Fresh Bread and Cold Marble

"What is there to confess that is worthwhile or useful? What has happened to us has happened to everyone or only to us; if to everyone, then it's no novelty, and if only to us, then it won't be understood."

There was a flash snowstorm in Frankfurt, and the view outside the large windows was spectacular. The world looked like a giant souvenir of itself.

You have to go through security again, so I did, and they took a lot of interest in my boots and camera. They took them away from me and bade me follow them to a private office. A few swipes and a footrub later, I was back in business. Random?

There must have been a shift change at all the little kiosks, because service was weirdly surly.

The man in front of me was trying to get a pack of Gauloises, and he was snapped at for taking too long to decide which flavor. Poor man. Being a smoker makes his life hard enough already. There was a giant collection of Uncle Scrooge comics called "Mammut" and I had time to wonder if they called him that here because of Mammon, the god of money.

I thought that was a pretty good name for him. Like, it's more of a cross-cultural reference point than Scrooge is. How many Bosniaks have read A Christmas Carol?

Even though the airport is very large, it's still not large enough to have gates for all the planes that want to take off, so you go through the ticket process, and board a bus, and then the bus drives forever and ever to the plane, and then you stand in the snow while Zagor and Asra fumble with their carry-ons.

But then you're on! And they give you crackers shaped like a plane with pretzels shaped like clouds! I sure loved that. Then, you look outside the window and what looks like a bag of dice spilled in a meadow is Split! Beautiful white houses dotting green hills. Rising and falling most spectacularly and surrounded by crystal blue water. Welcome to a postcard. Hope you like living in a postcard.

I got off. The thug behind the passport desk stamped my visa with no questions. I was expecting the whole "Why are you in Split? Who are staying with? How many days! For what purpose!? Your camera has been swiped recently? Why, and by whom? Seahawks or Patriots!? How many points?"

I got some raccoon bucks at an airport bank, so now I had a pocket full of Euros, a backpack full of dollars, and fist full of Kuna. No one can deny me an opportunity to waste my money now!

An older dude with a leather jacket and a full head of salt-and-pepper hair had a sign that said SIMON on it, and that meant me! I walked up waving my hand like a prom queen.

He said, "Ah, I will take you to the apartment." "Thank you," I said. "I do not speak very much English," he said. "That's all right," I said. I followed him out into the Splitian afternoon. Wide, blue skies. You'll find none of your German snow here! This is Croatia! We don't allow it.

In the car, the driver placed the name sign on the dashboard. Written on the back it said, "I will take you to the apartment" and "I do not speak very much English" with the Croatian translations beneath.

It made me love him and also whoever wrote that out to help him. When we were on the road, he tried to speak a little, but he didn't understand my answers.

He put in a CD. "Bad Romance" started playing, and I laughed. "Lady GaGa," he said. His English was perfect.

Long, winding little drive to the city. A lot of construction on the outskirts. A million billboards for Hajduk, the local football team. Apparently they're very good and have major rivalry with a team in Zagreb. I'll look it up. The little checkerboard logo was everywhere and on everything.

We passed a gas station with a mammoth logo. It was called Mammut. The penny dropped. They were saying it was a huge collection of Uncle Scrooge comics. They don't call him Mammut. They call the enormous digest a mammoth collection. Gah!

When we turned into the city, it felt like Eastern Europe. Tiny streets, old people with bags of vegetables, ugly pharmacies. Beautiful. Home.

He dropped me off in front of an alley next to a bunch of booths. When I paid him, he showed me his phone screen. I think he was trying to tell me it was going to rain? There were clouds on it? He was nice.

My host met me in front of the alley and took me in it. Ana. Her name is Ana. Through the entrance was a wonderland. I was overcome with joy. Winding marble streets, too thin for two people to walk side by side. Apartments piled on top of one another all higgledy piggledy. Hateful stencil art.

Ana was very very nice. Gave me a bowl of apples, gave me a bowl of almonds, gave me a jar of candied lemon peel! She gave me a map. She showed me how to turn on the hot water. It was heaven in a studio.

She left, and I passed out. It was 3pm, and there was plenty of light, and I was itching to get out there. Also, the driver's prophecy was for rain in the morning! But I sure didn't sleep well on the plane, so... I just... lay down... for a second... to rest... my eyes.

Woke up five hours later. Pitch black. I took a shower (remembering to hit the hot water button) and unpacked. My clothes all stank of cat piss.

Ruggles.

I couldn't wear them. Ruggles.

Put on my wrinkly old airplane clothes, bundled up and went out.

There were cats everywhere. It was purest heaven. Were they drawn by Ruggles' scent? If so, he did me a favor. I loved seeing them poke their little noses out of every crevice. They padded along the marble streets with sure paws. I followed them around corners.

There were a few tourists out and a few locals. Nothing serious. I found a 24-hour bakery (awesome) and got some dinner. Some sort of cheese roll and a giant hunk of what looked like baklava. I spent a lot of useless brain power talking to it: "Now, if you've got layers of phyllo dough and walnuts, you just might be a baklava. Yeah, if you're syrupy and flaky and found in the Greek section of the bakery... I'm thinking you're a baklava."  I couldn't stop doing it.

Wandered into the old town (cats! everywhere!) and bumped right into Diocletian's palace. Hello, Saintmaker. I was the only one there. It was like that scene in Vanilla Sky where Tom Cruise runs through an abandoned Times Square.

With a few more cats.

The party area is called Riva, and I half-heartedly looked around for it. Saw a few open coffee shops. Heard faraway laughter echoing off the marble. I made myself laugh thinking about asking someone to "take me to the Riva."

Found it! Abandoned!  Went home. Had kind of a travel headache, so I ate an apple, made some tea and went back to bed.

When it's light, I'll finally get to take some pictures. I also need to find a laundrette.

If you've been wearing the same clothes for 36 hours because all your other clothes smell like cat pee... you just might be a baklava.