Athens – Frankfurt – Croatia
Today we’re travelling again. This time, it’s a mixed journey that started at seven in the morning with a flight to Frankfurt. It’s always a fun thing to do, fly over your destination on the way to somewhere else and then turn around and come back. Lack of direct flights to Split was the cause. We could have gone to Zagreb and taken a train but booked with Expedia and so took the most reasonably priced option including all flights. On the way up to Frankfurt, I had a good view from the window, and it was clear to see that we were heading for a cold climate.
view of the landscape from the plane
Frankfurt airport wasn’t too bad in terms of transfer time, as we had a good couple of hours to kill. Just as well really because to get from A to B (literally as those were our arrival gate and departure gate areas) took 45 minutes, and yet the gates were directly opposite each other about fifty feet apart. Plenty of distractions along the way, shops, cafes and policemen with guns kept us entertained as we took advantage of the travellators to whisk us along. We stopped for a rest near our departure gate, and I salivated over some typically German sausages in buns. The last time I had one of those was in Berlin in 2007, and I was long overdue a Bratwurst, but I resisted, knowing that we would have lunch on the plane. We did, and an hour or so later landed in Croatia.
It was closed.
Well, it wasn’t, but we had the distinct feeling that we were the first tourist arrivals in Split. The airport is being extended, which bodes well for tourism to Dalmatia, were Split is, and I later found out that tourism is definitely on the increase there. Our taxi driver, Erin (male) who had been booked for us by the hotel, took us and our luggage to his swanky car and whisked us off to as close to the hotel as possible. That trip cost €40.00 which was, frighteningly, cheaper than the online offers I’d seen. It was also easier than taking the bus. We were met at the Riva (the frontage of cafes outside the old palace walls by the sea) by a helpful young chap from our hotel who accompanied us through the underground entrance to the old palace, through the Peristyle and around the corner to our hotel.
Peritsyle early season
This place, the Hotel Murum, is less than half a minute’s walk from the cathedral and city museum, and very handy for everything within the palace. This palace, in case you don’t know, was the summer retirement home of the emperor Diocletian, and over the years has been developed from its Roman origins and now looks more like a walled, medieval city, albeit a small one. We checked in with the young and friendly receptionist (everyone at the hotel was young and friendly, mainly students gaining extra income while studying complicated subjects, or saving to head to the yUK for some reason), and our room was perfect. (See my hotel review on Trip Advisor.) That done, it was still early afternoon, and so an orientation walk was in order.
One of the oldest bookshops in the world
This is when it felt like we were the first to arrive. The Peristyle (where you gather to hear singing, enter the cathedral and bell tower) was deserted, as was the Riva, just about, and many of the winding, tunnelled, narrow streets of the old town. I’ll call it an old town rather than the palace, so you don’t think we were staying with royalty or anything. It was also cold. There was snow on the surrounding mountains, and we wore our thermals. After a good wander, we stopped for a glass of wine at a Riva café – a bit posh. One of those places where the glasses are big enough for a bottle of wine, and they give you a spit of the stuff somewhere towards the bottom. Very nice it was, mind you, and only €3.40 each, with acceptable modern music played against incongruous videos from MTV.
Could do with signs like this in Horio in the summer
More walking, and, later, a shower and change of clothes, and a dinner at The Oil Bar, a place that makes its own olive oil and salt, and also sells it. I tucked into pumpkin soup and a dish of Pašticada, a traditional Dalmatian stew. That’s a beef stew from the region of Dalmatia, not a stew made by Cruella Deville. Neil had a bruschetta the size of a submarine, followed by a mass or pork, all with homemade bread and local wine. There was a quiet, warm atmosphere and friendly staff. Dinner for two here cost just under €50.00 including a €17.00 bottle of wine. There was none of that handy half-litre jug business we get here in Greece.
After that, a nightcap and a well-earned sleep. Tomorrow, we’re doing more Split exploration. See you there.
