Diocletian's Palace - Split

Fresh, after a 12 hour sleep, I journeyed off to find new adventure. A quick right turn off the street of my apartment, put me in the heart of old town Split - filled with tourists, shops selling ice-cream, trinkets suitable for suitcases, and sundry other wares for people to drag home. Luckily, I only packed a small backpack, so no one gets anything, sorry. Not spending time searching for little items (typically manufactured in China anyway) had freed up my mind, time, and spirit to experience the place. If you are reading this blog, consider this my gift to you from where I am discovering both myself and another culture. I hope this offers more than a magnet for your fridge.

To escape the morning down-pour, I slipped down a flight of stairs in old town to find myself standing in the basement halls of an old Roman summer palace. This place, Diocletian's Palace, erected sometime in the 7th century, was actually the start of what became known as Split. The caverns in which I wandered, took my breath away. I have been fortunate enough to have seen some of the marvels of Roman engineering relating to buildings, but nothing such as this. In fact, this is considered one of the best preserved examples of Roman building in the world. Basically, I was in the foundation/basement of the palace that once existed above me. And, considering the magnificence of the basement architecture, I can only imagine the beauty that once existed above me. Over the centuries, the palace took on various incarnations and people built and re-built new structures following wars and battles and the ravages of time itself. What was thought is that people over time, dug holes into the ground and discovered huge holes (the basements) that were used for waste materials of the cities that had developed above. It was this waste that preserved the structure. In 1950, when the waste was removed, moder man discovered this hidden gem or ancient Roman architecture. I spent a little too long down in these basements and was beginning to feel a need for some vitamin D. The sun was calling.

I considered returning to the scene of my original crime - the abandoned villa from the day prior, but opted to just hit the main beach instead. I wanted to take a new route to the beach, so I followed some people carrying towels and hats up a very large and rambling set of stairs. Up, up it went. So, up, up went I. Finally, at the top, I realized I now stood almost at the top of the small mountain side on the left of the city while facing the sea port. A restaurant at the top took full advantage of the view and tourists and locals enjoyed some drinks. I continued walking the path on what turned into a hike similar to Runyon Canyon for the LA readers. I kept wondering when the road would take a turn left, down the mountain toward the beach. After an hour of waling the path, that continued at exactly the same level near the crown of the mountain, I stopped. On the ground, beneath me was an amazing army of large black ants. I squatted to watch a particularly ambitious little guy try to move a piece of material probably twenty times his size. None of his little ant friends wanted to assist him (so much for strength in numbers). I picked up the piece of leaf and carried it, and him, to the mouth of the nest. I placed him down and, after a moment to regain his bearings, he pulled the leaf into the hole. Content with my good deed for the day, I look down at the water, hearing the song of it's soul. Resolved, I knew what I had to do. I needed to climb down the mountain side.

Lucky for me, various trees and bushes allowed me to grip and grab my way down as I slid, climbed, and rolled (just a little) toward the bottom. Ill-equipped for hiking, wearing flip-flops and a bathing suit, I must have been quite the sight coming down the side of this mountain in search of the ocean. I think I was my only witness, thank God. Finally, after a few minor flesh wounds, I arrived at terra firma, a flat piece of land just behind the mansions which were built to capture the view of the ocean. A few turns and some pedestrians stairways later, I found the rocky beach. And now because of my scrapes, I needed the healing properties of the ocean. As I revealed prior, the beach scene was too family friendly for me - too many kids screaming and splashing - but I went with the flow anyway and accepted this situation. I followed and old Croatian man into the water, by maneuvering the rocky beach, then floated out as he was doing. The ocean was crisp, not cold, and I loved tasting the salt water as a tiny amount made its way past my lips. Paranoid about leaving my belongings (money, credit, etc) on the rocks at the shore, I returned to find everything in place.

I made my way back to town around 4 pm - the sun still high in the sky and warm. On the way, I passed an entrance to what looked like a private beach/pool club (I know this from my view while climbing down the mountain). Just then, two very determined and regal looking women passed me, heading through the gates. Like lightening, I caught the tail of their passing and confidently walked right behind them into the facility. Sure enough, it worked - just like in the movies. I was excited to have pulled this off because the place offered a view that took the wind from my lungs. I could not believe the beauty. There was a large pool to the left of me and I walked down a large concrete platform that hung over something and ended with the ocean itself. It was like those infinity pools back in LA. People spread their towels all over this area and were jumping in and out of the water. I continued past the ladies who so graciously provided my entrance to find a bar/lounge area with tables also sitting right at the ocean. People here were playing cards, taking drinks, smoking, relaxing. I noticed a ladder coming up from the ocean, and then a man climbed up. Then, a woman walked over near the ladder where a few giant rocks came up out of the ocean. She climbed on top and dove into the blue water. This, I noticed was the ritual. I took a table, ordered a beer, peeled off my shorts, paraded my pale speedo wearing ass across the bar, climbed up onto the rocks, made my pose, then dove head first into the deep Croatian sea. I swam happily like a dolphin until my arms and legs tired from the activity. Once up and off the ladder, I returned to my beer. For the next three plus hours, I enjoyed a couple more beers and repeated the pattern of going in and out of the water, just like the locals. At the beginning of sunset, when the sun had almost dropped behind the horizon, I made my exit, content with the brilliance of my day.