Of course, you really can’t get lost in Trogir
Trogir’s Old Town is tiny, so perhaps I should start out by saying that you really can’t get lost. At least not physically. However, if you’re there on a lazy afternoon near the end of October, after most of us tourists have left, you can indeed get lost in the warm yellow glow of the place.
We had two and a half hours to ourselves in Torgir, and I suppose that I could have walked around with the family, but, honestly, while I very much enjoyed their company, I wanted to be alone. Something I’ve learned on this trip is that I have a great capacity for solitary wanders, more than I thought.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, after all, I actually enjoyed the solitude of the pandemic with only Ollie for company (my little pup is a lot of company, and a bright spot in my looming return to the US). Still, friends back home have asked me if I feel lonely or about the people I’m meeting, and I feel guilty saying that mostly I’ve really loved just wandering about on my own with nothing by my thoughts for company. I like talking to people when there’s a chance, but I haven’t sought them out.
I suppose that’s a bit weird.
Anyhow, I took off in one direction and the others, confused perhaps, went off in another, and soon, I turned a corner and internally burst into applause. Little lanes with laundry hung and plants on the stairs and old coats of arms atop the doors. Tiny neighborhood churches. Secret courtyards. Every now and again, a square. For the most part, the streets were empty.
Occasionally I’d happen upon residents, or a few other tourists, as lost in time as me. Restaurant workers, lamenting the lack of us. Alas, only my eyes were hungry. I felt like apologizing but didn’t as I snapped yet another photo. For two and a half hours, I barely said a word.