Croatia: Just arrived in Split

We've arrived in Split, the famous home of the infamous Roman emperor Diocletian. Today was supposed to be the day when my driving and navigational skills were to be tested. Originally, when we flew into Zagreb I refused the GPS offered by Budget rentals. I have a map and a brain I thought, only direction challenged people, sorry Ann, need a GPS system. But leaving Dubrovnik this morning I questioned that smug decision. I knew I could get out of Dubrovnik, pass through the checkpoints in and out of Bosnia, drive through the verdant, fruit growing Neretva Delta, speed along A-1 highway at 140 kilometers per hour. My worry was navigating the highways, roads, and alleys of Split. Like Han Solo has his Chewbaca, I have Ann Odehnal. She also sounded a bit like Chewbaca trying to pronounce street names in Serbo-Coatian. We made it into Split without a hitch. What a team. The son of the owner of Villa Varos, where we are staying, is our personal valet. For 10 Euros a day he parks the car and brings it to us when we need it. I'm so grateful because where we are staying the streets are cobblestone alleys with cars double parked on both sides of the alley. I'm also ecstatic because we have the 3rd floor apartment, with a terrace. Let me explain my giddiness. In Zagreb we stayed in a very nice hotel room with adjoining bathroom. In Dubrovnik we stayed in a smaller room with an adjoining bathroom. In both places the king size bed, low to the ground European style, took up most of our living space. But here in Split it feels like we're staying in Diocletian's Palace! Obviously we have a bedroom and bathroom(with jacuzzi), but there's also a kitchen/sitting room, a dining room, and off the dining room a terrace overlooking the houses and alleyways of Split. My American need for open space is readily apparent. Bigger is better and all those other Manifest Destiny truisms that Americans crave. And, like a true Midwesterner, I need a car to get around. It's my security blanket. I don't need to wait for a train, or hail a taxi. Except when the streets narrow and are paved with cobblestones. Here are pictures of our apartment. Sorry about the Pulp-O-Mizer at the bottom.

Dave and Ann