Croatia: To Šibenik and back

We left Trogir and headed on to Šibenik. Clouds now filled the sky. We learned later from Davor that part of the road between Zagreb and Split had closed this particular day, because the wind was too ferocious. By the time we got to Šibenik, dark grey clouds churned through the sky, and the wind was enormous, flags standing straight out, laundry on the wine sticking out parallel to the ground … Rachel and I were like, “Where did this COME from? And WHY did we not bring our down parkas to Croatia in September?”

Šibenik is an historic city on a little hill, facing a small river, where the only access to the larger sea is via a narrow channel (pointed out to us by Ante). When we arrived it seemed nearly deserted, probably because rain was coming and everyone had gone inside, and tourists weren’t really traveling that day because of the weather. Whatever the reason, when we walked into the main square of the old town, there were only a couple of people wandering around.

There are many reasons to come to Šibenik. It’s one of those important cities/ports along the Dalmatian coast that was captured, re-captured, captured again, over the centuries, by the Byzantine, Venetian, Austro-Hungarian empire. It’s always been a crucial port city. The main attraction is St. James Cathedral, which is what we had come to see.

Ante gave us the bare bones details, and you could feel his enthusiasm: “It is a masterpiece.”

I haven’t really written about the limestone of Croatia. By the end of the week, Rachel and I felt like minor experts in limestone, its qualities and properties, its uses, its look and feel, why it is good, why it is problematic as a building block… It was limestone-limestone-limestone all the way through Croatia. If you feel like asking “Is that limestone?” maybe stop, because 99 times out of 100 the answer will be “Yes.” Limestone has almost a soft crumbly look, and it doesn’t just reflect the light – it seems to absorb it into its pores, emitting a glow from within. There was no glow on this day in Šibenik, since the storm clouds were gathering.

St. James is one of the most important sites for Croatian Catholics. And small wonder. Ante was right. This limestone cathedral is a masterpiece. Unlike the other buildings we had seen, the limestone of St. James had no mortar in between the stones, no connective tissue. “The blocks are like Legos,” Ante said, “So you can take the whole thing apart and re-build it somewhere else if you want.” Extraordinary!

It wasn’t open so we couldn’t go inside. I love the thought that regular masses are still held in these historic buildings. That THIS is where you go to church on Sundays.

Ante had said to us, before he dropped us off, “Along the left side of the building are 72 human heads.”
“Wait, what?”
“Look for the human heads. Nobody knows who they are. But they think maybe they were the patrons who helped pay for the building. They think a couple of them are Popes.”

We were very intrigued. After wandering around in front of the building, we moved off to the left hand side, and immediately saw the line of human heads. You can actually see them in two of the photos of the Cathedral above. Once we got close to them, we realized how unique they all were. These are not idealized portraits. They are practically photographic in their specificity. They look like regular people, like this must have been what they actually looked like. If you ran into them today, you’d recognize them. Just amazing. Who are they?

If they were patrons and popes, that’s all very nice … but the EFFECT is somewhat grisly. It LOOKS like they were enemies of the church, decapitated heads on display as warnings to those who would follow in their footsteps.

The entire place is so rich with history, much of it unknown. The place exists. But it’s so old – 13th century, 14th century – that much of its history is lost to us. But look at it. What an amazing accomplishment of architecture. I feel fortunate we saw it on a grey day, the wind whipping our hair around, with a couple of other quiet people wandering around. Šibenik is a city but we didn’t see much of it. We hung out in that square, and then down on the marina, watching as these bruised clouds massed up above us, the clanking of the boats and buoys filling the air. The water was dark. The whole place was so beautiful I’d love to go back.

We drove back to Split through a rainstorm. I don’t think we went back the way we came. My memory is that we were driving through these back areas, with crumbling small villages, not much else going on, the trees bending all the way over in the wind, parts of the roads flooded. We pulled into a small restaurant perched on the side of the road – in the middle of what felt like nowhere – because it was time for lunch, and Ante wanted us to have lamb. He had the whole thing planned out. “We do fish one day, we do sausages another day, and now you have to have lamb.” We did not question him or resist. Who could resist Ante? He wanted us to get the full spectrum of Croatian cuisine. We were the only ones in the restaurant. The rain battered the windows. The meal was delicious.

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