A moderate breeze was blowing as I left the room, dropped the keys in the mailbox of the travel agency attached to a note with one word: Hvala! (Thanks!), and got my cross-border ticket at the bus station. On the bus I met an English couple who had stopped in Slovenia to change their Tolars, the old currency before the Euro, from a previous trip. In answer to my question about the border formalities they said that officials would board the bus. And so it was, once for leaving Slovenia and once for entering Italy.
I thought about this border. It had once been the frontier between Italy and Yugoslavia. Even though Yugoslavia was not as deep behind the Iron Curtain as some eastern European countries, still there must have been a fair amount of crossing by Slovenians to buy western goods in Trieste.
Despite meandering through some villages on the Slovenian side, it only took 20 minutes from Koper to the frontier, but after that, an hour to negotiate the traffic in Trieste and reach the bus station. I found the tourist office where they gave me directions to the bus service for the hostel, which is several km out of the city, on the coast. But first to get lunch. I found a pizzeria and had a simple but tasty melanzane (eggplant) and pepperoni pizza.
The hostel is at 331 Viale Miramare. After 320 there was a long stretch without any numbers, then the bus headed up an incline and Parco Miramare appeared. That can't be right, I thought, the hostel is on the coast, so I got off and walked back until I spotted the familiar HI logo. It turned out that Viale Miramare peels off from the main road which ascends the hill.
It was only 1330, too early to check in, so I sat on a bench, read some and napped some. There was a strong breeze, whipping up the waves. Very pleasant after several stuffy days in Piran.
A group of youngsters arrived so I let the crowd check in first. Management assigned me to a 6-bed dorm in the basement, which is actually at street level. I could hear the roar of the waves from there. I was the first occupant. I showered and slept until evening. The hostel is the building in the middle of the picture.
In the evening I debated whether to take the 9€50 meal deal offered by the hostel in conjunction with a local restaurant. I decided to look for dinner myself instead. Despite having already had pizza for lunch, I persuaded myself to have another for dinner because they were offering some 100 varieties at a restaurant. I had the mediterraneo (anchovies, tomatoes and a soft cheese). It was a bit soggy because of the tomatoes, but it was all edible, a great improvement over Croatian pizza. The brand of mineral water I had was Kaiserwasser, a bit of Austrian nostalgia.
Walking back along the lungomare I, and other spectators, watched this boat practice some rescue maneuvers in the choppy water.
Trieste seems to have a more diverse population. I didn't attract as much attention as in the Balkans. It's a somewhat forgotten city. A lot of people people think that Italy ends at Venice on the eastern border but Trieste is further out, on a limb of Italian territory, surrounded by Slovenia in three directions. Even a large proportion of Italians did not recognise Trieste as an Italian city in a survey. After the end of the Austro-Hungarian empire and WWII it has settled into a gentle old age on the periphery.
So with the anticipation of exploration the next day, I walked back in the moonlight.
I thought about this border. It had once been the frontier between Italy and Yugoslavia. Even though Yugoslavia was not as deep behind the Iron Curtain as some eastern European countries, still there must have been a fair amount of crossing by Slovenians to buy western goods in Trieste.
Despite meandering through some villages on the Slovenian side, it only took 20 minutes from Koper to the frontier, but after that, an hour to negotiate the traffic in Trieste and reach the bus station. I found the tourist office where they gave me directions to the bus service for the hostel, which is several km out of the city, on the coast. But first to get lunch. I found a pizzeria and had a simple but tasty melanzane (eggplant) and pepperoni pizza.
A group of youngsters arrived so I let the crowd check in first. Management assigned me to a 6-bed dorm in the basement, which is actually at street level. I could hear the roar of the waves from there. I was the first occupant. I showered and slept until evening. The hostel is the building in the middle of the picture.
Walking back along the lungomare I, and other spectators, watched this boat practice some rescue maneuvers in the choppy water.
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