Croatia was the last destination on a 3-month solo-backpacking trip through Europe. With 10 days left in my trip I arrived in Split, exhausted, cranky and very tired of traveling. After 3 months of changing locations every 3 to 5 days all I really wanted was to go home.
Split was hot and very sunny and I needed a hat desperately, so I ventured out of my youth hostel and to the goods market that surrounds the fruit and veggie market. I was looking at sun hats and being hassled by the woman who owned the booth, I really didn't want to haggle I just wanted a hat and at the moment when I most wanted to give up and go on my way with out at hat or just stay inside for the next 10 days, I saw something out of the corner of my eye and fell in love with Split.
It was a woman, and old woman who looked like the pictures of my great grandma, a babushka (grandma) I would have called her. She was dressed in all black, with a scarf over her head and a face that should the effects of time and the war in every crease of her beaming smile. She was dancing... Rocking out to the modern music of a group of young artist playing in the abandoned fruit market. She spun in circles with her arms out and rocked her head and body to the beat like children do at hippie festivals. Her eyes where close and she smiled the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.
At that moment I forgot about the sun and the heat and the hat and walked towards the band, sat down and watched them play. I sat there for most the afternoon. After about 45 minutes one of the girls that was taking pictures of the band came up to me and took my picture and started to talk to me. This was the first time in my who trip that someone, not living out of a backpack, really talked to me. By the end of the bands set most of the watchers where hanging around where I had sat talking to me about art, music, fashion and the effects of the war. It was a game of translation with some, and those who spoke beautiful English translated for those who spoke none.
This group of people, all about my age had experience the most gruesome war and near genocide, they where in there early twenties and had seen so much violence and hatred and still were sitting here taking the time to talk to me about art.
I was in love. Split with its punk/goth counter culture and vibrance was my city.