Inside the catamaran taking me from Venice to Pula.  Not such an interesting experience as I had imagined. No deck to walk about on.  A bit of a view through the grubby windows while we were still in the lagoon.  After that nothing.

We arrived in Pula around 9.30pm.  The place was buzzing with pop-up bars by the water's edge doing a roaring trade and roaring pop music coming from the amphitheatre.  When I got through immigration I spotted a lonely taxi straddling what looked like train or tram tracks so I hurried over and found that he was free.  After loading my case in his boot he asked where to.  I told him.  He immediately started unloading my case declaring that he couldn't go there.  With this festival - gesturing vaguely towards the bars and booms - the road's closed.  Along there and up to the left were directions as precise as he delivered himself of.

I set off not in the best humour dragging my case over bumpy setts between the tracks wilting in the heat.  Me that is. The tracks were made of sterner stuff.  After a while I turned left and the going got tougher for it was now uphill.  At a little square stood two chaps chatting.  I explained my predicament and asked for directions.  They turned out to be taxi drivers and one said there was no road closure, he'd take me, it was no distance.  In the cab he said the obvious.  The driver at the dock wanted a decent fare not a piddling wee trip to my hotel.  When we arrived I felt he'd earned if not a decent fare then certainly a decent tip.

The hotel was a contrast to Treviso.  Perfectly adequate for my needs but had seen better days.  One of those shower heads that won't stay in its housing so no blissful standing under a stream of cool water.  Despite the sheet listing 20 odd TV channels only 3 gave picture or sound so no Wimbledon in prospect at the end of the day.  

I was up early and out to survey the scene after a cafe breakfast of coffee, orange juice and croissant.   Then a wander around.  You can't wander far in downtown Pula without coming across this

A really impressive Roman remain, in use while I was there for a music festival.  I didn't expect (judging by what I heard on my arrival the previous evening) that the music would be much to my taste and I'd never heard of anyone listed on the board you can see in the picture but I thought it would be fun to go one evening.  However, on looking up all the names I found that they were all DJs.  Not a single live artist was appearing. Now I know that the DJ's art has expanded since its early days when putting a record on the spindle and announcing the number's name was its full extent.  Even so I was put off.

I had a good walk around the centre and along the quayside noting the boat excursions on offer.  Later in the day I took an open top city tour that in fact was mostly a tour of the holiday spots to the south of Pula. 

Istria has the sort of tangled history you could expect from being handily placed for the Austrians and Venetians, their predecessors and successors to argue about, not to mention the Cold War, and is officially bilingual as in this street sign

extended to trilingual for the benefit of visitors as in this bakery

and in this poster for a celebration of the work of their famous one time resident James Joyce.  

In an earlier post I had a picture of a statue of Joyce in Trieste where he lived happily for several years.  In Pula he lived unhappily for only a few months but that hasn't prevented the Pulans(?) from commemorating his connection with their city.  This article expands on the relationship and records some of the scathing things he had to say.  But clearly no offence taken for here he is seated in the cafe Uliks (Ulysses in Croatian).

The cafe stands at the head of the main street of the old town leading from the Sergius Arch to the Forum where the Temple of Augustus still stands, the Temple of Diana having had to make way for the town hall.

 

      
 

 

 

 

Along Sergijeveca which is what the street is called there is lots to see though I couldn't find the Roman mosaic floor mentioned in my guide book.

And a bit of life.  The bike fell over and decanted the poor dog.

In another part of town there are markets indoor and out.

Elsewhere there's a bit of faded grandeur.

The next day I took a boat trip.  We went up the coast to the beautiful little town of Rovinj where they'd laid on a guided walk.  On returning to the boat a delicious lunch of fish with lashings of finely shredded veg that could have been cabbage but seemed too delicate was served as we went further up the coast and then some distance into an inlet called Limski Kanal. 

We returned to the sea and headed for Crveni Otok,  a very pleasant holiday island where we had a couple of hours to wander around or go swimming or simply contemplate our navels.  In that heat some shady resting and cold drinking was my choice.

Then it was back to Pula with a fine view of the amphitheatre on the approach.

On the way back to the hotel I stopped for refreshment and a snack.  I had a Negroni which was a bit on the strong side so I lingered to allow its effect to wane and watched a group of couples with their kids enjoying themselves in the warm evening air.  I got chatting with a waiter and was able to improve his rendition of "it's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht the nicht an aw" that he'd learnt from some other Scotsman.  When I passed his cafe on other occasions thereafter we'd greet one another with that phrase, to the bewilderment no doubt of passers by who overheard.

Having sailed up the west coast of the Istrian peninsula I decided the next day to take a bus to Rijeka which stands at the top of the east coast to which according to my guide book there was a 90 minute bus ride.  When I got to the bus station the next bus on the indicator board was at 11.00 and would take 2h40 for the journey.  Subsequent research revealed that not all journeys are posted on that board and that there is indeed a 90 minute service but only once a day departing at 21.30.

So I strolled over to the train station and no thanks to the loquacious lady in front of me in the ticket queue just caught the 09:05 to Pazin which is an inland town about 40 km away.  It took about an hour and then 15 minutes or so to get from the station to the town.  It was all downhill but I couldn't help thinking of the walk back in that heat.

It was a very pleasant little town.  The castle and its museum were shut thanks to it being a Monday and the church was covered in cloth-bound scaffolding for its once in a 100 year brush up so there wasn't a lot to do other than enjoy the tranquility, have a little picnic on bakey goodies and take the inevitable liquid remedy against the heat.  I watched some people whizz down a zip wire that went along a gorge by the castle but wasn't tempted to find its source.

When the train I'd gone to catch back to Pula didn't turn up I asked a woman in an office what the story was.  She went and called another guy who came out to the platform and looked at the timetable (as I had) but was able to interpret the markings (as I had not been) to tell me that that train didn't run during school holidays.  I'd had thought, given the number of trains that pass through Pazin per day, they'd have had that info at their finger tips.

A wait ensued during which I trekked downhill to buy cold liquids at a petrol station and slogged back up again.  On return to Pula I had an excellent dinner in a restaurant called Kantina.

The next day I was on the water again, this time to visit the Brijuni Islands.  These are a national park and the main island is where Tito had his summer home. Notably it's where he, together with Nehru and Nasser founded the Non-aligned movement.  A monument to the same stands in the museum together with innumerable pictures of the man entertaining statesmen, royalty and celebrities on the island.  Parts of it, off limits to tourists are still used by government ministers for holidays and I daresay they host foreign dignitaries too. 

There's also a very interesting gallery dedicated to the Viennese businessman Paul Kupelwieser who bought and developed the islands in 1894.

One floor of the buildings contains stuffed animals.  These apparently are animals that were given to Tito who established a zoo and was so fond of his animals that he had them stuffed when they died. l have to say that the giraffes must have died very young or they are from a pygmy species.  There's no longer a zoo but there is a safari park with various animals including an Indian elephant.  There's also a wierd statue of an elephant for which I found no explanation.

We had a little tourist train trip round the island, seeing the Roman remains, the safari park and the golf course.  You can cycle and walk around and of course eat and drink, which I did. 

 

Back in the hotel that evening there being as I said no tennis channel on the telly I finished my book - After Lives by Abdulrazak Gurnah.

Still keen to go up the east coast of the peninsula I decided next day to get away reasonably early and aim for a slightly shorter trip to Opatija instead of Rijeka.  What a good idea that turned out to be.

The bus ran inland for roughly half the journey amidst attractive scenery and then by the coast for the rest of the journey with equally attractive views, turning off the main road and swinging into the small bus station at Opatija thus relieving my slight anxiety about knowing where to get off.

I was charmed by the place.  It developed from a small fishing village into its present glory starting in the mid 19th century when it became what my guidebook calls "..a tonic for the stressed elite of the Austro-Humgarian Empire and beyond."  Luxury hotels began to be built and all the trappings that go with that came along.  Here's what's available today.

I enjoyed just wandering around admiring the place and enjoying its gardens and a small portion of the 12 km long Franz Joseph I promenade more cozily called the Lungomare which you can read about here. On my next visit I must walk the length of it.

My guidebook recommended a restaurant which I eventually found but which was not open at lunchtime.  This turned to be no bad thing for I had an absolutely delicious lunch at the Yacht Club Bistro.  I thoroughly recommend it.

The return bus turned up some 20 minutes late but since it was coming from Zagreb I wasn't too surprised but I was happy to see it.  The delay was made up and gave me ample time to overdose on ice-cream before bedtime.  

On my last day in Croatia I was up early and off to the bus station to leave my bag in the left luggage till bus time later in the day.  En route I was accosted by a lady looking for information in a language which I took to be Croatian. After must repetition from me of "no speaky you lingo" (well I was a bit more polite than that) she beckoned her chum over who had some English.  They were looking for a market to buy some fruit. I knew where the market was but my directions I'm sorry to say were much like my unwelcoming taxi driver's in their precision.

Having dumped my bag and had a leisurely breakfast at the bus station I set off to have a stroll around.  A text from Asda my mobile provider popped up saying a monthly card payment had been declined.  A consequence of RBS's move from Visa to Mastercard I surmised.  I'd tried to update the card info on the Asda website at the time but wasn't sure that I'd succeeded.  Now I was sure I hadn't.

I took a seat in the shade in one of the pop-up open air bars by the waterfront and rang their support line.  A charming lady who called me Mr. Brian throughout our conversation said she'd fix it but the fix wouldn't come into effect till the following day.  No sweat as far as I was concerned.  I've had occasion to call their support a number of times over the years and found the staff unfailingly friendly, courteous and efficient. I give them top marks.

I sat on in the shade for a while reading and watching some guys working in full sun.  There was a gentle breeze. It was perfect.

Then it was time to take some gentle exercise.  These two boats attracted my attention.     

On the left is the Aresteas, available for sale or charter.  You'll need deep pockets mind you.  Details here and here.

A cheaper alternative is the Linda.  You can have a cycling/sailing holiday on her.  See the details here.  I had a good chat with the lad working on deck.

Back in town I had a decent plate of fish and a nice beer for lunch and then bought some booze to take home, honey brandy to take to a social event and some fortified wine for myself. After that I went back to my shady rest spot for a while before going to the bus station to wait for the bus to Trieste.

The journey was not very interesting though I was struck by the wide fertile valley we crossed not long before or not long after we crossed into Italy.  Entering Trieste from the south you pass through a heavily industrialised and frankly ugly area and there's a lot of it.

It was raining when I got off the bus but it's only a hop, skip and jump to the railway station so I didn't get very wet. I didn't have long to wait for the train and consumed a little snack while waiting.  The air conditioning wasn't working in the carriage I got into so shortly after we started I moved to a much more comfortable location.  The journey was uneventful but gave me another opportunity to admire the mountain scenery north of the line and to wonder what the towns we passed through were like.  Maybe I'll explore this area some time.

At the hotel in Treviso I had a little chat with the receptionist to exercise my Italian then off to bed.  In the morning I pulled my case down to the airport shuttle bus stop, not having got around to sussing out the service bus route or the ticketing system. That's a task for next time because I'm sure I'll be back in Treviso.

The airport was busy and the wait was tedious as always but the plane left on time and bumpily arrived in Edinburgh five minutes early.  It was a bit windy (thus the bumpy descent) but reasonably warm and by tram and bus I was home in time to watch the ladies final at Wimbledon.  I've already forgotten who won or indeed who played!