We arrived at Split Croatia around eight am, but our new home would not be ready for some time. So we headed to the beach for a few hours. On the way our diver insisted on stopping at his favorite donut store, to welcome us to his homeland and, so that is how we found ourselves eating warm cream filled donuts on the beach of Croatia at 9 am. It was all a little surreal. As we sat at the beach it slowly started to fill with people, but instead of swimming, many just went into the water and stood there. At first, we really were not sure what was happening, dozens of mainly elderly Croatians were standing or floating in place as if waiting for something to happen. We later learned the sea to the people of Croatia is like the Sauna is to the people of the north: the magic that cures everything and they were there to heal. This was the start of what would be our next week and starting to learn the culture of Mediterranean.

Our new home in Split was a temporary affair, we had made one change late in the game leaving us a week in Split before our more extended house. Our new location was a 5-minute walk from the beach and about 2 miles from downtown. The ‘old town’ center of Split was beautiful. Built within an old Roman Empire Castle, the white stones and winding streets are like many great European cities where one can get lost in alleyways for hours. And while I have had the privilege of getting lost in alleys of history, it was a first for the rest of my family and seeing their expressions and joy exploring was priceless.

Split was full of food, beaches and time to reflect. It was also filled with odd contradictions. The first day we were there we ate at a cute little restaurant by the sea. They had beautiful garden boxes and a cat who lived in them. The place looked like it has been around for years attached to an ancient building, now used as a kitchen. It looked like a perfect piece of paradise, and then the black-hawk helicopter showed up. Armed forces with machine guns removed the whole eating deck as the owner raced to save the plants. Tourist and locals alike watched in their swimsuits, not sure what was going on and then just as quickly as they came, they left and then life went back to as it was before, standing in the ocean and playing handball. The next day, umbrellas were back up, and they were serving drinks as if nothing had happened. One day later the planters were back, and they were serving food. The Blackhawk kept passing overhead, but no one seemed to look up or give it a second glance. Reading (via google translator) the newspaper the next morning, it sounded like some issue over the improper flooring. I guess that is what happens when every generation can be born in the same town, yet with each new generation that city is a part of a different country. You just put your planters back up and keep moving on, Blackhawk overhead or not.

There was so much to see and do in Split, we got behind on almost everything, work, blog, homework. It was just too hard not to run one more mile, hang out at the beach one more hour, soak up one more sunset. There was also a vast cultural difference. I found the pace of our first week almost jarring and memorizing at the same time. Having a cup of coffee at a cafe in Croatia is a three-hour affair. People literally stand in the water for hours at a time and do nothing. I couldn’t help but laugh at this very laid back pace compared to my past life of super efficiency, “life hacks” and other ways to do more with less time. Seeing in my Facebook feed with adds like “most efficient workouts” or in my Audible account books like “Tools of Titans” it felt like these tips for a different planet, one that I vaguely remember, but that here seemed odd, and not quite understandable. Although I knew I had things I needed to do, I couldn't but help and just slowly sip a glass of wine and enjoy the sun slowly fill the stones with an evening glow.