Split
Finally, we were on our way to our original destination – the place that had actually sparked the whole trip in the first place. And, typically, we had only one day there! So there was no attempt at an ambitious sightseeing schedule. The plan was simple: walk around the old town, explore Diocletian’s Palace, find somewhere to drink a Croatian beer, and generally soak up the atmosphere of this extraordinary ancient city.
We approached Split at dawn and, once again, I was up on deck to watch us sail into port. As we glided past the island of Brač, I couldn't help feeling a little emotional. Brač is my ancestral home – well, ancestral home to one-quarter of my family, anyway – so seeing it from the ship was a lovely reminder of just how far our travels had taken us from home.
These Mediterranean ports never fail to take your breath away. There are certainly other ways to travel through Europe, but arriving by ship has to be pretty high up on the beauty scale. You get to watch the coastline slowly reveal itself rather than simply stepping off a plane into an airport or emerging from a railway station wondering where the scenery went.
Split has been around for a very long time, and it certainly looks it. At its heart is the extraordinary Diocletian’s Palace, built by the Roman Emperor Diocletian at the beginning of the fourth century as both his retirement residence and a fortified military camp. He apparently wasn't one for easing into retirement quietly.
What makes the palace particularly fascinating is that it isn't really a palace in the traditional sense anymore. It has been absorbed into the city and is very much alive. Rather than being a carefully preserved archaeological site where you have to whisper and stay behind ropes, people actually live, work, eat, shop and drink within its ancient walls. Roman columns stand beside cafés, medieval buildings have been built into the original structure and laundry occasionally hangs above streets that are nearly 2,000 years old. It is history being used rather than simply displayed.
And, for Game of Thrones fans, some parts may look strangely familiar. Diocletian’s cellars were used as locations for the series, although even without the dragons, armies and political intrigue, the place has enough atmosphere to make you expect someone important to appear around the next corner.
We wandered around for a couple of hours, getting happily lost among the narrow lanes, ancient stonework and bustling little squares. Eventually we emerged into a park where we found the rather imposing statue of Gregory of Nin, a 10th-century Croatian bishop who is something of a local celebrity. His enormous bronze statue was created by Croatia's famous sculptor Ivan Meštrović, and his big toe has been polished to a shiny golden brown by generations of visitors rubbing it for good luck.
Naturally, we did our bit for Croatian tradition.
By then the heat was winning. We decided it was definitely time for a Croatian beer and fought our way through the Saturday markets, dodging crowds, bags and people who seemed to have forgotten that other people existed. Eventually we found a rooftop bar overlooking the harbour and ordered enormous glasses of icy-cold local beer.
It was medicinal. At least, that's what we told ourselves.
As we weren't leaving port until 11pm, we had the luxury of heading back to the mothership for a few hours to recover, cool down and recharge before venturing out again. A sensible decision, particularly given that the Mediterranean sun had already made its position very clear.
Suitably refreshed, Concetta, Allen, John and Lyndall headed back into town around 5.30pm. The worst of the sun had disappeared, although the humidity was still hanging around as though it had booked itself a cabin for the night.
We strolled along the Riva, Split's famous waterfront promenade, which was absolutely buzzing. The harbour was packed with boats and ferries, while the waterfront restaurants were doing a roaring trade. We were now on a very important mission: finding somewhere for dinner that looked cool enough – and by “cool enough”, I mean somewhere that actually looked as though it might have air-conditioning.
John eventually found one. Although, in retrospect, it may not have been the restaurant itself that convinced us to go in. There was a particularly glamorous and enthusiastic spruiker out the front who could probably have sold us dinner at a bus stop.
Fortunately, the food lived up to the sales pitch.
We settled in, enjoyed a delicious meal and, more importantly, enjoyed each other's company. There was something rather special about sitting there together on our final night in port, looking out over the harbour and reflecting on the trip we had shared.
Split had been the destination that started it all, and somehow it also became the perfect place to finish our cruise. We had seen extraordinary places, eaten far too well, walked miles, sweated considerably, laughed a lot and collected enough memories to keep us going for quite some time.
As we raised our glasses, we celebrated not just a wonderful holiday but a great friendship. And although we still had our final port ahead of us, Split felt like the end of the adventure – the final Mediterranean chapter in a trip that had taken us much further than we ever imagined when we first started planning it.