Ferrily She Rolled Along

The beautiful Ottoman-designed bridge was destroyed in the 1990s war and the city of Mostar was divided across the Neretva River: Muslims on one side and Croats on the other. (Carly Calhoun)

The next morning I woke up to church bells and a cat fight, and by 7 a.m. I was settled in at a cafe near the town square, nibbling a marmalade croissant and watching the neighborhood come to life. A well-padded woman in powder-blue stretch pants pedaled up on a pink bike and popped into a supermarket. Two waitresses shouted good morning to each other from their respective cafes, and a couple of girls in regulation short tiered skirts, camisoles and flipflops strolled down to the beach.

While the coastline is endless in these parts, sand is not. But that doesn't stop the legions of determined sunbathers who spread their beach towels on concrete slabs or hard pebbly beaches. By the time I'd packed up a couple of hours later and was heading for the ferry dock, the well-oiled and frequently topless populace -- no inhibitions here -- was out in force.

Palatial Split

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When the Roman emperor Diocletian built his retirement villa in the 4th century A.D., he settled on Split. True, it was his hometown, but its stellar setting made the decision a no-brainer. The seaside town, about a four-hour ferry ride north of Korcula, occupies a prime spot between the sea and the mountains. Palm trees, shimmering cobalt water and rows of terraced houses greet you at the dock.

Compared with the medieval perfection of Dubrovnik and the rustic allure of Korcula, Split -- Croatia's second-largest city, after Zagreb -- seems grittier and more real. Or maybe that was just the elaborate system of locks and deadbolts on the door of the Soviet-style apartment I rented for the night. But it was a great location just a few blocks from the center of town, and I headed immediately for the gorgeous, palm-lined seaside promenade, whose cafes and pubs draw a lively crowd day and night.

Split's other great attraction is the enormous Diocletian's Palace, a 7 1/2 -acre villa that comprises some 220 buildings. It once housed soldiers, servants and family members -- 9,000 people at one point. But far from being deserted today, its apartments and courtyards are occupied by shops, cafes and private residences. As you have a coffee in the ceremonial entrance court, it's not a stretch to imagine the emperor striding through, surveying his domain.

My fish dinner circuit was coming to an end, and I ended up that last night at Sperun, a tiny locals' hangout with a reputation for cooking fresh food simply and well. The manager recommended the whole roasted sea bream, brought out a bottle of the local Posip wine and pulled up a chair.

"We don't do this just for money," Sergio Cado said passionately. "We try to prepare special food, original food -- like fresh whole fish, and bouillabaisse. Things people will recognize as Dalmatian." I was beginning to see what he meant.

K.C. Summers will be online to discuss this story Monday at 2 p.m. during the Travel section's regular weekly chat.