Have you tried everything in Split?

Squid-ink risotto blackens your teeth mid-conversation — locals just keep talking.

Beef marinated 24 hours in wine and vinegar, sweetened with prunes — every grandmother argues hers is best.

Peasant flatbread from Poljica, baked under embers and eaten with your hands.

Ask the konoba what came off the boat that morning, not what's on the laminated menu.

Order coffee and a rakija chaser, read a sports paper, discuss Hajduk's suffering for an hour.

White wine cut with sparkling water — the unofficial Dalmatian summer survival drink.

Pine-forest climb where power-walking grandmothers will pass you without breaking a sweat.

Master the sacred art of doing absolutely nothing — Zagreb works, Split lives.

"Hvala" (HVAH-lah) gets you a warmer smile from vendors than any English pleasantry.

At the Pazar market ask which catch is for grilling versus stewing — vendors love schooling tourists.

Torcida ultras, Europe's oldest fan group, turn a Tuesday league match into a religious event.

Skip Bačvice's crowds for the rocky swimming spot below Marjan that locals actually use.

A cappella harmonies echo off palace stone in summer, sung by men who learned it from their fathers.