Just east of Trieste is the border with Croatia and we have a pleasant drive through beautiful country with lovely red roofed towns and rolling farmland and hills to the Istria Peninsula, famous for Roman remains, ducal estates (Tito liked it near Ostrika?) and Malvasia wine. Not sweet, definitely a food wine.
We check into the funky Scarlata Hotel and off to the famous Roman Amphitheatre. Dining at the recommended Amphitheatre Hotel restaurant we are almost he only diners there. Amuse Boucher, fish soup, basss, salad, chocolate cake, the local Malvasia wine and free plum brandy sets us back $100. People start streaming past the window, later we have dessert on the patio and the crowd thickens. What is going on?
One of the most famous 10k races in Croatia happens tonight, finishing in true Roman fashion at the Amphitheater. We are part of the buzz and its fun! Beer is being dispenses behind the gladiator pens, families, running clubs, teams ahve come from all over Croatia.
There are lots of budget travelers here. We have a tiny balcony but our view is of seedy little streets and broken steps, but our car is fine and safe, parked on the street with bags and stuff visible in it.
We ever had any security or safety concerns the whole time in Croatia, or in fact, any of the places we visited. I had half expected Russian-mafia types stealing bags, etc. but everywhere we went, we were told, don’t worry about anything, nobody will touch it.
Next morning we are set to drive half way down Croatia. First we see dark threatening clouds. Then th heavens open we have a YUGE (Trump-style) hail storm. The toll road is closed for about half an hour. Ted retreats down a private driveway, ignoring the signs, and gets as far under a tree as possible. Fortunately, the car doesn’t suffer any damage.
WE drive the 500km back up around the Istria Peninsula, miss all the views to the heavenly little northern Dalmatian islands, down very scenic country between two national parks in torrential rain. Didn’t see a thing.
There are nice tourist travel stops on the motorways and toll highways. However, the cafes only have one or two washrooms for women. Dying for a pee, we stop at one just as a bus load of other tourists arrive. It takes half an hour to pee! Fortunately I have kept a pear and croissant from breakfast and polish off a package of cheese crackers from my store. Ted is not into lunch or stopping!
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