But, evidently, Croatia did become known to me and the idea of visiting it was brought to my attention. A group of people were planning to go over our long weekend (this past Friday was a national holiday, thus no classes). When my other plans to travel to Istanbul for the long weekend fell through (only to be reestablished for over Thanksgiving) I hopped on the Croatia train, so to speak. I convinced another friend to come with me for what we both agreed would be a relaxing weekend to let our minds turn to mush after the stress of midterms, and we quickly bought train tickets bound for Split, Croatia.
Split, one of Croatia's major cities, is situated on the Adriatic Sea. From what I had read of the former BSMer's blog, I knew there were excellent beaches in Split. I very much looked forward to laying on the sand and reading as the sun hit my SPF 85 protected face (it's amazing how much my mom's voice plays in my head with regards to sun protection even with half a continent and an ocean between us). Claire and I bought our train tickets several weeks in advance, so for weeks we were fantasizing about a weekend getaway to the beach. Then, finally, the time had come! Midterms were over, or most of them were, I actually had one today, and it was time to head off into the ideal that was Croatia.
The night before we left, Franky decided spur of the moment to come too, so we had a last minute addition. The three of us, we were our own subgroup of the larger group, met at the train station at 5:30 AM, went to the ticket office to get a train ticket for Franky, and then made our way to the right platform. Upon boarding the train we quickly realized that all of the cars were made up of compartments instead of rows of seats. We ambled into one such compartment and soon realized that it was surely the better way to travel. We had our own compartment for almost the entire six hour trip to Zagreb (we got a visitor right at the end). The six hour trip passed as quickly as six hours can. We alternated dozing off, talking, and gaping out the window like children in a candy store. My favorite part of the ride was when we rode along Lake Balaton. The towns that we went through, all with some form of Balaton in their name, looked so serene and quintessential European with their eclectic mix of houses and quiet streets.
After hours of the slow rocking and rumbling of the train punctuated by occasional stops at foreign train stations with almost intelligible names, I began to wonder if we were still in Hungary or if we had slyly crossed the border into Croatia. I got my answer soon enough. We made another stop, which at the time I considered unremarkable. Then a figure appeared at our compartment door in a baby blue uniform. He opened the door and after saying something in some other language, registered our blank faces, and spoke in English. "Border control, passports please." We all quickly bustled around to get our passports to give to him. The baby blue officer was followed by a long slew of officials including Hungary's own border control officer, a customs officer, and a ticket checker. All of these officials went one by one down the train to check everyone. After quite a while, as you can imagine, everyone on the train was apparently clear and we continued on the Croatia leg of the journey.
The rest of the journey passed quickly after that,
and we were soon pulling into Zagreb's Glavni Kolodvor train station. We had several hours before our connecting train departed, so we decided to get out and walk around and see what Croatia's capital had to offer. A couple blocks away from the station we found a beautiful park. We walked through it like wide-eyed children and then found a bench to sit on to eat our packed lunch. I have never eaten so much bread and cheese in my life, but it is cheap and one must cut cost where one can. Once we had finished our lunch, we continued to wander around and decided to follow the very helpful brown signs that point towards tourist attractions. After climbing a hill past a large square lined with modern stores we were standing in front of the St. Francis 
Cathedral, yet another exquisite example of the gorgeous architecture abundant in Europe. After taking a look inside the cathedral, which reminded me very much of the St. Mattias Church in Buda, we continued on in the streets of Zagreb. We ended up in a open air market with vendors selling everything from homemade cheese to fruit to souvenirs. After passing through the market we found ourselves walking down a street lined with cafés. We wandered around a bit more and then found a café to have a beer (coffee for me) in before going back to the train station. All too soon it was time to get back on the train, but we were all excited to reach our final destination.After another, more uneventful, six hour train ride we finally arrived in Split! The rain that had been pouring down while we were on the train abated momentarily, so we were free to walk out of the train station into the damp night. The sight and smell of the sea immediately hit both my eyes and nose as we walked out of the train station. It never ceases to amaze me how excited I feel when seeing a large body of water. There is something so mysterious and beautiful, not to mention serene and timeless, about the oblivious sway of the sea. Without really any idea at all where to go, we started walking toward what we hoped was old town, where our hostel was located. After being pointed vaguely in the right direction by a cab driver only to still have no idea where we were supposed to go, we bought a map. While pouring over the map a woman asked us if she could help us. She spoke English and gave tours in the Diocletian Palace. She told us where to go and we
graciously thanked her. We found ourselves on a wide, well lit promenade along the sea. We turned and headed up a similarly well lit street and then into a maze of tiny, curving streets walled in by tightly packed buildings. While we were standing at an intersection trying to get our bearings, we were asked yet again where we were headed and if we needed help. We actually knew where we were supposed to go, we were just trying to find a street sign to confirm our heading. The woman who asked us persisted and we told her that we were looking for Hostel Nikola to which she responded "oh, that is me." We had unknowingly stumbled across our hostel owner. She took us to our hostel (or more accurately told us the way while walking behind us with her two friends).The hostel was not what we had expected. As a family owned hostel, it was the first of its kind that I had stayed in. We entered through a gate into what would have been a tiny courtyard that had been transformed into a sort of dining area with most of its space taken up by a large picnic table. Next to the picnic table was a small open kitchen for communal use. We waited around while the hoste
l owner got our room ready. Once our room was ready, we were directed up stairs around the outside of the building into a very narrow hallway and then up another set of steps, these curving and also exceedingly narrow. At the top was a bathroom, our door, and the door to another room. We entered our door, eager to set our stuff down, and found the room taken up almost completely by three beds. We claimed our beds and settled into our home for the next three days.
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