Diocletian isn’t a name you come across every day. I’m here to tell you about him. He ruled the Roman Empire for twenty-one years during an especially troubled period. The man was remarkable in a few ways. Born into an ordinary family in Dalmatia (modern Croatia), he joined the Roman army as a foot soldier and grew through the ranks through sheer competence. In 284 AD, when the Emperor was found dead, the army proclaimed Diocletian emperor. A general, Aper, was accused of regicide. Diocletian stepped before the army assembly and dramatically ran Aper through with his sword to claim power.

Diocletian split the governance of the empire into “the rule of the Four.” He appointed another Emperor and two “junior Caesars.” He cracked down on the growing Christianity movement, which he believed to be a threat. That was the last time a Caesar tried that. Most of his time though, Diocletian spent on battling a raging inflation. His edict on price controls had mixed results. In 305 AD, he abruptly and voluntarily renounced power and retired to his part palace, part garrison in Split, Croatia. He spent his remaining years growing, of all things, cabbages. I guess he had had his fill of Jesus and inflation.

As we make our way from the airport to hotel, our taxi driver (a native Croat) complains about the same problem: inflation. Ever since adopting the Euro in 2023, (they joined the EU in 2013), prices have apparently skyrocketed. “If you don’t already have a flat, you’re nothing ..” his voice trails off as he stares stoically ahead at the road. Who’s buying the houses? The English? The Russians? I ask. He instinctively recoils in indignation when I mention the Russians. “In Serbia, they are friendly with Russians. Not in Croatia. Here Ukrainians. They drive really nice cars,” he says, part enviously, part admiringly. The foreigners are buying up the coast and the locals are being locked out. This story has been playing out all over Europe.

The woman who checks us in at the hotel reminds us that Slavija Hotel “is the oldest” in town, welcoming travelers for nearly a century, built on and around the ancient ruins of Diocletian’s palace. The cabbage patch is no longer here. Instead, there are shops, hotels and restaurants in the old town. But his nemesis – inflation – has emerged again. “House prices have doubled in the last five years. Everything costs too much.”

Four million live in Croatia. Around six million have left. The diaspora live all around the world, including half a million in Germany, half a million in Bosnia-Herzegovina, and a million in America (with a sizeable number in my hometown San Jose, California). Diocletian came back to retire here once. These days, it’s the reverse. The young have left in search of better jobs, their places being taken slowly by Nepalis, Bangladeshis and Indians.

This morning, I step out early. It’s about six AM and the sun has barely risen. The promenade along the sea lies quiet, save for a few returning from a late-night shift. The Adriatic shimmers in the morning sun. Diocletian would have loved this. He probably walked along here, wondering if he did the right thing stepping away from it all. I feel a twinge of the same. He traded his empire in for a cabbage patch. I did mine for a pen and paper. We each go in search of something or other.

We are here for twelve days. It’s already the morning of day two. The Dalmatian coast is gorgeous, the people are fiercely proud, and the ancient stones beneath our feet are whispering secrets. Some things have changed. Some things haven’t. Seventeen centuries later, we’re still trying to embrace God and beat inflation.