A Geek, A Doctor and A World Heritage Site

When it was time to move on from Split, I had something especially geeky planed. Trogir. Croatian town, UNESCO World Heritage site, Doctor Who set.  

To explain, I suffer from two conditions that led me to this small harbor village.  First, a love of the British science fiction show Doctor Who.  Second, periodic insomnia.  The convergence of these two habits is me cursing through endless IMDB and Wikipedia links until I end up in the oddest of places. One such nocturnal prowling dumped me onto Trogir.  

A brief history.  Trogir was founded by Greek colonist who named it after a goat, specifically a male goat.  After that whirlwind beginning the town settled down for 1,000 years or so until it partnered with the Zadarians from the north against the Genoa's in the south.  Together they formed up a new province

in the Venetian Empire.  It is from this time period that most of the existing buildings date from, creating the best preserved medieval city in Eastern Europe.   

For the next 500 years it belonged the Venetians and maintained close ties with the Italians across the Adriatic, as well as the Serbs and Croats to the East and South.  In the 18th century the Venetians fell to the Hapsburg Empire, because nothing says Austria like 100 degree weather.  Shortly after that (300 years or so) WWI came around and Trogir became part of the new Yugoslavia.  Then that broke up and twenty years later a bunch of pasty British film kids turned up and filmed a ridiculous science fiction extravaganza, subbing Croatia for France and Italy.   

Clearly, neither photo is from my travels.

The BBC filmed two episodes of the 5th season in and around Trogir.  The first is a poignant episode about the Doctor and Amy trying to save Vincent Van Gogh from himself and a monster that vaguely resembles a Giant chicken.  The other is about vampires.  

My day started back in Split at the bus station.  Michael and I happened to be heading the same way, me to Trogir, he to the Split airport and then onto Rome to meet his family.  He had that amazing Australian luck to be able to travel for months at a time, 8 months in his case.  As we cruised north through the rough, yellow Croatian hill country we talked of The Game of Thrones series and Michaels time selling supper high end refrigerators.  The airport stop was first, marked in typical Croatian style with a half shack and a small sign with a plane on it.  As a side note, Michael is in France at the moment, and I try not to hate him and everyone else who is still traveling whenever I see a new Facebook post from them.  I often fail.

I have no idea how far Trogir is in actual miles from Split.  I know its an hour bus ride, I know it three dirty looks, two attempts at flirtation and one misadventure with the bus driver and money.  For you see, distance and time apear totally unconnected on the bus systems of Croatia.  There can be a stop every half mile or ten miles.  People can just wave to get off, if you lose your ticket you will have to repay, and if everything really goes to heck, just smile a lot, start apologizing and leave.    

Trogir was the last stop on the municipal bus line, which made it pretty easy not to miss.  Into the locker room my bag went, I put a water bottle in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other and began to explore.  The first thing I noticed is a few small water crafts tied to the harbor walls.

Boat envy in 3, 2...1

Being very hungry, and having had a cheap day previous day, I opted for a nice lunch along the harbor.  Croatian food has none of the built in heat copping methods that other culinary traditions have developed, such as salads, antipasta or dolmas, they have meat, they have potatoes and they have pizza.  I think they have imported the pizza.   After conferring with the waiter for several minutes, we settled on what he referred to as the light lunch. 

HAHAHA

Above is a brisket that has had bits of garlic, carrots and other vegetables inserted into it before cooking and gnocchi, all smothered in wine sauce and fresh basil.  It also came with a beer, all for roughly $16.  Not bad for roughly million calories and view like this.

Now the food was good, don't get me wrong.  The wine sauce was especially something worth remembering, but it was over 100 degrees that day and the food felt like a rock inside me.  I would have been perfectly happy stretching out in the shade like a cat and taking a long nap. But determination to explore won out and I began to move, albit veeerrry slowly.    After all, I was hear to see the town.  

And what a town.

You just have to not get lost!  Eventually I navigated my way back to the main square and took up space on the stone bench outside of the town hall under its medieval era front porch.  The roof that once sheltered petitioners, business folks and town gossips now played host to tourists, all looking for break from the sun.  Most followed my lead and carried a liter and a half bottle with them at all times.  These bottles were my constant friends for the entire time I was in Croatia.  The only issue presented by these was the constant struggle to keep them filled and not louse them.  

This afternoon I struck up a conversation with an Italian woman named Maria who was in advertising.  She was on one of her 6 weeks of paid vacation she got every year and was planning for the 6 months of paid leave she got every 5 years, which was coming around in soon.  I think I figured out why Italia might be in a financial pi.  

Anyway, we had a lovely chat about all the different places we had been and traded stories about this and that, gossiped about the people drifting by, and sipped on our water bottles.  Then we watched as 35 Chinese tourist crowded onto the porch, stared at the ceiling and then disappeared down an ally.   Deciding that was as good a spot as any to part, we bade each other ado and headed in different directions

It is lovely 

From the porch, I crossed the plaza and headed into the church of St Lawrence.  While the church was pleasant inside...

...It was actually the bell tower I was hoping to see.  Getting up to the first level was up a narrow, but relatively safe spiral stair case.  This let me out ont a wide porch even with the roof lines.

As I walked toward the bell tower proper, two Australians came down and wished me luck.  Luck? Now why would I need that?  Oh...

I will give the Croatians this, they do not believe in coddling there population.  If you want to go up the scary rickety staircase you are allowed to make that decision for yourself.  If you die while doing it, thats on you, not there fault if your an idiot.  I kinda appreciated that.  They also don't paint curbs yellow, put low door signs on things, or mark anything slippery when wet.  I guess when you just had a long, brutal, civil war, the concept of danger is a bit relative.  

I made it alive! Notice the liter and a half water bottle

Trogir from above