Croatia Calls…Again: Part II

  6 + 1/2 min. read

Part I

 Riva Promenade, Split (Booking.com)

My itinerary is such that I have tours in various parts of Dalmatia scheduled most days. Saturday afternoon will be spent in Split main city. My plans for a nice lie-in are scuppered for a variety of reasons. Some unwanted life admin has landed in my inbox like a turd, weighing on me. There’s also a lot of ambient noise in the thin-walled hostel. Not entirely a bad thing. It can be comforting in its own way, except certain guests are oblivious (or inconsiderate) about their noise levels.

 

Stepping out into the sunshine, overlooking the beach a mere stone’s throw away, my spirits are immediately lifted. Somewhat spoiling the view are the tight bare cheeks of a male neighbour, standing naked without compunction on his balcony next to his fully-clothed significant other.

Whilst I’m yet to be as awestruck by my surroundings as when I stayed in Slano near Dubrovnik, it’s still a pleasing landscape. The water remains a crystalline aquamarine. The familiar pale terracotta-coloured rooftops come into view en route to Trogir.

On the bus, a mother and daughter throw several wary looks in my direction. Eventually, I try the charm offensive. I smile. This goes nowhere with the older woman. The adolescent girl only hesitantly returns my smile on the third attempt. My mind casts back to my conversation with Joe the night before. My previous experience on the Croatian coast lured me into a false sense of security.

Even having researched the journey, the distance from Trogir to Split is far longer than I envisaged. I was deceived by Seget Vranjica's proximity to the airport.

Despite setting out over half an hour earlier than necessary, to give myself that wriggle room, I still arrive in Split with roughly only 10 minutes to find the meeting location for the tour. To complicate matters further, the park is known by a different name to the locals. It’s not far but the nomenclature issue only adds to the confusion.  These are the rare occasions I miss not using a smartphone. 

When I eventually arrive at the venue, I meet other tour guides but none are the right one. I'll discover later that my guide and I did indeed miss each other.

I’ve come this far. I should make the most of the city, yet the disappointment saps me of the incentive. Another guide recommends I visit the Cathedral. The office is closed for lunch. Besides, I’m not a fan of paying for what should be sacred spaces, freely available to the public.

Nearby a quartet of elderly men dressed in traditional clothes sing in close harmony, acapella. I want to thank them monetarily for this unexpected morale boost but I’ve used up my change. I’m better off holding onto what cash I do have. Whilst cheaper than Dubrovnik, high local taxes mean that many establishments and small business owners prefer hard currency. Moreover, cash machines charge extortionate rates for withdrawing money. There are very few commission free options.

Trogir Marina (Tourisme Croatie)

I hang out for a bit in the Town Hall, asking the receptionist for local tips. In spite of my mood, I allow myself to get lost in the side streets of Split’s Old City. I discover a quiet church that is free to enter and the subterranean passage below the Diocletian Palace. I hear a lot more French and see a lot more Afrodescendants than in Trogir. 

The widespread proficiency in English is remarkable. More so than you’d find in France and outside of major Belgian cities (or even within some major cities). I hear the usual, less than convincing reasons: ‘We learned it from TV’ or ‘Nobody else speaks our language so we have to learn English’. Whatever. ‘It’s down to a good communist education’, I suggest to one very fluent shopkeeper.

Whilst I’m charmed by the limestone streets of this UNESCO-heritage site city, Split’s riviera is too Monte Carlo for my taste. One too many huge ocean liners, speedboats and other emblems of conspicuous consumption that I find grotesque. I have no regrets about not staying in Split-proper. Trogir has more appeal, the lack of diversity notwithstanding.

It’s a less stressful return ride from Split, not having anywhere in particular to be. Back at Trogir, I wander through the extensive farmers’ market next to the station and pick up a few useful items from the all-purpose German drugstore, DM. I decide to follow Martina the tour guide’s advice and get lost a little in the side streets, treating myself to some local sweetmeats along the way.

I realise it’s too late to enjoy a sit down meal and catch the last bus.  I grab some local food from a friendly take away en route to the bus stop. I hope for enough time to sit wistfully by the bay and admire the distant hills overlooking the turquoise water. Except the last bus is already waiting at the garage. I’m welcomed by the same friendly driver who dropped me off on the way from the airport. I’m only a couple of days into the trip but I can already observe a spectrum of reactions. On one end, the fetishised looks from old-timers and an unhealthy curiosity that verges on the rude; on the other, an effusive warmth.

Sunday has been set aside for a day of proper rest. No big excursions, just relaxing in my accommodation and enjoying the marina at the foot of the hostel. Yet, a few days into the holiday and I’m paying the price for self-sabotaging habits that I’ve allowed to leak into the holiday. Poor sleep hygiene means I’ve been passing out instead of going to bed. I'm up too late watching stimulating content and at the same time trying to maintain a version of my spiritual routine.

I don’t wake up as refreshed as I should be. It’s a wasted opportunity. If I can’t take it easy even on holiday, then that’s cause for concern.

I eventually unwind, filling up on some spiritual nourishment or pure entertainment online either in my room or on the beach front. The Seget bay is a lot busier than that of Slano, where I was able to find discreet little corners of paradise.  Heading to one of the beach bars, I again pick up on some peculiar reactions. One man keeps turning around furtively, giving me agitated looks as if we have unfinished business. Another lady stares and smiles, eventually making a heart sign. At this stage, I’m ambivalent about what should otherwise be an amicable gesture. There is zero diversity amongst this crowd. There wasn’t much, if any, at Slano either but it never felt like an issue.  

Seget Vranjica beach (courtesy of Croatia Gems)

After wasting 4 euros on a bland smoothie, I purchase pastries from a politely-staffed bakery and camp out at one beach bar with my laptop. The view from the shaded terrace is idyllic. The staff glance in my direction with mild irritation that I’ve ordered so few (non-alcoholic) drinks in the several hours that I’m there. It doesn’t help that they don’t accept card payments. 

Later that evening I venture to the other side of the bay to read, paddle and enjoy more of the view. It's still busy but the ambience is less tense. The clear waters reveal sharp rocks underneath. I'm nervous as hell to see kids horsing around, apparently unsupervised, even after dark. There appears to be no lifeguard, until a young man with 90s poster-boy looks manifests in the deckchair beside me.

Dinner that night is at one of the few nearby restaurants. The menu is varied and enticing but they're severely short-staffed. One customer takes out his loud frustration on one of only two waiters.  Opting to sit upstairs, I hope for a discreet table overlooking the marina but there are none available.

The staff are professional and helpful. Just seriously overworked. I jettison any ideas I’ve been entertaining for dessert. It’s hard enough getting somebody’s attention to settle the bill.

Soundtrack: John Gómez and Nick the Record present the TANGENT compilation feat. Various Artists

Part III