Day 32 - Istria – Part Two (Tuesday 14th May 2024)

Our lovely hostess, Iva, had suggested some places to visit so today we planned to do so. The Lonely Planet guidebook she had left in the apartment re-affirmed that advice. Once again, we intended to remain away from motorways, except for the sprint home in the evening. The area we targeted was sort of the north-central area of Istria, adjacent to the country we visited yesterday. Not quite as mountainous as yesterday but hilly nevertheless.

We set off out of Rovinj for Kanfanar and then turned north motoring along the road that runs adjacent to the motorway for a short while then dips sharply down to an inlet off the Adriatic coast. A slow truck laden with big rocks slowed the journey some what but that was fine as the scenery was very pretty along the way. Up the other side the road flattened out again as we passed through numerous towns and villages. Our destination was the hill-top town of Motovun, in the heart of “truffle country”. Truffles are a big deal up this way. Shops and road-side stalls along the way ply their trade in the delicacy. Every restaurant features a number of dishes that combine truffle with something. So many signs to little farms and so on trying to entice passers-by to come and harvest their own truffles.

 

 

Five or so kilometres from Motovun we rounded a bend in the road to be presented with a most magnificent view of the town perched upon a distant hill-top. Strategically placed at this bend in the road was a simple little cafe with an equally stunning view of the town and a large well placed area by the cafe at which approaching traffic could make a last second decision to stop and do so safely. So we did. Sitting at the outside tables on a coolish early afternoon a lovely young chap bought our coffees while we gazed across the wide, deep valley and drank in the view – pun intended.

 

 

 

Down the hill we rolled into lower (new) Motovun where we took a sharp right and headed up to the old town. Not surprisingly parking was at a premium up there so I dropped Kerry off just before the barricaded (to vehicular traffic) entrance to the old town and drove back down to the bottom car-park where I left the Clio for €2.00 for a couple of hours. Good value, I reckon. After a rapid fifteen minutes walk back up I rejoined Kerry and we proceeded up the steep, cobble-stoned street to the gate in the town wall. Along the way shops selling souvenirs and truffle-related goods (no surprises in either front there) lined the street. Restaurants were busy serving their clientele with, no doubt, spectacular food and, certainly, equally spectacular views. Through a last gate we went to reach the very top of the hill and the 16^th century church of St. Stephen and its bell-tower. We visited the church, one of very few we have found open to believers, sadly, so we ventured in. The church was empty which afforded us the opportunity for some complete silence, save for one magnificent distraction. Coming, seemingly from the ether, was the voice of a boy soprano wafting through the aisles of the church. To be able to sit there and listen to that heavenly voice float through the understated but still glorious late-Renaissance interior of the church was the highlight of the day and one of the highlights of the trip so far. A brief, but unforgettable experience.

 

 

Well, I did say there was a bell-tower! For just €4.00 I took my ticket for the dear old parishioner manning the ancient wooden door and commenced my ascent. This one was a genuine example of an old bell tower. None of your “safety” stuff for unwary tourists. Just the old narrow, rickety wooden steps which from the bottom of each level seemed imposingly steep and an old iron hand-rail fixed to the stone walls centuries ago. Past the iron bells I went further upward until I reached the open-air roof, with just one other intrepid climber there to greet me. We exchanged photographs and then admired the 360 degree views of the surrounding country-side through the castle-like merlons.

 

On the way back down to the car-park the first rain of our holiday since Budapest began to fall. Just before we reached our car it bucketed but luckily we’d found a good shelter to stand under. Not 400m further down the road it was bone dry. Next came the large town of Buzet which provided us with a supermarket where we stocked up on things for the next couple of days. Since coming “off tour” our eating expenses have fallen drastically now that we’re able to eat more simply “on the run” or at home and not in expensive restaurants a couple of times each day. After a coffee and a burek, remember, that spanikopita-like pastry native to the Balkans, we drive on to the hill-top town of Roc. This time we could drive right to the top as it’s just a quiet little village, clearly unknown to tourists…. but it is mentioned in Lonely Planet…. but there ain’t no public transport anywhere near. Here we wandered around what seemed to be, perhaps, some sort of artist colony perched up on the hill, overlooking the valley on one side and standing at the foot of a long, high and rocky escarpment on the other.

 

 

Our final destination for the day was the village of Hum, the self-proclaimed smallest village in Croatia. To paraphrase Lonely Planet, “it’ll take five minutes to walk around or fifteen if you stop to read the plaque affixed to each building”. Down a tiny, single lane sealed road we ventured, deep into the forest of oak. BTW, the forests all over Istira are so green and so dense. One can easily get a sense from where those children's stories about the dangers hidden in the “deep, dark woods” have come from. A detour to the “almost abandoned” village of Kotli was too tempting to pass up. Kerry wasn’t too pleased as we ventured further into the forest on a quickly deteriorating road surface. But when we arrived at the stream that flowed past the village there was a great big bloody Winnebago-type machine there already. So much for being remote and alone. Anyway, across the bridge the hamlet was indeed mostly abandoned. Vegetation of all sorts has taken over all or most parts of many of the stones buildings. The scene was quite eerie. A couple of houses were in a state of reconstruction and renovation – I could imagine the beginnings of a great little community being reborn here. The hamlet even has a bar but I couldn’t tell if it was still a going concern or not.

 

GPS-girl said we could drive over the bridge to get to Hum. I thought we should have retraced our steps. But who am I to argue. Well, we never saw Hum, in the end. After a 30 minute drive through more winding narrow roads we popped up at the back of Buzet. That revelation marked the end of our travels for the day. I reset GPS-girl so that she could choose motorways and we retraced our steps of a couple hours ago, past the supermarket, past Roc, past the detour to Kotli, into Lupoglav, onto the motorway and home to Rovinj.