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A member of the EU for just over a year now, Croatia harbours
many European wonders. Majestic, rich Roman history, an incredibly well preserved
palace and hidden Adriatic wonders amid relatively unspoilt islands, I take a
breath of fresh sea air in Split, on the growingly popular Dalmatian coast of
Croatia. What was it about Split that Diocletian found so appealing to build a
palace there?
A rowdy, restless stag group and a few rows of talkative
Americans behind me; seemingly seasoned travellers to Croatia from what I can
hear over the loud beer induced ‘whoops’ from the Welsh revellers. If a
destination could be judged by the passengers descending on it, I’m not quite
sure what to expect.
Croatia is still young as far as established tourist
destinations are concerned. Joining the EU might be another leap onwards from
the often still raw sensitivities and hangovers from the brutal Croatian War of
Independence of the nineties. Prior reading about the dangers of potentially still
active landmines (although primarily limited to rural areas) and public
sensitivity to discussions of war emphasise this.
Roughly half an hour from the airport by coach I reach Split
harbour, and then a short taxi ride to Podstrana. The staff at Le Meridien Lav
are very welcoming, and I am stunned by the view from the lobby of the Adriatic
coast. The hotel room is spaciously comfortable, and it becomes more obvious
that the typical clientele of this hotel are the ‘yachty’ type: the sailing art
in the room, the yacht magazines, the marina and, perhaps, the majority of well-heeled,
smartly dressed guests, all oozing an air of nautical reminiscence while manoeuvring
towards the champagne bar.
Enjoying the late evening warmth, spectacular sunset and a
cocktail at the hotel’s own beach, I’m left with a pleasant and relieving first
impression – no rowdy stag groups to be seen just yet.
Split is considered to be roughly 1700 years old, an age
derived from the construction of the Emperor Diocletian’s Palace in 305CE. What
better way to get to the most widely conceived root of the city than starting
with a wander around one of the oldest and persevering Roman ‘ruins’. Back in
305CE the walled encampment would have been heavily patrolled and governed by
the Emperor, but now, under UNESCO protection, it’s very much under control of
the Croatian people who live and work within its limestone walls.
I arrive at the harbour via the hotel’s shuttle bus service,
and make my way around to the Riva, Split’s modern waterfront opposite the
palace. From here, those looking to discern a distinctive ‘fortress’ may be
disappointed, as the palace is now so well incorporated into the local
architecture, shops and restaurant fronts, and with its sheer size is
impossible to identify as a block-like structure. In fact, only portions are
reminiscent of a military style encampment, such as the basement level entrance
I traverse after crossing the street. In fact, the intricate and detailed
architecture, homely and florally adorned buildings are welcoming. I feel like
I am emerging into a small town of luxury villas rather than a fortified
palace. A few posters promote the fact that the palace is being used as the set
for the new season of ‘Game of Thrones’, which I am yet to see, but can
understand why its historical, unique and wholesome architecture might appeal
to film crews.
I emerge at the top of some stairs into the Peristyle, a
large impressive court, surrounded by Roman brilliance: towering columns, the
oldest and smallest cathedral in the world, Cathedral of St Domnius on my right,
exquisite limestone building fronts and a few ‘Romans’ themselves, cashing in
on the authentic atmosphere.
I peer past the hordes of tourists posing with the guard’s
modern counterparts; red caped, smiling and most likely less scrupulous than
the real thing, and look up at the spectacular cathedral and bell tower. Punctuating
the entrance is an imposing sphinx figure, beheaded, but yet strikingly well
preserved for an imported Egyptian artefact over 3000 years old. The sphinx
offers apparent protection from the holy space within.
The cashing in continues behind me as a mock address from a
costumed Emperor draws tourists into the court, as he waves to his ‘followers’.
I depart the Peristyle and wander around the well-worn cobbled streets. An
excavated area reveals elaborate tiling from the Roman bath, a sign that
despite its almost immaculate condition, the Palace had even more delights to
showcase in its Roman past.
I notice the fresh, uplifting sea-air cascading in from the
Adriatic through the ‘windows’ in the palace walls. No wonder this place was
long hailed for its health benefits throughout the ages. It really is
invigorating.
More cashing in ensues as I enter a captivating tall circular
tower, the blue sky filtering in ethereally and illuminating an intricately
detailed archway. An all-male bellowing band then descends on my position,
filling the acoustically generous space with just-about-tolerable music, before
brandishing their CD like a threatening weapon.
I escape through another gate which takes me outside the
palace, and here I am informed I should touch the toe of bronze statue for good
luck, currently concealed by scaffolding. I oblige, of course, and from his
vantage point I can see more clearly the incredible stature and strength of the
palace walls.
Beachside dining, cocktails and swimming sums up the rest of
the day, followed by a mini-adventure in a paddleboat the following morning. I
hadn’t quite expected Split to be so scenic, in fact I’m pretty sure that I had
previously associated Croatia with Eastern European concrete blocks and
inevitable hardships after the war, but sitting off the coast in a paddle boat
it certainly looks like an undiscovered paradise.
Marjan’s peak is marked by a large cross and a Croatian flag.
I am back at the harbour, and spying the cross from here, Split’s huge forested
park area looks vast, and the peak seemingly hours away. A general sense of
direction vaguely guides me through the narrow, storybook streets, and before I
know it I am at the gates of Marjan. I wonder why it’s necessary to have an
armed guard at the gate, as I pass nonchalantly and up the winding path to the
peak. Tantalising glimpses of the distant hills, glistening Adriatic sea and coast
can be seen through the trees. The occasional outlook offers another glance and
a welcome rest.
Passed by easy-gliding cyclists, hurtling downhill, I reach the
foot of the steps that will take me to the concrete platform at the top. The
giant cross dominates, and the Croatian flag at the top looks proudly
authoritative when framed by the still blue sky. I walk around the perimeter,
snapping a few shots with equal pride that I may have burned off a few of the
beachside cocktails.
Downhill is less arduous, and a long direct series of steps
makes the journey back to Split town even quicker. The terracotta,
sun-defending roofs and limestone spires visible below lessen the feeling of
leaving unspoilt woods for urban sprawling chaos, but instead for a laid back
Adriatic gem.
I witness a very public wedding back in the palace, marked by
the launching of bright flares all around the Peristyle, further highlighting
the palace’s longitude of life. This certainly isn’t a moth-balled poorly
preserved ruin. I head down into the basement to see its underbelly.
A sculpture exhibition and a ghostly lack of tourists makes
the caverned rooms feel a little creepy. Water cascades down moss covered
ceiling and walls as I skip over puddles – a far cry from the level of preservation
upstairs, but a reminder of the true age of the palace. Several cats and
kittens also seem to be making good use of Diocletian’s old haunt.
Perplexed by a multitude of island hopping options, Hvar is
my destination the next morning. Split has many neighbouring islands: Brac
seems to be the most popular option, with Hvar heralded as the more
‘naturistic’ and laid back to the south, and party central to the north.
The ferry departs Split harbour promptly, and affords more
spectacular views of the Adriatic coastline, passing many yachts and enticing
emerald-watered retreats abound during the two hour journey.
Disembarking, there seems to be only one main path to follow
around the rocky coved beaches. The serenity at the south of the island appears
to attract like-minded people, hopefully with little chance of bumping into
those stag doers here…
Eventually I reach a harbour, tucked away behind buildings so
endearingly European, quiet and storybook-like, it’s almost like discovering some
pre-meditated movie set of spontaneous, effortless yet precisely perfect construction.
I imagine I’m waiting to hear somebody yell ‘action’, and witness a glamorous movie
star step off an arriving yacht.
I stop for a wonderfully prepared lunch by the water, and
then delve in further to the ‘movie set’, yet there is no false backing – in
fact the back streets reveal further delights, including a virtually hidden
cathedral and court.
Further on, the area becomes more wooded and secluded,
harbouring a few small bays, bars and areas for sun-worshippers. Seeing the
ferry port from the other side, I realise just how far I have to get back to
the ferry, and slowly make my way back, stopping here and there to sit by the
water and absorb the tranquillity.
My taste of Croatia, though limited to this coastal area, has
transformed my warped ‘old-school’ view of this part of the world, from
high-rise blocks, language barriers and post-war hang-ups to stunning Adriatic
vistas, wall-to-wall summer perfection, immersive Roman experiences, tranquillity
and class galore. Diocletian made the right choice.
