A five-day trip is rewarded with the splendid view that the Lonely Planet travel guide promised, and a lot more

As I prepared to fly to central Europe recently there was a wonderful, vivid picture I could not expel from my mind. It was of a red pig flying a fighter aircraft, with the resplendent turquoise waters of the Adriatic below. Porco Rosso, a pilot cursed with the visage of a red pig, was the hero of a 1992 Japanese animated film written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki.

By the time my friends and I had arrived in the Croatian capital, Zagreb, and boarded a bus for Plitvice Lakes National Park in the mountains, Porco Rosso had more or less taken a back seat in my mind.

A minibus took us from the lakes to the city of Split, on the eastern coast of the Adriatic. The mini-bus was packed with backpackers, and I was forced to share a seat beside the driver with a lady in her 60s. "I am a bum," she announced as soon as we began talking.

She was from Arizona and was traveling alone. She had spent a month in Germany, Austria and Slovenia, and planned to spend another couple of months in eastern Europe.

The lady asked to join our group of three, and we happily agreed. She obviously needed someone to natter to, and our conversation lasted throughout the six-hour ride. We had booked accommodation in a hostel in Split, but our new friend had booked nothing, so we suggested she tag along with us to our hostel.

To save money, the leader of our group insisted we walk there from the bus station. This turned out to be a 50-minute trek under scorching summer sun. At the hostel the lady, who had dragged a large suitcase, was told the place was full, so we bade this sexagenarian free spirit farewell. For us youngsters, I reckon, she is a beacon of hope. Like her, in another 30 years we could still be traveling the world alone, a consolation that is all the more comforting given that as young single people one of the greatest fears we nurse is planning to go somewhere but having no one to go with.

Another spirit who had no plans to do things by halves once he reached a certain age was the Roman emperor Diocletian (245-311). Split is a living testimony to that, the original settlement consisting of a grand palace covering 30,000 square meters that Diocletian had built at the peak of his power. The palace, which he planned to seek repose in once he retired, stands to this day, the giant white stones of which it is built almost succeeding in out-dazzling the waters of the Adriatic alongside which it stands. The stones, decorations and artworks that went into it were transported from every corner of Diocletian's vast empire.

Construction, which lasted several decades, was completed in the fourth century.

Even if you have not been to Split you may well have seen the palace and its 15-meter tall brilliant white walls because it was used as a location for palace shots in the TV drama Game of Thrones.

In June, when we were there, Split has the vibrant feel of a summer resort, something absent from the next city we visited, Trogir, a one-hour bus ride along the coast. Trogir, built by the Greeks, is not only more serene than Split but somehow more attractive, the laid-back feel underlined by teenagers playing soccer beside ancient castles.