Arriving in Croatia midday was exciting. Unlike when we arrived in Italy, we would be able to get sorted in a new country with plenty of daylight. Of course getting into a new country requires a bit of adjusting. At our first stop to the grocery store we were met with confused faces when we tried speaking in an English/Italian hybrid. It was especially frustrating when we got home and remembered all the stuff we forgot to get. I was ready to eat something other than pizza or pasta and enjoy a break on the beaches of Croatia.
Our first stop in Croatia was Split and our location was incredible. It was on the water, in a little house, built who knows how long ago. The view was fantastic – islands, mountains, ocean, sand pebbled beaches. It was all I had hoped Croatia would be.
We spent the first four days doing nothing. We would go to the beach occasionally, avoiding the midday heat, otherwise we were sitting in our room staring out at Croatia. Some days we went for a run or to a large Croatian supermarket (almost identical to a Super Walmart).
Honest to God, walking into the large grocery store was as close to home as we had felt since March. Probably unnerving and sickening to get wistful of Walmart, but whatever.
We also managed to snag some sweet Croatian football (soccer) jerseys. There was a large soccer tournament occurring in Europe while we were traveling and Croatia was doing relatively well. I had decided the next time Croatia was set to play, we would don our jerseys, head into town, and support the home team.
While we weren’t staying in the city of Split, we went into town to see Diocletian’s Palace. It’s a former Roman Emperor’s palace from the 300’s. He died not long after it was built and the palace had been reused and reworked over time. At this point, it’s more a collection of store and apartments oddly arranged next to one another, all situated next to the Adriatic. It’s not a palace in the same sense as a standard European “palace”.
On day five, we hopped in our rental car and headed to Plitviče Lakes. It’s a famous national park and one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I did all the driving, having not driving a car in almost four months and not driven a stick shift in about six years. It was touch and go on the road early, but I eventually got the hang of it and only killed the engine a handful of times.
There’s not too much to say about Plitviče . It’s the kind of place you would regret not going. Probably the coolest thing about walking around the lakes is not the color of the water or all the waterfalls, which are both beautiful. It’s the fact that you are walking on top of the lakes the entire time. The paths are not on dirt. It’s almost exclusively on wooden logs on posts directly above the water weaving around the entire park. I was never able to get a great picture of the water beneath us as we walked, but it was incredible.
We had packed a lunch and enjoyed out picnic next to one of the lovely lakes. We stayed as long as we could and began our way back. We had left in plenty of time to arrive back to drop off our rental car.
That all fell apart though while we were talking in the car and the GPS fell over. We were on a toll road, really the only road to and from our apartment and the national park. If you haven’t driven on a lot of toll roads, you may not be aware that many have very few exits. This was just such a road. I realized we had made a huge error when the GPS said we would arrive 20 minutes post our drop off time. Before the GPS had fallen over, we were set to arrive 20 minutes early.
I was very unhappy. I did not want to spend the extra money for another day of the car. And the car could not even reach the top speed limit on the road so there was no way I was going to be able to make up the time.
Luckily, when we exited the toll road to turn back around, I pulled a quick U turn and we were back on schedule to arrive before the place closed. Turned out the GPS had wanted us to drive about ten extra miles for that U turn. I was happy. Elizabeth was also happy but probably because I stopped swearing.
We made it back in time and celebrated with leftovers for dinner.
Our final day in Split was more of the same. We sat on the beach for a couple of hours, headed in for lunch, and then lounged about. On this night though, we put our new Croatia jerseys on and headed out on the town.
Croatia was set to play the Czech Republic. Knowing nothing about either team, we were determined to find an exciting spot to watch the match with as many locals as possible. We found it at the Riva, the promenade down by the port. Full of restaurants catering to the cruise crowd during the day, every place had a TV out ready for the big event.
After scoping out a few places we settled on one, grabbed a couple of beers, and enjoyed the excitement that came along with trying to have a rooting interest in a soccer game. As we were wearing native garb, people assumed we were fans. This would turn out to be a problem.
As the game wore on, Croatia proved to be the better team. Up 2-0 with fifteen minutes to go, things went south. And quickly. Czech Republic scored to bring it to 2-1 with fourteen minutes to play. This began to annoy the local fans, and they began to get nervous. The nervousness played out further as a local news cameraman was standing around filming footage for the nightly news, I assume.
One fan in particular was unhappy about being on camera and began to accost the cameraman, who had done nothing but stand about 10-15 feet away from everyone to film. He never said anything or did anything else. Apparently, this cameraman was bad luck or some such.
As the game continued, the lead Croatia had looked tenuous. Czech continued to dominate the game, getting more chances at or near the goal. And then hooligans at the game intervened. Morons, who ended up being Croatian fans, began to throw flares on to the field. This effectively stopped the game with time still left on the clock.
So as regular time expired, extra time was added back in to make up for the flair bit. And what happened? With about 30 seconds left in the match, Czech scored to draw even.
It was a brutal blow to a team that had dominated for almost all the match. This caused much unhappiness amongst the fans. As Elizabeth and I turned to head home, a man with a microphone was there to greet me. With camera rolling, he began to ask me about the match. Of course I had no idea what he was saying, since it’s all in Croatian.
I apologized to him, explaining that I’m American and only know English. Much to my dismay, he switched over to English and asked me the same question. So now I am embarrassed and nervous.
I explained that Croatia gave the game away with that nonsense at the end, that it would have been nice for a win, but they were advancing anyway so it didn’t matter that they drew with Czech.
I had been keeping up a little with the tournament so I did know what I was talking about, I think. This interview bit did not sit well with the drunken fan who had already accosted the cameraman once. He began yelling at the news anchor and the cameraman. What he said, I don’t know. But after he began knocking chairs over while yelling and screaming at them (and probably me), they ran off.
We left too, disappointed that Croatia didn’t win and that we would never be able to find the news that night to watch me bumble my way around an interview about Croatian soccer.
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