Arriving to Split! Where the cocktails are cheap.
An eight hour train trip from Zagreb to Split marked my first bout of motion sickness. The track was so windy, and I guess made worse because I had been staring at a laptop for a good five hours.
I was relieved to arrive in Split to stand on ground that wasn't rocking from side to side and Jess and I were both so excited for our sailing trip to begin the next day.
We discovered Split was a cool little seaside town, marked by Roman influence. We grabbed our gear and exited the train station. It was only when we began navigating the route to our hostel that I suddenly realised I was short of one thing, my leather jacket.
Now, this leather jacket is very important to me. Stand by for the massive segue:
I bought the jacket during an eight day Turkey tour in 2010, which included Anzac Day in Gallipoli. The tour was with my sister, her husband, and my mate Ange, I remember we'd had a massive night in Kusadasi prior to this frivolous purchase.
An Aussie-Turkish guy told me I wouldn't get a better price on the jacket anywhere else and feeling a bit hungover and tender, I was inclined to believe him. I think it was about €170.... which I couldn't really afford because I was about to start at a musical theatre college in London. It took a bit of soul-searching after the fact to feel happy with the purchase...Ange's consoling words were, "You only live once...so you might as well do it in a sweet leather jacket." (Pic attached by Ange from 2010). I've worn that jacket each weekend since.
Anyway - smokey transition back to outside the train station - when I didn't seem to have this jacket. I freaked out and said to Jess, "Oh no!!! It must be still on the train!"
I turned and ran to the train which was still at its platform.
"Don't get taken to the next town!" Jess called after me as I sprinted and launched myself onto the train in action-movie style.
I ran through the carts, almost knocking over the cleaning lady in my travels, to whom I mimed..."Have you seen a jacket?" which confused her... then confused me because I thought my miming skills were usually excellent and accurate...So I shrugged it off and kept running.
I eventually found our cart. I had remembered that some passengers next to us had chucked some rubbish on the top shelf and I was now able to use this rubbish as a bearing to where we had sat.
My jacket was on the storage shelf and I grabbed it and jumped off the train feeling more than ever like Indiana Jones.
As I walked back to Jess, full of pride I held my jacket above my head, just like how Rafiki held the new born Simba, presenting him to the pride lands. Sadly, Circle of Life didn't start playing....and no one slow clapped.
Too dramatic? Nah...
Anyway, we found our hostel, the Beach Hostel after a bit of lugging up a hill, where we admired the beautiful Adriatic Sea to our right.
My chest tightness resurfaced (my backpack was still heavy with a lap-top, iPad, snacks etc.) and I cursed my unfit state. Again... I also thought I should get this heart-thing checked out.
We arrived at the address of The Beach Hostel, which threw us a bit as it looked like it was in a block of residential flats.
We hesitantly walked up the stairs to the floor it said on our booking. The owner, a teeny lady nicknamed Ladybird opened the door and we were suddenly in this really cool, homely hostel. The hostel featured walls that you were encouraged to write on and people had already gone to town in the communal areas writing cliche/inspiring quotes about travel.
And here's my rating of the hostel!
Room: Twin and shared en suite.
Stairs: One flight up to the hostel, none once through the doors.
Cleanliness: Grandma's house clean (which is good by the way)
Best feature: The owner, Ladybird, who hugged us on the way out, even though we'd been there for just one night. She also moved our washing into the sun so it would dry quicker - now that's thoughtful!
Shower: Medium pressure... Can't really remember.
After settling in we decided to go for a walk to check out the beach. Now, anyone who's been to a Queensland beach - I'm partial to Caloundra's Kings Beach personally - does not get too excited about European beaches. And Split is really no exception, although it apparently is one of just two sand beaches in Croatia. The water is relatively waveless, the sand isn't delightfully soft, but there is beauty in admiring the stretch of sea while drinking a vodka and orange juice on a lazy boy beach chair.
Have I mentioned that everything in Croatia is cheap, including the beverages? And this point brings us to the downfall of the night: Thinking that just because the cocktails were cheap, meant they wouldn't be as strong...
The cocktails were served in vases with massive straws and when I asked the waitress what she recommended she suggested one with lots of rum. She had a bit of a scowl on her face when she advised this, so I'm thinking she just purposely told me a gross one. But it would have been rude not to drink it...albeit with a similar disgruntled scowl to what the waitress had possessed.
So the basic gist was, here we were in Split, and it was 7pm and I needed a nap.
I'd heard that the sailing trip we were about to embark on the next day might be pretty rowdy...and I think I'd peaked too early on the eve of it.
Oh well...going to bed at 7pm certainly ensured I would be bright eyed the next day. I think I woke up three hours later, was sober by this stage and typed up a few media releases and guidelines for a social media competition...
Such a party animal.
I was relieved to arrive in Split to stand on ground that wasn't rocking from side to side and Jess and I were both so excited for our sailing trip to begin the next day.
We discovered Split was a cool little seaside town, marked by Roman influence. We grabbed our gear and exited the train station. It was only when we began navigating the route to our hostel that I suddenly realised I was short of one thing, my leather jacket.
Now, this leather jacket is very important to me. Stand by for the massive segue:
I bought the jacket during an eight day Turkey tour in 2010, which included Anzac Day in Gallipoli. The tour was with my sister, her husband, and my mate Ange, I remember we'd had a massive night in Kusadasi prior to this frivolous purchase.
An Aussie-Turkish guy told me I wouldn't get a better price on the jacket anywhere else and feeling a bit hungover and tender, I was inclined to believe him. I think it was about €170.... which I couldn't really afford because I was about to start at a musical theatre college in London. It took a bit of soul-searching after the fact to feel happy with the purchase...Ange's consoling words were, "You only live once...so you might as well do it in a sweet leather jacket." (Pic attached by Ange from 2010). I've worn that jacket each weekend since.
Anyway - smokey transition back to outside the train station - when I didn't seem to have this jacket. I freaked out and said to Jess, "Oh no!!! It must be still on the train!"
I turned and ran to the train which was still at its platform.
"Don't get taken to the next town!" Jess called after me as I sprinted and launched myself onto the train in action-movie style.
I ran through the carts, almost knocking over the cleaning lady in my travels, to whom I mimed..."Have you seen a jacket?" which confused her... then confused me because I thought my miming skills were usually excellent and accurate...So I shrugged it off and kept running.
I eventually found our cart. I had remembered that some passengers next to us had chucked some rubbish on the top shelf and I was now able to use this rubbish as a bearing to where we had sat.
My jacket was on the storage shelf and I grabbed it and jumped off the train feeling more than ever like Indiana Jones.
As I walked back to Jess, full of pride I held my jacket above my head, just like how Rafiki held the new born Simba, presenting him to the pride lands. Sadly, Circle of Life didn't start playing....and no one slow clapped.
Too dramatic? Nah...
Anyway, we found our hostel, the Beach Hostel after a bit of lugging up a hill, where we admired the beautiful Adriatic Sea to our right.
My chest tightness resurfaced (my backpack was still heavy with a lap-top, iPad, snacks etc.) and I cursed my unfit state. Again... I also thought I should get this heart-thing checked out.
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| Immortalised into cyberspace via Beach Hostel's Facebook page... |
We hesitantly walked up the stairs to the floor it said on our booking. The owner, a teeny lady nicknamed Ladybird opened the door and we were suddenly in this really cool, homely hostel. The hostel featured walls that you were encouraged to write on and people had already gone to town in the communal areas writing cliche/inspiring quotes about travel.
And here's my rating of the hostel!
Room: Twin and shared en suite.
Stairs: One flight up to the hostel, none once through the doors.
Cleanliness: Grandma's house clean (which is good by the way)
Best feature: The owner, Ladybird, who hugged us on the way out, even though we'd been there for just one night. She also moved our washing into the sun so it would dry quicker - now that's thoughtful!
Shower: Medium pressure... Can't really remember.
After settling in we decided to go for a walk to check out the beach. Now, anyone who's been to a Queensland beach - I'm partial to Caloundra's Kings Beach personally - does not get too excited about European beaches. And Split is really no exception, although it apparently is one of just two sand beaches in Croatia. The water is relatively waveless, the sand isn't delightfully soft, but there is beauty in admiring the stretch of sea while drinking a vodka and orange juice on a lazy boy beach chair.
Have I mentioned that everything in Croatia is cheap, including the beverages? And this point brings us to the downfall of the night: Thinking that just because the cocktails were cheap, meant they wouldn't be as strong...
The cocktails were served in vases with massive straws and when I asked the waitress what she recommended she suggested one with lots of rum. She had a bit of a scowl on her face when she advised this, so I'm thinking she just purposely told me a gross one. But it would have been rude not to drink it...albeit with a similar disgruntled scowl to what the waitress had possessed.
So the basic gist was, here we were in Split, and it was 7pm and I needed a nap.
I'd heard that the sailing trip we were about to embark on the next day might be pretty rowdy...and I think I'd peaked too early on the eve of it.
Oh well...going to bed at 7pm certainly ensured I would be bright eyed the next day. I think I woke up three hours later, was sober by this stage and typed up a few media releases and guidelines for a social media competition...
Such a party animal.
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