Split Personality

I woke up in pitch blackness, thinking it must be about 6am. No, it was just that our converted jail cell was a very effective light deterrent. It was actually closer to 10am.

Guess we needed the sleep.

We didn't need to check out until 2pm, and the ferry wasn't until 3pm, so we snuck past the warden and climbed over the wall for a few hours in Split.

We were right at the northern edge of the Old Town, and set off for the centre, walking along the harbour. Perfect weather, unlike Anna and Mario who werre drenched during their time here.

Breakfast was simple, but nice: muesli and natural yoghurt for me, bacon and eggs for Emma, and second-hand cigarette smoke for both of us.

Observation #1: everybody in Split smokes. Everybody.

At the table next to us a young couple in their late 20s and a friend the same age sat down, and immediately lit up cigarettes. Two seconds later the couple's four year old son lights one up. 

OK, that's an exageration. The kid waited a full minute. And his cigarette may have been some sort of sweet. Possibly.

But seriously, I think the only table that wasn't wreathed in cigarette smoke was ours. For all the good it did us. There's something about a beautiful view of the harbour that's lessened when it's masked in the fumes of Hell.

I don't know why you'd buy cigarettes if you lived in Split. You could just stand next to anybody and get your fix.

Anyway...

After breakfast it's walking time.  First stop the old buildings just behind us.

"Hey, this is the palace of the Roman Emperor Diocletian! Awesome!" I say.

"Hey, markets! Awesome!" says Emma.

The areas under the palace have been converted into market stalls. T-shirts, tourist trinkets, a bit of jewelry, all the stuff you'd expect to find a palace used for if you lost your mind and had no sense of history. At least they've stopped using the catacombs as a rubbish tip.

The palace was built around 300 AD. Diocletian wanted somewhere nice to retire to, and figured somewhere with lots of sun, wine, olives and cigarettes would be perfect. 

Although much of the palace fell into ruin or was raided for building materials after the Romans left, it's still the most complete Roman palace in the world.

There's still considerable restoration work going on, from major works on the gates to repairing some of the damaged mosaics on the floors. 

Piece by pain-staking piece.

We did check out the markets as well. Emma found a nice necklace made of red Mediterreanean coral, and I bought her a beautiful rose.

They were also selling freshly-slaughtered meat, but I passed on that. 

Other cool stuff: they must be big on Harry Potter, because we found this statue of Albus Dumbledore.

It's actually a bishop, Grgur Ninski (Grigor of Nin), who apparently was at loggerheads with the Pope over issues like using ther Croatian language in services. Grgur won, so the Pope shipped his ass off to Skradin, where we was never heard from again.

It's supposed to be good luck if you rub his toe. The idea that you can gain good luck by rubbing the toe of a statue of a dead medieval churchman sounds vaguely Harry Potterish to me, so the connection between Grgur and Albus may be stronger than it first appears.

Time to catch the ferry to Korcula. We took the car ferry instead of the hydrofoil. It's slower (three hours instead of 90 minutes), but Mario said it's a much nicer trip.

It was. We took over a booth, had coffees, beer and wine, and sailed into Vela Luka, on Korcula. First impressions were - good:

Anna and Mario picked us up, drove us to the apartments, and had a light supper (antipasto and soup) waiting for us.*

I may not be a Roman Emperor, but it works for me.

* Mario wants me to note in the blog that he prepared the plate of prosciutto, olives, and cheese. It's the only time I've known him to prepare food, not counting barbeques, and could well be the first time a male member of his family has prepared food since the time of Diocletian.