Croatia; part 2 – Split
A rainy day woke us on Wednesday. Big fat rain bouncing off the narrow street cobbles and back into the sky. Loud enough to enjoy from the comfort of our beds, however enjoyment rapidly dispelled when conscious minds kicked in and we recalled the process of events ahead of us. First task; to get our heavy suitcases back down the 60 or so steps, without the help of our host, in slippery wet weather and flip flops.
Magically we got the cases from A to B, and we made our way back to the Pile Gate and took a local bus to Dubrovnik’s coach station. We’d forgotten about the rest of Dubrovnik, mesmerised by the ancient old town, yet there were plenty more villages and areas to explore.
Split was a much larger affair. We had a four and a half hour coach journey, with a pit stop in Bosnia where passports were required (eye-papping beer drinking nuns) and sat alongside the most annoying Brits abroad with no volume controls. We pootled through lengthy amounts of industrial town before pulling into the coach station on the harbour front. My fixation with harbours only grows with every holiday, and this harbour was a monster. Huge ferries were arriving and departing, and a long backlog of coaches, cars and pedestrians piling up in traffic.
We only really got a quick glimpse as it was still chucking it down, although this was manic rain and left us hiding under some trees desperately searching for our host’s fiancé, who had politely been sent to pick us up due to the weather. We found out later our new pad was barely a ten minute walk from all this harbour activity. Ideal.
Sitting in his car for ten minutes at the foot of the hill to the house, we giggled as torrents of water gushed passed the car, this rain was bizarrely impressive. We made a run for it, and walked into the most fantastic house I’ve stayed in from airbandb to date. On entering you could go up to a high ceilinged bedroom, with exposed beams, brickwork and a stunning terrace complete with sun loungers (we were hopeful). 
If you made the decision to descend, you found yourself in a contained kitchen, dining room and lounge, with tasteful decor and a decent bottle of red waiting for us as a welcome. There was another terrace alongside the dining table and a spacious modern bathroom. It really was a delight to stay in and while the rain hammered down we showered off Dubrovnik and sunk into the wine.
A few hours later it had stopped raining so we ventured out. The lighting on the harbour was impressive; dusk was battling a naked bright sky revealed following the downpour. People were excited to be back outside and we were eager to conquer another Croatian milestone. It was like the first day of holiday all over again.
We mooched into Diocletian’s Palace and had a look at the various stalls of local artwork and fashions. This landed us in a labyrinth, strolling through narrow alleys and courtyards, past the Cathedral of St Dominus- most of which has been beautifully preserved. Then the Temple of Jupiter, with a headless black Sphinx in black granite guarding the entrance (imported from Egypt at the time of the temple’s construction in the 5th century). 
We walked so far we came out of the old town walls and found ourselves in a romantic garden with a beautiful water feature. Feeling hungry we went back into the maze and on passing a busy pizzeria we were sold. (Croatian cuisine is very similar to Italian, or in some cases their version of an Italian dish)
Following dinner we took our rotund bellies back to the courtyard outside the temple, where quite the crowd had gathered. 
People filled the edges of the square, ordering drinks from a large bar on the one side; enchanted by a local acoustic musician singing various classics with his own Split twist. More wine, shameless singing, people watching and environment appreciation followed. A perfect first evening in Split despite the rain.
Thankfully the next day was clear, we needed to get some sun. We walked around the harbour and up a slight hill that revealed a cute little bay at its foot. There seemed to be a game in the sea many tourists at Bacvice beach felt obliged to play. Called Picigin, this Dalmatian sport is simple; stand in the water up to your knees or waist and pass a small ball to other players at high speed by whacking it with the palm of your hand, without the ball falling or touching the water’s surface. Www.picigin.org
After a beer, some late afternoon snacks and lots more idle people watching, we headed back, checking in at the ferry port for details about Hvar and coaches to Zadar.
That evening we got dolled up (an iron quite the luxury) and decided to make an evening of it. Split Old Town had some lovely independant shops and it wasn’t long before we found ourselves in a trendy wine bar, sipping a local recommended white that was simply delicious.
The rain started up again and with sodden waiters flapping past us, we enjoyed the character of this little bar and were last to leave before heading up to the apparently infamous Ghetto Bar. 
A well known eclectic bar hidden high up in the old ruins of the town. A Shoreditch type affair, splattered with vintage furniture, arrogant paintings and posters. The evening resulted in partyville in the harbour where you couldn’t move for a mix of nationalities or volume of people shrieking as they shared fish bowls of neon cocktails and tossed their limbs carelessly to euro beats.
Friday was to begin with a hangover. Although, in our case a classy white wine hangover.
Whose Boots Are Those Shoes? 