Before this year, about the only things I knew about Split were that it once hosted the European Athletics Championships and that it was the home town of tennis player Goran Ivanišević. But flights at short notice to Dubrovnik or Sarajevo, where I’d really wanted to go, turned out to be stupidly expensive, and so I ended up on a plane to Split instead.
The holiday was a very last-minute decision – my focus since getting back from travelling was to find a job; once that was sorted and I’d signed a contract, I decided to say farewell to my travels with a final backpacking trip before re-entering the world of the grown-ups. I’ve fancied seeing the western Balkans for a while, and I wasn’t sure where to start – but booking the day before I flew made up my mind – Split was the only affordable choice and so I soon found myself in the unusual position of heading somewhere I knew very little about.With little knowledge I wasn’t sure what to expect as I got off the airport bus – and was instantly amazed. The shortish walk from the terminal to my hostel took me through the ginormous city walls, past the cathedral, and through a maze of narrow alleyways, down one of which turned out to be my hostel. The city was stunning. I’d arrived in the city pretty late at night, so rather than explore I settled down in the hostel to watch the opening of the world cup over a beer or two, before retiring to bed, eager to explore the following morning. My first impression was overwhelmingly how Italian it felt – firstly, on a physical basis, the old town is formed around the remains of Roman Emperor Diocletian’s palace, and is fantastically well-preserved, with huge stone walls, and dozens of tiny, winding alleys squeezing between beautiful stone-walled shops and houses which occasionally surprise by opening up into cute little squares, or opening into little courtyards. The sense of confusion is heightened by the food – pretty much every restaurant in town serves pasta and pizza, and little stalls selling amazing gelati appear around every corner. The final element is the huge number of Italian tourists, meaning I heard the language everywhere. The main difference though was that I was enjoying myself far more than I’ve ever managed to do in Italy so far!The only downside was the sheer volume of tourists crammed into the old town’s walls – and this was in June, before the height of the tourist season – although I soon discovered they were quite easy to avoid by deliberately setting out to get lost in the alleyways, where I soon found peace and quiet and the chance to chill out and read in one of the many lovely little cafes. A more surprising place to get away from the crowds turned out to be the cathedral bell tower – bizarrely, and inexplicably, I was the only person up there when I went, despite the cathedral and square below being thronged. The view from the top, across the red roofs of the city to the mountains in one direction, and out across the harbour to the islands in the distance is beautiful and one not to be missed. After a hot day wandering around the city, the best way to cool down was to head just out of town and along the coast to the city’s beaches. It turns out that most of Croatia’s coast is rocky – but one immediate benefit of this is that the water everywhere is absolutely crystal clear, and it felt great to cool down by jumping in. One of the best bits about being at the beach in Split is seeing pretty much everyone in the water playing the local sport of Picigin, a marvellously pointless and very athletic game which consists of a group of people trying to keep a little ball in the air. Wearing Speedos appears to be compulsory, and it all looked rather fun with people leaping about all over the place. It’s mostly played in Split, but there are clearly enough players around the world that they were advertising the forthcoming world championships while I was there!
You can see all of my photos of Split here.