Omis was definitely special. The Cetine River emerges into the sea from the coastal mountains through a spectacular, defensible gorge. About five miles upstream, a placid river between mountainous banks turns to white water, complete with rafts and guides. But just where it becomes navigable, there's a beautiful cafe and bakery on the site of an old flour mill that used water from the nearby rapids for power.
Omis was once an independent small, fortified city, apparently a pirate stronghold, which is easily imagined. We arrived by the coastal bus from Rovanjska, a village near Zadar. We had stayed there for two days with Julie Busic. She had been the connection to the publishing program at PSU that gave this trip a theme. I've probably mentioned already that we were thinking of jamming in two or three weeks in Italy between the end of Summer Session and the Fall Term madness. When the book deal jelled, we decided we'd spend our money going behind the curtain with a friendly guide. PSU was not going to pay for me to travel there, though they gave me a bottle of Oregon pear brandy to give to the Minister of Culture. The small bottle was giftwrapped and taking up space in my luggage.
Good, though. After the ceremonial part in Zagreb, Julie had driven us to her coastal home for a few days of immersion to the countryside. Because of her political notoriety, she was known and looked after by this whole village. Or so it seemed. We were greeted warmly by the curious neighbors. And we swam in the shallow harbor almost outside her door.
She took us on an emotional ride through small villages between her house and Zadar that were still marked with warning signs for mines and abandoned house, mostly of the Serbs who had once lived there before warring with their neighbors. Ghosts with bullet holes and surrounded by weeds. But these are separate stories.
Omis was a happy accident after the bus ride into the heart of Split didn't grab either of us and we bought new tickets south toward Dubrovnik. The ride had gotten better as we rolled down the coast. There were two drivers who alternated the long curvey drive along the mountains' edge. One was studying English. We were sitting just behind the front door. So we had a guide, with a couple of young guys across from us chiming in. When we caught a glimpse of the seaside village of Omis and then the Cestine River, we were intrigued, but we didn't get off. We debated. The bus headed out of town. We asked the driver to stop and he did. We got out just in time.
Linny walked across the street to a bar that was open and serving out side. I stood over our luggage in the shade of an old plane tree, just down the way from the news stand. Linny came back with the keys to a remodeled 4th floor flat on a side street in the old town. It turned out to be perfect. We relaxed and explored. We found a little bookstore with a shelf of English titles from Europa Editions. We tried several restaurants and cafes. We swam. We took the tourist boat up the river.
I wanted to move there.
The seaside village straddles the mouth of the river, but the old quarter is on the steeply tilted slopes of the south bank. There are lots of coastal hamlets and isolated groups of houses all along the coast, but Omis is a market town. We remember it for not only the variety of smoked and cured goodies, but for a host of locally distilled brandies and elixers. By halfway through the market, you're smashed, but the weather is beautiful, the people are friendly, and there are so many things to try.
Omis was definitely special. The Cetine River emerges through the costal mountains through a spectacular gorge. About five miles upstream, a placid river turns to white water, complete with rafts and guides. But just where it becomes navigable, there's a beautiful cafe and bakery on the site of an old flour mill that used water from the nearby rapids for power.
gg
Omis was definitely special. The Cetine River emerges through the costal mountains through a spectacular gorge. About five miles upstream, a placid river turns to white water, complete with rafts and guides. But just where it becomes navigable, there's a beautiful cafe and bakery on the site of an old flour mill that used water from the nearby rapids for power.
