"Some memories from Solin" Solin Travelogue by diocletianvs

Solin and me? In short? I hated it!

After spending a childhood in Veli Varos in Split, at a walking distance from Peristyle – my family moved to Solin. At that time Solin was no more than a grey spot in northern industrial suburbia of Split.

Three cement factories were competing in production of grey smoke that was filling the air. Jadro river had greyish-green colour in ordinary days, and large oil spots after ecological accidents (no one called them like this in those days) that occurred regularly every two or tree weeks. Solin’s portion of sea had thick layer of foam that chanded its regular grey colour to red only when local meat production factory emptied its by-products directly to the bay.

Everyone knew about “certain old stones” that layed near the center, yet few went there – in the jungle of high grass and snakes. The “old stones” from Croatian history on Gospin otok were strategically occupied by the Yugoslav Army base. Their high fence was only several meters from the main entrance to the church, preventing the possible religious ceremonies.

The post office had two counters and two public phone booths. They were packed since only the few had phone lines in their houses. Streets were poorly illuminated, probably in order to enable the views to two “light installations” on hills above Solin – one saying “Tito”, other saying “SKJ” (Union of Communists of Yugoslavia).

There were three movie theatres. They all were open on the occasions of anniversaries of communist’s organisations in cement factories, showing Yugoslav war films.

And there were four groceries shops. One “at the bottom” (that’s how the locals called it), then “at Zora’s”, “at Lenka’s” and one almost foreign – by Slavonia-based company called Belje. At 5.30am people would wait in lines for cheaper bread. At 7.30am they would ran out of fresh milk. In mid-1980s they ran out of chocolate and coffee. Both appeared again on shelves (together with imported bananas) as the result of reformist government in late 1980s.

Good old days of socialism. They did bring several cheerful moments. Like when we were waiting for Tito to pass through streets of Solin. Us, first-graders, lined up on the edges of the road with flags and roses. He passed quickly on his way from the airport to his villa in Split. There was something in the air. I was told later it was a plastic arm that the security would wave from his car when he would pass through insignificant places, in order to give the impression of him greeting the crowds. At that speed from my viewpoint it looked quite real.

He died a little bit later. But that fact didn’t stop us to end each day in our school with “pioneer greeting” saying “For our country with Tito!”

In my seventh grade I won at local school quiz on the subject “Tito, Revolution and Peace”. As an award we were given the lecture by local war veteran on his personal experiences during the war.

In my eight grade I won the 2nd place at the essay-writing competiton. My prize was the book “Death Walked on Parallel Ways”, volume 2. Volume 1 was given to the girl who won the first place.

Although occasionally cheerful, Solin was grey place. Fridays were my favourite days since it meant that I would soon go to Split to spend the weekend with my grandparents. And my old friends. In the third grade my parents finally allowed me to take the Solin – Split bus by myself - Wow, I still remember that ride.

I continued to hate Solin even after I started to attend secondary school in Split. My last bus from Split was leaving at 10pm – the time when my friends would usually go out.

It was only in Zagreb, during my studies, that I discovered the hidden beauty of Solin. National Library in Zagreb had several shelves of books about the history of Salona and Solin. They kept me occupied for several months.

It was also the time when the hidden beauty of Solin started to appear on surface. The industry collapsed as everywhere in Croatia, leaving many people in Solin without their jobs but also bringing clean air. Solin got its “independence” from Split, forming a separate municipality. Big clean-up projects started, and old ruins of Salona started to appear on the surface. Lots of small, independent businesses started to appear and change the initial pessimist atmosphere in Solin.

I never regarded myself a local here, although I still have Solin address in all my documents. But today it’s nice to act like a tourist and discover the new faces of Solin on my each visit from Zagreb. I still do it, regularly. And new Solin continues to surprise me.