as the sun probed its way through the grey to form puddles of cheerful sparkling reflection on the surface of the sea.  The weather continued to improve so later we walked to the beach and watched a good sunset over Split.

In the evening we returned to the fish restaurant close by that we had used last year and began to make our choices off of the menu in anticipation of another good meal.  But for some reason I was feeling a bit nauseous and unwell and although I kept this to myself and made an attempt on the shared octopus salad I just couldn’t face the black squid risotto that followed so I had to make my apologies and leave Kim to finish her meal alone.  I blamed the fish salad that I had had at lunchtime and feared that I had poisoned myself on the very first day of the holiday.  I ransacked the medical kit and went straight to bed and became anxious about being in a strange place and how we might find the hospital later but I needn’t have worried because when I woke in the middle of the night everything had settled down and it had passed as quickly as it came on and I slept contentedly for the rest of the night.

Split Croatia

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Croatia, Split and a Croatian Beer Dilemma

In the morning it had stopped raining but it was one of those days when it was only a matter of time before it started again and judging by the clouds accumulating over the island of Brač just a few kilometres away in the Adriatic Sea we probably wouldn’t have too long to wait.  It stayed fine long enough to have an excellent Pink Inn breakfast outside on the terrace and where Iveska explained that there had been a heat wave during the previous week but the forecast for the next few days wasn’t very thrilling and we cursed our luck for getting our timing wrong.

Today we were planning to visit Split but as we were preparing to catch the ten o’clock bus the clouds began their relentless march inland and the heavens opened again and we watched as first Brač and then Split itself slipped from view under a thick grey shroud.  When it had slowed from a downpour to a drizzle I was sent to the shop down the road to get supplies in case we were forced to spend the day in the room, which at that point seemed like a distinct possibility.

At the shop I couldn’t remember which beer I preferred, was it Karlovačko, Ožujsko or Laško so I bought one of each so that I could try them all just to be sure.

By the time I returned the rain had eased and the horizon was much clearer so we made the decision to go to Split as planned and with umbrellas at the ready we set off for the bus stop nearly opposite the hotel.  The short ride took about twenty minutes and it was worth the 10 Kuna fare just to avoid any parking difficulties and the bus dropped us off conveniently at the green market quite close to the old town.

Here there were lots of local people selling produce that they had grown themselves and the stalls were bursting with colour and groaning under the weight of freshly harvested crops.  It must have been raining hard here too because the old ladies doing the selling were wearing plastic bags over their shoes and had black refuse sacks draped over their shoulders to keep them dry.  Kim tried to take photographs of them but one in particular took offence at the intrusion and shooed her away with a scowl.

The sky remained grey as we walked along the recently improved pedestrian area next to the harbour with its rows of smart bars and cafés and immaculate gardens and lawns as we retraced our steps along the waterfront from the previous visit last year.

We were heading for People’s Square with its bars and restaurants and pretty medieval buildings and we arrived just in time to make the shelter of a pavement parasol before it started to rain again.  This didn’t stop us sitting and having a beer and we sat and watched as people hurried past under the shelter of umbrellas and a young beggar with twisted legs made a sweep through the bars collecting coins from customers as he went.  I am usually suspicious of beggars but this chap looked genuine enough so I transferred the loose change from my pocket into his begging cap and he moved on.

Suddenly a wind appeared and a sudden squall created chaos when it lifted the ivory coloured umbrellas right out of their metal stands and sent them all crashing through the tables and chairs with the bar staff frantically chasing after them through the windswept square.  It must have seemed like a good idea at the time when seconds earlier they had tied them altogether to improve the shelter from the rain but it wasn’t so clever now as they all lifted off together scattering all of the customers in a panic.

We didn’t need excitement and danger like that so we finished our drinks and left and continued our visit.