Spilt in Split

Packing up our comfy cabin was quite sad in a way . It was also surreal to be getting updates of what was eventually the Tigers win. For the first time on this venture there was a pang of regret about being away from home. At least it is comforting to know that their diehard fans will be celebrating and finally having as much fun as we are. Leaving the luggage on the vessel for a couple of hours the four Musketeers headed off up the nearby hill to catch a view and a coffee. We also heard about seashell horn blowing from a local who told us about the tradition of doing this every morning to greet the sun.

It was very poignant which lost a bit of its magic when he strolled off down the hill with his wife on his arm and his loose pants heading southwards. After a stroll through the Jewish cemetery we headed back down to the boat collect our bags and say goodbye for the umpteenth time. It was bit difficult winding our way through the crowds around the palace fully loaded but we managed. As it happens we went past the fish market which is renowned for not having any flies due to the smell of sulphur in the air. According to the guides it's a "No Fly Zone" which is apparently absolutely hilarious to all the tourists. Regardless of how many times you hear it. Like the limestone pavements out the front, the line has been extremely well polished over the years. Didn't see a T-Shirt with it on but that is due to the fact T-shirts were not looked at here. Surprisingly it was not on fridge magnet. Give 'em time. Suspicions are running high about the sulphur story anyway as later on we were having travel intersection meeting drinks down at the harbour and the sewage smell was pretty nasty. So were the flies. The locals reckon that smell is sulphur. Given the flies the blogger reckons it's sewage. So we ticked off the fish market without even trying. Split is like that. A short wait for our accommodation and we were in. Really happy with this one as well. Self contained appartment. Top story so we have aspects to peer at. The architecture here is the same as Spain in that the windows are offset so people have privacy (sort of). After a few weeks of taking photos of people's laundry hanging outside for all to see we now get the chance to do the same. So whilst the girls went of shopping, the blogger played the role of a European house wife by doing the laundry and then putting out the smalls on display. There is an art to this. No accidents this time but it must happen. Surely motor cyclists have been thrown off course by a wayward thong being set free in high wind and wrapping around thier face. With sea legs the vertigo was a bit of a challenge being so far up. The sun was shining, the area is alive with the sound of laughter and music. We are surrounded by bars, popular burger joints, a plethora of restaurants, wine bars, supermarkets, bakeries. We really could stay here a week. Or a year. Pity it's only 2 nights.

As the second load was being hung out the new BFF's arrived below. Timing is the art of comedy (so they say). After a bit of cheek from up high they were let in and we then demolished the bottle we'd cunningly purchased a few days earlier on the excursion to Ston. And then we hit the town. Not quite sure it will ever be the same. We won't be - that's for sure. The previously mentioned smelly drinks with added flies was with a few of the boat crew who were heading their separate ways. Four stayed together and sweet talked their way into one of the really trendy restaurants which had great food, fun service, the inevitable red wines and slogans on the wall. Gotta love a slogan. Fave of the blogger was "Life is too short for self hatred and celery sticks". Probably more relevant though was "Every empty bottle is filled with stories" Possibly an omen of things to come. The burgers were great and the laughs many and thus in high spirits we wandered into town expecting nothing and quickly came across the main square called Peristil. Towering over is the imposing bell tower rapped in Roman ruins of columns, plinths, and one of 12 Sphinx - stolen from Egypt thousands of years ago. The emperor who built the palace in the first place used to parade himself to his minions every day here. There has been something on every night since. Without a doubt it holds a certain resonance in the human psyche. All that come and stay a while are captivated. Sometimes captured. We sat down on the comfy cushions lining the stone steps (which are obviously designed for sitting) perfectly positioned opposite the guitarist (amplified with microphone) and slowly but surely helped build up his audience. Groups would come in. We'd analyse and pounce - offering group photos. They'd order drinks and thus stay. Songs would be sung along to. Arms would be waved. Toddlers would be resoundingly appluaded for their efforts. Squeals of joy eruptting when the Irish couple from the cruise snuk up behind us. This stopped the entertainment in his tracks - one of many funny and interactive moments. We got people to get up and dance ( and then let have the floor to them selves).

So we didn't dominate, we just got everyone to participate. One guy, 3 gorgious gals and quite a bit of wine flowing. Even spilt. Spilt in Split...sounds like a title. Deciding that a wave would be a good idea didn't quite work however it did get everyones attention and as the song at the time was Imagine (thank you very much Mr Lennon) the girls started a stampede. They rushed in from every angle and formed a circle that expanded and filled the square and when the song finished they all came together in the middle for a huge group hug. People from all over the world. Come together as one. In the Peristil in Split. The positive vibe was palpable and the ancient stone work soaked up some more karma to resonate down through the ages.

The happiness continued for quite some time, we had people from Norway to South Africa thanking us for our contribution to the evening. Unfortunately we had to leave around midnight and we said a warm goodbye to our Kiwi lasses under the vacated (yet well lit) majestic North gate of the old palace. With Cooee's echoing throughout the old stonework the parties from down under parted.