Piran, Izola and surrounds

I had several days to pass before I could cross into Italy due to the weekend, so I would be using Piran as a base to explore the coast. But first to get my laundry done as this hostel has a machine. No dryer but there were clotheslines on the rooftop and with the sun and wind, they should be dry by afternoon. I left them to be collected later. Just as I reached the bus station, it started to rain. I wondered if I should go back, but then decided that the rain was only light and wouldn't add much to the drying time.

Back to Izola I went on the bus, air-conditioned this time. I looked for the railway museum, but I was too late, it had closed at midday. Never mind, I like trains but I'm not that crazy about train lore. I wandered around the beachfront. Izola has a pleasant port. The restaurants near the water are too expensive so I selected the daily special from a restaurant near the centre. It was fish and squid soup. It was tasty enough, but the fish was bony and it was a nuisance picking all the bones out. It came with a couple of polenta cakes and salad. Desert was some kind of dairy custard. Not gourmet but passed muster. Around the corner I got ½ kg of cherries before the market shut down. Cherries seemed to be getting better as summer progressed.

Even in Istria the Italian penchant for treating the world as spectacle is visible in the customers sitting at tables, watching the world go by.

Back in Piran, I collected and folded my clothes and napped till evening. Then I took the walking tour suggested by the book, starting from Tartini square. Apparently he was a composer of some repute. Here they are proud enough of him to give his name to the square. Incidentally he illustrates that Istria was Venetian territory in the past.

Then round the promontory I walked, noting as I passed that the waterfront restaurants were expensive and targeted at richer tourists than me. The golden late afternoon light gave me some good photos.

Finally I ended up on the hill with the church and clock tower overlooking the town with a view of the square where I had started.

I got back to the square by dusk. This cute woman was leading children in fun exercises. Notice the bright orange monster in the background.

At the Tartini Pizzeria on a narrow street I ordered the spaghetti frutti di mare. I was expecting some undistinguished spaghetti with mussels but this was absolutely delicious and I told the chef so. It even had a bit of scampi in it. The macchiatto was good too. Italians do the simple things so well.

I caught the free shuttle bus to the large car park outside Piran where the coastal walk begins. From there I walked to the Bernadin tourist complex where there was outdoor entertainment. It was intended for the resort guests sitting at the restaurant tables, but anybody within earshot could enjoy. I sat on the edge of flower beds full of lavender, as did many other visitors. The band was playing favourites like La Bamba, Let's Twist Again, and The Last Waltz. The oldies were soaking it up.

The complex is situated on land that protrudes out to sea and gets breezes as a result, which were very welcome.

To Piran

Small notices at the breakfast tables read Vi preghiamo..., we request you (to clear the table). Ah yes, Italian is the second language here. The humidity in the morning so oppressive that breakfast was an ordeal. Even the milk for the cereal was hot, there was no cold milk. My hanky was soaked by the end of the 10 minute walk to the station. I had a bit of respite in the air-conditioned station, then sweltered again in the bus until it got moving.

I was spending a few days on Slovenia's 43 km of coastline, heading south from Koper. At Izola I alighted, found a town map and located the youth hostel. Unfortunately it was full up, with students it seemed. What to do? Press on to Piran, near the end of the Slovenian littoral, I decided. The bus went through Lucija and Portorož and terminated just outside the old city, which is a pedestrian-mostly precinct due to the narrow peninsula that Piran occupies.

When I got off I realised that I had lost my floppy hat, probably in the bus station or on the bus. It was worth little but I would miss the little shade it gave me. And I didn't want to go looking for a replacement this late in the trip. In a bad mood I found the Val hostel in the old city where I was told that there was no problem staying Thursday and Friday but they were full on Saturday. Of course! It is Independence Day on Monday and the end of a long weekend. Oh well, might as well take two nights and figure something out later. I looked at the other two youth hostels in Piran but they didn't look as appealing. At the Maona tourist agency I explained my predicament and the man there said that I could rent a little room just around the corner with self-catering facilities for 22€, pretty much the same price as the hostel. Sure why not, so I left a deposit. I wondered what the drawbacks would be.

Shopping, that's the thing to do when down, ha ha. I got an ice cream and a cold bottle of Coke at the Mercator supermarket. Then I spotted a coffee shop. Ah, maybe I can get some potica, a Slovenian nut roll with walnut and spice filling, mentioned as a must-try by my guide book. "Do you have any potica," I asked, stressing the first syllable and using a hard c. "What?" "Potica." "Ah no, listen: po-TI-tsa." "Ok, do you have any?" "Sorry no, maybe at a supermarket?" And so it was, I later found some there. Sigh, so I'd been pronouncing the Slavic c wrong in my head all the time. I should have paid attention to the language section of the guide book where it said c = ts.

Lunch was however a delight. I found the highly rated Pri Mari restaurant mentioned by the guide and had a lovely risotto nero. The people at the next table seemed to be enjoying their fish. The proprietors were pleased that we relished their cooking. It was like being in Italy again.

Even the locals seemed to be suffering; I could see their skin glistening, so I took refuge in the hostel, where thankfully they had turned on the air-conditioning. In the evening, when the heat had eased somewhat, I ventured out and walked to Portorož. The guide said 20 minutes, but it seemed more because of the diversions along the way. About halfway the coastal promenade goes through the Bernadin resort complex. Mainly older folks stay here. Mostly Slovenians with a smattering of tourists from elsewhere, e.g. Germans and Italians,

Portorož is a pretty swank place, with luxury hotels. This is the Slovenian riviera after all. Even the dinner I had, a ražnjići, was one of the more expensive meals I'd had in Slovenia. It was well-prepared though.

When I got back to Piran, there was an outdoor concert in progress to kick off the long weekend. The civic buildings were floodlit which allowed me to get some good shots.