Croatia: Rijeka-Split (by "train")

Winding around the mountains, we bused our way along the coast towards Rijeka. The coastal drive gave us renewed hope in our travels, and as we arrived in the bustling, industrial city of Riejka we made our way towards the various transport terminals for tickets to Split. Again, we found transportation surprisingly expensive; the most inexpensive was a night train which was scheduled to arrive in Split at 7 am. So, we wiled away the day changing travelers cheques (which takes a bloody long time!) and eating grilled vegetables and risotto at the train station cafe.

At quarter to 8 we boarded the relatively empty train and found our own berth which we quickly moved into filling up the spaces with our overflowing bags. Guitar here, card game on the floor, sleeping bags spread across the deteriorating green velvet seats. We were stoked and spent a good few hours laughing as I won every game of Speed against the none-too-fast moving Matt. But oh these merry times were soon but a memory as we embarked on the worst train ride we had ever taken in our lives...

First, within an hour and a half we were told that we had to get off the train and were rudely pushed onto a deserted platform somewhere in Croatia. Luckily we met a very organized Korean traveler who had an internet lamenated printout of the train schedule and told us that we were going to have another 5 changes during our journey. That is, after the upcoming two hour station wait. So, we drank beer.

For the rest of the night we were told that we had to get off the train onto another one, that our carriage simply wasn't going to Split, that we had to sit in an overcrowded carriage with a bunch of chain smoking Croatian delinquents. Poor Matt, hungover and frustrated, was plunged into the horrors of traveling and had to puke in the disgusting backed up bathroom of the train. We were horrified and reconfirmed of our suspicion that Croatia was a third world country dressed up as a gentrified and civil place. All the amenities of an underdeveloped country with the prices of London; and yet we found little charm, culture, and vitality. Split was a shopping mall amidst old buildings and cobbled streets. The effects of tourism seemed to have robbed the country of its initial appeal to travelers like us: culture, difference, warmth and intrigue. Perhaps we explored too little of this country, sticking to the coastal resorts and seaside paradises. Or, possibily, it is just not a backpacker's country with our sort of budget and interests. But man was Split shiny - shiniest place I ever did see. The cobbled streets shone like shoe polish and the clear aqua water glittered like silver. Hate the place as one might, there is very little that can compare to the colour of the water and the brightness of the sunshine. But, we didn't have a sailboat; and thus, like all self-righteous youths, we disguised our envy with bitter criticisms of the injustice of "modernity" and "the middle class". (A little too much Dostoyevsky and Sartre my dear Matt...)

We spent the night in a Sobe, or private accomodation, picking from the hordes of women who accosted us with "accomodation maybe?" while standing way too close to our faces and getting unjustly dissapointed and aggressive when we said no. One woman followed us for three blocks looking mournful and, with a sobe sign on nearly every house, it made us wonder if they had shifted most of their economy towards tourism. Split, over all, was mostly uneventful besides from Matt's sickness and some aimless wandering. While Matt puked and slept in the room I sat on a bench overlooking the ocean and wrote, spent a good hour in a bookstore looking at a Beatles 'coffee-table' book, and ate pastries with cheese and Matt had one with a hot dog in it. And then we ferried our way to Hvar, aka the riviera of Eastern Europe, on our island hopping way to Dubrovnik.