After catching 2 hours of sleep due to our disco dolly Amsterdam antics. we hurriedly clamored down from our attic hostel room and down 5 flights of stairs to the lobby to check out. While waiting for our bus 197 outside the Rijksmuseum we battled the throngs of tourists to hurriedly snap a few pictures with the IAmsterdam sign before grabbing our seats on the 197 which would get us to Schiphol with nearly an hour and a half to spare.
Tarrah and I dropped our bags with Easy Jet, while Cori opted to save the 33 euro and carry hers on (a decision she would unfortunately later regret as we were forced to sprint through the entire airport to make our flight due to the lengthy security and passport process - I imagine there must be a lot of weirdos trying to smuggle things out of Amsterdam).
After sprinting through 30+ gates to get to ours, we arrived breathless to be scolded by our two Dutch airline attendants.
"You are very late", they said dryly in only the way the Dutch can do as she ushered us into the boarded and belted plane.
5 minutes later, two still breathless Americans and a Canadian took off for Split, Croatia.
After ordering what can only be described as a true beverage buffet, we crashed hard and awoke to the beautiful Adriatic Sea hovering below us (if only ever nap I took could end this way).
After grabbing our gear and getting through yet another extraordinarily long "non-eu" passport line (I really got to get one of those EU passports), we finally were ready to experience paradise. We hopped on an airport shuttle (aka a double decker tour bus) and headed to our Airbnb.
Our Airbnb was located just outside the palace (yes, palace) and port. Upon arrival, we were greeted by Josco who had grey hair, adobe orange skin, and eyes as blue as the sea. (I imagine he must've been quite the lady killer back in the day). Josco informed us that he had dirty hands because he has spent the last few hours preparing our 3-day home and planting all the flowers on our patio (yep lady killer fo' sho).
Tara Mitchell, our other Canadian, arrived from Portugal a few hours after us and we headed out.
Split proved to be very beautiful with beaches galore and a huge ancient palace sitting right on the main city coast that has some amazing restaurants, shops, bars, and clubs built inside of it.
Our first night in Split we went to a restaurant called "No Stress Cafe". The menu looked a little weird (I've never seen a menu that includes ice cream in nearly every item, including the caprese salad and beef carpaccio), but we decided to give it a go.
"You may notice," said our waiter on the 3rd check-in at no stress, "we're doing a lot with ice cream."
After attempting to order a few bottles of wine that our waiter just simply wasn't having ("no not that one, not that one"), we just let our "no stress" waiter take the stress away and order for us. We ended up with an octopus salad, a foie gras brule with rosemary ice cream, a meat/cheese tray, and a wine of our waiters choice. (It ended up being one of the best meals on the trip, so I can't complain...or stress)
The rest of night 1 included some light exploring, bar hopping, a few more bottles of wine, and a relatively early bedtime (1am- our new early).
The next morning Tara greeted us with espresso and the news that we had managed to sleep until 1pm (apparently Amsterdam had finally caught up with us). Feeling refreshed, we grabbed it suits and a 1 gallon plastic soda bottle of rose from the market (#beachroseallday) and hit the beautiful sand beach to make some headway on those coveted Adobe orange tans all the locals were flaunting. The beach was phenomenal, though admitted I with all the adorable euro babies running around naked our ovaries did start to go a bit into overdrive.
That night we decided to rage.
I'm not sure if it was the majestic sand beach vitamin d, Josco's beautiful new flowers, that we were finally together...or Tara Mitchell egging us on- but somehow we all thought we were 21 again and it was amazing. I think it was around the time we each took turns twerking on the wall handstand style that we decided it was probably time to head out.
We ate some pizza at a restaurant to soak up some of our over-zealous pre-partying during which time Cori caught the most hilarious video of Tarrah whose little frame hadn't quite taken in the shots with the same capacity as her amazonian counterparts. When Tarrah gleefully cheered at the the site of our waitress bringing over the silverware, Cori and I realized we might be taking on the night rage as a duo rather than trio.
As Tara and Tarrah headed back to the airbnb, Cori and I went club hopping. After initially heading to "Centro", we followed in a group of slavic call girls only to be herded into a seperate line. Having not figured out our math yet, we didn't realize until we were inside the club (where it was basically just us, the 10 prostitutes, and a handfull of other fellow idiots who had been suckered in) that we had paid nearly $30 each for this "experience". Undetered, we followed the music to the next club where we danced and met a really obnoxious Frenchman and Canadian who offered to take us to the special beach club. On one hand, they were awful, but on the other hand, we weren't sure how we would find the additional club without them ... so off we went.
The secret beach club proved to be awesome with a 9-1 man to woman ratio and a view of the ocean. After immediately ditching our club sherpas with the most sincere Au Revoir we could muster, we hit the dance floor. It was right around this time that I spotted him´... the hottest man in Split (a 6 foot 5 Swedish hunk whose named ended up being Anders and who I believe was probably a gift from God to reward me for all my good deeds this past year).
In addition to being ridiculously good looking, he also ended up providing great conversation and was a general delight (which was unfortunate for Cori who was forced to play wingman to his "Make America Great Again" red-headed cohort who, though also beautiful, had some interesting political views to which Cori had to continue smiling and nodding to lest I lose my Swede who, at this point, I would need to be dragged from kicking and screaming)
Eventually we had to bid our new friends goodbye, but I definately made a new Facebook friend that night.
The rest of our stay in Split continued to be lovely. We hit up the beach again, had some wonderful food, ate a lot of gelato, and bid farewell to the beautiful city over a sunset dinner.
On day 3, we caught the 8am ferry to Dubrovnik.
Split was admittedly lovely, but nothing compared to the magic of Croatia that Dubrovnik would bring...stay tuned!
Tarrah and I dropped our bags with Easy Jet, while Cori opted to save the 33 euro and carry hers on (a decision she would unfortunately later regret as we were forced to sprint through the entire airport to make our flight due to the lengthy security and passport process - I imagine there must be a lot of weirdos trying to smuggle things out of Amsterdam).
After sprinting through 30+ gates to get to ours, we arrived breathless to be scolded by our two Dutch airline attendants.
"You are very late", they said dryly in only the way the Dutch can do as she ushered us into the boarded and belted plane.
5 minutes later, two still breathless Americans and a Canadian took off for Split, Croatia.
Post Dutch Scolding
After ordering what can only be described as a true beverage buffet, we crashed hard and awoke to the beautiful Adriatic Sea hovering below us (if only ever nap I took could end this way).
After grabbing our gear and getting through yet another extraordinarily long "non-eu" passport line (I really got to get one of those EU passports), we finally were ready to experience paradise. We hopped on an airport shuttle (aka a double decker tour bus) and headed to our Airbnb.
Our Airbnb was located just outside the palace (yes, palace) and port. Upon arrival, we were greeted by Josco who had grey hair, adobe orange skin, and eyes as blue as the sea. (I imagine he must've been quite the lady killer back in the day). Josco informed us that he had dirty hands because he has spent the last few hours preparing our 3-day home and planting all the flowers on our patio (yep lady killer fo' sho).
Josco's newly planted plants
Tara Mitchell, our other Canadian, arrived from Portugal a few hours after us and we headed out.
Split proved to be very beautiful with beaches galore and a huge ancient palace sitting right on the main city coast that has some amazing restaurants, shops, bars, and clubs built inside of it.
Outside the Palace
Our first night in Split we went to a restaurant called "No Stress Cafe". The menu looked a little weird (I've never seen a menu that includes ice cream in nearly every item, including the caprese salad and beef carpaccio), but we decided to give it a go.
After attempting to order a few bottles of wine that our waiter just simply wasn't having ("no not that one, not that one"), we just let our "no stress" waiter take the stress away and order for us. We ended up with an octopus salad, a foie gras brule with rosemary ice cream, a meat/cheese tray, and a wine of our waiters choice. (It ended up being one of the best meals on the trip, so I can't complain...or stress)
Our "no stress" meal
The rest of night 1 included some light exploring, bar hopping, a few more bottles of wine, and a relatively early bedtime (1am- our new early).
The next morning Tara greeted us with espresso and the news that we had managed to sleep until 1pm (apparently Amsterdam had finally caught up with us). Feeling refreshed, we grabbed it suits and a 1 gallon plastic soda bottle of rose from the market (#beachroseallday) and hit the beautiful sand beach to make some headway on those coveted Adobe orange tans all the locals were flaunting. The beach was phenomenal, though admitted I with all the adorable euro babies running around naked our ovaries did start to go a bit into overdrive.
The beautiful sand beach of Split
Beach Rose....all dayyyyyy
That night we decided to rage.
I'm not sure if it was the majestic sand beach vitamin d, Josco's beautiful new flowers, that we were finally together...or Tara Mitchell egging us on- but somehow we all thought we were 21 again and it was amazing. I think it was around the time we each took turns twerking on the wall handstand style that we decided it was probably time to head out.
The three stooges - courtesy of Tara Mitchell
We ate some pizza at a restaurant to soak up some of our over-zealous pre-partying during which time Cori caught the most hilarious video of Tarrah whose little frame hadn't quite taken in the shots with the same capacity as her amazonian counterparts. When Tarrah gleefully cheered at the the site of our waitress bringing over the silverware, Cori and I realized we might be taking on the night rage as a duo rather than trio.
As Tara and Tarrah headed back to the airbnb, Cori and I went club hopping. After initially heading to "Centro", we followed in a group of slavic call girls only to be herded into a seperate line. Having not figured out our math yet, we didn't realize until we were inside the club (where it was basically just us, the 10 prostitutes, and a handfull of other fellow idiots who had been suckered in) that we had paid nearly $30 each for this "experience". Undetered, we followed the music to the next club where we danced and met a really obnoxious Frenchman and Canadian who offered to take us to the special beach club. On one hand, they were awful, but on the other hand, we weren't sure how we would find the additional club without them ... so off we went.
The secret beach club proved to be awesome with a 9-1 man to woman ratio and a view of the ocean. After immediately ditching our club sherpas with the most sincere Au Revoir we could muster, we hit the dance floor. It was right around this time that I spotted him´... the hottest man in Split (a 6 foot 5 Swedish hunk whose named ended up being Anders and who I believe was probably a gift from God to reward me for all my good deeds this past year).
In addition to being ridiculously good looking, he also ended up providing great conversation and was a general delight (which was unfortunate for Cori who was forced to play wingman to his "Make America Great Again" red-headed cohort who, though also beautiful, had some interesting political views to which Cori had to continue smiling and nodding to lest I lose my Swede who, at this point, I would need to be dragged from kicking and screaming)
Eventually we had to bid our new friends goodbye, but I definately made a new Facebook friend that night.
The rest of our stay in Split continued to be lovely. We hit up the beach again, had some wonderful food, ate a lot of gelato, and bid farewell to the beautiful city over a sunset dinner.
On day 3, we caught the 8am ferry to Dubrovnik.
Split was admittedly lovely, but nothing compared to the magic of Croatia that Dubrovnik would bring...stay tuned!
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