Croatia 2020

Croatia: The Adventure Begins

The city of Split is said to have first become a major settlement when the Roman emperor Diocletian stood down from his role and retired here in 304AD, the magnificent palace built for him in this stunning bay was therefore effectively his retirement home. We don’t suppose our arrival here on the second trip of our own retirement will create quite such a stir however; in fact, we couldn’t even get into our room.

Back home in the UK we are all still being encouraged to avoid unnecessary use of public transport so it’s a cab rather than the customary train which takes us to Gatwick. It costs £80. The train would have been £98, for two of us. Is that not ridiculous? Gatwick is unlike any other time we’ve seen it; pretty much deserted, empty check in areas, only a handful of cafes open, and a single screen of departing flights. COVID rules and face masks abound, and alongside the usual retail store “meal deal” there’s a “COVID pack”, an appetising combo of hand gel, face mask and wipes.

Let’s take a minute to praise Easyjet now, as their new COVID protocols are well thought out, their instructions are crystal clear, and the new normal, as far as Easyjet is concerned, is a new efficiency. Hats off, guys.

With a commendable degree of logic, Split’s bus station, rail station and ferry port are all in the same place and only a spit from the palace and old town, making arrival here a piece of cake. Until, that is, you arrive at the Queens Hotel, which is tucked in the alleyways by the city wall, and is indicated only by tiny wall plaques at the bottom of a concrete staircase. No neon signs or grand entrance hall here.

Once up the three flights of concrete stair, it takes us an age to get in. No one responds to the doorbell, despite our increasingly agitated pressing. A phone call to the number we have gets an apologetic response, and an instruction to “wait a minute”. Ten minutes later, we ring the doorbell again. Then we phone again. He’s apologetic, again. When we are eventually let in, there are at least three family members the other side of the door, who had clearly simply ignored the doorbell throughout the whole episode.

Our room is not as described. When we make the point, one of the three guys says “Anna will sort it later”. Later in the evening, after a wonderful meal in town, Anna greets us back at the room, confirms we have been given the wrong room, and moves us to one which much more closely matches the description. 

“It was my day off”, she explains, “and I leave instruction with the men. Three men here and they still get it wrong”.

She rolls her eyes. “Men”, she says, “are useless”. 

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Our Split Shift

Red tiled rooftops descend the slopes down towards the sun soaked bay of deep blue waters, restaurants and bars line the well heeled seafront promenade, ancient characterful buildings speak of troubled pasts and fierce pride in equal measure. The labyrinthine old town, nestling between the mostly still standing walls of the ancient palace which form a perfect square around its perimeter, oozes spirit and character from its every stone. 

Tiny cramped streets lead you to inviting piazzas, the crumbling stone gates of the old city open out on to the waterfront esplanade known by locals as the Riva, swifts fill the warm air feeding their young nesting in holes in the city walls.

There is something Italian in flavour about the elegance of Split and its people, immaculately dressed folk of all ages stroll through its lanes and along its promenades. Distinctly Balkan architecture looks down on a palm lined waterfront reminiscent of the French riviera, the multitudinous restaurants and bars buzz with activity. The food bar is raised high: there is quality everywhere, at reasonable prices, and every turning, every alley, every piazza, boasts alluring eateries just calling you in.

The hum of ferries waiting to leave port echoes across the water and vibrates through the flagstones to counterpoint the screeching of the thousands of swifts sweeping overhead. The ancient crumbling walls and shuttered townhouses speak of a history as chequered as the national flag, concealing so many secrets within their silence. 

And through all this, the deep blue Adriatic laps gently at the shore, the sun glints on the tinted glass of billionaire yachts, the sky is cloudless from dusk till dawn. Split is beautiful. Wealthy, proud, well heeled, classy. And beautiful. 

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Meandering around those tiny streets and getting lost in its maze are as much an essential part of the Split experience as the atmosphere of the Riva, as is Becvice, the city beach, and Marjan, the lofty hilltop affording wonderful panoramic views of the amazing setting. In our two full days here we have enjoyed all of those experiences, admired the playboy yachts, inhaled the scent of sun drenched pines, marvelled at each quaint piazza.

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Split is handily compact, its major sites concentrated around the old city, yet you feel it would take a lifetime to get to know every corner of the maze of alleys at its core. It has been enormously enjoyable doing just that.

Each of our three evening meals have been delicious and we could recommend each of those restaurants, but to be frank there are gorgeous, enticing eateries everywhere, so recommendations for any in particular seem superfluous. As ever, prices tend to be lower as you move away from the centre and the seafront, but you wouldn’t want to miss out on the atmospheric ambience of the best locations.

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We feel we have been lucky to be here at this time, less busy than high season would normally be, due of course to COVID. It’s pretty clear that visitor numbers are a little down, and on our last night here, a Friday, you can sense a slight increase in those numbers.

In four weeks time, towards the end of this trip, we will be returning here. The crowds may have returned by then, and the comparison will be interesting.

For now though, it’s on to our next destination, the Plitvicka Jezera, Croatia’s Lake District, where we have some hiking on the agenda. After the slightly hedonistic indulgence of Split, we probably need it!

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From The Sea To The Lakes

Saturday morning’s rainstorm has just about cleared by the time we pick up the hire car and head off on the road trip section of this adventure. With the Adriatic on all sides of the city bar one, the only way out by road is the steep climb up and over the mountains which form such a dramatic backdrop to this part of the Dalmatian coastline. 

For our journey northwards from Split, we ignore the motorways and head along smaller roads through great plateaux of green between the rolling hills, passing through quaint towns and sweeping valleys as we make our way towards Plitvicka Jezera, the Lake District of Croatia. Our resolution to reduce our food intake is completely scuppered by a detour to the small town of Udbina, where we aren’t quite sure how, but we “accidentally” order a lunch of truly gigantic proportions which will surely test the suspension of our Renault Clio hire car.

The attractive, winding route brings us eventually to Mukinje, a small village settlement close to the entrance to the Plitvicka Jezera national park. The village of Mukinje serves as a ski centre in winter and a hiking destination in summer, and appears to exist only for those purposes: there seems to be no original village.

PLITVICKA JEZERA

Spelt “Plitvice” in some sources, this is one of Croatia’s national parks and accordingly is funded by the fee you have to pay as a licence to enter. It’s not ever so cheap (£15 per person per day) and visitors are best advised to book on line before arrival as daily numbers are restricted. 

Trails here are well signposted and easy to follow; some of them are family and child friendly, with slatted wooden walkways above any rough terrain or boggy areas, and sometimes directly above the water which foams and crashes beneath your feet. There are additional longer walkways for those of us wanting more of a challenge, often leading to the best higher level viewpoints.

Again we feel lucky: there are large numbers of rooms available in Mukinje with occupancy at less than 50%, yet there are plenty of walkers on the main trails. This place must be rammed in a normal high season. Small ferries amble across the main lake, meaning you can better plan your hikes to suit your own fitness levels, and timing. 

The entire area, though, is beautiful, comprising a series of sixteen lakes at descending levels down the mountainside, the water spectacular shades of turquoise with amazing reflections of the wooded hillsides above; turquoise from above, crystal clear on closer inspection. There is no single main water course: instead, huge quantities of glinting water cascade down all of the slopes from every direction, forming waterfall after waterfall on the journey to the lowest level. So many waterfalls…

We spend two really great days walking a combination of the set trails and tougher paths, affording ourselves every angle of view of the lakes and waterfalls in this beautiful area, from lakeside to the high level viewpoints. It’s easy to see why this world heritage site has a reputation as one of Europe’s best national parks.

Our village of Mukinje has just one restaurant and a single shop, but, restaurant wise, there are gems in the surrounding countryside. One such is Petar, where the chef cooks every dish over hot coals right beside the diners. Walking this glorious countryside in endless sunshine, then finishing our day with fresh trout from the lakes grilled over those coals is just about our perfect kind of day. These two days have been brilliant.

A LITTLE PIECE OF SCIENCE 

The following neat diagram explains the natural phenomenon of Plitvice, where limestone deposits from the cascading water builds tufa ridges, which in turn form the barriers, or steps, between the different levels of the lakes. The rich calcium nature of the tufa layers spawn hugely diverse flora, all part of the stunning and unique scenery of this beautiful area.

Plitvice: Deep Gorges and Gorgeous Villages

About a 40 minute drive north of Mukinje is the incredibly picturesque village of Rastoke, which is so utterly charming that it’s difficult to know where to start to describe it in words. But we’ll give it a go….

Two rivers converge in the village, but one, the Slunjcica, enters at high level from the mountains; the other, the Korana, flows in from the bottom of the deep gorge and therefore at a much lower level. Consequently, the waters of the Slunjcica cascade down a series of waterfalls and rapids, flowing into the larger Korana in multiple places throughout the village. In fact, much of Rastoke is effectively built on islands with rushing water on all sides, islands which have been formed by calcium carbonate (limestone deposits) left by the water.

Water is everywhere, rushing between and below the houses, through gardens, cascading over rocks and providing wonderful locations for veranda restaurants. Remarkably, the respective water temperature of the two rivers makes for a stark contrast; the young Slunjcica is a cold mountain river which never exceeds 16 degrees, whilst the more mature Korana can reach an astonishing 28 degrees in summer.

Apart from the busy E1 road which runs through on a river bridge, everything about Rastoke is utterly charming, water is everywhere, either in the main rivers or tiny channels, all eventually cascading over the edge and down into the Korana via lofty waterfalls. The spray from the falls even creates rainbows in the afternoon sunshine. 

The natural phenomenon of fast flowing water made Rastoke the perfect location for water mills, and a great deal of the properties here were built for that purpose: 22 of those mills are still standing in one form or another, all built from local timber and stone. It is an impossibly picturesque place. Part of the village requires a small entry fee, in order to view the living museum which this part of Rastoke now is; well worth the visit to learn its history. 

The presence of the mills gave rise to the development of the adjoining town of Slunj, just across the Korana from Rastoke. Slunj itself is an ancient little town, and was in fact the very easternmost point of Napoleon’s empire during its short period of French rule. Looming over the town are the remains of a grain and munitions store built for Napoleon’s military whilst stationed here.

From our current home in Mukinje, the drive to Slunj traverses wonderfully lush green landscapes punctuated with limestone outcrops and deep gorges; this really is an area of amazing natural beauty with very regular wow moments. 

Since sampling the fresh trout, we have tackled the traditional local dish of peka – so much meat! – cooked over coals under a bell shaped cover; extremely succulent but a huge meal, even for two. And then trout again, on our last day here, this time in Rastoke itself.

From the quaint village of Dreznik, we hiked part of the “rutta voda”, (the “water route”), passing ancient mills and wells and descending the spectacular gorge to a point where the Korana river has disappeared into an underground course for the summer months. The whole hike was silent but for the buzz of insects; on our return to the car, the temperature gauge read 37 degrees. We were just a little tired.

So in our time here at Plitvice we have hiked two days around the lakes, explored delightful countryside and breathtakingly beautiful villages. We have seen – and photographed – some amazing wildlife, climbed the ski slope behind our guest house for great views over Mukinje and beyond, taken on hikes in spectacular locations around the castle remains at Dreznik, eaten some fabulous food. There is, by the way, something rather strange about walking in intense heat whilst looking at ski slopes and snow ploughs.

We got very lucky with the weather. Most of the drive up from Split was under cloud and in drizzle; our host Kristina told us on our arrival here that it had been a poor summer and evening temperatures were dipping to 11 degrees. Well, we’ve had none of that, every day has been around 34 degrees, endless sunshine, balmy evenings. Perfect.

This has been a wonderful few days and there is no doubt that we are leaving with very fond memories. 

But it’s time to move on. Next destination, the ancient coastal city of Sibenik.

Plitvice Reflections

By the time we reach our last night in Mukinje, we are 8 days into our tour of Croatia: over those 8 days we have walked, according to Fitbit, a total of 73.19 miles, an average of 9.15 miles per day. Michaela captured some impressive wildlife shots along the way:-

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From Plitvice To The Wonders Of Šibenik

The time will soon come when we run out of superlatives for this country, such is its propensity to thrill, surprise and charm. 

Day 9, and we leave Mukinje, Plitvice and our host Kristina with heavy heart and head westwards towards the Adriatic and the Dalmatian coast. The lush and dramatic Lake District scenery soon gives way to a spectacular mountainside drive as our road perches on a ledge way above the land below, dropping eventually to the outskirts of Zadar. From here the E8 turns south, now hugging the beautiful coastline for a different type of incredible scenery. 

We pause for lunch at the ridiculously quaint seaside town of Pirovac, straight away deciding that we must return here, such is its charm: until, that is, we reach our next destination of Šibenik, and, not for the first time on this trip, our jaws drop in awe. Šibenik is more than stunning, it’s…..yep, that’s the point where we run out of superlatives. It’s just….wow.

Šibenik is in a spectacular natural setting. When we first look out across the sea, we think we are looking at two of the nearest islands just across the water; but study of the map reveals that in fact it is two headlands, curling in pincer-style, with a narrow gap between. This gap is St Anthony’s Channel, and is the only route out to the open sea from here. Beyond this, we can see untold numbers of islands, many in the Kornati archipelago… there are in fact no fewer 249 islands in the waters close to Šibenik. 

And Šibenik itself is a lovely place. Like Split, the old town is a maze of tiny streets and alley ways, charming little piazzas, a welcoming seafront, but with, in addition, a cathedral which is an architectural masterpiece and, most dominant of all, four fortresses which between them define and shape the city’s history. 

St Michael’s Fortress sits at the highest point of the old town, indeed Šibenik grew around its presence, a second fortress sits beyond the outermost headland at the entrance to the Channel, and two more on hilltops approaching the city from land-side. Legend has it that the people of Šibenik, having failed to obtain defence funding from their Venetian rulers and fearing imminent invasion, built these two fortresses with their own hands, and stone hewn from the hillside, in just 58 days. Such was their success that the small band of townsfolk were able to defend their city against 25,000 invading Ottomans just a few weeks later.

Perhaps equally remarkable is the fact that in the Balkan wars of the 1990s, St Michael’s Fortress was still robust enough to be used once again to fend off attack, as Šibenik was the scene of some fierce fighting. It’s crazy to think, as you watch young parents enjoying family time at the waterfront here, that these same thirty-somethings actually endured a childhood amid ruthless warfare, right here in this now peaceful city.

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Modern day Šibenik is both beautiful and charming: much more modest than Split but with all the delightful characteristics of the Dalmatian coastline. It also climbs very steeply up from the seafront: there is plenty of unavoidable step climbing here!

We take a boat trip out through the Channel to the fortress, and to a tunnel through the cliff built to hide German warships in WW2; the two entrances are nicknamed “Hitler’s Eyes” by the locals. This trip gives us our first dip in the Adriatic, our first taste of the sea since Koh Lanta in February.

A phrase often seen in travel books is “hidden gem”. We can’t think of a better way to describe the lovely city of Šibenik. And now, as we prepare to leave Šibenik and head to our next destination, we are asking ourselves one big question. Is all of Croatia this beautiful, or have we just got lucky so far?

Krka National Park

As well as the many attributes of its own, the city of Šibenik is also a gateway to the Krka National Park, another spectacular series of waterfalls as the Krka river crashes down the mountains towards the Adriatic. 

To access the park, we drive to the small town of Skradin, from where we take a river boat to the falls: a wise decision, as Skradin turns out to be a charming and peaceful place in its own right.

Krka is markedly different from Plitvice. Plitvice was largely unspoilt, and clearly less popular, perhaps due to its more remote location. Around the sixteen lakes there were only three modest cafes, spaced well apart. Krka, by comparison, is a tourist trap, much more commercialised, and boasts a large central area which is effectively an open air foodcourt.

The probable reason for this is swimming: unlike Plitvice where it is not permitted, here in Krka we are able to take a plunge in its soft cool waters – although we are among the last who will do so, as from this season on, swimming will be banned here too. 

Looking beyond the commercialism, Krka is still a beautiful sight.

First Taste Of The Islands

Island hopping is going to make up most of the rest of our time here, but the island wanderlust kicks in early, and for our last day at our Šibenik base we take a Jadrolinija ferry to Zlarin, just a 30-minute boat trip away.

All we can say is, if the remaining islands on this trip are as good as Zlarin then we are in for a treat. With only an afternoon to enjoy it, we don’t venture beyond the eponymous port town, a pretty collection of old stone houses clustered around a horseshoe harbour with five or so seafront restaurants.

Crystal clear water laps the pebble beaches, both the sky and the sea deep shades of blue, a gentle sea breeze just tempering the hot sunshine. Ferries come and go, yachts bob at anchor, children dive from the quayside. The Adriatic is calm, cool and inviting. Smells of fresh fish over charcoal drift across the harbour, restaurants buzz with activity.

Day trippers like us come and go and no doubt peace returns in this huddled village once the last ferry departs; but the place just oozes charm and is one of those island ports which is exactly what you want it to be. 

Croatia: Leaving The Mainland

Day 14 of this trip is significant, as we say goodbye to both the hire car and the mainland, and head off to indulge in a bit of island hopping for the next few weeks. So it’s our first early start in quite a while, completing the 90-minute drive back to Split before breakfast. Once again we follow the E8 road, hugging the coast alongside pretty coastal towns, sumptuous bays and alluring marinas, but there’s no time to stop and stare this morning, we have a target. 

Consequently it’s only a little after 9am when we pull in to Split harbour, hand back the keys to the Clio, and take breakfast as the ferries come and go in the busy port, the largest heading across the waters to Italy, most setting off to the islands. Our first island destination is Šolta, where a bus ride across the island brings us to the beautiful former fishing village of Maslinica.

Maslinica is a picture postcard island village, clustered around a small natural harbour between headlands clad in pine and tamarisk. Our host Ante meets us off the bus, tells us all about Šolta (the island of golden honey and golden olive oil) and all about Maslinica, home to only 200 inhabitants out of season. There are apparently only three original families here in the village, and when later we walk through the churchyard, it seems as if more than half of the headstones carry Ante’s surname. Before long it also becomes obvious to us that most of the village folk look like Ante too, such is island life, we guess!

Within the first few hours here, we decide Šolta is going to be the chill section of this trip; there is something about Maslinica which is just telling us to slow down and soak up the peaceful feeling, and so we obey, and apart from a few strolls up the hills behind the village, chill is precisely what we do. 

There is a peculiar pageant twice daily though, as the half day boat excursions from Spilt call in here and for an hour or two there’s a couple of hundred extra people here. The bars fill, the craft shops do business, the noise level increases. And then, just as suddenly as it starts, it’s over, and peace returns almost before the boat’s wake has dispersed.

Swallows, swifts and cicadas have dominated the soundtrack throughout this trip so far; the birds swoop and screech morning and evening, but the incessant rasp of the cicadas fills every daylight hour from first to last, everywhere we’ve been so far. It’s a very loud chorus that accompanies every waking hour. Here on Šolta, that familiar soundtrack has been augmented by rumbling thunder as storms roll around without ever breaking, though we have seen a couple of sharp showers and quite a bit of afternoon cloud, an interruption to the endless hot sun seen up till now.

It’s back to normal for our last day though as the hot dawn to dusk sunshine returns. We take the bus to the island’s spiritual centre, the village of Grohote, before an afternoon lazing in the sun and swimming in these deliciously clear waters. Grohote has many deserted and derelict buildings, bringing to life the sad side of Šolta’s history, one of depopulation and emigration.

The population of this island was at its highest way back in 1901, after which first a vine disease which destroyed the vineyards, then the two World Wars, and finally the modern day search for wealth, has brought about something of a steady exodus of islanders. It’s a story we’ve seen before on our travels.

Thanks largely to the generosity of those who left and made money, Šolta’s wine, olive oil and honey industries have recovered – successful emigrees looked after their homeland by paying off the island’s debts to ensure this. The visiting day trippers and the moneyed yacht owners help too, of course.

The food and wine here has been wonderful, especially the fresh fish, but more of that later. Despite being truly enamoured with this place,  our time here is now done. Šolta, and Maslinica, have been another wonderful destination on our Croatia odyssey. 

It’s time for our next island.

Island Hopping Croatia: Brač

Some of the inter island ferry services have been scaled back due to an expected drop in visitor numbers during COVID, so to hop from Šolta to Brač we have to go back to Split and on again from there. So it’s an early alarm, the 7:20 bus from Maslinica and the 8am ferry, breakfast in Split harbour and then a second ferry over to Supetar on the island of Brač.

Brač a much bigger and more mountainous island than Šolta, in fact the third largest Adriatic island; our next billet means travelling some distance to the south of the island, and we’ve been recommended that the best option for this is a “shared taxi”. We have a bit of fun haggling over the fee for this and play a bit of brinkmanship as most of the minibuses disappear, but in the end we get our lift for 200 instead of the 500 kuna he first asks for. Our destination is Bol, on the south side of Brač, set wonderfully between the mountains and the sea. We meet our new host family (our apartment is the upper floor of their house), and quickly learn that they have a small vineyard, and make their own wine, right here on the premises. Promising.

Well, we wanted variety, and we’ve got it. Bol is very different from Maslinica, make no mistake. We are in holiday resort territory now, a beautiful seaside town which has long since embraced tourism, but it’s done it with good taste, cool design and maybe just a hint of class. Prices have ramped right up (seafront beer in Maslinica 20, in Bol anywhere from 30 to 33), and the trappings of the tourist dollar is evident, but it isn’t possible to destroy natural beauty, and Bol has natural beauty by the bucket load.

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The town climbs steeply from the sea, the rather lovely lungomare-style seafront is tastefully lined with cool bars and quality restaurants, leading westwards along a tree lined walkway to the renowned beach of Zlatni Rat. There are numerous other beaches here as well as this one, but Zlatni Rat is an unusual triangular spit reaching out into the sea, sumptuous clear water on both flanks. Understandably popular, the beach gets heavily busy under the afternoon sun, but is well worth a visit nonetheless.

Bol is a resort, it’s a tourist trap, but it is never in your face, it is never off putting. On the contrary, the cool, laid back, semi-hedonistic atmosphere just says, “come on, you’re here now, just sit back and enjoy”. So, of course, we do. Fresh grilled fish and a carafe of island red, anyone?

Whether you sit on a beach, on a boat, or in a restaurant, you are looking out across the impossibly deep blue Adriatic to the next island, squinting into the sun, or looking upwards at the imposing mountains towering over this rather lovely corner of the world. At the end of the day, the most popular places become popular for a reason, don’t they, and Bol is both popular and stunning.

Looming over the town is Vidova Gora, the highest mountain in the Adriatic at 778 metres – and of course, given that fact, we have to take it on. So it’s an early start to beat the heat and we’re climbing the lower slopes before even the cicada chorus has started, though they’re not far behind us. Nor is the heat, and the climb – bear in mind the start is at sea level so the 778m is climbed in full – is exciting and exhausting in equal measure. We are rewarded with wonderful views over Bol, Zlatni Rat and neighbouring islands, and have that wonderful “on top of the world” feeling, but it’s hot by the time we make it, even though it’s still not yet 9am.

The track over Vidova Gora was originally laid during Napoleon’s time here, and was at that stage the only route across the island from the north coast to the south.

We bought sensible energy snacks for the climb, and took plenty of water. Dried fruit is good for this, so the bag of raisins is obviously a good purchase: until, that is, we open it, and it’s not raisins, we’ve mistakenly bought a bag of prunes. Tasty as prunes are, there’s a number of reasons why they’re not the ideal snack for a mountain trek…

Indigenous wine and olive oil feature on every Dalmatian island, but every now and again there’s an extra; Šolta was honey, Brač is a pure white stone, not only used in jewellery but also in construction, for centuries. The palace in Split, the Reichstag in Berlin, the White House, and Liverpool cathedral, are just a few of the places built with this revered stone.

Our host family here is Dominika and her parents, Mirei and D (we can’t catch his name!). Unwinding on our balcony watching the sun go down, Mirei looks up and asks if we’d like a bottle of their home made red. As we savour this deep silky wine, Mirei cooks fresh fish over coals in a brick oven in the garden below us and the smell is fabulous. Dominika now looks up. “We have too many fish, would you like some?”. 

So here we sit, gazing out at the sunset over the beautiful Adriatic, lights visible on our next destination island, eating fresh fish and drinking home made wine, all courtesy of our hosts’ generosity, listening to gentle music. Not sure how life can get much better than this.

Croatia, COVID and other tips

Entering our fourth week of this Croatia odyssey, we feel qualified to offer some advice to anyone thinking of heading out here, so here goes…

COVID

If you think you’d feel threatened or vulnerable due to a lack of COVID rules, then it’s probably best you stay at home. If however you feel there is some overblown mass hysteria afoot, or just want to escape the “new normal” for a while, then Croatia is for you. It’s masks on buses and trains, and inside shops and public buildings, but otherwise life is absolutely normal. Locals do have a tendency to wear the mask only over the mouth, and leave the nose free! Bars and restaurants are fully functioning, there’s no social distancing, no queuing due to restricted numbers, no spacing as you board a ferry or the like. There is, though, hand gel everywhere. Life is satisfyingly normal. Like we say, that may not be OK for everyone.

GETTING IN

Before you travel here, you need to complete an online COVID questionnaire and obtain a certificate permitting entry. Once here, each host then takes photos of your passports, from which they then confirm online your right to be here. The same system therefore logs your movements throughout Croatia should tracing be necessary.

(Note though- we are reading of increases in cases here, so things may change).

VISITOR NUMBERS

In Split it was a bit quiet, in Plitvice it was extremely quiet with guest house owners bemoaning a lost season and fearing for their future. Here on the islands, there are many more visitors from all over Europe and everywhere is getting busier by the day. Whether that’s because the islands are more popular, or whether it’s because more people are escaping home, we don’t know – but our last host told us that suddenly bookings are at normal summer levels.

MONEY & ATMs

Croatia is not the cheap option that it once was. Prices vary greatly from place to place, but in general you can expect to pay around 10%-15% less than in the UK for food and drink – though in the more popular spots it’s considerably higher. 

ATMs are absolutely everywhere; we’ve never seen so many. Every beach, every village, every street, seems to have at least one, and, in city centres, they really are every few yards. A word of warning though: every ATM makes a charge of around £4 for each withdrawal so it’s worth withdrawing as much as possible each time.

BEACHES

Beaches are lovely, with gorgeous clean crystal clear water and gently lapping waves. But note: sandy beaches are an absolute rarity in Dalmatia and on the islands. If they call it “sandy”, this usually means smaller pebbles. Others vary from larger pebbles to rocky shores to man made concrete slabs, but they’re all labelled “beach”. 

BEER & WINE

Croat beer is ubiquitous, mostly in three brands, Karlovacko, Pan and Ozujsko. They’re all OK, but the draught versions are infinitely better than their bottled equivalents. Not only do prices vary greatly from bar to bar and town to town, but some places charge around 80-90% of the price of a 500ml glass, for a 300ml glass. Check carefully, it might be better to order a big one! The freebies you get elsewhere in Europe (nuts or crisps with beer) are unheard of here, as indeed they are in the UK.

Wine is just too good to be true. Nearly all restaurants have only Croatian wines on the menu, and imported wines are rare and probably confined to splurge eateries and swanky hotels. You don’t need imported wines, the home grown stuff is not only outstandingly good, but varies in style from vineyard to vineyard and island to island, so every one is different. Our tip is: just go for a carafe of the house red or white – they will serve you a half or full litre even if it’s not on the menu, and it’s always good, and often cheap. They call it “domestic wine”, so ask for that and you’ll get a treat. (By the way, the Croat name for red wine is “Vino Crno” which is actually “black wine”, not red!)

FOOD

Well really, you can’t go wrong. Grilling over wood or charcoal is the usual prep method, for fish and meat, and everything is fresh. The fish and seafood is wonderful, if sometimes surprisingly pricey, the meat always tender. Local specialities such as peka (meat cooked under a bell), pasticada (beef soaked in prunes before cooking), seafood in buzara sauce, brudet (fish stew), gregara (fish in white wine) and the heavily smoked and salty Dalmatian ham are all delicious. It’s herbs more than spices though, so if, like us, you like it spicy, you might start craving a curry! If all else fails, pizza is available absolutely everywhere: actually, the Italian influence is pretty strong throughout Dalmatia. Last word: everything is so good that even the tap water is nectar! 

NATURAL BEAUTY

Well….read any part of our blog. Croatia is a stunningly attractive country with so, so much to offer. Every single place we have visited has been lovely. No exaggeration. 

Croatia Island Hopping: On To Hvar

Our departure from Bol is so cool that we can’t stop smiling. The only boat service from Brac to Hvar is a catamaran which sails in the evening, a bit later than we would like, and with no outside deck to enjoy. But our wonderfully helpful hosts tip us off that one of the excursion boats, the Andrija, is skippered by a guy who lives on Hvar, and so, each afternoon when his excursions for the day are done, he heads home with his boat. If we can catch him, he’ll give us a lift.

And so it is that we find the Andrija, cadge a cheap lift on a classy wooden vessel, and arrive on Hvar island a good two hours ahead of the ferry. For both of us, this is our first ever experience of nautical hitch hiking! 

For our stay on the popular island of Hvar, we’re shunning the main Hvar Town with its party and clubbing reputation, and instead head for the ancient town of Stari Grad (translation: Old Town). Old it certainly is, with a history going back 2,400 years with Greek, Roman and Venetian rulers all part of its history.

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Yet again the setting is sumptuous. Stari Grad sits deep in a narrow sea inlet, which is so narrow that in the town, the harbour looks more like a Venice canal than the reaches of the sea. Around this inlet is a beautiful small town in which cobbled alleys open out into tight piazzas, ancient stone buildings look down on to 300-year old stone walkways, bougainvilleas cascade from balconies and staircases. 

Our apartment sits high above it all, the views from our balcony absolutely stunning, the narrow water inlet backed by spectacularly steep green hillsides beyond. We don’t know how many times we’ve been wowed by Croatia, but Stari Grad has done it again.

So Day 1 here is spent mooching around this amazing place and climbing to the tiny chapel on top of the hill overlooking the town. Day 2 is a bus ride to Hvar Town, where we see no evidence of the glitz and club atmosphere detailed in guide books, just another gorgeous and historic coastal town full of impressive sights. A castle looking over the town and guarding against invasion; one of Europe’s very first baroque theatres (like a miniature Albert Hall); a classic square (St Stephens) and an ancient city quarter built into the steep hillside. And below it all lies the harbour with its playboy reputation where launches equipped with jet ski, power boat and Land Rover are outdone by the really big players who sit anchored outside the harbour with helicopter on deck.

When the bus pulls back into Stari Grad, it’s 5pm, and still 35 degrees. We’re 24 days into this trip and it’s topped 30 every day; we’ve also only seen three short rain showers in that whole time.

For Day 3 we hire a Clio again and take a road trip to explore the island. Two things we haven’t mentioned yet are lavender and the bora. Alongside olives and grapes, lavender is the third crop harvested throughout these islands, and although we’ve missed the colourful flowering season, lavender products are sold everywhere. 

The “bora” is the island wind, which is unerringly reliable as the afternoons unfold. Even on the hottest, stillest of days, a breeze starts to appear around 2/2.30pm, and the baking sun is tempered by it. Some afternoons see restaurant owners taking down the parasols and shopkeepers dismantling stalls; on other days, it remains no more than a pleasant gentle breeze. But in one form or another, the bora arrives, every single day, with total predictability.

The road running along the spine of Hvar island follows the highest ridge, and is at times a little testing on the nerves. Either side of the narrow roadway is a ten foot drop to the olive groves, with no barriers and no extra width to the road: you’re effectively driving along the top of a concrete wall. With S-bends. And oncoming traffic in the middle of the road. Most drivers are respectful of the dangers, but still every now and again there are smashed door mirrors laying in the road, just to unnerve us a little more.

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On the top of the island (Clio really didn’t like the climb!), we call in at Humac, a 200-year old village which has only ever been inhabited at harvest time and lays silent for the rest of the year. As a consequence, buildings from the early 19th century remain untouched. It’s utterly deserted and we meet no one; only cicadas break the silence, but the air is heavy with the delicious sweet scent of wild herbs and lavender.

Vineyards, olive groves and pine forests dominate, but otherwise the island interior is a little devoid of civilisation. The map shows place names in bold type, but in reality there is precious little there and we struggle to even find a shop or a cafe.

Undoubtedly the best places are on the coast, and so our drive brings us finally to yet another simply charming location, Vrboska, sitting at the end of a sea inlet even more narrow than the one here at Stari Grad. So narrow that quaint footbridges link the two sides, while tiny cottages face each other across the water evoking images of Burano, before the village marina parts the pine clad shores and opens out into the Adriatic. Yet another little piece of paradise.

Stari Grad remains our favourite spot on the island, despite the beauty of Vrboska and the verve of Hvar Town. The views from our balcony are just stunning, the town itself is simply another beautiful and charming location, and we are just a little sad to move on.

Fittingly though, our last night in Stari Grad, and the restaurant Pinetta, delivers probably the best meal of this entire trip, and that’s really saying something. We opt for two of Dalmatia’s classic fish preparations: brudet and gregada. Both dishes are absolute wow territory and the quality of the wine just finishes off the whole thing. It’s a fabulous way to end our time in this lovely town.

We’ve always said that, when travelling, it’s good to move on while you still love a place. That is certainly what we’re doing here: Stari Grad is beautiful and we would love to linger. But there’s a whole world out there….

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Croatian Islands: Korčula

It’s only 6.20am in sleepy Stari Grad but there’s drama at the bus station as we await our early morning ride. An irate elderly couple pull up in their car and accost two females waiting for the same bus as us; a row ensues, money changes hands and the couple speed off. We can only conclude that the two females have exited their guest house without settling their debts: how incredibly rude, if we are right.

Drama over, it’s breakfast at Hvar Town port and then the early catamaran to our next island destination, Korčula, where we are met by our next host Tonci and taken to our seventh home of this Croatia tour, and once again we have sensational views from our new abode.

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We are based in the main town, also named Korčula which amongst other things revels in being the birthplace of Marco Polo. Or so they claim, though historians doubt it and the evidence is sketchy, based on the fact that his family was captured here in Korčula, during a battle between the Venetians and the Genovese which took place sometime roughly close to his birth. His “house of birth” is now a Marco Polo museum, not allowing ambiguity to get in the way of a decent claim to fame.

Islands are scattered all around us in the bay outside the town, though the mountains towering opposite across the waters are actually on the mainland, being part of the Peljesac peninsular which stretches a remarkable 90km out to sea from further south. It’s a striking geographical feature which looks like this:

Korčula Town is an ancient walled city with large sections of the city walls and towers, and two of the grand city gates, still intact. It’s a little like a mini Dubrovnik, sitting proudly out to sea with St Marks Cathedral perched at its pinnacle. Character wise, Korčula is holiday friendly, with a succession of tourist style restaurants strung along the veranda constructed on top of the city wall and looking out to sea: all extremely attractive but not as authentic as our other stops on this tour. Rather than grilled fish over open wood fires, it’s pizza overkill. Of course, there are good authentic places (Dida is our favourite find) but you do have to go looking for them. Dida seriously delivers though: it’s back to watching your meal cooked over the wood fire right in front of you, it’s back to gloriously fresh fish and seafood and vegetables soaked in the delicious Korcula olive oil.

The plus side of a holiday friendly base is of course that there is plenty to do. Our own indulgence in Korčula’s delights are

• Taking a water taxi to the village of Lumbarda, which actually has a couple of genuinely sandy beaches.
• Climbing the hill behind the town to Fort Wellington, built by the British. We seem to have climbed hills up to forts fairly regularly on this trip!
• Exploring the steep narrow passageways of the old town and walking the city walls.
• Taking the short ferry ride to Peljesac peninsula on the mainland to visit the lovely little seaside town of Orebić.
• Enjoying copious quantities of the very good local wines, especially on the very well constructed wine tour which takes you to several of the island’s vineyards to sample wines, liqueurs, olive oils, cheeses and honey…and the tastings are in generous proportions. We learn a lot about the local varieties, the history of the unusually shaped grapes which go to make the renowned Posip wines, how the Grk wine is better in one village than another, and how the island is better for whites, the Peljesac peninsula for reds. 
• Climbing the cathedral bell tower and a city wall tower for great panoramic views of the town and other islands.
• Spending a quirky hour in a so-called “semi submarine”, sitting in a cabin about 5 feet below the surface and observing marine life through large windows. The size of the shoals is incredible, the sheer quantity of fish amazing. Just the sight of the sea bed is an experience, enhanced by the brilliant shafts of sunlight dancing through the water. 
• Sheltering from a colossal thunderstorm which turned the narrow streets of the old town into raging torrents.
• Sipping cold beers on the city wall balcony in the evenings, looking across the sea to the lights of Orebic twinkling in the warm air.

 Korčula has been our longest stop in one place on this trip, with precisely one week here and, like all the other destinations on this Croatian journey, has been lovely. Slightly more touristy than some of the others, but lovely nonetheless.

And as we approach our final day here before returning for our final few days in Split, news breaks that Croatia has been removed from the UK travel corridor list, meaning we will now have to quarantine for 14 days on our return. For the joy of discovering different parts of this beautiful country, it’s been well worth that inconvenience. 

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Split: The Role of Hajduk

Being a big football (soccer) fan, I’ve always been fascinated by the role of a football club in cultural history: there are great histories here which tend to pass unknown to non-football fans, stories which far transcend the game itself. The reason Barcelona became so big, and the part Espanyol played in that story, is a stirring tale on its own.

The history of Hajduk Split tells a parallel tale to Barcelona, in as much as, during times of extreme political oppression, the football club became a critical point of identity when such individual nationalism was prohibited. During the long years of communist rule and the enforced unification of Yugoslavia, Croats were forced to conceal their pride and hide their history; hide, indeed, their identity. They were, officially at least, Yugoslavian, and not Croatian. But, as history has repeatedly shown us, you can’t change what is in people’s souls.

Like the Catalans of Barcelona during Franco’s strangling reign, Croats generally, and Dalmatians in particular, used their football club as their vehicle for pride and identity. By sporting club colours, they were able to display Croat pride in the only public way they could, albeit partly clandestine. Hajduk was a byword for the stifled nation of Croatia.

As a legacy, the club badge appears in many forms throughout the city and region to this day: in the form of graffiti, in the form of official artwork, and even, for goodness sake, on sugar sachets:-

You will also see “1950” emblazoned everywhere, even etched in stone on mountainsides. 1950 was the year that the “torcida” was formed: the Hajduk “ultras” who dared to push their Croat pride through unity with the football club, even during the most oppressive periods of Tito’s communist regime when such a stance was both illegal and dangerous. The torcida still exist to this day.

Wandering into the Radunica neighbourhood in Split, we found ourselves in one of the original torcida heartlands, home to this rather wonderful street art:

In the nearby village of Kastel Stari, we came across this rather brilliant street art, depicting the torcida ultras in defiant pose, presumably from that communist era:

Football crowds here may not match the numbers back in England, but the fierce pride is still very evident. The club badge, like the iconic chequered shirts of the national team, has become a symbol of freedom from repression.

Last Days In Croatia: Back In Split

For the last time until we start the journey home, we don the backpacks and trudge through the streets, this time in the half light just before dawn. Korcula rubs its eyes and awakens, swifts and swallows start to swoop and call, the Adriatic is as calm as a lake as our catamaran pulls away from the quayside.

Korcula Town looks beautiful as we wave goodbye to the islands, as alluring at dawn as it is as evening falls. Just under three hours later we are in Split ferry port, breakfasting alongside the ferries for the third time in these past five weeks.

It feels good to be back here. The Riva, so reminiscent of a French Riviera seafront, is lively and atmospheric and as attractive as we had remembered. Split feels strangely familiar, more familiar than we expect given that our first stay here was only a couple of days.

Some people dedicate their lives to the strangest of pastimes. Take taxidermist Ferenc Mere, who spent a decade of his life, from 1910 to 1920, preserving and stuffing dead frogs, which he then shaped to mimic human forms and created all manner of scenes. The result is a bizarre museum called, predictably, Froggyland, which houses displays of these frogs in poses varying from construction sites to dancing classes, sporting contests and chamber orchestras. It’s a weird and humorous place. Unfortunately we weren’t allowed photographs, so the examples below are from the internet.

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As our return to England and the onset of quarantine beckon, we take the train out to Kastel Stari, a pleasant little seaside town on a shoreline which once sported 16 fortified castles in a 12-kilometre stretch. Works are ongoing to gentrify these small towns into coastal destinations, and they appear to be making a decent job of it. We also land the cheapest beer of this entire trip, at 18 kuna for a half litre, meaning the price range has been 18 (£2.25) to 37 (£4.62) for the self same beer in similar bars. That’s some price range.

As you wander around this country admiring its ancient and natural beauty, it’s hard to imagine the brutal warfare which took place here less than 30 years ago as Yugoslavia disintegrated. Yet for many here the scars must still be raw. There are, of course, memorials commemorating both the dead and those seen as heroes. Kastel Stari is home to this startling mural depicting those atrocities, which culminates in a series of gravestones bearing the Croatia flag. It is extremely evocative:-

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It’s become humid by afternoon, and thunder rolls around for many hours until breaking into a huge storm in late evening, providing a fabulous lightning display to accompany our delicious Dingac wine.

For the final full day of this splendid 5-week adventure we take a lunchtime boat from Split to the ancient town of Trogir, where we complete what we could call a clean sweep, in that every single place we’ve been to has been fabulous. Trogir, first settled by the Greeks in the 4th century, is a startling collection of seriously well preserved ancient buildings, including castles, a cathedral and palaces. It’s possibly the best preserved of the ancient cities we’ve seen throughout Croatia, and that’s really saying something.

To cap it all, the compact centre, being the original town of Trogir, is actually on a tiny island separated from the mainland by a narrow sea canal, making it all completely charming. Quaint bridges connect the old town to the newer part on the mainland, and to the island of Ciovo on the other side.

And so our five week tour of this wonderful country comes to a close with one last terrific fish dinner (probably an even better gregada than before) and one last bottle of delicious wine. There’s one last pint of draught Pan beer en route to Split airport and our time is done.

Croatia has been an absolute revelation and we have loved everywhere, seriously. Rarely do you visit quite so many delightful places on a single trip to a single country; yet ironically, if it hadn’t been for COVID and those travel corridors, we wouldn’t even have been here this year.

And that’s the thought we will carry with us into our 14-day quarantine.