Day 30 - Rovinj (Sunday 12th May 2024)

Rovinj, like the whole of the Istrian Peninsula, has an interesting past. It was first conquered by the Romans way back in the very early part of the first millennium. Later it was ruled by Venice, the Austro-Hungarians, the Italians, communist Yugoslavia and finally Croatia. The whole of the Istrian Peninsula was a part of Italy between the World Wars. Consequently, and given its proximity to Italy, there is a very strong Italian influence here. When the Fascist leader Benito Mussolini ruled he forbade the use of the Slavic language, forbade any newborn from receiving an Istrian name and forced all citizens to “Italianize” there names. Not surprisingly there was a mass exodus from the region.

Which reminds me of a little story I have heard a couple of times over the last month that quite succinctly describes this region. Because this whole Balkan/Dalmatian region has been a hot-bed of political activity for a long as history has been written, and with specific reference to the 20th/21st centuries, there are people who have lived in the same village all their lives and without moving anywhere have been the citizens of up to four different nations. Understanding how that has come to be is one of the reasons I wanted to visit this part of the world.

Anyway, Rovinj is a lovely little seaside village on the western side of the Istrian Peninsula about half-way between Pula on the southern-most tip and the border with Slovenia, Slovenia, incidentally, owns a narrow 22kms of the Adriatic coastline thereby physically separating Croatia from Italy. We walked down the hill from Apartment Iva to the dockside, just a 10 minutes walk away. The day was already pretty warm and the sky was blue with only few fluffy, white clouds about. By the time we got there it was pretty busy. The harbour was full of boats, mostly small ones tied up to the dock. The water was clear and very deep. Fish swam around the ropes keeping the boats in place hoping to find something to eat in the thick algae with which they were covered. Countless cafe’s and restaurant one after another after another lined the entire perimeter of the harbour. Ancient multi-coloured buildings stood back across the street away from the harbour, bathed in the sunshine. The whole scene was just so “Mediterranean”. Bewdiful!

 

 

 

Members of a local Istrian car club were displaying their “pride and joy” alongside the dock. Nothing on display was built after 1980, I reckon. The stand-outs for me were the open-top Mustang, the Lancia in full rally-dress with a huge bank of driving lights across its front and the beautiful little blue Renault 4. Hoping to take a boat ride from Rovinj to Pula later in the week we went in search of the tourist bureau for some information. We found it but then remembered it was Sunday which explained why it was closed. Long story, short we eventually had it confirmed later in the day that there is no such thing as a tourist ferry to Pula (insert sad-face emoji here). Just beyond the tourist bureau we found a market beginning to wind down for the day. Kerry snapped up a large punnet of strawberries and I couldn’t resist a big of dried figs. With these in hand we took the short walk to the dock on the Adriatic side of Rovinj and enjoyed our fresh fruit looking over the sea.

Sitting high on the hill of the old town of Rovinj, which is on a little peninsula, the bell-tower of the Church of St. Euphemia dominates the skyline. That little peninsula was actually once one of the fourteen islands that lie immediately off the coast of Istria. It was joined to the mainland late in the 18^th century. Like bees to a honey pot tourists are drawn up the hill to the church. We finished our late breakfast and started our own “pilgrimage” along the cobble-stoned lanes up to the church. Not at all a hard walk we took our time to enjoy the surroundings on the way up. For fifteen minutes we sat in the church to admire the work of the artists and to enjoy some respite from the crowds and the warming day.

 

On the terraces just below the church forecourt a little bar set under shady trees, surrounded by green grass (not lawns!) and with an uninterrupted view of the sea looked to be the place for a coffee and a cool drink. From there we continued our walk around the headland and back to the harbour, passing sunbathing people on the rocks below. The numerous little pools scattered amongst the rocks were so inviting. Had I been appropriately attired…….

 

Since we’ve been travelling up the Croatian coast I’ve been on the lookout for places that serve sardines, but without any luck. It was mid-afternoon by now, well past lunch time, but those timings of our usual lives don’t apply when on holiday in places like this. You eat when you’re hungry, drink when you’re thirsty and have coffee anytime. Kerry was determined to help me find my sardine meal. After checking a few street-side menus and asking waiters looking to fill seats in their cafe’s (and getting snubbed by a couple with that “why would you want to eat sardines” look) she finally found one. For just €12 I enjoyed a large plate of grilled sardines, a rally nice spinach and potato accompanying dish, bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and a beer. All in a lovely Mediterranean setting.

 

It had been a long day so we slowly made our way back up the hill to Apartment Iva and started to plan tomorrow’s self-guided tour of the north-east of the peninsula.