Dalmatian Cruise: Split

Split, our next port of call, was what I’d hoped to find on this cruise down the Dalmatian coast. Having read that the scenery was spectacular, we were up and out on our balcony again early on the morning of the 12th May. I missed the sunrise, but as we approached the city, I was

struck by its

similarity to Nice on the south coast of France. Palm trees lined a boulevard that runs along the water front, the harbour was busy with large tourist ships like ours, lining up to dock, and the local fishermen seemed to compete with leisure craft bustling about on the water which really was a stunning shade of blue.

From a distance everything looked well maintained, but this is an old port city. The famous palace, which still occupies a large area, was built towards the end of the 3rd century when the then Roman emperor, Diocletian, decided to retire from his position in Constantinople (he was very unpopular, so the smart move was to return to his homeland before someone killed him) and use Greek slaves to build his palace, including a mausoleum. (More about that later.)

 

 

We spent most of our time with the morning’s guide exploring this palace. Much of the area is now underground and I was fascinated to see how the former passageways are used as markets today. Unfortunately, only touristy kitsch was on sale, but Susanne and I were busy with our cameras, trying to photograph the ancient forms of the building.

I am amazed that bricks could be used to create such arches and even ceilings and that they

are still standing. The guide told us that a pile of what now looks like fallen rubble, covers rubbish that was disposed of through a tunnel from above; we later learned that it was in fact a cesspit. One hopes it was not open to the passageways as it is now.

The palace fell into disrepair after the collapse of the Roman Empire and it has only recently undergone massive restoration, but  history doesn’t show that it was actually attacked during the many invasions made on the city. The third century viaduct still carries water to the city, so despite being ruled by Slavs, Croatians and Venetians, with the constant threat of Turkish invasions during the 400 years of Venetian control, there’s still plenty of evidence of the original Roman city. Napoleon’s forces ruled for a while, followed by Austria and after the first world war it became part of Yugoslavia along with all of Croatia. The worst damage was done by bombardments during the second world war. Since 1992, when Croatia gained independence, Split has benefited from research into the history of the old town, leading to programs of conservation and restoration. The city is also now ten times its original size.

Back to us and our walking tour. From the underground area of the former palace we stepped out onto Split’s most famous square, Peristil, which is always full of tourists. I couldn’t resist having our photo taken with the young lads who, for a bit of money to help towards their studies, had dressed up as Roman soldiers. The migrants who arrived in Western Australia after WW11 were tall, but look how this fellow towers over me.

I thought we had just about finished the planned tour and wandered off to a side

building where a group of men were preparing to sing. We didn’t know what to expect and no-one was collecting money or tickets. Although the building had lost its roof, the acoustics were perfect for their a cappella performance. Before leaving the ship we were told that Croatian money was the only acceptable currency. I wanted a recording of their melodious voices to take home and had no trouble paying for a CD with Euros. I had come across this sort of requirement when cruising the Danube. Euros were supposed to be acceptable everywhere but beyond Budapest we often had problems as the only way to change funds was at the local bank, sometimes taking up to an hour. This trip I reasoned that the locals could do the exchange themselves if they wanted our business.

Susanne and I wandered back to the square to find our group still there, listening to the guide. Obviously we missed important information about the city, but were delighted to find that more was to come.

Visiting St Dujam’s Cathedral which is the pride of Split, meant stepping back into what had been Diocletian’s mausoleum. That man had tried to wipe out the Christian population in and around Split during his reign, making him so unpopular that almost nothing remains as evidence of his presence in the palace and the city. His body was removed from his mausoleum and in the 7th century it became

the cathedral. Relics of two of the martyrs, St Dujam and St Anastasius now lie under the altars erected in what was supposed to be the emperor’s lasting burial chamber.

The original roof of the mausoleum now sits above the main altar. The cathedral  is so small there’s hardly room for a congregation and with all of our group crowded inside it was very difficult to get  good photos. I waited until most of the people had gone.

We left via what is normally the entrance – grand oak doors, formerly painted in gilt and colours with scenes from Christ’s life. Andrija Buvina created them in 1214, and they are regarded as an important example of European Romanesque wooden sculpture. I love the intricate detail in the panels. We had no way of knowing how old they were at the time, but I felt their age and significance. Waiting for the other tourists to move on so that I could capture some of that detail meant I nearly lost our group. Susanne waited for me in the square and one of the men in our tour was tall enough to see where our guide had gone.

We walked through one of the Roman gates and were confronted my an enormous bronze statue. Grgur of Nin looked like a magician to me, but he was a famous bishop from the beginning of the 10th century. He tried to introduce the Slavonic language into the liturgy in Croatia. As all Catholic church services were in Latin until the 1960s this would have seemed outrageous to the hierarchy at the time. There is a belief that if you touch Grgur’s finger, your wishes will be fulfilled. The big toe of his left foot, rather more accessible, is shiny from being rubbed.

Note the grey clouds which looked very threatening at that moment. We hurried back inside the palace walls, hoping for shelter but by the time

we reached our next point of interest, the statue of Marko Marulic in Fruit Square, the skies had opened and umbrellas were not much protection. Marulic, regarded as the father of Croatian literature, was a poet and a thinker. Despite the enthusiasm of our guide, we couldn’t hear her above the noise of the rain and our interest had turned to escape.

There was none and to get back to the ship we had to walk the full length of the pier, often wading through water that covered the path. We stopped and bought an icecream in one of the little cafes on the way, just to get out of the rain. Our trouser legs were dripping, despite our coats and water ran down my back, inside my clothes.

The storm was obviously not going away any time soon, so, after finishing our icecreams, we left the warm dry retreat and tried to walk quickly along the path beside the sea. At last our ship was in sight, but that meant another head-on attack into the drenching rain.

Once inside our cabin, we stripped and had hot showers. Our trousers were so wet we had to squeeze the water out of them. Everyone was in the same situation and at dinner time it was the main topic of conversation. Groups who had opted for the afternoon tour had to miss the underground parts of the palace because they were flooded.

Up on deck to watch Split receding, the weather had turned again, enabling me to capture this view.