The Journey
1.
After grinding the beans for a full French roast Carte Noir, to finish off a lovely Jerk chicken and rice and gungo pea lunchtime meal (reheated from 3 days ago, but the chicken had that slightly bad taste that almost makes me want to throw it up), and feeling contented that freshly ground coffee is better tasting than all the Taylor's of Harrogate ready ground and the vacuum packed Lavazza, Illy, in my experience (I feel and the ritual of getting the Braun grinder, with a cracked spindle, and using a Pyrex glass jug (1pint) as a substitute for cafeteria and allowing the coffee to settle (saturated with water) to the bottom of the jug and adding a millimetre of full fat milk) is a very cheaply gained luxury.
The assorted miscellaneous items that bring to fruition the pleasure of being caffeinated by that most majestic of beans reminds me the battered pewter coffee flasks perched on the shelf at the back of the Scooter-works Café, Lower Marsh and whiling away the months I was employed on the South Bank or of my month long journey through Trieste, Slovenia and Croatia last September last: travelling by Ryanair via Stansted airport early morning and arriving Affittacamere Ghega mid afternoon and using the various kava or caffè joints to ponder my journey into this unknown.
My experiences of travelling have developed to the point where I needed to shake up the routine of booking and planning and paying in advance of any arrival at a fixed point for a certain length of time. For instance I travelled in Spain for a month carefully booking all train journeys, backpackers, a couple of months before, apart from a couple of day trips; I had a fixed itinerary and fixed base. Same with the 2 weeks I spent in Moravia and Bohemia in July 2008. I was beginning to feel controlled too much. So I decided to leave England on the 9th September with only 1 night booked and a small 2 man tent in my backpack; I arrived at Stansted panicking that my allowance was too much and I’d suffer many additional baggage fees so ditched a variety of trouser, slack and jean items and a yellow Turkish towel in a bin at the check-in area.
I made one huge mistake on this journey but it wasn't until I watching the sunset in Piran that it dawned on me.
I'd been paid £1260 for the month of August, and had a hundred in tips for the busy bank holiday, for the journey from Padstow to Ross on Wye, via Glastonbury(3 nights), for the Broome Farm Cider Festival(3, 4, 5 Sept) and then onto Cambridge for a few nights at the YHA until my flight on the 9th. I'd already paid the flight/return and the deposit for Affittacamere Ghega, Trieste.
2.
I have arrived feeling quite tarnished, fairly tired and feel I will go onwards in the morning or the next day with the first negative impression of the pension I was to sleep in near the Train Station. But for the today I am finally in Italiano and writing in italics and am pleased to have arrived safe and sound in Trieste.
It is very exciting to see such a place: a European city with all the piazzas and huge open space, there are no such open spaces in English cities and I don't count parks or the spaces round Cathedrals, etc. It is a city of Caffe couture, dark purple rosso, crisp sharp refreshing bianco, Aperol aperitif, Pancetta del calabrasi (picante pancetta) and formaggio (Formella del Friuli ) and I feel truly bamboozled by the Salumeria Sartori Di Gino & Franco Polla and they stocked Shropshire blue too...then bed with too much talk I don't understand. The chattering mouths and exaggerated gestures; what must they be talking about all night. There is far too many well dressed individuals here, this may be a typical kind of Italian?
After a nights sleep when I was woken up without any bed clothes. Stepped out to fix my trip to Piran. Bonjourno. Sorted €5:40c and now I am in an Illy caffé house in central Trieste. I have photo of James Joyce walking over a bridge on the grande canal: well a bronze! First Italian cappuccino. Italians are coffee crazy! This morning is very windy and it is bringing dust down the 'Via'. Will walk up to Castello next I think and see the Roman parts of the town.
I am less uncertain today than I was yesterday. Will I stay at a youth hostel or camp in Piran for 5 days then move on to Pula in Croatia? I realise I can't do Ljubljana which is a shame.Cattedrale di San Giusto
Seems very primitive and Romanesque at the top of the city.
Looks to have numerous building stages so much that most columns are individual and not uniform or symmetrical
Now walking down via cattedrale to a museo.
Seems very primitive and Romanesque at the top of the city.
Looks to have numerous building stages so much that most columns are individual and not uniform or symmetrical
Now walking down via cattedrale to a museo.
Mvseo Civico Museo di Storia e Arte e Orto Lapidario
(GED San Canziano - Refosco is name of the intense red vino I had last night).
Just been bitten in a Roman Mausoleum up at the Castello and I wonder was it a descended from a Roman flea that carried the plague to Europe and now I will descend into a Zombie half-life in the cemetery the Romans built.
I returned to the Piazza's, shaking off my tomblike curse, and had a proper handmade perfect pizza. Produced in an oven that is 400+ which baked the pizza in less that 5 minutes. Asked for a job: but I don't speak any Italian (would loved to have learned the technique). I will return again one day to Restaurant Mascalzone Latino e qui fu Napoli: best pizza I have ever eaten.
The strong wind of the morning had vanished in a few hours. The sun is almost breaking through the cloud cover and I have decided I must've broken my ribs. They really hurt still when I cough and my lungs ache and I resort to laying at the end of the pier.
Watching the flat grey Adriatic languid and gentle and the Seabourn mystery leaving maritima stazione with a Tug leading the way where once thousands of vessels traded their wares and merchants sold to the Austrian's who once ruled this sphere on the continent. I am nipped by ant, but am asked no questions, so up I get and am off to to rendezvous with Nina of Nam Nam, the Croatian beauty I meet on the flight, at 3pm. I walked along the shoreline. Many boats lay at anchor and I think of the painting created by Luca Carlevarijs or Turner Venice, Naples, Verona, etc. But not of Flemish master's hands which I love the most.
A millimetre of land between sky and sea. Afterwards I rested my head on shoe for some comfort.
Oh my rib is aches and my jaw still restricts my diet: don't pick fights, Daniel.
Boys fishing and and girls bath beneath parasols, these are modern blues and reds not cream lace and dripping of Edwardian London.
But I feel slowly falling into dreams.
Passed the Augustus gate and out of the city.
Stood at the door PAM. But it will not open. This is the entrance, not the exit. Fool. Italiano is not my mother tongue.
Oh sweet Nina Nam Nam why can't I end my days in your arms in this Italian border town?
A glamorous caffé and we share:
Viezzoli,
Baba and
Canollo.
Baba and
Canollo.
Sweets given to me by Croatia's finest hand.
Which made for me my Trieste...
Which made for me my Trieste...
(I really can't remember if I spent 1, 2 or 3 nights at Ghega. One seems impossible as I could've seen as much of Trieste in just 1 night so I think I stayed for 2 nights in that glum, hidden appartment, and checked out on the third morning?)
My last 2 hours in Trieste. Not a bad city. Most of the caffé workers are friendly, charming, humorous and hardworkers. Although it is easy to be ripped off for anything in this city. If you set the wrong scene or maybe they don't like foreigners. The guy who ran the hotel on Via Ghega thought of us 'English' as a form of fascism; not sure what means, but it is interesting to ponder.
Loud Italian, louder than your average Italiano wearing a Legea hoody, told forcefully to shush, grasps sports life and already the dynamic of the caffé is changed. Caffé excellsior brand should read caffé exclusion or expulsion, but that brief noise is collapsed to zero as he is requested to leave; phew. Caffé James Joyce and a speaker of English that surprised my fumblings in her language. Very attractive who spent time in Florida, but not just sucking oranges I hope, she studied English Language should read il piccolo or profess io ho studioto. Did JJ speak fluent Italian here or struggle by while undermining literature 20th century sublimely on the grande canal, piazza del point rosso, and the sky was azure as it must always be in Friuli. And even when the locals dislike the wind and say it's so so cold today. Bonjourno said loud followed by either frego or fredo, I am not so sure, maybe prego? You're welcome. The pace of life is slower and more people amble to work than rush with head in hands in columns of brown dreary living dead.
Loud Italian, louder than your average Italiano wearing a Legea hoody, told forcefully to shush, grasps sports life and already the dynamic of the caffé is changed. Caffé excellsior brand should read caffé exclusion or expulsion, but that brief noise is collapsed to zero as he is requested to leave; phew. Caffé James Joyce and a speaker of English that surprised my fumblings in her language. Very attractive who spent time in Florida, but not just sucking oranges I hope, she studied English Language should read il piccolo or profess io ho studioto. Did JJ speak fluent Italian here or struggle by while undermining literature 20th century sublimely on the grande canal, piazza del point rosso, and the sky was azure as it must always be in Friuli. And even when the locals dislike the wind and say it's so so cold today. Bonjourno said loud followed by either frego or fredo, I am not so sure, maybe prego? You're welcome. The pace of life is slower and more people amble to work than rush with head in hands in columns of brown dreary living dead.
I may need to earn some readies, teach English or cook, but I think I need a place to call home for a month first. James Joyce taught English in Pula maybe I should head there?
Street sweep has a vacuum cleaner with a huge tube sucking up all Trieste's muck. I think that is the future of Leeds Street Operatives. Actually in the far future I can see him become one with this machine (Davros) and maybe he will feel less pain in the tedium of his reality and control the Universe from there. Cleaning the large floor surfaces every day must deflate any ego?
For 2 days I have spotted the same Fila clad African beggar touring the bars and cafés. I feel for his pitiful and hopeless existence: he looks so frightened and seems to have forgotten there is more to life than a fragile palm into which to place long the long forgotten Lira.
'Smoke – look at the smoke' German tourist bus watching the Italian smokers. A novelty of the South European character and it is more often women than men who smoke, breathing flame and are you a millionaire who scratches despairingly on the door of a columned church, and yet, smokes so vigorously.
I spot another African beggar. I have only seen 2 beggars so far in Trieste: they're giving their West African culture a bad name. Goes up to a potential customer and shoves a pointless brochure in the face of the Italians chattering at the table, the group stare with disgust and it is enough to tell him move on and stop haunting here.
Street sweep has a vacuum cleaner with a huge tube sucking up all Trieste's muck. I think that is the future of Leeds Street Operatives. Actually in the far future I can see him become one with this machine (Davros) and maybe he will feel less pain in the tedium of his reality and control the Universe from there. Cleaning the large floor surfaces every day must deflate any ego?
For 2 days I have spotted the same Fila clad African beggar touring the bars and cafés. I feel for his pitiful and hopeless existence: he looks so frightened and seems to have forgotten there is more to life than a fragile palm into which to place long the long forgotten Lira.
'Smoke – look at the smoke' German tourist bus watching the Italian smokers. A novelty of the South European character and it is more often women than men who smoke, breathing flame and are you a millionaire who scratches despairingly on the door of a columned church, and yet, smokes so vigorously.
I spot another African beggar. I have only seen 2 beggars so far in Trieste: they're giving their West African culture a bad name. Goes up to a potential customer and shoves a pointless brochure in the face of the Italians chattering at the table, the group stare with disgust and it is enough to tell him move on and stop haunting here.
When the sun comes out from behind clouds it pulses and I sweat. My head leaks so I head for water on the way I notice Converse all-stars hi-tops are profiting hugely in Trieste. The undulating hoards roam in various colours and common Ramones t-shirts. Down on the Pier a fire ship on a practice run in the dock arcs of spray like fountains adding water to where no more is required. Now it has stopped. At first I thought it was oil spraying black against the bright sunlit canal beyond the Via Gioacchino Rossini.
There was a Spar on the Canal Grande and I purchase bananas, bread and salami, now I am in the square opposite the stazione waiting by a statue: Monumento a Elisabetta d'Austria. Like Soho Square there are many vagrants and dirty pigeons; a roughly dressed man sweat, spreading from his sagging chests, asked me to take a photo. Why I could never know. Homosexual tendencies or had an eye on my money? The dirtiness. Why not ask the several other people in the square. Went off to wank himself cross eyed no doubt. This is like an episode from JJ's Dubliners, I swear. Let me eat my banana in pieces in peace. I look around the square and see much more 'leaning' meandering through this square; Oh heck, I asked for that exchange didn't I? I leave stage left to approach the bus station.
Bus stazione destinazione Pirano. A half hour waiting. And I've decided the bouncer that held me down may've done this damage to my jaw. I suddenly recall him really pinning me down. I wondered how I also damaged my ribs. I fell down. That step. I got a bruised palm and a bruise on my shoulder and a graze on my elbow, but I didn't tumble...hmm. He was choking me after he tackled me to the deck and the Chav didn't hit me that hard.
***
3.
I arrived at Hostel Alibi B11 in Piran, having crossed the border of Italy and passed through Koper, after 2 nights in Trieste, and it's great to find a place I share with travellers again, after the soulless, solitary few nights on Via Ghega.
I moved into my room on the 2nd floor, I walked through town from the bus station on the dockside, ducking through the maze of streets and alleys hoping my map reading and sense of direction would find me the Youth Hostel (ALIBI B11 HOSTEL) I had booked from Trieste. I liked the quaint feel to the town and crossing the town square, and the sun was high in the sky, felt I could stay here a while. The hostel was closed for cleaning but I could leave my luggage and get my bearings before checking in when the owner would arrive later (after siesta). I headed to the promenade front where the town bustled and bathed in the late sun. Once I returned, having eaten my first Börek, I paid my tourist tax and accommodation rate for 4 nights and went to seek a shower and to chill. It was very long after that that my first room mate Rene arrived on his way North and back to Germany. Soon another couple of German guys checked into the room and suddenly there I was the only Brit and the only one beyond 25 in the hostel.
I felt positive and seized the chance to look for work as soon as the 2nd day arrived, however this was the end of the season and all the restaurants on the front said they'd be cutting back now and Hotel Tartini thought I should try next year. I didn't let this faze me and a couple of days later I walked to Portorož and spoke to the F&B manager.
At the end of the few days I've been in Piran, Slovenia I need to decide do I stay a while or go? I'm either going to end up working in Slovenia until the end of October, at the Grandhotel Bernardin, Portorož, leaving Slovenia in early November or leave tomorrow afternoon for somewhere further south across the border of Istria into Croatia(cheaper)? It would be so sad to leave Slovenia, however Piran is now a lot quieter since Rene de Nazelle and the three German girls have left for Trieste and Vienna. Maybe I could barter for a reduced rate from Hostel Alibi if I do stay and hire a scooter for a while. I'd much prefer a live-in position somewhere as any wage in Istria would be considerably less than I'd find in the UK, but I'm not really on holiday to work.
The sunsets in Piran are awesome, and it reminds me I have seen it over the ocean a few times before, however I've never witnessed a sunrise in my life. That could be done on the east coast of England, but forecasting a day with no clouds, in autumn, would be a hard one I am sure.
Next stop Dragonja on Croat/Sloveniani border prior to jumping bus to head for a camp site recommended by the girl I met on the coach from Trieste to Koper: Rovinj.
I am stood by the purple lighthouse that Rene de Nazelle took off from last night and as the night draws in a light is flashing red. There are no ferries tonight so it is a much more relaxed peaceful place. It deserves respect. I spy a flag of St. Andrews but the boat has no one at home; it is silent.
Bumped into 3 guys from England: 1 Stoke on Trent, 1 Kent and one Potsdamer Straße D-80802 München. One beer has the chance to ruin my day old resolution. I am shocking so return to the hostel to recant.
I need to track back to what happened to me in Piran?
I need to track back to what happened to me in Piran?
Firstly I am re reading Machiavelli's the Prince and I am looking foreboding in my Canadian trunks and Hawaiian style shirt.
One night we ate at Galeb (Salvo the chef looks like a Slovenian Enoch Powell) in Piran which has some of the cheapest and best seafood restaurants I’ve had on this adventure. The owners have a over friendly German Shepherd. From our point we saw the last purple remnants of the sun. I had calamari and there was a lot of breeze just beyond the headland and the lighthouse so we didn't venture too far north once the meal was over. We leisurely walked the southern shore and eventually found ourselves at a bar with a local folk band and drank beer until 3am. It was a great night at Bar Da Noi
One night we ate at Galeb (Salvo the chef looks like a Slovenian Enoch Powell) in Piran which has some of the cheapest and best seafood restaurants I’ve had on this adventure. The owners have a over friendly German Shepherd. From our point we saw the last purple remnants of the sun. I had calamari and there was a lot of breeze just beyond the headland and the lighthouse so we didn't venture too far north once the meal was over. We leisurely walked the southern shore and eventually found ourselves at a bar with a local folk band and drank beer until 3am. It was a great night at Bar Da Noi
I actually kicked a minute dog that was smaller than a pigeon this afternoon: I thought it was a pigeon under my feet. I bumped into 2 guys who run The Scooter-Works, Lower Marsh. Craig and Natalie. How odd. He has a house in Croatia. And bikes and mopeds. Surprising how I meet others on my travels.
A girl with huge tit's and another minute dog walks by and I think Slovenia is microdogistic...There are lots of Slavs with high cheekbones, perfect bodies and huge tit girls with small face area. Oh why did you all have to leave me in Piran alone.
So back along the front to a bar with my name on it. Beer. That is a prefix to my first initial, but only if you rewind from the D. _beer_Daniel Joseph Sherburn. My rambunctiousness is vanished today and I am in danger of becoming a town drunk. The clock chimes the hours and then the quarters. Cleverer and cleaverer. Cleaving me in the middle. The back segment of my brain overriding the forward section.
Hi Germanische Sprachen, but also bye Germanische Sprachen. What did I do Fräulein? I am stupid and drunk and so I can't understand. Next stop kebab for feel good factor.
A girl with huge tit's and another minute dog walks by and I think Slovenia is microdogistic...There are lots of Slavs with high cheekbones, perfect bodies and huge tit girls with small face area. Oh why did you all have to leave me in Piran alone.
So back along the front to a bar with my name on it. Beer. That is a prefix to my first initial, but only if you rewind from the D. _beer_Daniel Joseph Sherburn. My rambunctiousness is vanished today and I am in danger of becoming a town drunk. The clock chimes the hours and then the quarters. Cleverer and cleaverer. Cleaving me in the middle. The back segment of my brain overriding the forward section.
Hi Germanische Sprachen, but also bye Germanische Sprachen. What did I do Fräulein? I am stupid and drunk and so I can't understand. Next stop kebab for feel good factor.
Same 2 girls glued to the seat at the caffé, but I can't connect today. Hey maybe it wasn't me and it was always Rene. Should've guessed, oh Rene I am pH neutral today. No need to waste my time. Now Gorankja looks at me odd and I am I so odd. Chicken kebab heaven at 8:54pm on my final Piran evening and beer to amend me. Oh hell. This is a none day. I will go to Rovinj tomorrow, sod the job opportunities it's time for a change.
***
4.
Dobra juha
I am leaving Piran and Slovenia for Croatia and the Istrian peninsula and the places I will pass before reaching Rovinj are:
Dra gon ya
Por to rož
Po reč
Krun či či
Opcinà
Limski kanal
Por to rož
Po reč
Krun či či
Opcinà
Limski kanal
I pay for my ticket and an additional, small, charge for my luggage oversized backpack to go go in the luggage hold for my short 80 kilometre journey south over the border and destination recommended, but unknown.
Japanese tourists are so so stereotypical. We arrive at a shocking shocking bus station in Poreč, have a short break and there is a reason to take a photo? Getaway!
Japanese tourists are so so stereotypical. We arrive at a shocking shocking bus station in Poreč, have a short break and there is a reason to take a photo? Getaway!
5 photos of a lizard basking on a rock
4 of a bus station midway to Rovinj
3 of an octogenarian muttering 'it don't cost much'
2 parts of the same brain arguing there must be more
1 of the empty soul you attempt to fill with click click.
0 bang bang you're dead, but still Japanese.
On the campsite trail I came upon my first naturist camp, 3km from Poreč. Poreč - Zelena Laguna Istria peninsula naturist beach. A Rotel tours coach - www.rotel.de – turns right into this venue and our coach carries on towards Rovinj.
4 of a bus station midway to Rovinj
3 of an octogenarian muttering 'it don't cost much'
2 parts of the same brain arguing there must be more
1 of the empty soul you attempt to fill with click click.
0 bang bang you're dead, but still Japanese.
On the campsite trail I came upon my first naturist camp, 3km from Poreč. Poreč - Zelena Laguna Istria peninsula naturist beach. A Rotel tours coach - www.rotel.de – turns right into this venue and our coach carries on towards Rovinj.
It is safe to say that the distance from the bus station on Carrera in the south of the town to camping Porton Biondi in the north is a long dusty unforgiving 2km passing the port and suburban Croatia carrying a heavy front opening excuse for a rucksack. It was a relief to get my tent erected and change clothes. There is a direct route but that is over the hump back of the town.
How many days shall I stay here. I have to chill out tomorrow and stuff. Then perhaps move on by third night. It needs to be value for money. Maybe move the tent to a less bumpy plot or get a better under roll.
Actually I feel better already. The facilities are A class and I am the cleanest I have been for a few weeks including being in Ross and Cambridge.
Right. Jobs today. Get to a supermarket and save money.
Just spotted Paul Scott aged 65! Exactly! But Croatian.
Osijek
Found a small supermarket. But adequate. Need to go back to campsite. One last coffee then back to campsite. Town closes from 2 until 5 for siesta.
Internet in main square is 10kn for 50mb.
My writing is banal. Whenever I don't find life difficult I stop groaning and can't paint, draw, write or compose. Today is a good day. I realise this.
Rovinj has a festival tomorrow. Should be fun.
Charging your iPhone in the randomise of coffee cup drench
Caffeine and amps meet with amphoras and umbrella
Codeine and kava to numb the pain and swallow up radio tension
Coming in from the sun I can't escape the meaningless drivel
I'm itching to get back to forested opiate rival
To this hell driven succabus whore waiting pelvic glissando
Who chatters with teeth ripped from a face of beauty
Our languid sylvian dream protects with codex placed mouth
Speak a truth that none here may understand nor answer
Regardless how many logs are chopped within
And dragged screeching to be made radiogram antique wood effect
Chattering like a pit of lost souls battling to outcompete.
Followed from Cornwall to Croatia by the same asthmatic gulls.
Germans start with bier and Hvasska start with cigarettes.
One is conquerering the other in a tyranny of stereotypical bier
And the residents are consumed into a smoking death.
Last night I saw a meteor and today I saw a flying fish
While on the quay dock hands throw a new catch to the town.
A vast catch.
Five trucks, varying sizes, full to the rafters with sardines.
I meet 2 fat and repugnant Scots, both obsessed with the exchange rates. Don't you get it? Enjoy you're holiday!
How many days shall I stay here. I have to chill out tomorrow and stuff. Then perhaps move on by third night. It needs to be value for money. Maybe move the tent to a less bumpy plot or get a better under roll.
Actually I feel better already. The facilities are A class and I am the cleanest I have been for a few weeks including being in Ross and Cambridge.
Right. Jobs today. Get to a supermarket and save money.
Just spotted Paul Scott aged 65! Exactly! But Croatian.
Osijek
Found a small supermarket. But adequate. Need to go back to campsite. One last coffee then back to campsite. Town closes from 2 until 5 for siesta.
Internet in main square is 10kn for 50mb.
My writing is banal. Whenever I don't find life difficult I stop groaning and can't paint, draw, write or compose. Today is a good day. I realise this.
Rovinj has a festival tomorrow. Should be fun.
Charging your iPhone in the randomise of coffee cup drench
Caffeine and amps meet with amphoras and umbrella
Codeine and kava to numb the pain and swallow up radio tension
Coming in from the sun I can't escape the meaningless drivel
I'm itching to get back to forested opiate rival
To this hell driven succabus whore waiting pelvic glissando
Who chatters with teeth ripped from a face of beauty
Our languid sylvian dream protects with codex placed mouth
Speak a truth that none here may understand nor answer
Regardless how many logs are chopped within
And dragged screeching to be made radiogram antique wood effect
Chattering like a pit of lost souls battling to outcompete.
Followed from Cornwall to Croatia by the same asthmatic gulls.
Germans start with bier and Hvasska start with cigarettes.
One is conquerering the other in a tyranny of stereotypical bier
And the residents are consumed into a smoking death.
Last night I saw a meteor and today I saw a flying fish
While on the quay dock hands throw a new catch to the town.
A vast catch.
Five trucks, varying sizes, full to the rafters with sardines.
I meet 2 fat and repugnant Scots, both obsessed with the exchange rates. Don't you get it? Enjoy you're holiday!
Herr Gerhart Segfred and Frau, of Havelland 60 kilometre from Berlin and close to Brandenburg, let me borrow their Kühlschrank which we call a fridge. Nice german couple, but not one word of English. To keep the white wine, and few groceries I brought from Piran perfectly cold. On a few mornings we shared coffee: they shared coffee with me.
Quattro Stagioni
52kn
So far they show zero smiles towards tourists.
Neptun on Joakima Rakovca
Just did garlick soup followed by pizza. Not had a hostile linguistic conversation until now. Okay so Croatian must be the most complicated language. Right. Write 'it must be!'
Obviously it is the hardest. That's because English is so very easy...what if it is...arrogant bastard!
Internet cafe VIP A-MAR. 6kn zen minuten. Second post card shipped to Ross on Wye. Don't ask me why...Sallyann perhaps? Cup of coffee time? Yes.
Nope. Vino. Local and current vintage.
Feel like I am putting weight on a little bit. However I am walking masses and not eating too badly; perhaps I am? Cheese and sausages.
I spy a Wolf-dog in the yacht yard. Huge and monstrous.
I am thinking with a crazy deutschen accent, bitte.
52kn
So far they show zero smiles towards tourists.
Neptun on Joakima Rakovca
Just did garlick soup followed by pizza. Not had a hostile linguistic conversation until now. Okay so Croatian must be the most complicated language. Right. Write 'it must be!'
Obviously it is the hardest. That's because English is so very easy...what if it is...arrogant bastard!
Internet cafe VIP A-MAR. 6kn zen minuten. Second post card shipped to Ross on Wye. Don't ask me why...Sallyann perhaps? Cup of coffee time? Yes.
Nope. Vino. Local and current vintage.
Feel like I am putting weight on a little bit. However I am walking masses and not eating too badly; perhaps I am? Cheese and sausages.
I spy a Wolf-dog in the yacht yard. Huge and monstrous.
I am thinking with a crazy deutschen accent, bitte.
So half of me is ć, č or ž and the other is Liebe von einem Mann Englisch , zehnmal, . Mein gott.
I am collecting litres of wine. Table wine. Everyday wine. Local wine. Rustique vino and now there is a food and wine festival to celebrate Saint Eufemia tomorrow; cool as fuck. All wine is good wine.
I am collecting litres of wine. Table wine. Everyday wine. Local wine. Rustique vino and now there is a food and wine festival to celebrate Saint Eufemia tomorrow; cool as fuck. All wine is good wine.
Tihana to
Komiza. Vis.
Trošt Silvano.
Šorići.
13.
A dozen sardines. The best least fishy ever. Maybe it kept my hangover at bay? Got back to tent. Slept well. I love Rovinj.
Komiza. Vis.
Trošt Silvano.
Šorići.
13.
A dozen sardines. The best least fishy ever. Maybe it kept my hangover at bay? Got back to tent. Slept well. I love Rovinj.
Walked the long walk from campgermany to Rovinj.
Coffee to wake up and tapas in Maistra, olives, Istrian ham and artichoke salad.
No sign of girl in Finlandia No. 1 so can't ask her to marry me.
Delboy Hvarska selling Calvin Klein's little chance of them being the real deal. More likely Kalvin Clein's.
So many Europeans start the day with a fag and a beer.
Women smoke with real gusto. More often than men.
Mild to left. Ice cream to right. Gelato. More! I need more...
Calvin klein
Clean vilik
Cleak livin
Clean livik
Will purchase another caffé and gelato.
Coffee to wake up and tapas in Maistra, olives, Istrian ham and artichoke salad.
No sign of girl in Finlandia No. 1 so can't ask her to marry me.
Delboy Hvarska selling Calvin Klein's little chance of them being the real deal. More likely Kalvin Clein's.
So many Europeans start the day with a fag and a beer.
Women smoke with real gusto. More often than men.
Mild to left. Ice cream to right. Gelato. More! I need more...
Calvin klein
Clean vilik
Cleak livin
Clean livik
Will purchase another caffé and gelato.
Eventually the weather turned. That night the wind picked up and I thought the impossible – the Adriatic was like the North Sea. The usual calm waters broken by Poseidon or Neptune take your pick from whichever era to travel from today. It made my mind up – I needed to run and beat the weather. I'm not sitting in this camp-site that is emptying of all German's just hoping for the nice weather to return. I'm off south: Pula here I come.
Pula is 40 kilometre further down the Istrian coast and sits in a bay facing west. It is famous for its Amphitheatre and Temple/Forum built by the Roman's and a huge Port(the largest cranes i'd ever seen until then). I checked into the really Pula Art Hostel run by a very odd girl who seemed to live in the house and spend as much time with the guests. The location is through the main thoroughfare north/south. The route takes you passed the huge Amphitheatre but is the furthest from the bus station on Istarske brigade and in a rundown area of Pula known as Marulićeva. Getting over the distance I walked and dumping my stuff I went to investigate the charms of Pula. I got to the docks, past the forum and back up to the amphitheatre when the weather from Rovinj hove into view. The sheer volume of water that came down as I plodded over the back bone of cobbles on Castropola made me want out of this journey. I had to find sun. I had no choice so I followed a GI onto the next ferry towards Split.
***
5.
Fuck Pula and its rain drenched streets and like galeb, galeb flying south,
So many miles journeyed in 2 days; were you in Rovinj when the waves crashed on the beach? On a wing with the breeze and you're arriving just as I attempted to sail away.
So many miles journeyed in 2 days; were you in Rovinj when the waves crashed on the beach? On a wing with the breeze and you're arriving just as I attempted to sail away.
I ran through a rain drenched town and jumped ship as soon as a boat was leaving shore. I leaped from the boat onto the first available bus and the landscape changed. Finally my feet touched the dark path to the heart of the hidden Adriatic...
I was up at 5:45am in Pula to catch the ferry and into the Adriatic swell by 7am – I almost left without having paid for my stay and I was desperate for the receptionist to miss me as I realised recently I'd not enough money for this trip (I was only 10 days in). I hadn't cancelled my 3 nights and just didn't want to be in Pula. I was ready to run. I was forced to pay for the 1 night and hope my phone calls won't fall on deaf ears.
Amazing swell this morning and people seasick. Girl from tourist info is an unhelpful bitch...had to laugh!
Rocking the boat towards Zadar and next connection.
Hopping on a bus and just in time for a coach (ticket, tax and concession for luggage) and a tiring journey down to Split leaving wet weather behind. I am obviously ponging and have bushy barbarous moustache and highway junkies opium spiced air. In between at the mid point of the coast and leaving the mainland while money suffices and more funds surfaces. Like a ship slowly breaking against the rocks; finally wrecked and its bounty falls into the sea.
Got given blue label Smirnoff vodka from 2 Geordie girls just coming of the ferry to Vis. Had a laugh and I invited them back to Vis, but they said they couldn't as they'd got work on Monday, what fun I could've had with them?
I Arrived in Vis at 9pm.
I Arrived in Vis at 9pm.
The long and exhausting days flight. How I managed this I'll never know. Managed to get a reasonable 400kuna 4 night stay in an apartment. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Was gonna refuse, but thought hell why do that. Hopefully made some friends from the two whose ma and pa own numerous places on the island. First wash of the day is engaged. Now I want to chill. Cooking my own food from tomorrow.
There is karaoke tonight. Hmm. It's Saturday night. Let's see...sleepzzzz.
There is karaoke tonight. Hmm. It's Saturday night. Let's see...sleepzzzz.
6.
Rogač – reduced to scavenging and bringing prehistoric hunter gather food gathering on Vis. I eat what I find, I ask first what is edible – I met an Austrian botanist and get provided with wine, grapes and olive oil every morning. My hosts make sure I am comfortable. Carob pods are a superb snack to prevent hunger
One day mum will see what all the fuss is about? Pomegranate, grapes, olives, sardines, calamari. An old Yugo and Renault 4gtl parked salt flaked paint faded, but engine works fine. Aloe Vera and pine trees. Views no one ever sees and tastes unlike any others. Flowering trees with no names. Insects buzzing hidden from view sounding like electric motors. All in the same type of lurching pine trees. Cicada speaking like alarm clocks in the midday suns. And a British war cemetery in the September breeze. Vis is respecting British soldiers who helped Tito to liberate the country between 1943 and 1945. To a pebble beach with a handful of veteran holiday makers. And such a mild sea. Apparently Pula was hit by autumn yesterday and the day I arrived. Good to leave the Roman forum that disappointed with it's current of tourist dollar and torrential rain.
I am reminded of Fowles' Magus and how the war ripped through Yugoslavia and the Greek islands.
Now I am going to be very good and last 2 weeks on a such a short amount of kuna. I will resort to eating the produce from the trees and walking all day.
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