Same Split, different day: Vis-iting the Adriatic

14/08/-21/08/2023

(We went island hopping from Split so this blog will be split into three-and-a-half-parts. One for Split and each of the islands except one which deserves the half as it was that unremarkable…)

Split, Croatia

I awoke early on the hot and sticky train to find the Croatian man was up, packed and presumably standing at the edge of the door ready to leave at the earliest possible moment. The toilet smelt like it had internally collapsed overnight so I stayed clear and shoved my sandals on. I decided I’ll clean and change later on. The Dane was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t until we pulled into a very hot Split that I realised he was still asleep above me. I nudged him gently and he sat up so quickly he banged his head on the ceiling. We bade goodbye and I finally exited the dusty train.

It was only about 6:30 in the morning and it was already glaringly hot. Conrad had given me vague directions of the hostel he was staying at but it was uphill and I felt disgusting, hot and tired so he came to meet me on the road. We settled in the quiet hostel lobby, me finally enjoying some air conditioning and took full advantage of the bathroom so I  was finally able to somewhat freshen up.

We strolled across the seafront, settling in a cute brunch place that gave me such delicious eggs, I thought of little else for the rest of our time in Split.

Our Airbnb didn’t open until 3pm and it was still only 9am at this point, so we walked around slowly, dragging my big backpack with me everywhere we went. We wandered around the historic sites of Split, amused at the huge billboards placed everywhere, warning tourists of a €300 fine if they were caught doing any of the following on what seemed a never-ending list. It was clear Split had realised they were becoming popular and were desperately reining in what could be saved, in order to avoid ending up another Ibiza. At least they were creative.

We killed time with juices in a beach bar which tasted more like water than juice but at least it kept us hydrated.  When we were finally allowed into “Split Spot” we didn’t leave for the rest of the day apart from the supermarket. I shoved every item of my clothing in the washing machine, scrubbed each inch of my body and emptied and washed my toiletries bag as my conditioner had leaked.

Feeling considerably better, we settled with dinner in front of the Croatian TV. It was difficult to find something in either German or English but finally settled on Death in Paradise. We ended up getting surprisingly into it, so much so that when they cut it short, we streamed the ending on Iplayer via my phone.

The next morning we discovered our first ‘scary’ insect. Something with far too many legs was scuttling across our kitchen floor so we popped it under a glass on the table and promptly forgot about it for the rest of the day (Actually for the rest of the stay. I think the poor thing is still there).

The Adriatic Sea really is gorgeous and so warm and as we were now finally rested, we could enjoy a swim without simultaneously using it as a chance to wash (God I was sick of hostels). After eating the biggest sandwiches we'd ever seen, we took the bus further out of Split as we figured it would be quieter. It was. But there was still little room on the sand so we were forced to settle in a beachside Mojito Bar with cheap cocktails. Oh the indignity.

Opting to try the local cuisine we walked half a mile before only finding one place which can only be described as a pub. Unable to really understand the menu we each ordered something different and received the same sort of meat but seasoned differently. Edible enough so we sipped a local beer alongside it which proved far more promising.

The next morning we had arranged to meet Jessie from Kansas (refer to Budapest blog if you’re only catching up now) who had also made it to Split. We waited at the boiling hot bus stop, awaiting our transport to the precariously placed beach spot, when we heard a shout. It was Jessie from Kansas leaning out of a passing Uber, asking the rather irate driver to slow down for us. Quick catch ups and introductions were had in the backseat as we continued down the winding roads. It soon became clear the beach we had in mind didn’t exactly exist so the driver dropped us off at the edge of a cliff and informed us if we followed the path down we’d hit the sea. Practically eating his dust as he sped off, we headed down the path cautiously. We needn’t have worried. It was lovely. And we had more mojitos.

Finally conquering my fear of deep water, I joined the other two, basking in the heat of the sun like three buoyant sea lions. Jessie attempted to take a picture of Conrad and I underwater but it turned out a mess. Rather fitting if you ask me.

Jessie sadly had to leave for work again so we began the long walk to Split and settled in a small seafood restaurant called Fife (recommended by Christine thank you). Possibly the fastest service in history, we were presented with whole fishes in record time. They were so fresh, the cook may have scooped them from the water and straight into the pan. This surprising efficiency left us plenty of time to head to the open air theatre in time for Barbie. We managed to secure excellent seats as a result.

Open air cinema is amazing (in Split at least, it may be less magical in Stoke-on-Trent), we had the light buzz of cicadas in the background while we waited for it to begin. Only once did we have a low flying helicopter interrupting the Ken dance-off-scene but thank goodness we had subtitles-except they were all in Croatian.

We both gave the film a solid score and though Conrad won’t admit it publicly, he actually preferred it to Oppenheimer. Although it did leave us singing “I’m just Ken” non-stop for the rest of our holiday.

Vis: 9/10!

The largest island and furthest away from Split is Vis, a two-and-a-half hour ferry ride from the main port. Actively closed from tourists until the 90s, unlike almost everywhere nowadays, it had remained relatively untouched. We boarded the bumpy ferry from Split, the only place available being in the scorching sun, and leant against the wall.

We soon pulled in and trekked down the seafront to find Joe and Wiki, two Sheff friends who were visiting Wiki’s cousin wedding and decided to turn it into a month of Flex buses. We found them in a seafront vegan restaurant with an exceptionally rude waiter who clearly wanted rid of us as soon as possible. We scarpered and headed to see their apartment because it wasn’t far. We bumped into their host, crouched behind some washing in the garden, smoking and looking exceptionally confused as to why we were traipsing in. It didn’t look good given we still had our bags but after we each explained we weren’t staying she unlocked the door. Despite all four explanations, she definitely hadn’t understood a word.

Now Joe and Wiki had warned us their apartment’s aesthetics were odd. But I remained unprepared for just how brown it was. Specifically their bathroom. Straight out of the 1970s, everything from the toilet seat to the sink to the bath to the shower head were a deep shade of chocolate brown. Perhaps I’m too sheltered but I thought it was hilarious.

Having clumsily negotiated a taxi to pick us up, we were greeted by Croatian’s answer to Vin Diesel who drove us down the most precarious roads to the apartment Conrad and I had picked.  Our hostess, while very nice, spoke no English, German or Dutch and having exhausted our limited Spanish we resorted to hand gestures. She gave us our key and typed something into Google translate for a while before transferring this particular phrase to a dry wipe board.  She shoved it insistently under my nose. It read, “If you enjoy stay, please leave review.” We laughed politely and she exited, locking the door as she did so which begged the question whether she was locking us in.

When we finally unlocked ourselves, we headed down a very precarious path to a gorgeous little cove. It was very sheltered so not at all busy, meaning it was beautifully clear. There were only a few other holiday-makers who threw us all incredibly dirty looks when Joe got himself comfortable with a beer. Don’t disrupt a man in his element I say.

We spent a good two hours in that sea, simply basking. Wiki had mounted an inflatable shark and spent most of it rotating in circles like a plastic rotisserie chicken. Conrad attempted a dive, Joe an underwater photo pose and me an underwater dance. Only Conrad was successful.

We closed our day on this remote island, at a local vineyard to sample the wines. The pairings came with snacks and given most of Europe doesn’t understand any form of dietary requirement, our two resident vegans were left a little hungry and Conrad and I exceptionally satisfied.

Vin Diesel swung by soon enough to whisk Wiki and Joe back to their muddy apartment, leaving Conrad and I to walk back. It was so clear, I’ve never seen the stars so bright before. I grew up stargazing regularly with my mum but even her high tech telescope couldn’t compete with the constellations we saw that night.

Supetar: 5/10

Given the weather was slowly but dramatically increasing in temperature every day (rather like the metaphor of boiling a frog in water. Except we were fully aware and wanted to get out but could not), we arrived in Supetar already a bit hot and bothered (although that may have been the hangover from a rather intense game of Dobble with Joe and Wiki on the ferry back).

The problem with island hopping around Split, was we had to keep going via Split to go the next one. So we lost at least two hours each time and the lunch place on the seafront began to know us by face alone. And all the bags we dragged with us.

I blame myself for not having researched Supetar as thoroughly as I should have. The real attraction, Brac, was on the other side of the islands and only accessible by car or a long coach. We didn’t have time for either of these so were essentially stuck in the port for 24 hours. It was a lovely port granted. But no different than any other we’d seen so far. And still so bloody hot.

Still, attempting to make the most of it, we wandered around the pretty buildings and were met by a lost teenage girl looking for the pharmacy and who apparently had no access to Google maps. We offered to accompany her and asked her about the island while we were at it. Despite being here over a week, she proved profoundly useless and she had no recommendations whatsoever. We tried to press her:

“Any good restaurants?”

“Um well they’re all good.”

“Anything we simply have to see?”

“The sea?”

We cooled off by having our first lovely sunset dip whereby Conrad attempted (and failed catastrophically) to catch a fish for dinner. With just his hand. Men have so much self-confidence, it’s horrifying.

Deciding to take advantage of the cooler conditions at night, we walked slowly back to our apartment, accidentally ending up in a resort. We thought it was a shortcut. It would’ve been had we not been besieged by children and a clown. Still, at least they let me use their nice toilets.

Our apartment was lovely (and cool). Hoping for more Death in Paradise, we flicked through the three channels available. The only program we recognised was Friends. And we weren’t stooping that low. So we called it a day.

(I’m choosing to blame the useless girl on the fact there’s not much more to write about Supetar and her lack of recommendations, rather than my inability to admit I’m wrong).

Solta: 7/10

Our last stop in Split was the island of Solta. We had our final lunch with Jessie from Kansas then headed to the port, trying for once to be early. It would make a nice change from running. However old habits die hard and while we were beautifully on time, we were in completely the wrong port. Cue the final sprint.

We’d become accustomed to all these ferry trips by now but this was the first where we were completely surrounded by dogs. They kept our spirit ups. Stepping off the boat, I was filled with a fresh wave of energy. The apartment was only 400m away. Easy.

Well, of course it was not. It was 400m UP. And half of it was one diagonal stretch straight up. It was nothing short of horrendous. A steep hill is bad. A steep hill in the heat is very bad. And a steep hill in the heat with a heavy bag and exhaustion is nothing short of inhumane. I won’t lie; I stamped my foot a few times.

When we finally made it to our accommodation, (which looked nothing short of a villa), we met our chill host who, judging by the smell, clearly enjoyed smoking indoors and pointed us to our room. He gave us a bottle of unidentifiable liquor and left us to it.

Still mentally recovering from the hill, I took a dramatic power nap while Conrad went for a walk to get some much needed peace and quiet. And food.

We spent the rest of the day in the pool. There was no-one else there apart from our host and a very indecisive cat who couldn’t make up his mind about whether he wanted in or out. We nicknamed him Brexit.

Conrad being Conrad of course could not resist the opportunity to show off his back-flipping abilities and we competed at who was the better mermaid (me obviously). We didn’t get out until darkness fell and our fingers resembled prunes.

The next morning we checked out at eleven on the dot, but as the Lionesses were due to play the final at twelve, we decided to extend our stay slightly and settled in the garden by the pool with all our bags. We had just enough Wi-Fi to stream the match and just enough shade to watch it. Our host only walked by once to clean the pool and barely gave us a second look. We were also joined by an older man who walked around in only in his underpants and set about working his way through an entire pack of cigarettes. He couldn’t speak any English but seemed harmless enough.

After the disappointing loss (If you haven’t watched the Woman’s World Cup final by now, you cannot blame me for not issuing a spoiler), we jumped in for one more splash and finally set off for the port. We still had a whole day to kill before our next night train. And it was the worst one of all. But that’s another story.

If you fancy island hopping around Split, here are my top tips:

1.     You have to go via Split each time to reach the next one. This can eat into valuable time so spend more than one night per island unless you just want to day trip it. Which you can definitely do.

2.     If you go to Brac, bring a car. Or spend longer than 24 hours there. Otherwise you will just see the port. It is a nice port. But still just a port.

3.     Don’t fall asleep on the final ferry back. It’s quite embarrassing being awoken by scary Croatian crew. Especially when both of you drifted off.