Doctor Who & The Split Decision

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The Eternal Derby of Serbia phase over ............... for the time being.......... we find ourselves on the Croatia Airlines flight to Split via Zagreb for the 2^ndinstalment of Eternal Derby of Croatia phase. The Man in the Middle was absent, but the other half had been convinced by a few creative photographs of the Poljud with some blue skies and sunshine in the background. I skipped over a few random disputes on the side of a Croatian motorway and left her with the fantasy idea of carnival football in the sun. We just didn’t need a repeat of the last meeting, where Hajduk refused to play and left a stadium of Dinamo fans to watch the grass grow.

A father and son in the row in front maintained their sullen look on the flight to Zagreb and were also of a similar disposition on the next leg to Split. I had noted the reason why by this stage, as the father safely stored their overnight bags in the overhead storage bins – 2 spanking new Chelsea holdalls. The face of modern football in Europe! Here am I – can’t afford to go to Stamford Bridge anymore, priced out by circumstance and a billionaire Russian, who has taken expectation and prices into orbit. And in the row in front - two Croatians who have the wedge to fly to watch their “heroes” play Paris St Germain in the Champions League quarter final. A guy in the hotel summed it up – in Communistic times, the country was run for the benefit of all of the people and now we have 5% who have all the money.

The flight to Split was packed. The plane was also much larger than expected. It swooped down over the coast and arrived on to the runway running parallel with the coast. The airport was refreshingly empty apart from our landing. Bizarrely, the majority on the flight seemed French. Fortunately, the Croatian Airlines minibus into town wasn’t the most popular choice on the transport option front even though it was a competitive 30 Kuna. The route into town was an insight into Croatian road building and road works. The majority of the traffic was luckily heading out of the city, but it was difficult to see how the same journey would function once the summer tourist numbers clicked in. The sweep of the northern Split bay was visible to the right and in the distance the roof of the Poljud Stadium curved into it’s environment between the bay and the hill. We were soon amongst the face of communism – the tower blocks lined the artery roads. The Hajduk graffiti loomed from every vantage point. The paintings were very professional, very visible (especially high up on the 15^th floor) and on a scale not often seen elsewhere. Banksy et al would struggle to muster the level of paint these boys needed to complete their creations. A few bits of scaffolding might also come in handy. The other half commended on the artistry. It took no more than another 10 minutes to head into the main long distance bus station down by the ferry port.

The sun was shining, but the cold wind was biting. There were few people about and the majority of businesses seemed closed. The good folk of Split it seemed retreated indoors when the temperature dropped. The hotel choice was just inside the walls of the Diocletian Palace, but we somehow successfully managed to walk straight past it. The lack of a large sign with “Hotel” on it possibly contributed to the error. The entrance finally located and the formalities swiftly undertaken, we deposited the bags and were out in pursuit of our Hajduk tickets. The CroFan Shop was the official purveyors of Hajduk tickets and merchandise in town. It transpire to be a small unit in the side street just of the main pedestrian shopping street of Marmontova. The lady in the shop spoke good English and we opted for the 100 Kuna tickets just off centre in the West Stand. As with the standard Eastern Europe experience, it was highly likely that one could just wander along the stand towards the 120 Kuna seats should the mood take you. It was cash only, but otherwise completely lacking in complexity. There were no photographs, no ID requirements or membership schemes to enrol – just pay your money and take your choice. The game was also scheduled to kick off at 3 pm on a Saturday, which is a novel experience in it’s own right in modern day football. Alas the shop that sold all things Hajduk, drew a blank when it came to pin badges. A major disappointment.

We went for celebration refreshment and settled into a bar beyond the top of Marmontova. The night had become colder with darkness and sitting indoors was a rude awakening to still legal practice in Croatia of smoking indoors. The obligatory fag in the mouth polluted the atmosphere, but there was consolation in the 15 Kuna price. Pan Pivo quashed the taste of stale smoke. A spot of research revealed it was in fact Carlsberg in disguise. We had another, before a frustrating hour hunting a recommended pizza. The said venue we discovered the following day had either closed down or not yet re-opened for the summer. We finally opted for the Pizzeria Galicia, a large mainstream pizza venue which did everything it was supposed to without giving you a justifiable reason to come back the following day. An early night was in order.

The breakfast at the hotel set us up nicely for the day ahead with a plentiful supply of fruit, breads, spreads and a cooked to order omelette. The sun was blazing down and we re-traced our steps to the main bus station to catch an inter-city to Trogir. A lot of the northbound intercity buses pass through Trogir and it seemed a simple choice to spend 35 minutes on the bus getting there, rather than 1 hour 10 minutes via the suburban bus 37. The price was not dissimilar either. The 35 minutes had seemed a bit optimistic based on the traffic observations on arrival from the Airport and so it proved. We were pleased that we weren’t on for the duration of the journey all the way to the final destination – Rijeka.

Trogir proved to be everything it promised. A UNESCO heritage town, nestled on a small island, it was untroubled by the summer tourist hordes on this Friday morning. Trogir is famous in Doctor Who circles as the location for the 2010 episode, the Vampires of Venice. Trogir was used as the backdrop for Venice in 1580, presumably because it does a passable impression of still looking like Venice in the 16^th century. Whilst it is on the coast, it comes up short on the canal front so apparently the gondola scenes were filmed in the not so Mediterranean climes of the moat at Caerphilly Castle. It is open to debate quite how the little Venice subsequently also became the double of 19 century Provence in the Doctor Who episode of Vincent & the Doctor.

The Bus Station is very unlike anything in 16^th century Venice, but comes up trumps by being a 3 minute walk from the Old Town island. We bought a bottle of water from the Konzum supermarket across the road, just in case some Venetian prices had sneaked into town after Matt Smith. The Venetians had colonised this area and left behind much of their architecture, so the Old Town is characterised by narrow alleys leading into small squares. The fall of the Venetian Empire in 1797 did little to change the street scenes and the Hapsburgs clearly did their building work elsewhere. The town is easily conquered in an hour or so with perhaps the most interesting sights being those at either end of the little island – the Cathedral of St Lawrence and the Kamerlengo Fort. The latter protects the western approaches to the town. I was instantly drawn to the home of HNK Trogir, nestled neatly behind the Fort. The Baralija seems quite an impractical venue for football with the Fort at one end and the Tower of St Marco preventing any expansion behind the other goal. A few financial difficulties have meant that accommodating extra fans is not a problem that HNK Trogir will have anytime soon, as they stumble along as a fan’s co-operative somewhere in the local Split County leagues.

We opted for a refreshment on the Riva that extends along the South Harbour. This too was also a Doctor Who location. The price for a coffee in such fine surroundings was a bargain. The local ladies what lunch were out in force in the sunshine. The previous day’s cold biting wind had calmed and the only one dressed up for winter in his ski jacket was a guy doing a very passable impression of Peter Andre. On the other hand, it could have been Peter Andre. The shopping venues in the Old Town were very much focussed on tourist trinkets with coral jewellery being a speciality. We caught the 37 bus back to Split, which was actually more expensive than the outbound journey on the Rijeka bound special. The driver very precisely gave us our tickets and emphasised the word – ticket. He clearly knew that Mr Inspector would asking to see them later in the journey. The Trogir journey was in Zone 4 of the Split suburban system, so the route was obviously favoured by the inspectors. It was slow and largely populated by school kids and students, but worked well in that it gave us a chance to suss out the return to the airport by this mode of transport.



We alighted near the terminus at Sukosan in Split, which is where the majority of local buses start and finish. A vegetarian lunch opportunity presented itself almost immediately we alighted, although we didn’t realise what it was at first. We just thought it looked OK and it was good enough to see us return again during the trip. I tried in vain to translate some pre-match information in a local newspaper, but settled for studying a few photographs. The coverage was quite limited in comparison to how the local equivalent in Serbia would be built up as a matter of life and death. We finished dining and went into the streets behind to look at the home of RNK Split - Hajduk’s little brother. The Stadion Park Mladezi - the Park of Youth Stadium - was visible by it’s floodlights raided from Hajduk’s old ground in 1979. A basic bowl with an athletics track, it would look a lot less appealing if it was in a more northerly climate. The official capacity was a mere 4,075. We were closest to the visitor’s section, which seemed accessible via the front garden of the ramshackle adjacent properties. I bet they just love it when Hajduk or the Bad Blue Boys pay a visit! The other side of the ground where the Main Stand seats were located was equally inaccessible for a photographic vantage point and the security guard prevented any further incursions. I would have thought they would be grateful for any interest, but sometimes small is not always beautiful. The meteoric rise that the dire state of Croatian football has allowed RNK Split to achieve – nowhere to European qualification from 1 HNL – has perhaps not been matched in the administration of the club. There was no sign of a club shop or similar, but I would have not bothered with the pin badge anyway. The training complex over the road was equally dormant – the first team were away that night – so we proceeded further down the road towards the Poljud.

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Photos

Trogir
South Harbour

Trogir
South Harbour

RNK Split
..................Hajduk's old floodlights

Trogir
South Harbour