Portorož

I checked out of the hostel and picked up the keys to the apartment at the Maona tourist agency. They were advertising a Salt and Olive tour to the salt pans of Sečovlje and an olive plantation. I asked the agent if it was worth it. He candidly told me no and also that it was quite likely not to happen. The room is on the ground floor of a building in one of the streets behind the agency. just around the corner. It's as promised, small but very tidy, with a shower cubicle, and there was a stove and a fridge. The major problem I could see was that it could get stuffy because there weren't many outlets for air. There was a small exhaust fan in the shower but I was not allowed to run it at night. I decided that I would run it during the day whenever possible.

At the supermarket shoppers were stocking up for the long weekend. Having a fridge, I could stock it with cold drinks. I got some provisions for breakfast. There seems to be lively competition between the major Slovenian supermarket chains, which are Mercator, Tus and Interspar. Then there are the foreign entrants Hofer (Aldi) and Lidl.

Incidentally here's a picture of the dog breed that Dalmatia is named after. No, just kidding, it's the other way around of course, the dog is named after the region. It's thought that they were originally bred for guard duty, before being spotted by a Disney talent scout, hahaha. It was ironic that I had to travel all the way out of Dalmatia before I encountered a dalmatian.

I caught the bus to Portorož (literally: port of roses) and explored it a bit more. There was a restaurant attached to the Mercator at Lucija so I lunched there for 5€30, a good deal. I found a free tourist Internet terminal which allowed me to read webmail, albeit a bit awkwardly using a trackball instead of a mouse. Then I bought some food for dinner from a Mercator located in a historic salt warehouse before returning to the room to hide from the heat.

After dinner (remember this was close to the summer solstice so the sun set late), I visited Tartini square while they were setting up for the evening's entertainment, then caught the shuttle to the car park and walked to the Bernadin complex. The same band was there playing the same songs again. It looked like they had a set routine. They did do a good rendition of I Will Survive though.

Upstairs, there was another restaurant where an accordionist was playing traditional tunes. I sat in the courtyard and listened for a while. I only recognised Ciribiribin. I have been unable to find out much about this waltz ballad other than the melody, the lyrics (of course), and that it was composed by Alberto Pestalozza, an Italian composer, in 1898. It has a folksy feel and was a perennial favourite in the last century. I didn't recognise the performer's other songs, but his repertoire was broader than that of the 4 piece band downstairs.

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.