Zadar, Croatia

Zadar, Croatia

Hurricane force winds lashed the small house, rattling the slatted wooden shutters and leaving no option but to hole up and remain indoors for the day, gnawing on the leather in our shoes to survive. This is a blatant and facetious exaggeration, and yet it rather felt that way when I woke up in Zadar, poised to savour a carefree and relaxing day by the sea, and was greeted not by blinding sunlight but by an angry sky and a howling wind. Disappointed, Andrew and I each got up in our own time and headed out towards the city proper at the end of a leisurely morning.

The air was evidently warm but stymied by the steady breeze whipping up the Adriatic from the south. On the gradual downward slope towards the city’s historic core, and over the footbridge that crosses Zadar’s sheltered harbour, the wind wasn’t especially noticeable but out on the exposed side of the peninsula, we were buffeted.

Parts of Zadar's centre are a rabbit warren of narrow streets

Old and new blend together in Narodni trg

Zadar: Best European Destination 2016. This was the first I'd heard of it!

Trying to delay our intended visit to a beach, we had a brunch in Trg Petra Zoranića (Petra Zoranića Square), which consisted of the worst burgers that either of us had eaten in a long time; dry, bland, and completely lacking in cheese, salad, sauce or any of the usual ingredients that are generally considered mandatory in the definition of a burger. Andrew came off worse because his was chicken, which turned out much drier than my hamburger. The whole affair was compounded by constantly having to retrieve and secure napkins, menus and other flying detritus that were blown off our table by the frequent gusts and landed on the adjacent one, occupied by a pair of friendly and very understanding elderly Swiss tourists.

Trg Petra Zoranića

Trg Pet bunara

Not to be disheartened by the first genuinely awful meal of the trip, we made sure the money we paid with was safely weighted down, and set off to salvage something of the day. Trg Petra Zoranića is a fine plaza with brightly coloured buildings flanked by bushy trees. A three storey high Roman column stands vigil in one corner, and sections of the pavement have been replaced by glass, allowing the traces of the Roman square to be seen below. The open side of the square leads up a couple of steps to Trg Pet bunara (the Square of Five Wells), a smaller courtyard whose centrepiece, a touch predictably, is a row of five wells. Beyond that, we ambled through Perivoj kraljice Jelene Madijevke (the Gardens of Queen Jelena Madijevka), which were a pretty distraction for a few minutes. We then emerged onto the small Foša harbour, where little boats and dinghies bobbed up and down in the waves and one or two lizards scrambled out of sight at the approach of people. This was just outside Zadar’s old fortifications, high walls that surround the old city except on the seaward side, and are breached by a few arched gates. Kopnena vrata (the Land Gate), beside the Foša, is the most notable of these. This renaissance style triumphal arch was built by the Venetians in 1543 and is decorated with the Republic of Venice’s coat of arms, the shield of St Mark. A one-way road through the central arch allows vehicle traffic to leave the city centre.

The Foša harbour

Kopnena vrata (the Land Gate)

We too were, for the afternoon, heading in the same direction, following this street south to Kolovare Beach. The wind had lulled a little, but it was still not the hot and still day that would have been most conducive to several hours spent in the water. That said, I hadn’t swum in two months, and it had been two summers since I had been tempted to get into the sea. That was in south Devon; the warmer climes of Croatia should have been irresistible. Determined not to miss out on a dip in the Med, I steeled myself, stripped off my top, and strode in. It was freezing. I might as well have been in Scotland in January. My initial confidence faltered as the water reached my thighs and I clumsily collapsed into the sea before I even had time to brace for the shock of sudden total immersion. The waves made staying still a challenge and even where I was, ten metres out, I sensed the danger of being carried away by the current. Turning back to face the shore, I contorted my grimace into an unnatural grin and insisted to Andrew that it was lovely. He didn’t buy it.

A few minutes was enough time to enjoy the experience of swimming in the Mediterranean, something I had not done since my last trip to Croatia in 2009. I rinsed myself off at an outdoor shower that gently dribbled icy water a few droplets at a time and was thoroughly shivering by the time I had finished. My shirt back on, the persistent southerly soon dried me off nicely and the air was at least still reasonably warm, albeit not still. I watched several boats rock around as they navigated the narrow channel between Zadar and the long, humped island of Ugljan that forms a barrier between the mainland and the open sea. Andrew, meanwhile, wrestled with a book, the wind determined to keep turning him ahead several pages at a time. Eventually, he gave up, and chose to follow my lead and also take a dip. Both having now been in, he agreed that the sea was horrible, and we moved off to find a venue that was showing the football.

Kolovare Beach

The 'other' view during England v Wales

An empty bar a couple of minutes up the road was ideal. Here, we sat outside and enjoyed the views past palm trees that rippled in the wind over to Ugljan, the television screen visible through the doorway into the vacant inside seating area. We spent the afternoon as most British football fans abroad spend their afternoons, drinking beer and bickering. We stopped shy of starting a fight. I was committed to following England, not having any Welsh blood to my knowledge. Andrew, an American, was by rights a neutral but out of loyalty to some Welsh friends of his, and a desire to annoy me, he cheered on the Dragons.

The home nations have a very healthy rivalry in rugby, and the annual Six Nations tournament regularly sees all four British team beat each other in different combinations. However, in football, such matches at major tournaments are infrequent, the last being England’s 2-0 win over Scotland at Euro 1996. England’s traditional monopoly on footballing success has recently been increasingly challenged by the rises of Wales and Northern Ireland, and this match promised to be close-fought. An English win was by no means a foregone conclusion. Indeed, Wales took the lead just before the interval and concerns about another English capitulation at an international tournament were at the forefront of my mind. An equaliser came after half time, and right at the death, England snatched a goal for a much-needed 2-1 win to take the lead in their group. Andrew was disappointed; I was relieved. The bickering continued. Wales lost the battle, but they went on to win the war, impressively reaching the semi-finals. England didn’t win another game and were dumped out of the competition by minnows Iceland.

The promenade, looking south

Zadar's choppy sea

The day’s sporting highlight over, we wandered north again, joining the promenade at the Foša, and then following it to the Roman Forum, dodging various soakings from the water that sprayed into the air and onto the edge of the pavement as the high, wind-induced swell collided with the sea wall. From the bell tower of the Cathedral of St Anastasia, we were afforded a commanding view of the domed top of the Church of St Donatus, the Roman Forum, and beyond, the sea, its impressive waves now appearing calm and flat. The red roofs of Zadar unfolded before us, ant people meandering through the narrow streets below. As we descended, the bell rang for the hour, producing a booming rumble that threatened to shake the belfry to the ground. The outer walls of the cathedral were lined with people selling clothes, paintings and other goods. The inner walls were mounted with ancient mosaics. Further on, in the Monastery of St Francis of Assisi, we came across two nuns, chanting their prayers in an otherwise empty chapel, a world away from the tourists with ice cream, flip flops and sunglasses that occupied the streets outside. We fitted this stereotype ourselves once we returned to Slastičarnica Donat, the place we had found the day before. Now armed with delectable ice creams, we returned to the northwest corner of the seafront and sat by the sculptures we had first stopped at the night before. Now an enjoyable place to relax, this promenade has not always been that way.

The Roman Forum; the Church of St Donatus and the tower of the Cathedral of St Anastasia are beyond

The Church of St Mary was founded in 1066

The Church of St Donatus and the Roman Forum from above

Široka ulica is central Zadar's main pedestrian street 

The angel atop the tower rotates with the wind

The tower from Široka ulica

Cathedral of St Anastasia; Slastičarnica Donat is immediately to the left

Cathedral of St Anastasia

Mosaic from the cathedral

The cloisters of the Monastery of St Francis of Assisi

The monastery's interior

Zadar was annexed by Mussolini's fascist Italy during the Second World War, and under its Italian name of Zara, became the de facto capital of the short-lived Governorate of Dalmatia, which also included a strip of coastline south to Split, a few Croatian islands, and the Montenegrin port of Kotor. 60% of Zadar's buildings were destroyed by Allied bombing in 1943 and 1944, after which it was captured by Yugoslav partisans (the guerrilla group led by Yugoslavia's future longstanding leader Josip Broz Tito) and the city's significant historical Italian community expelled or assimilated. The seafront had been in need of revitalisation following its destruction and dereliction for years, and in 2005, Croatian architect Nikola Bašić’s unique Sea Organ (Morske orgulje) was unveiled to the world. A magnificent work, it appears incredibly simple and yet, inspired. Formed by a series of tubes of different lengths cut into the sea wall, the constant action of the waves pushes air through the pipes, their different lengths generating notes of different pitches. It is hypnotically relaxing, and is ordinarily melodic but somehow never quite repetitive, the minute subtleties of the way the water behaves creating a sequence of sounds that are always similar but not the same. The previous evening, the Sea Organ was thus, but during today’s high winds, we got the full effect, hearing a much more dramatic output as the vigorous wave action forced piercingly high notes out of this bizarre instrument.

Zadar's seafront

The Sea Organ; through these holes, the sea pushes air and creates 'music'

The Greeting to the Sun

The inner planets leading to the sun

A free, solar-powered light show

The Moon looking down upon the sun

A short way beyond, still within earshot of the Sea Organ, is another of Bašić’s creations, the Greeting to the Sun (Pozdrav suncu). Made of solar panels, this piece stores up energy from the sun during the day and produces vivid displays of colour by night. These are arranged in discs, the largest several metres across, with a long parade of far smaller discs representing the eight planets of the solar system. Earth and its three rocky neighbours are but tennis ball sized. The unpredictable flow of changing light patterns on this sculpture is absorbing, and this corner of the seafront was clearly popular in the evenings, when plenty of others sat blissfully taking in the lights, and the music of the waves. At this stage, it was still light, the sky a pastel grey apart from a golden shield where the sun filtered through the clouds. We returned under cover of darkness, after I had had a meal of pašticada (Dalmatian stew). Andrew also opted for local cuisine, having crni rižot, a calamari risotto with rice turned black from squid ink. One last trip to Slastičarnica Donat later, we bade a fond farewell to this wonderful city and its charming Venetian centre and returned to our guest house, mentally preparing ourselves for an early start and a long and scenic journey to Dubrovnik, in Croatia’s far south.

The Church of St Donatus and the cathedral's bell tower still look good by night