"Sorry, I don't speak any languages"

---

I arrived in Split on a bus from Mostar, and was significanty whacked after the 6-hour ride, and the annoying border controls, where I was the only one who had to get off the bus for a closer inspection of my passport and luggage. Dodging the hostel touts, I made my way to the old town, where I had booked a cheap place with excellent reviews. I think the time in South America had given me a healthy rudeness facing unwanted attention, so I got into the habit of completely ignoring anybody who tried to sell me stuff or get me to stay at their overpriced shitholes.

The hostel was the cheapest option I could get in this very touristy city, and I was lucky enough to get a room for myself, for there were also two dorm-bed rooms, which were both full. So they put me into the spare room in the attic, accessible only by climbing up an extremely narrow and super steep corkscrew stairwell. The lady who owned the hostel had been operating it for 35 years, and her genuine friendliness combined with the affordable prices made the place a refuge for backpackers.

Realizing I was in tourist town now, I left the centre, which was full of upmarket seafood restaurants and pizzerias, and found a cheap kebab shop not too far away. The owner was a Turkish guy, who spoke a decent German, having lived there before moving to Croatia. After wolfing down my vegetarian döner, I took a walk through the old town, which was probably the most magnificent and picturesque former Roman town I had ever visited. Every narrow alley, every doorway, every cobblestone seemed to tell a story, and even if you're real sucker for details, you could spend weeks walking around and still find new archways with delicate adornments, figurines carved into the stone walls, and you would still get lost in the mesmerizing array of alleys leading nowhere.

One of the more tenacious hostel touts seemed to follow me, a red-faced old man in ragged clothes, wearing a filthy beanie, and always when I was standing somewhere, reading an info plaque, or taking a picture, he was sneaking up on me from behind saying 'Accomodation! Cheap! Cheap!', sounding like a bird with this limited English vocab. Sometimes after I took a picture, I turned around and wanted to go on walking, but stopped when I saw him sitting on one of the chairs outside a café, looking at me, saying 'Cheap! Cheap!'. After the third or fourth time, I got a bit irritated, shouting at him 'Is that all the English you know? I don't want your fucking accomodation!', but he just stared at me, not at all impressed by my little tantrum.

The most famous sight of Split is Diocletian's Palace in the heart of the old town. It was built by the Roman Emperor Diocletian in the 4th century AD, and served primarily as the place where he lived his retirement after abdicating in 305. Around the Palace, the city of Split gradually emerged and took shape, sprawling out along the Adriatic Coast. The Palace is arguably the most important Roman ruin, being the most complete and best preserved remains of a Roman Palace. Unsurpisingly, and despite the fact that it was low season and still prett chilly and rainy, the Palace was bustling with snap-happy tourists, among them - behold! - Japanese, German, American and other tour groups.

After two days in Split I decided to venture out of the city, and do a day trip to Salona and Trogir. The ruins of Salona, near present-day Solin, are again closely linked to the history of Diocletian, for after conquering the city, it was turned into the capital of the Roman province of Dalmatia, and the personable Kaiser D unleashed a bloody persecution of Christians, thus the manifold Martyr's Graves in the ruins.
I enjoyed roaming around this ancient ruined city, being the only tourist there, and even the guy who was supposed to hand out the tickets didn't seem to expect anybody, he didn't notice me, so the entrance was free as well.

I proceeded to hop on a local bus to Trogir, another incredibly picturesque town on the Adriatic coast. The historic centre of this tiny island, connected to the mainland by a couple of bridges, is very similar to the one in Split, i.e. you get all the small alleys with the typical washing hung out to dry overhead, cobblestones, stone carvings, cathedrals and small cafés you can ask for. Still, it was great just being there, going with the flow (which was pretty slow), taking the odd picture, and reflecting over a good cuppa' coffee.

That night, I had a great dinner in a restaurant close to the harbour in Split. It was one of those shanties for seamen, with cheap food and beer, and long wooden benches and tables stacked with drunk, bearded sailors scuffing their fried eggs and sausages. Surprisingly, they cooked up a pretty decent pasta, so I was happy too. The only thing that seemed to be a bit out of place were the two Japanese tourists ordering their food in really dodgy English, with the waiter barely understanding them, him being not too adept in that language either. When they finally agreed on a soup, they both ate it with big ladles, which made me gloat with cultural schadenfreude.

My last stop in Croatia was Dubrovnik. After 6 hours on the bus, I arrived, tired and grumpy, with hostel touts flocking in on me. I just completely ignored them, treating them as non-persons, for I knew about the rip-offs in Dubrovnik. Some elderly lady kept pestering me, trying to get my attention by just repeatedly saying 'excuse me', until I turned around and said 'Sorry, I don't speak any languages'. (Don't you just love it when the title appears in the book/text/film?)

So I made my way to the centre, ignoring the taxis, taking a public bus, as per usual. I didn't have a host and I hadn't booked a hostel, so I went to the tourist info to ask for cheap accomodation, and learned that the cheapest bed in town was around 25€! That is for low season, mind you, in a country where the average salary of a teacher is less than 500€ a month. I was disgusted about this, and asked if there weren't any youth hostels, but the lady told me that there was one, but that it was closed. Strangely enough, at another travel agency I found out that this wasn't the case, and thus made my way to the hostel, which was pretty hard to find, and still very overpriced at 13€ for a bed in a room I had to share with two Japanese guys.
It didn't take too long until those got on my nerves, so I went out for a walk, and got so thoroughly soaked that even my underwear was wet. So, basically, Dubrovnik was a big disappointment. Yes, I finally went and visited the city on the third day, after sitting in the hostel for two days because of the torrential rains, and of course it was all nice and great and amazing. But still, I preferred Split, for it being more low-key, less of a rip-off, and certainly not less attractive than Dubrovnik. I wanted to check my mails in the old town, and the internet café I stumbled into charged around 5€ for 15 minutes! No, I didn't pay for that, and I wasn't happy.

So I couldn't wait to finally get on the bus to Montenegro after three nights in Dubrovnik, of course only after being ripped off one last time by the scum at the bus station. Oh yes, what a great and posh destination this city is, with its picturesque harbour and all the idle millionaires on their overpriced yachts docking there, the historic walled old town with its overpriced everything, and the irritating rip-off mentality of its inhabitants, who all seem to work in the tourist industry. Maybe some know-it-alls would insist that I didn't see the 'real' Dubrovnik, but this certainly was my first and last visit to this city, and frankly, I don't give a flying fuck.

---