ROVINJ is
located on the Istra peninsula. The peninsula juts
out into the Adriatic
between the western Italian land mass, the leg with the boot, and the eastern
Croatia leg that runs down to Albania. So, the Istra peninsula is the crotch,
so to speak. I hope that helps you visualize it. Rovinj, itself, is one of those classic Mediterranean ports
bordered by the sea on three sides, dominated by a perky cathedral on a hill and
shaped by orange roofed and white crumbling buildings falling down to the sea. It’s
sit down stunning. In essence, it is a beach town without any beaches, in fact
no sand—only rocks. In practice, it is Santa Cruz without the roller coaster
and the weed smoking. Although those Rovinjians might be toked up—they look
half asleep and sure eat a lot of ice cream in the morning. We walked the
narrow cobblestone streets and half-heartedly visited some art galleries. The
day was beautiful, so on a whim we hopped on a ten buck tourist boat ride. We
Illinoised it with a bottle of wine, of course. Rovinj is surrounded by 13
islands. The boat company advertises exploring a lot of them. Our captain had
other ideas. He headed directly to the
backside off a long thin island that looked to be totally dominated by an
expansive all-inclusive resort. Surprise, the backside beaches were packed with
nude euro bathers frolicking in the surf, playing volleyball, tandem biking and
eating bratwurst. The captain would nudge into shore and the bathers would
wave. It was different. We were in hysterics.
The next day
we took a full day guided tour though the
"crotch." The guide was a
sweet, delightful young woman who could not stop talking. We KOed in about an
hour and a half. (KO stands for Knowledge Overload). Once we stopped listening
we had a blast. We visited a UNESCO protected Basilica in Porec that was
shockingly interesting; Carol asked a question and I almost did. The Basilica
was built in the sixth century at the same time as they last repaved the
Bayshore Freeway. In the main square of Porec, there was a Baroque festival
which meant some teens were in gowns dancing the minaret, a couple of monks
were checking their cells, and a lady in waiting or two were catching a smoke.
There were some uncontented cows in a makeshift pen and a movie star handsome
horse. Everyone was having a good time. On the way to the Basilica, we got
caught behind some chamber of commerce types dressed as lepers, probably
residential real estate agents. It was either a funeral procession or they were
selling food. It was hard to tell.
After that
excitement, we drove though the pretty Istra wine region to a showy hilltop
medieval village Groznjan and then to the handsome Capital of Truffles: Motovun
(don't tell the guys). The most interesting thing was the training of Labrador
Retrievers by the locals to hunt truffles. The pigs had this job for centuries,
but the pigs ate too many truffles. (Duh, they're pigs.) The solution? Labs (no
self-respecting lab would ever eat a mushroom). In fact, the labs we saw looked
pretty embarrassed about the whole truffles gig. It was a good outing.
When we got
back, we lounged at a marina cafe and watched
the sun set over the ocean and
the boat captains try to find their boats. This Rovinj harbor is overwhelmed
with small, beat to hell, boats with tiny, smoking outboards. Hundreds of them
are packed side to side on the same anchor lines. So the captains have to walk
over the top of the boats to get to their craft, sometimes seven or eight boats,
then have to use a boat hook to rearrange a zillion vessels to get theirs out.
It is a Rubix Cube deal. Suddenly our reverie was jolted by what sounded like a
marching band. It was Saturday, college football season. We staggered toward
the band intoxicated by thoughts of how much we hated Bo Schembechler and his
14-0 record over the Illini. We pushed our way through the crowd. It wasn't a
marching band. In fact there were several walkers and a wheelchair. It was a
brass band competition. The home team Rovenj was on stage. As we settled in for
the next hour, the thirty piece band broke into a raucous Hotel California. We
love the Rovinjians.
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