Split #2of2

For our second visit to Split, our ferry boat from the Island of Hvar arrived as several boats were going in and out of the harbor. They were playing “chicken” and our Captain lost! For a moment, we expected to fly off the boat into downtown Split, but our ferry finally stopped at the shore, but not at a dock. There was a 10 inch drop-off as we drove off the boat.

Split had changed the traffic pattern since we were here last, trying to eliminate downtown traffic jams. We were able to find a parking space (not a parking place!) with not too much trouble, then we visited here and there in this very delightful old city. As in other locales in Yugoslavia, the old town is exceptional, and the buildings in the new part of town would match, or be an improvement over those in many other cities. The wall, the tower, the streets and many buildings were built from large stone blocks. These structures have existed hundreds of years, and will exist hundreds more.

We strolled the market place, bought some of the special large cherries, and we finally did buy one of the brass scoops, used to weigh produce in the market place. We had determined a young man was the only one who would sell, and he would only sell for cash — $25 in US dollars. We had first tried to buy a brass scoop in Yugoslavia in 1980 — it took four trips over ten years. It serves well, to display a plant.

We stopped at a bank to get some money using our Visa card, and because of the crowd, it took an hour. Finally I insisted they take the paperwork of several people at a time, so several could be approved when the phone was finally answered, rather than one call, one approval. They seemed surprised and pleased that my way made it so much quicker. Customers near us were from the US, England, Austria, Finland, France, Germany, and Sweden. Each were getting “millions” of Yugoslavian dinar with a Visa card, and the bill would be paid at “home” with various kinds of money.

The worst thing was, with all the lines, and the long wait, I had laid down a very nice cane I had purchased in Frankfurt, Germany, and forgot to pick it up again. I hope it was claimed by someone who really needed it. Since I didn't really need it — I called it my sympathy stick — that's why I forgot it.

In a market in an old building, I tried, without success, to get Emmy to buy some rather inexpensive jewelry, made of lambs skin, decorated with brass. The necklace they had wasn’t as long as Emmy wanted, so no sale. Later she changed her mind and wished she had bought some, so we looked and looked in other towns, but the store in Split was the only place we saw this style of jewelry. She’s sorry she said no. (And I think of all the times in our long married life, when I was sorry she said NO!)