Trogir: Worms Beware - Avian Alarm Clock Activated

Please note that this post contains an image of a lamb roasting over a spit and may disturb some people. 

While driving the Croatian coast, we had seen an abundance of roadside grills which we ignored as we thought they were aimed at tourists (one even had a touter outside who gestured drivers towards the grill in an 'eh-why-not' kind of way). However, it can be difficult to differentiate between a touristy eatery and one that spends $0 on graphic design and makes their signage themselves with the help of Microsoft Word and clip art. We figured that with so many, there must be some kind of history behind Croatian grilled meats and perhaps we should try some. 

After a relaxing day driving the Dalmatian coast and swimming at rocky beaches, we selected a grill. Our choice was based on the fact that we could see the grill from the road, which was what most of the grills use as advertising, as you can see the goods straight away. We ordered one kilo of grilled pork, and it was delicious. The tender flesh...the crispy flavoursome skin...drool. Even though the three of us tucked in wholeheartedly, there was so much left over that we bagged up the rest and used it in homemade tacos that night. 

The grill itself was a fairly gruesome sight, with maimed lambs rotating slowly above a bed of ash. 

With our bellies full, we continued the drive to Trogir. On the way, we encountered a few interesting sights. The first was a man who had invented his own vehicle that was definitely not acceptable for road use as it was essentially him skateboarding along the main coastal road pulling a makeshift wheelbarrow behind him that contained all his worldly possessions. I feared for his life, but admired his bravery and dedication to budget transportation. The second was a sign for "dry marine shark", which was allegedly a great place to keep your boat. Perhaps their autocorrect had changed 'dock' to 'shark'? The third was a multitude of apartment touters: elderly women - and occasionally men - who sat on plastic chairs by the roadside and whenever they saw a car coming would raise their signs (some variation on "rooms zimmer camere sobe") and waggle them to attract attention. 

Trogir, Croatia (Trogir, Hrvatska)

While Greek colonists were being beaten back from Zadar, they founded Trogir in the third century BC (then called Tragurion). It steadily grew as a port town, especially under Roman influence. Then in 1123 Trogir was nearly wiped off the face of the earth by Saracen troops, but over the centuries it recovered and is now a thriving community. 

Under the rule of the Venetian Empire, elegant palaces and churches sprung up and many remain to this day, giving Trogir a permeating sense of old Venetian splendour. Due to its beauty, tourism is on the rise and in the narrow medieval lanes we felt a little claustrophobic with visitors and touters pressing in from all sides. We settled into our apartment for the evening, weary from batting away tourist menus. The apartment itself would have been nigh impossible to find were it not for the locals who took pity on us and led the way through alleys filled with menacingly barking dogs (fortunately they were chained up). After much calling out and ringing of bells, eventually the apartment owner arrived and brought us inside. We were a little disturbed by a character who can be described as a wizened old crone in a widow's costume who was almost certainly a fortune teller. She told us our fates as we walked by, but as she only spoke Croatian we were none the wiser and could only smile and nod. Occasionally she burbled to herself when no audience was present, or wailed. 

Awaking early the next morning, we explored Trogir at a time when only locals and those annoying 'morning people' were about. Though I will never renounce my night owl ways, I do love to see a tourist destination before the groundswell at around 8am and "the early bird catches the worm" is the only way I've found to do this. Maybe winter would work too, but no thanks. 

The cobbled streets were charming and deserted, with plenty of archways and stone steps leading to houses. When it was time to leave Trogir, we had the challenge of finding the apartment owner in order to hand back the key. She had sprung out of nowhere the evening before, and certainly not from any door that was knocked upon. I wandered around looking for some sign, and spotted an open door. Acting on a hunch, I called out "dober dan" (meaning 'hello'), and luckily she sprung out as before! Handing over the key, she said lots of things in Croatian and I replied with "hvala" ('thank you'). She continued to speak, and not understanding I cheerily repeated "hvala!" and left. 

Missing our fix of Roman ruins, we set a course for Solin. 

Today's post was almost called: Baste, Taste and Expand Waist (or 'And Lo They Sampled of The Grilled Meats')