The Ambasador Hotel Split Croatia Review: City Break Wellness — More Like a Palace by the Sea

Hotel Ambasador Split: A Luxury Arrival

Split, Croatia. A name that suggests a sporting injury, yet in truth it is a city of emperors, yachts, and enough Roman heritage to make Caesar himself consider early retirement. After a bleary-eyed Heathrow start, one is whisked 35 minutes from Split Airport in a charming luxury chauffeur-driven car, the kind that makes you briefly consider writing dispatches to your subjects back home. The driver, effortlessly suave, deposits you at the gleaming white-stone Hotel Ambasador Split, its Italianate façade positively radiating the kind of confidence only a hotel with its own yacht-side terrace can afford.

Check-in is swift, discreet, and infused with that rare blend of competence and charm. Within minutes, I found myself stepping onto the hotel’s impressive terrace, where the Adriatic Sea sprawled before me like an endless silk carpet, gently rippled by the arrival of a massive black yacht named Majic. Sunseeker, naturally. Ten million pounds of floating testosterone. We sipped refreshments, smugly rooted to our chairs, while Majic’s crew bustled about like background extras in our private Adriatic comedy.

Split Croatia: A City Built on Roman Stones and Adriatic Sparkle

Let’s establish the credentials of Split, Croatia’s second largest city. With just 180,000 inhabitants, it makes Zagreb look like a metropolis at a million strong, but here size matters not. What Split has is far more precious: a UNESCO heritage core, pebble beaches stretching from both sides of the harbour, and the small matter of a Roman palace built in 300 AD.

Yes, you read that correctly: this is not a city built around Roman ruins. It is the Roman ruins. The extraordinary Diocletian’s Palace, begun in 295 CE and completed around 305 CE for Emperor Diocletian’s unprecedented act of retirement, forms the living, breathing heart of Split. Half villa, half military fortress, it is Roman opulence rendered in cream stone and red tiled roofs. Today, cafés, boutiques, and residents are cheekily tucked within its ancient walls, while the Peristyle—once the emperor’s ceremonial entrance—is now a lively square where cappuccinos replace prostration.

For the culturally curious, Game of Thrones used it as a backdrop, which is proof enough that this is the stuff of television fantasy. And yet, as you wander past columns that have withstood 1700 years, you begin to ask the inevitable: why aren’t all buildings made like this?

Lunchtime at the Méditerranée: Where Split Tastes Even Better with a Pošip in Hand

Back at the Ambasador, the Restaurant Méditerranée offers front-row seats to Split Harbour — and what a stage it is. Picture this: cream stone houses stacked like a set designer’s dream, roofs tiled in an artful jumble that could only be Mediterranean, the Diocletian tower keeping imperial watch, and an eclectic flotilla of yachts and sailing boats drifting lazily across the foreground. It is one of those rare dining rooms where you feel you could order nothing but water and bread and still feel the experience was worthwhile. Fortunately, the kitchen refuses to let you get away with something so abstemious.

Lunch begins with the catch of the day, often so fresh it feels rude not to thank the fisherman personally. Grilled Adriatic squid arrives — perfectly charred, buttery soft, and infused with the whisper of olive oil from groves that look down upon the sea. A scattering of local herbs gives it the kind of effortless sophistication French chefs spend entire careers trying to recreate.

For those inclined towards indulgence, the Dalmatian scampi risotto is practically mandatory. Rich, creamy rice carries the delicate sweetness of the shellfish, each bite balanced with just the right touch of acidity from a squeeze of lemon. Paired with a glass of Pošip, Dalmatia’s most illustrious white grape, the dish becomes transcendent. The Pošip Nerica in particular is a revelation: crisp, refined, with citrus and stone fruit notes that flirt shamelessly with your palate without overstaying their welcome. It’s the kind of wine that makes you wonder whether the Croatians are justified in keeping it largely to themselves.

The poached hake deserves its own sonnet. A delicate filet arrives bathed in a velvety clam sauce, accompanied by pickled clams, roasted leeks, and the subtly perfumed elderberry capers. A drizzle of chive oil adds the sort of finishing flourish that makes you pause mid-bite to admire the chef’s restraint

Carnivores are far from overlooked. The dry-aged ribeye arrives with theatrical flair, accompanied by parsnip baked in a salt crust infused with coffee, a braised oxtail croquette, a flavoured potato churro, leek mayonnaise, and black onion ketchup. It is a symphony of textures and flavours — rich, smoky, and subtly sweet. It is food that understands the necessity of a siesta afterwards.

Desserts, should you miraculously retain the capacity, veer from the Čokolada-Rogač (a sticky, glorious pistachio brownie mess that clings to both plate and memory) to the Breskva-Mascarpone, Split’s own version of crème caramel. Light and silkyit’s the sort of pudding that lulls you into a state of deep contentment — which is dangerous, as one must eventually stand up and pretend to walk with dignity back to the pool.

All this unfolds against the constant theatre of Split Harbour: superyacht crews polishing chrome to military precision, families licking gelato on the Riva promenade, and the Adriatic glittering under an impertinent sun. If you were to design the ultimate Mediterranean lunch spot in your imagination, it would look suspiciously like this.

The Hotel Ambasador Split: Palace by the Sea

The Hotel Ambasador Split is a strategic masterpiece. Nestled between Split’s beaches on one side and the old town and harbour on the other, its location is unbeatable. You could almost forgive Diocletian for not discovering it himself.

Inside, 100 rooms and suites span the gamut from Classic to Premium, Superior to the Ambasador Suite. The pinnacle? The Diplomat Suite, where a team of in-house ‘Diplomats’ cater to your every whim. Forget room service; this is wish fulfilment with a capital W.

My own billet, Room 104 on the first floor, boasted a king-size double bed, full-length glass doors offering side views of the harbour, and a freestanding bath designed for lingering. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors hid a discreet television, ensuring your reflection remains the star of the show. A brown cotton sofa, green armchair, smoked-glass shower, and a desk adorned with chocolates, fruit, and an iPad for instant room service completed the ensemble. The kind of room where one briefly contemplates cancelling all sightseeing in favour of rolling about in Egyptian cotton sheets.

Exploring Split with a Local Muse

A walking tour with Dinah Roguljić of Lagida Tours is essential. Dinah is the kind of guide who can spin a tale of Glagolitic alphabets, medieval mayors, and local children’s games (the delightful picigin, which involves keeping a ball in the air as long as possible) with the ease of a stand-up comedian. We wound through Varos, Split’s old town, climbing stone steps past houses that look as though they’ve been chiselled directly from the Adriatic dreamscape.

Dinah’s commentary brought to life the centuries of Greek, Roman, Venetian, and Austrian influence, revealing how Split became a layered lasagne of cultures, each deliciously evident in its architecture.

The Pool and Spa: From Yachts to Nuvola Dreams

The Ambasador’s rooftop pool, perched on the third floor, is part theatre, part catwalk, and overlooks the harbour with a sort of cheeky grandeur. While most of it is ankle-deep (perfect for posing), there is one heroic deep lane at the end for those determined to thrash about with purpose. Most, however, are content to dangle their legs while watching yachts bob frantically a mere 15 metres away — it is the Adriatic’s version of a front-row fashion show.

The Hacelia Spa in the basement takes relaxation to imperial levels. Treatments feature lavender, olive oil, and Adriatic sea shells, while the Nuvola dry floatation bed suspends you in a futuristic state of smug bliss. Had Diocletian possessed one, he might never have bothered ruling Rome in the first place.

Dining: Evenings of Elegance and Twinkling Yachts

Dinner on the terrace is theatre. Candlelit tables, yachts twinkling in the background, and a superb two-man band delivering classics on acoustic guitar. Scallops and beef carpaccio danced across my plate, though truthfully, the ambience alone could have sustained me. Watching ten-million-pound yachts rise and fall a metre with each wave, I silently congratulated myself for being on dry land.

Split is best enjoyed by promenading along the Riva. Families, couples, and groups amble stylishly past cafés still brimming with patrons well into September. An impromptu a-cappella performance by a group of silver-haired locals under streetlamps reminded me that in Split, evenings belong to everyone, and even retirement sounds like a party.

Children chase a ball in shallow water, lovers pause for gelato, and fashionably dressed tourists and locals alike stroll with the easy confidence of those who know this city has perfected the art of leisure.

As darkness settles, the harbour lights shimmer against the water, yachts bob gently, and the smell of roasting seafood drifts from nearby restaurants. Whether sipping a glass of Pošip on a terrace or simply watching life unfold along the promenade, the Riva offers a unique mix of history, glamour, and unpretentious joy that makes Split evenings utterly unforgettable.

Culinary Adventures: Fish, Fire, and Flour

The next morning began at the Split fish market, cleverly built above sulphur springs whose faint aroma keeps flies away. One quickly adapts to the eggy tang; it’s practically part of Split’s terroir. With our catch in hand, we proceeded to a Split cooking class with celebrity chefs Marin and Bruna.

I approached the class with extreme reluctance (my idea of cooking is opening wine), yet to my astonishment, I produced bread—both a loaf and a French stick—that emerged crunchy outside, soft inside, and dangerously edible. Fish, squid, prawns, and bisque followed, accompanied by Swiss chard mash (krumpir & plitva). By the end, I fancied myself the Croatian Cordon Bleu, though the rakija tastings (cherry, herb, mint, and fig brandies, all at 40%) may have inflated my self-belief. Highly recommended.

Dinner at Makarun: Giant Fish and Family Secrets

If Split by day is all Roman grandeur and Adriatic sparkle, then dinner at Makarun Restaurant in the harbour is a true celebration of family tradition and Adriatic flavours. The restaurant, which also offers five boutique rooms upstairs, is run by the owner-manager who treat guests with genuine warmth. At one point, a giant amberjack—over four feet long—was paraded out for our admiration, a piscatorial showpiece that would have made Poseidon himself nod approvingly.

The mocktails and cocktails are crafted with precision: layered, complex, and dangerously drinkable. Service is faultless, as you’d expect from a man who grew up fishing for his livelihood until his late teens and can read the sea’s moods better than most meteorologists. The kitchen’s focus is pasta and fish, though carnivores will find solace in the steaks. Cuttlefish and olive loaves arrive warm, accompanied by olive oil, salt, and pepper—simple, profound, and distinctly Croatian.

Starters included pasta infused with spinach, following a 300-year-old recipe handed down from the owner’s grandmother. The recipe is guarded like a state secret—revealing it would apparently invite swift retribution, so we politely refrained from asking. Another dish of filet mignon pasta added a rich, meaty counterpoint without straying into excess.

The main course was a spectacle in itself. A dentex fish arrived flaming, carried like an offering to the gods, accompanied by a glass of Malvazija Dubrovacka Bijela whose golden notes paired beautifully with the smoky sweetness of the fish. In the inner courtyard, framed by honey-coloured stone walls and bathed in soft light, the evening unfolded in a perfect harmony of family, flavour, and ambience.

Olive Oil Royalty in the Podgaj Grove

Next came an olive grove in Podgaj, owned by the gracious host Jacob. With 200 trees and an annual yield of 500 bottles, this is boutique olive oil at its finest. We lunched at a rustic wooden table, on platters of cheese and meats, sipping wines including Crljenak Kaštelanski 2023—a robust Zinfandel with 15.5% alcohol that strode confidently across the palate. A Pošip Kaštela 2022 delivered smooth, oily, full-bodied splendour, while the Opol Zinfandel Rosé provided the kind of refreshing balance only Split could produce.

Croatian hospitality insists you eat until you resemble a Roman senator, and we complied willingly.

Beaches of Split: Pebbles, Sand, and Posh Locals

To the right of the hotel lies Jadran Beach Club, a favourite haunt of Split’s posh locals. Pebble-strewn bays meet crystalline waters, where swimmers range from toddling toddlers to octogenarians with bodies that seem to have defied time. One gentleman in particular — face of an eighty-year-old, torso of a 100-metre Olympian — was living proof that a dip in the Adriatic might just be the ultimate anti-ageing treatment. The water itself was astonishingly clear, every pebble beneath my feet appearing hand-polished, while the locals, effortlessly fit and sun-kissed, glided past with the casual ease of those who treat daily exercise as a lifestyle rather than a chore.

To the left, Bačvice Beach offers sandier shores, inflatable toys, and a more tourist-friendly atmosphere. Nestled between these contrasting worlds, the Ambasador sits smugly, offering privileged guests the best of both — pebbles, sand, and the Adriatic in all its sparkling glory.

Wine Tasting in Kaštela: A Mountain Vineyard Feast

Atop the mountains above Split, the Kaštel Šikulji winery awaits. From its lodge, views spill across vineyards to the islands of Brač and Hvar. A sparkling opener rivalled Veuve Clicquot in depth, followed by a medium-bodied Crljenak Zinfandel (14.5% but light and fruity, with cherries and plums). A Pošip white paired effortlessly with shrimp tartare, while dessert came in the form of Prošek Gracin, Croatia’s answer to port, accompanied by figs reduced in red wine and mascarpone crumble.

We ended the day swimming with fish and watching teenage daredevils hurl themselves from cliffs with the kind of abandon only youth and ignorance of hospital bills can muster.

Chef’s Secret Pairing: A Gastronomic Triumph

Back at the Ambasador, the Méditerranée once again raised the bar. Off-menu, the chef offered a bespoke food and wine pairing that left me speechless. The Volarević Kremena white was sublime with turbot, while dessert—a peach iced tea creation—was audacious brilliance. I shan’t spoil the details; suffice to say, it was among the finest meals of my life, and the chef is a legend, proof that Croatian gastronomy belongs on the world stage.

Final Indulgence: Pizza with a Twist

Our final lunch opposite the hotel, at Bokamorra Restaurant, involved a pistachio, raspberry, and carob chocolate pizza from a golden-tiled oven—proof that Croatia has no interest in your diet plans. Service was warm, ambience convivial, and it was the perfect farewell note.

Diocletian May Have Ruled an Empire, but He Never Had an Infinity Pool Overlooking Sunseekers

So, what did I make of the Hotel Ambasador Split? It is, quite simply, a palace by the sea. From its harbour terrace, where superyachts parade for your amusement, to its spa, where lavender and olive oil lull you into bliss, Roman ruins frame your morning stroll, and chefs conspire to ruin your waistline with aplomb. Its position—between beaches and UNESCO heritage, between past and present—is unbeatable.

If Diocletian were alive today, he would abandon his retirement villa and move straight in. Jovius would have approved.

Hotel Ambasador Split Croatia

Speak Like a Local: Essential Croatian Phrases for Split

During our wanderings through Varos, the old town, and while visiting the fish market, a few local phrases proved invaluable. A quick note for the linguistically curious: Molim means “please” (pronounced molli locally), while Hvala is “thank you” (fala in Split dialect). A cheerful Dobar dan greets passersby during the day, and Dobro jutro works wonders at breakfast. When parting ways, a polite Doviđenja suffices, and if you need to apologise or get someone’s attention, Oprostite will do the trick. For more practicalities, Izvolite is handy when offering or receiving something, and asking Gdje je WC? (“Where is the bathroom?” or “Where is the restroom?”) could save you from an unfortunate situation. Sprinkle these into your visit and you’ll feel like a local in no time — or at least be appreciated for trying.