Sat
09.Jun.2012
Split, Dalmatia, Croatia
Welcome to the present. I'll save Cordoba, Plauen, and Ljubljana for later.
They are already well in the past - what's to lose?
I left Ljubljana a week ago today (only!?!), goofed off for the evening with
a British fellow tourist in the underrated city of Zagreb, then let the
overnight train bring me to Split, where the temperatures have been in the
20's °C. That is comfortable: 70's to mid 80's °F.
Somehow, the blahs that had posessed me in Ljubljana got left at the border.
Apparently I traded them for an exit stamp from Slovenia, and with it the
group of common borders countries. Curiously, the Croatian border patrol
checked our passports, but didn't stamp them. I hope that doesn't cause
troubles when I leave Croatia. They must know what they are doing, no? I
mean they are the border cops.
Like many Croatian cities, Split has a tourist office that will help arrange
accommodation in private rooms. The rooms need to meet certain standards of
facilities, cleanliness, etc, and the tourist office gets a cut.
I have used it before. It works well.
The few arriving trains here are met by independent hawkers of rooms.
These are kind of a crapshoot; some can be remotely located, substandard
quality, or just plain disreputable operators. OTOH, if you get a good one
the process can't be beaten for convenience.
That is my building above, and my laundry drying below. The oleanders are
well over 30' tall, and give a lovely fragrance when I walk home at night.
The red-flowered bushes beside them are a delight as I leave home by day.
I took a chance with a room-hawker at the station, nice old man who showed
me on a map that his room is just behind the northeast corner of The Palace. I only
committed to looking at the room until I had seen it. The negotiations were
fun, because he claimed to speak German, which turned out to be about like
my Croatian. Rudimentary room-renting vocabulary.
Arranging a refrigerator for my insulin was a challenge, until the old guy's
English-speaking son showed up. Have I mentioned already that despite what
Langenscheidt says, the word here for refrigerator is frižider
(free-zhee-DERR)?
Anyway, his room is prefectly nice if you don't miss a TV. He wouldn't
know an internet connection if it bit him on the foot, so I have found a
comfy cafe and a fast food place, both with wi-fi. Goodness knows I can
use the cheap lodging after a couple of weeks in Nürnberg, Salzburg, and
especially Ljubljana.
The park behind the palace was overrun with cops today. Stationed around the
perimeter with plastic combat shields and shoulder and arm pads... I was too
shy to ask what was going on. Eventually I overheard a fragment of their
talk with a trio of guys with vaudeville balkan accents: Gay Parade.
In passionately Catholic Croatia, such an event might well use a show of
preventive muscle for safety. (I seem to recall that in neighboring Serbia,
gay parades are banned entirely because the cops are not up to protecting
them.)
Anyway, the park is on my way to the wi-fi cafe, and it is still overseen by
the towering, surreal figure of Grgur
Ninsky, who stands outside the Golden Gate - the north gate of the
palace.
Here is a poorly-lighted view from the wi-fi cafe, taken while I was
composing one of my recent Nürnberg posts.
Down by the Riva
What to do after a couple of hours editing posts, checking the news, and
answering email? You can't beat a golden late afternoon stroll on the
promenade between harbor and palace, known as the Riva.
Rough Guide calls it the place to see and be seen. I probably rank in the
bottom percentile of those being seen, but I'll confess the seeing is
entertaining. Kids, vendors, costumes, legal-minimal cover in the hot sun,
clueless fellow tourists, good Adriatic ice cream, the Adriatic ferries
coming in and going out, you name it.
Better, just kick back and enjoy it, taking the occasional photo because it
is all too good not to.
Contents Copyright 2012 Jeff Bulf