It was windy and had begun to rain. Joe picked me up and we immediately drove to one of his hangouts in the small town of Castella. It was right on the water down windy narrow roads. I was an immediate curiosity to all his friends who knew that I was coming. They could all speak English and were very gracious. Some other locals made a point to come over and talk to the group so they could gawk at the American. Joe versed me on some finer points of Croatian etiquette. (One person pays for a round of drinks, you always share cigarettes when someone asks, and you never pull out your money to pay until it is time to leave.)

Joe is quite well-known (if not infamous) in a three-town area and has made many friends. He is the only American that lives there and he is the only American in the country that owns a Croatian-registered vehicle. One reason he is accepted is that he has Croatian roots via his grandmother on his mother's side. He wants to apply for Croatian citizenship in several years.

We decided to go to Split to do a financial transaction at his bank and to show me the city. It started to rain and the windshield wipers on Joe's car did not work so we decided to take a bus. The bus passed several factories and a marble quarry on the way to town. It stopped raining when we got to the bus station and proceeded on foot to downtown. Split is no ordinary city--its core is built upon the ancient palace of the Roman emperor Diocletian, circa 300 ad. At one juncture you will walk through a dungeon-like corridor that will suddenly open up into a courtyard. Small cobblestone side-streets will funnel you into another part of the palace that is now occupied with shops or into another courtyard surrounded by marble pillars. An ancient church occupies the center of one of these courtyards. Palm trees and sidewalk cafes line the avenue along the harbor which is a jumping off spot for cruise ships and ferries.

Most of Dalmatia, the area of southern Croatia along the seacoast, is a summer tourist attraction for northern Europeans who come to enjoy the hot sun and warm blue waters. Split is the center of the country's tourist trade and the major transportation center for all the surrounding resort towns. The country is making further efforts to induce tourism to help its economy. I predict one day you will see ads promoting Croatian vacations at U.S. travel agencies and perhaps even on television.

Heading back on the bus it started to get dark. Although it was still warm it began to rain heavily with bursts of thunder and lightning. We arrived where he parked his car, a 1980's Serbian-made piece of junk that his friends call the "Chetnik Cadillac" We stopped at a "fast food" place and bought some sort of sausage sandwiches made with large chewy bread. We arrived at his home which is several miles along the coast of an island. He and Margie (his significant other) live in a two-bedroom flat which occupies the lower floor of a house right across the road from a rocky beach on the Adriatic Sea. For this they pay $130 a month including electricity.

Day 4, Thursday, March 30

We all slept in past noon, having stayed up the night before drinking wine and playing cards. Joe is in the business of raising chinchillas so we had to go check up on them. He located his partner, Marin, whose home was where the chinchillas are located. Marin lives with his mother in one of the many typical block houses, which turned out to be quite cozy on the inside. When we arrived Marin's mother showered me with hospitality and fed us a lunch consisting of--meat, cheese, crackers, an orange drink that tasted remarkably like Tang, Turkish coffee, and home-made raspberry wine. Marin gave me one of his pieces of art, a painting of traditional Croatian folk dancers on clear glass. He sells these in many of the souvenir shops in the area.

Raising chinchillas is a cottage industry in Dalmatia. Joe and Marin's one hundred-or-so chinchillas were kept in the unfinished top floor of the house (a floor that was simply added on using blocks in the manner of those houses I saw outside of Zagreb). Females are kept in separate cages while a male is free to roam and to enter the cages of the females to mate. (Sounds good to me!) Feeding and temperature must be carefully maintained to insure good health. Joe and Marin were going to make many new cages upon expectations of their breeding. They sell the live adult chinchillas to a buyer who then sells them in France. (Chinchilla meat is often passed off as rabbit in French restaurants--yum yum.)

After tending to the chinchillas we decided to go to Split again. This time the weather allowed us to drive. During our walking around we visited a poorly stocked music store where I bought some LaBella strings for Joe's guitar. We also located some Rainex for his windshield. We then drove east of the city to a historic castle on the crest of a hill. We paid the drunk gatekeeper 10kn each and entered. We were the only two people there throughout our hour and a half exploration of this huge fortress. It had been used as a defense as recently as world war two and the walls and some buildings were still intact. Napoleon had been here during his conquests and I actually sat on the stone toilet that he sat on!

On our way home we stopped at Another of Joe's hang-outs, an old picturesque stucco bar with an outside courtyard. It was now owned by an Australian that had fought there during the war and since has become a Croatian citizen. The people were very friendly and curious. 70's and 80's rock music was being played over the speakers, unusual because everywhere else played techno. Live music is rare in Croatia I fantasized with Joe (a guitarist himself) about starting a vintage rock band and becoming big Croatian stars.

Next stop was the "supermarket". Although most grocery stores are "mom and pop" holes-in-the-wall this store was a large cement block building with a parking lot that accommodated about ten cars. (We were one of three.) Inside were three aisles about 100 feet long. Shelves were stocked with products from different European countries as well as from the U.S. (Gillette, Shick, Nestle's, Snicker's . . . ) The selection of produce was minimum and was of poor quality. (Most people buy produce daily in public markets.) Milk is not refrigerated and comes in small rectangular boxes. After being stared at by the patrons and employees we made our purchase. By then it was past 9 pm. We drove several miles to a shell-fish farm and bought fresh muscles right off the dock. Two kilos (4.4 lbs.) cost 10kn (about $1.25). Margie and Joe boiled the muscles and made pasta with white sauce. It was a feast.

Day 5, Friday, March 31

Margie, Joe, Elvis (their German Sheppard), and I piled into the Chetnik Cadillac and drove to the end of the road, through the town of Slante, to the western end of the island on which they live. Most roads are very narrow, especially through the towns. (Two large American cars could never pass each other.) The road turned to dirt as it wound up into abandoned olive orchards surrounded by stone walls. We parked at the end of the road and proceeded a half mile by foot on a well worn path on the edge of the cliff. Here was an ancient stone church clinging to the rock cliff. Once a year people walk to this church from the town carrying banners in a religious celebration. We took the path all the way down to the water and sunned ourselves on the rocks. Elvis loved it.

We then drove back, past their house, to Trogir, a beautiful medieval town surrounded by the bay and a moat. It has winding cobblestone streets, too narrow even for small European automobiles. There are many shops, cafes, and residences and at the far corner of the town is an ancient fortress that is now a grade school. We stopped and had pizza and beer at a busy sidewalk cafe. European pizzas are served one per person. They have a thin crust, sparse toppings (especially meat), and you have to cut it yourself. Also, Europeans eat pizza with a fork! (After eating pizza in three countries I must say American style pizza is the best.)

Day 6, Saturday, April 1

It was April Fool's Day and the Split newspaper announced that Dennis Rodman was going to play for the Split basketball team.

Margie had told me about her recent two-week trip down the coast to Dubrovnik. She had visited the island where her grandmother was born and had stayed in a sobe , a rented room in a private residence. (Upon arrivals at train and bus stations there are always people offering rooms to tourists. Most sobes are about $7-$8 per night and sometimes include meals.) I made a decision to leave the next day for Dubrovnik, about 120 miles south.

(click) DUBROVNIK