Train to Split

I received the same Hollywood treatment again on the train, although this time, from pure luck, as no one else showed to share my cabin with me. Since I had not slept the evening prior, I immediately plopped down on the lower bed and fell fast asleep, losing the first 6 hours of the journey. Had the 2 year old in the cabin next to mine not been so damn loud, playing with this cars and trucks and running up and down the hallway outside the cabins, I suspect I would have enjoyed several hours more. Somewhat refreshed, I pulled out my book and began reading to pass the time - only 15 hours more to go. I had pre-packed a few sandwiches from the breakfast buffet at the hotel figuring I might need some nourishment on the train and unsure of the food that might be offered aboard. A few bites here and there, a few pages more, and repeat. This mixed with getting up and looking out the open window probably twenty times, completed my day on the train. The most notable situation occurred while reading. I had folded the second bed up to allow more room for me below, not realizing that I should have attached the strap. As the train made a corner and hit a rough patch of rail, the bed slammed down onto my head, knocking me to the ground, dazed. I still have a headache from this and am hoping not to go the route of Natasha Richardson from the blow. If something happens to me, at least I can help document the cause here. Around 8pm, I turned off my lights and decided to sleep. The night went slowly as I did not sleep well, too many stops and noises at the various cities from Prague to Split. Finally, somewhere in early morning, I managed to sleep deeply enough that the wake-up know at my door at 5:30 AM shocked me into consciousness. Thirty minutes until Split. I jumped up and refreshed myself as best as possible in the small sink in my cabin. I wanted to watch the landscape and see the welcome into Croatia. My initial reaction, Croatia reminded me or Greece and a little of Turkey. Comparisons to other places seems to be the way my mind works. The arrival into any city via train can sometimes skew perception, so I held out a final verdict until I got my feet on the ground. As the train traveled along the ocean side, however, I could not help but think the place somewhat beautiful, though not elegant. When we arrived at Split train station - next to the bus station, and the port for cruise ships, boats, sail boats, ferry boats, I got a chance to see the Split, Split wants to present. This area was much more picturesque. The facades of the buildings rebuilt and the grounds more manicured than the sights I had seen traveling into the city. Tourist stalls selling tourist junk peppered the walk from the port/station area. I stopped for a coffee (yes, I have been drinking a little this trip), since I had to kill a couple of hours before my apartment was ready. At 9:30 I met Iris at Apartment Iris, the place I had found on the internet while in Prague. The apartment was upstairs, on top of another structure just off one of the main streets just west of the train station. Modest at best, the apartment suited me. I had my own bathroom, kitchen, bed, closet - all the essentials needed.

I unpacked, and after a quick nap (not even sure how I was still tired), I put on my bathing suit and headed to the water. I looked at a map which had showed a couple of beaches to the west, and decided to walk along the coast. Beaches here are not sandy; they are rocky. I found the two beaches from the map and continued after briefly stopping, but being annoyed by the noise of children and families. At the end of the second beach, I was stopped by a large natural wall that had been augmented with cement blocks to increase the impediment by 10 additional feet. Faced with an obstacle, true to form, I managed a way around it. I pulled myself up to see a deserted landing below. That's where I wanted to be - alone on the side of the ocean in Croatia. I climbed to the right, over the large wall and found myself hanging off a rocky cliff - below me, the place I wanted to be. Lucky, I am still athletic (and daring) enough to hang and hold and use my feet as the way down proved far too difficult for the faint of heart. At the final point, where I had no additional footings, I jumped, landing hard on my feet. Minus a few cuts on my knees, I was safe and sound on the ground finally.

To be alone on a man-made concrete beach-type platform in Croatia pleased me deeply. I peeled off my shorts and walked around alone in my speedo on this narrow piece of earth and smiled. I breathed in the ocean air and followed the steps into the pool someone had created to break the waves. From here, I swam through the opening into the rougher waters of Croatia. Clear, with a hint of green, I could see the rocky bottom. I made my way further into the ocean, away from my private oasis and happily floated and paddled my way for some time before heading back to shore. Back up the concrete stairs, I took a nap in the sun, knowing full well, I would regret it later (the sun does not like my skin or visa versa).

A man in a motorized row boat woke me from my nap. He wanted me to help him make land, I guess, but I could not understand his Croatian language. When he got close enough he threw me his rope, and as directed, I pulled him to the cliff side as I imagined he wanted. Once close enough, he tossed another rope, this one from the back of his vessel. When the boat was touching the rocks beneath me, he jumped up onto the platform and tried to find a place to tie his boat. The choppy water was crashing his boat against the rocks now somewhat forcefully. Deciding against his initial thought, he jumped back on board, then yelled at me to toss the ropes back inside. I did this as instructed and he was off again, back to where he traveled. He was the only disturbance to my otherwise peaceful day alone with the sea.

Getting out of my paradise proved even more precarious. The wall, from where I now stood, was insurmountable. I found a staircase to the north of me and climbed them to find a very nice, although somewhat abandoned summer house of some sort. To the right of me, I noticed a guard who was standing above where I had been sunbathing. He was looking down the 50 foot drop, watching the water crash against the rocks. I am unsure how I avoided his view (either directly below him at the edge of the ocean, or now just twenty-five feet to his north), but he paid not attention to me at all. I hastened a path toward what I thought was the road, only to find a large, locked gate and another wall that enclosed this compound. I walked the land surrounding this home, careful to avoid the guard, searching for a different way out of the estate grounds. Nothing seemed doable, so I headed back to the gate. There I found the large gate for cars locked as well as the pedestrian access locked and chained as well. The vertical bars disallowed an easy climb, leaving me with the only option left (short of getting caught and asking the guard to let me out) - climbing the wall. Luckily, I did not need to fell a tree because I found one that had grown, somewhat leaning toward the wall. I got on it, and as best I could in my flip-flops, pulled with all my strength to lift myself to the top of the wall. All those pull-ups at the gym finally did me some good. I made it up and over and onto the sidewalk in front, much to the surprise of a tiny bag lady, busing herself with collecting plastic bottles from a nearby trashcan. I made pretend I belonged and walked back toward the city center.

My first night in Croatia, I opted to make my own dinner since I realized how much I missed this ritual. I had shopped earlier that day at the outdoor large market, buying tomatoes, grapes, peppers, plums, some kind of lettuce (which tasted deliciously spicy), and onions. At the meat market, I found some meat-stuffed pasta and sausage. I thought of my friend Karni, and also purchased some local white wine for my meal. Back at the apartment, I combined everything together with a pinch of sea salt and created a feast.