In setting out on a journey through Dalmatia, revisiting many places I had been to before, as well as some I had not, I was inspired by a book by the excellent Sonia Wild Bićanić on past British travellers in the region (British Travellers in Dalmatia, 1757-1935, Faktura, Zaprešić, 2006). I envisaged myself following in the footsteps of such travellers as Robert Adam, A.A. Paton, J. Gardner Wilkinson and T.G. Jackson in the 18th and 19th centuries. The experience today, in the age of mass tourism, aeroplanes, buses and tourist offices is vastly different to what those earlier adventurers found. In the 1880s Jackson could write of Dalmatia as “a strange, mysterious and almost unknown shore.” Nowadays you can fly there with Easyjet.
Yet in Šibenik I could look at the same old streets as Jackson, still dominated by the marvellous cathedral of St James, which so inspired him. Jackson approached the city by sea, passing through the narrow channel into the elongated bay that leads to the city and the mouth of the Krka river. He described it as “an imposing mass of picturesque old houses piled up the mountainside, with the great white-domed cathedral in the middle.” I arrived overland, but the impression is much the same.
Cathedral of St James, Šibenik
The architecture of the cathedral is noteworthy, built entirely by blocks of stone, pre-carved before being lifted into place. Great interlocking stone slabs make up the roof on one side and the ceiling on the other. It was built in several stages in the 15th century, but the principal architect was Juraj Dalmatinac, who was born in nearby Zadar. In 2000, it was proclaimed a UNESCO World Heritage site. Jackson, a leading Oxford architect, was astounded, describing the cathedral as one of the wonders of Christendom, its architecture ‘original to the point of daring’, adding that ‘it would be difficult to match it in singularity of construction.’ The cathedral’s ornate baptistery, to one side of the main alter, is particularly fine. A notable and unusual feature is the depiction of God the Father on the ceiling above the baptismal font, as an old man with flowing long hair.
Also appealing are little touches of humour in the cathedral’s construction. Either side of the side entrance, giving on to the central town square, are touching statues of Adam and Eve, naked and sheepishly holding hands over their private parts, their faces pictures of embarrassment. Around the outside of the apse are sculptured portraits said to be of people known to Juraj Dalmatinac, some of them plainly caricatures.
Out of the tourist season, Šibenik was quiet, nearly deserted on the Saturday evening when I arrived. It came to life on Sunday, as people gathered on the square outside the cathedral, drinking coffee in the sunshine, spilling out of the cathedral following the morning Mass. Among the devotees attending the Mass was a group of men and women from Bosnia decked out in traditional dress, who performed traditional dances for the onlookers, the older men intoning haunting, wailing, almost howling chants.
Sunday lunch was at a restaurant overlooking the cathedral entrance, Pelegrini. A marvellous place, highly unusual in my experience of Dalmatian restaurants, its cooking displayed a sophistication, ambition and adventurousness I had not previously associated with the region. Seafood in Dalmatia can be very nice, so long as you are happy with a narrow repertoire of grilled fish, crustaceans, seafood pasta dishes and risottos. Nice, but safe and unexciting. And unfortunately not always very nice, with a surfeit of restaurants offering poor quality, over-cooked fare aimed principally at ripping off easily pleased tourists. But Pelegrini is so far above all that. I started with an aubergine soufflé, perfectly executed, light and delicious. I followed it with a mushroom risotto with truffles – yum. And their home-baked bread was exceptional.
Šibenik is a charming and rewarding town to walk around and explore, with beautiful views around almost every corner in its narrow streets and alleys, and intimate little squares. So many of the buildings feature wonderfully ornate stone doorways and windows, attesting to the wealth once enjoyed by the town’s notable residents. Little churches abound, most of them closed at this time of year. Among them is a small Orthodox Church, the centre of the Serbian Orthodox diocese. Serbs have clung on in Šibenik, despite ongoing resentment from the war in the 1990s, when Serb rebel forces controlled territory inland from the city.
Jackson travelled by boat up the River Krka, marvelling at the waterfalls. With none of the tourist boats operating in November, I travelled by bus, but the falls are still splendid, a series of cascades interspersed with blue-green pools, framed by the greens, reds, browns and yellows of autumnal trees. Nowadays there are wooden walkways enabling the visitor to stroll around the network of pools and falls. There is a cluster of stone buildings, given over to tourism today, although closed when I visited. In their day they housed mills, powered by the water flows. Gardner Wilkinson also travelled up the Krka, continuing to the Franciscan monastery of Visovac, and then on to the Orthodox monastery of Michael the Archangel.
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