Thursday 20/8 Split
We pulled in very early due to a 6:30 am flight and caught a bus straight to the port. Split was wide awake, and already nearly 30 degrees when we stumbled upon our hostel directly outside of the Silver Gate, one of the entrances to the old town. We dropped off our stuff, then scoured the neighboring Green Market for for edibles. We were rewarded with sheep cheese, gorgeous tomatoes, carrots the size of my fingers, and a large loaf of fresh bread. After we wandered back down to the waterfront, we scored a stamp-sized patch of shade and made a picnic on the ground. The pungent cheese, sugar-sweet tomatoes and delicately crisp baby carrots offset the earthy scent of lavender which threatened to overwhelm the city. It grows wild on the islands, and is planted along the waterfront, along with rosemary and lamb's ears. We used the bread as a napkin to clean our sticky fingers, then trundled in the direction of the marina, and a possible beach. When we found a fallen church in a park instead of a beach, there was little choice but to sit under the umbrella of a palm tree and nap. Waking, we walked carefully back into town, taking regular breaks in whatever snatches of shade we could find. In the old town, some locals dressed as Diocletian and Roman guards stepped out, spoke to the crowd in Latin, and disappeared. At the hostel, we napped again, then headed out for the evening. We started off with a slow beer on the waterfront before finding a family-run pizza restaurant, where gorged ourselves on tender octopus salad, local smoked ham, more tangy cheese and beer. We stayed two hours, as the World Athletics Championship was showing, and Croatian Blanka Vlasic was in the process of winning the high-jump. The Riva (waterfront) was hopping when we strolled home through it.
Friday 21/8 Split
It must be noted that our hostel was somewhat of a disappointment the room was hot and airless, there were fans but no windows. They would not let us use the kitchen and the fat, lazy, Italian owner was always on the terrace with his entire extended family.
After our siesta we went looking for the beach again. We found it heaving with people, a lot of whom were local, and we were traumatized by the local teenagers. Eventually we did manage to find a nice spot to swim, sit and eat ice cream.
For dinner we visited a pleasant terrace overlooking the Riva for decent pizza and excellent feta laden salad. We were wandering through the fresh darkness when we stumbled upon a group of 50 year old men wearing togas playing 'Achy breaky heart'. We sat down close by to observe the crowd and have a small beer. When the men broke into an unintentional reggae version of Layla, the pull became too strong for us and we were forced, by some unknown magic, to go dance with the locals. On our way back to the hostel we followed the sound of violin and found a group playing a mix of gypsy music and desert song. Then socialized with the other guests at the hostel over a game of Uno.
Saturday 22/8 Split
We headed to the local beach which was a bit further, but less crazy, less trashy and cleaner than the city beach. We entered the water via a crooked, rickety ladder hung precariously off a rock. The Adriatic was calm, clear, pleasantly warm and quite deep. On the way home we stopped for beer at a cafe with a balcony, then perhaps due to the beer, we spent the hottest hours of the day horizontal in the hostel. At about 4pm we managed to leave the hostel and walk two blocks to a shady park for another rest. We returned to our unlikely favourite spot, a local sports bar with a terrace and excellent people watching for a pre-dinner beverage. We had cheese and prsut for dinner before heading back down to the Riva for more people watching and live music. Croatian, like Czech, is a terrible language to sing in but the locals were mad over the band.
Sunday 23/8 Split
For our last morning we walked out of the tourist zone heading towards a green spot on the map, on route Katie had a near fatal accident, involving a curb stone, and injured her pride. (I slipped on an incredibly dangerous piece of shiny stone and fell to the floor on the road in front of a moving vehicle). This place, in contast to Prague, is quite clean and noticably free of dog poo. In fact, with the exception of the sulphur smell on the Riva, (Diocletion appreciated the benefits of the local sulphur spring) the town smells like lavender. We found our green spot to be a clump of trees on a hill over looking the industrial harbour so we looked at the cranes and headed back into tourist town for lunch. We followed the aroma of cooking garlic and were rewarded with seriously good pizza. After lunch we relaxed and prepared for our departure.
The Ferry Overnight
We boarded just in time for the sunset and checked into our private cabin. We raced onto deck going from one side to the other trying to get the best view. Finally we set off and sat tucked in a wind free corner with bread, cheese and fruit. Surprisingly there we people sleeping on every available surface inside and out; on the stairs, on benches in the restaurant, on deck and even on air mattresses and a hammock. We were too excited to sleep much and a tad disturbed by the noises the boat was making so we got up at 5 to watch the sunrise with a few other hardcore passenger. We were pleasantly surprised by our unexpected breakfast buffet before pulling into port.
Monday 24/8 Rijeka
When we disembarked at 7am in Rijeka's port the city was already awake and heading to work. We sat on the Korzo until the tourist information opened and we could get a map to find our Hostel. In direct contrast to the last one it was clean and friendly and the hostel boy sent us off to see a castle on a hill before our room became available at 11. It was a good plan to take a bus to Trsat because it was on top of a mountain which offered us a great view of the city.
Tuesday 25/8 Pula
We frittered away the morning eating coffee and drinking pastries and loitering in a bookshop until our noon bus departed for Pula. We had a very perky, somewhat insane flirt of a bus driver, who took us along the coast, over some mountains, and through an 8 kilometer tunnel at breakneck speed to reach our destination. On reaching Pula we walked out of the bus station and along an uninspiring residential street when suddenly we looked up and there was an imposing Roman amphitheatre sitting there. In fact, it was the 6th largest in Europe, and in excellent condition. Obviously, we went inside, this being the main purpose of the Istrian leg of the journey, and spent a pleasing hour climbing, wandering, and taking pictures. The amphitheatre was initially built in the first Century, and used for about 500 years, but when the gladitorial combats ceased, the locals and Venetians began plundering the nicely-cut limestone in order to make other buildings. Thankfully they didn't destroy much more of it than the interior seating areas, so it is incredibly well-preserved to this day.
On returning to the bus station, we alighted, ready to nap on the journey home. Alas, every turn brought a new view of mountains, cliffs, and earthworks down to the sea. There was another maniacal bus driver who made this rather like a roller coaster with a view. On our return to Rijeka, tired and hungry, we were shocked, dismayed and horrified to discover that while cafes litter every corner, the city is virtually devoid of any establishments which serve food. Again, we managed to follow our noses to Pizza Braco, an expensive (though not compared to the rest of the city), packed little place, tucked into both sides of an alley, bridged by seats. We ordered Czech beer, a rocket-topped pizza, and a very interesting salad comprised of anchovies, potatoes, chilli peppers and lettuce. After digesting a bit, we trooped back up the hill to the hostel where we met 4 pleasant English girls and 1 Liverpudlian boy who really liked the sound of his own voice.
Wednesday 26/8 Rijeka to Koper
Katie talked transport and post-communist politics with the hostel boy while waiting for Selena to get up, and he gave a brief run-down of the personalities of the former Yugoslav states. "Croatians are nice. Everybody likes them. Serbs have a great sense of humour. Bosnians are dumb. Slovenes are arrogant and nobody likes them." We had a leisurely breakfast on a fountain and some slow coffee before heading to the train station for our lunch time train to Koper. We had to change in Pivka, a small border town. We walked through it, searching for a bus station, town center, or anything of interest, but ended up back at the train station 45 minutes later, having found nothing but an extremely depressing drive-through town. Eventually our train came, and we were dropped in Koper in the midst of a construction site/strip mall. We had to ask for help, and were directed to Motel Port, a multi-coloured and charmless building whose only redeeming features were air-conditioning and a private room with our own bathroom, although still an improvement over the first hostel in Split. Tired, we wandered into town in search of food and life. On the way into town, Selena remarked that Slovenia was kind of pleasant and clean and boring. It was also kind of dead as we walked through the Old Town at 8 o clock. We were getting kind of discouraged and contemplating ice cream for dinner when we came out on the Riva. It was buzzing! The sun was setting over the harbour and there was loud Latin music playing. We settled on a pizza restaurant and gratefully wolfed our dinner and a couple bottles of Lasko, the Slovenian "love" beer before heading for the source of the music. We discovered that there was an outdoor Latin dance class in session, headed by a very gay, slightly chubby gentleman.Thursday 27/8 Koper/Piran
Up early and straight into town. We found a bell tower and decided to climb it. 200+ steps to the top and we were rewarded with a view of the whole town. Koper is more industrial than beautiful. However there is clearly money coming into it so there are ramshackle old houses neighboured with shiny new glass office blocks. As always, everything looks better from above. Two steps into our descent from the towe, as we were about to walk past the bells there was a deafening noise. Both of us may have screamed like girls and gone running back onto the balcony thanking anyone who would listen that it was only a quarter past 10 and not noon! Still resonating a half hour later we stopped for coffee then strolled back to Motel Port for a picnic on the terrace without Selenas swiss army knife, which never made it past Pivka.
Friday 28/8 Trieste
We caught an early bus to Trieste and found the contrast between the friendly, loquacious Italians and the somewhat uptight and grumpy Slovenes to be flattering on the part of the former. We deposited our bag at the railway station and, with a map and directions from the very nice man at the luggage office, made for the center of town. Stopped for a caffeination break and then headed for the castle on the hill with a brief stop at a small Roman theatre. Coming back down from the castle it was already time for lunch and following Katies sixth sandwich sense we found a cute little sidewalk sandwich bar which rewarded us with excellent sandwiches and prime people watching. We spent hours appreciating the well dressed Italians on their pedestrian promenade and thier ubiquitous scooters. Then it was time to head back to the train station and on to Venice for our overnight bus and home.
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