Walking through the Old City of Split today, I stopped to watch a quartet of traditional Dalmation singers performing in the ancient, domed edifice of the Palace оf Diocletian.
A flock of young school children also stopped, bored and tethered in place by a well-meaning teacher.
A few other strays.
Then a set of squat and elderly Germans, fine mustachios parted neatly over lips, bellies protruding proudly over high-waisted pants.
Then, about one minute or so into the song, three of the Germans — let me once more emphasize their stolid faces, their ages, their apparel, their guts — burst into operatic accompaniment.
Dugi Otok. One of my favorite places of this entire trip. Located approx. 45 minutes by ferry from the coast near Zadar.
There is a brilliant national park, clustered bluffs thrusting defiant feet into the sea, an interior coast spotted with tiny, uninhabited islands, a fleet of aimless yachts, running in their smooth and soundless loops, a salt lake that used to be the islanders primary source of income, and a refuge for Croatian donkeys — smaller and sturdier than the common breed, but abandoned in ever increasing numbers by a modernizing local population. Now they wander the stony interior of the island, staying near sea level, and will surprise you as you’re watching the sunset, by nuzzling your palm for food.
I met a guy last night in Pula who said he was a musician, but it turns out he’s quite good. This is a video of him improvising on piano from a few years ago. I’ve watched it nine times or so, because I don’t understand how his hands do that.
