Split is full of tourists. This isn’t unusual or a particularly big deal, but after having spent weeks roaming around the Northern interior of Croatia, seeing other people was strange. Seeing anything but trees and mountains was strange.

Hitting the pavement along the main strip by the beach, I felt like an alien. Everybody was primped and tan and fake nailed and big, brash cones of melting gelato.

I could smell how bad I stank. I had nowhere to stay.

Instead of sitting for a drink — I almost did! at 2 PM in the afternoon — I walked out to the docks, then crawled over the gray boulders forming breakers.

In view of the lighthouse, sea crashing around my silly ankles, I watched the city. At this distance, everything was quiet.