6 + 1/2 min. read
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| Seget Vranjica village near Trogir, Croatia (image: Croatia Gems) |
It’s that time of year again. For my summer/birthday break, as usual, I’m looking for a change of scenery. The last few have been spent becoming acquainted with Eastern Europe. My first foray into this part of the Continent was visiting the Dubrovnik region in Croatia, for my 40th back in (still) COVID-afflicted 2021. I became instantly enchanted with the Croatian coastline. I knew I would return but wanted to be intentional about it. Otherwise, the lapse would be too long.
In the interim years, my summers have been spent inland. I’ve missed birthdays by the sea. Whilst I’m not a swimmer, there’s something about being near a vast body of water that helps put my soul at ease. Last year, when visiting the Hungarian capital, I bumped into a fellow solo traveller who would go on to tour the former Yugoslavian coast. She mentioned Split. I made up my mind that that would be my next summer destination. Thank God, my financial situation has improved enough for this to be a reality. I find a very good deal on accommodation in the city's peripheries, close to the seafront.
I catch a flight at dawn to Split airport via Munich. On arriving, the warm climes, clear blue skies and eye-catching vistas instantly have me upbeat. I randomly spark a conversation with one of the few black faces I see around; a lad from the Caribbean, now based in Germany. His parents are in the military. He seems ambivalent about his adopted home. Keep your head up, I say.
At the bus stop, I meet a portly young man in town for the Defective dance festival. Although I’ve never attended, I admire the musical taste of hunky Melvo Baptiste, one of the organising DJs. The coincidences don’t end there. It turns out this bus stop gent is a Bruxellois who happens to share the same postcode. He highly recommends Trogir, where I intend to spend a lot of time. I don’t take these fortuitous encounters for granted. I see it as akin to a Divine welcome.
The first part of my journey to my accommodation, in the seaside village of Seget Vranjica, is straightforward. It’s a scenic route. We pass a number of marinas, heads bobbing up and down in the water. I wink at a little blonde girl on the bus, who returns my bonhomie with a dead-eyed, 50-yard stare.
From Trogir station to Seget Vranjica is less simple. Public transport is cost effective but infrequent. I find a bus driver who promises he’s heading in my direction. I’ve printed several possible bus routes but I have the ‘wrong’ one to hand. It’s through the kindness of surprisingly hospitable locals that I eventually find my way. A woman and her elderly mother welcome me onto the patio of their summer home, surrounded by vines and olive groves. One of their neighbours generously drops me off at the accommodation, refusing any monetary appreciation.
I’m welcomed by one of the building managers, Sally. I'm ahead of check-in but later than I'd hoped to arrive. Sally's surprised I don’t use Uber and even more shocked that I don’t possess a smartphone.
The hostel is a small complex of student-halls style accommodation; self-contained units with a communal kitchen. The best of both worlds. I can enjoy privacy without being cut off from civilisation. I have an intimate little room to myself with ensuite shower. It smells amazing when I arrive; just as I read in the reviews. It takes some getting used to the limited space but it’s fine as somewhere to sleep and shower. What I’ll soon come to discover, to my frustration, is how far Seget Vranjica is from Split; much closer to the airport than the city itself.
After a wash and a nap, I’m back out for a tour of nearby Trogir’s old town.
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| Trogir Old City (courtesy of Pelago) |
Trogir is alive with touristic buzz. The town is pretty; a more compact version of rival Dubrovnik. Martina takes us through the history of Croatia’s occupation by numerous foreign powers and their diverse impact on custom and language (Ottoman Empire, the Venetians, briefly France and the Austro-Hungarian Empire). Like most of these tours, a little goes a long way. We take the scenic route around what’s barely a square mile, encompassing the Town Hall, St Lawrence’ Cathedral and the bayside promenade.
Despite the tourism, the town hasn’t succumbed to the familiar gentrification. Hundreds of locals still live in the old town, laundry (in)famously drying outside their windows. Martina assures us the best way to appreciate Trogir is to get lost in its side streets. As if she read my mind.
Towards the end of the tour, Martina opens up about the lasting traumatic legacy of the civil war. She grew up hating Serbs. One day her grandmother chastised her harshly, admonishing her not to judge a people by their bad leaders. Martina then shares an affecting, Good Samaritan-style family anecdote of when Serbs readily came to their aid in life-or-death circumstances.
Dinner is at one of only a couple of places that Martina would endorse (indeed, the cuisine will be one of the most underwhelming elements of this trip). As I settle the bill, another local starts speaking to me in fluid English extolling the virtues of the menu. ‘This is the best pizza in Dalmatia’, she boasts. She also happens to be a tour guide, coincidentally called Martina. She claims to be the former neighbour of her namesake, who is allegedly named after her. Whilst the younger Martina insists that Trogir has only recently become touristy, her elder strongly disputes it. ‘She grew up during the war’, she observes ‘we didn’t have much tourism then’.
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| Filip's Marina Taxi Boat, Croatia |
There’s enough time between dinner and the last taxi boat to my accommodation for a leisurely stroll around the bay. A marching band passes the restaurant. On one end of the promenade, at the old fortress, there’s a Techno music festival. A few hundred metres away is a stage for free local events. Performers dressed in folk costumes play traditional music whilst young children, also in costume, stand mannequin-still in front of the stage. They look mortified, as if held hostage.
On the other side of the marina, I see a good-looking young black man coming in the opposite direction with whom I assume is his Caucasian girlfriend. Just as we pass each other, a voice carries over the wind.’How are you auntie?’.
‘Did you just call me auntie, you cheeky monkey?’, I shoot back. And so we start to converse amiably. Contrary to assumptions, they’re step-siblings. Joe, the young man, was born in the Caribbean but moved to Ireland as a child. His step-sister, Zara is originally Croatian. Her mother married his dad and they were both raised on the Emerald Isle. Neither is new to Croatia.
We chat about our affection for the region, lodging in remote places and me not possessing a smartphone. Joe asks if I’ve encountered any strange behaviour. It’s then I have to admit my reservations. On the bus from Split Airport, I couldn’t tell if the passengers were trying not to notice me or if I were being over-sensitive. Elsewhere, there have been a few stares. Then there was the stony-faced little girl. It’s the opposite of my experience in Dubrovnik and the surrounding areas. Where I expected some odd reactions, it was surprisingly welcoming. I also saw a lot more Afrodescendant tourists on that part of the coast. I assumed the rest of the region would be the same. Joe is ambiguous himself, not sure whether these are stares of curiosity or hostility. Zara confesses that, after growing up in monocultural rural Croatia, she was scared on first meeting her step-family as a child. We part ways, without sharing numbers. We’re in the region for roughly the same time. I suspect we’ll cross paths again.
The last taxi boat leaves at 10pm. I receive mildly askance looks from some other passengers. Nothing that will spoil the serene half-hour crossing, however. The sun sets noticeably earlier here than in North-West Europe. Now well after dark, the waves take on a black velvety effect. White and amber lights signal distant city life. The night sky is clear enough for the constellations to command my attention.
Soundtrack: John Gómez and Nick the Record present the TANGENT compilation feat. Various Artists
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