It is called Row-veen. Not Ro-vinj. In Italian it is Rovigno. We are pretty far north, just shy of the border with Italy, Slovenia and Austria. All three countries are an hour or less away.
We were here before, for two days. So you can see more photos and compare this time to five years ago by looking at those two links.
We took the free shuttle from our hotel in Trogir to the airport to get our little rental car.
Waiting.
For.
Ever.
In line for the car.
This is what you don't think about or remember but this is the drag part of traveling. And I have a fully paid reservation.
It is almost like nobody has ever rented a car before. The family ahead of me, two men two women grandpa and assorted kids fussed and clucked over their paperwork for hours, like it is a huge mystery.
We got the car so we could go around the Istria Peninsula while we are staying here in Rovinj. See the other blog posts.
Our home for four days is the Hermes Apartments. A local artist has three apartments, and I think he is on Air B&B, but I found it here.
We are up four creaky flights of wooden stairs of different widths and heights. The room is huge, we have a kitchen, and it is great being part of the neighborhood for a few days. But we take our lives in our hands (and feet) climbing up and down.
Our alley is narrow, and the buildings all lean, so our four windows are within reaching distance of the place across the street. We share clothes lines, the smell of great cooking, the cries of babies and conversations.
The little kid across the alley down one floor is singing, “Il corno sul bus va beep beep beep, beep beep beep, beep beep beep...” over and over and over…
Did I mention the delicious smells?
Second verse: “…il ton i ma, ton i ma, ton i ma…”
Saint Eufemia, or Sveta Eufemija, towers over us all at the top of the hill, protecting us from all manners of evil. She also provides a handy landmark. Uphill: to the church. Downhill: to the town.
Easy.
Eufemia.
It is a cute story about a 15 year old girl who was tortured, then thrown to the lions. They killed, but did not eat her.
Somebody took it upon themself to save her body for 300 years, until a church was built in her honor in Constantinople. About the year 800 her remains ended up here, and when nobody else could do it, a small boy with two cows pulled the sarcophagus up the hill and Voilà !
Now we have it.
Ahhh.
The good old days.
I hang out at the Fontana Caffe Bar every morning. They open about 6:00, I arrive with regulars about 5:50 and sit, watching, as they finish setting up. Maybe at 5:55 or 6:05 they start bringing the coffee.
It is a great location to sit and watch and listen. On the main square by the boy statue, I can see the harbour, the main gate in and out of the old city, and the Main Street.
The second morning the waiter asked me my exact order, just to be sure.
On day three I walk down the alley, under the arch and as I head across the piazza, Jadran (we are on a first name basis now) sees me coming and smiles. He yells into the barista and a moment after I sit my coffee with warm milk is placed down in front of me.
I smile.
"Grazie." I say. "Una prosciutto e funghi omelette, per favore."
He smiles, the regulars chuckle and I settle in.
See? I am even joking with them now.
You see, the late night party people come by about this time, and every morning some one or three ask for breakfast: pancakes or an omelette perhaps. Most are vexed and some even argue when they are told this is a bar, with caffé and perhaps a croissant.
And every time Jadran rolls his eyes and every time the locals argue about the stupidity of people.
So that became my joke yesterday and today and will be my joke tomorrow.
Yesterday I ordered a fruit cup and yogurt, today the jam and mushroom omelette.
I sip my hot coffee, a long (large, double draw) espresso with milk on the side.
The harbor is calm today, there is no wind. The birds circle in the sunlight chasing it slowly down the buildings. Late night partiers are coming home in little groups, some striding along fresh, some staggering, some new lovers just strolling.
A couple walks in, under the umbrella to the table in front of me.
They sit. She is very cute, he is wanting to impress.
"Coffee and... um... pancakes?"
I just smile and take a sip.
They stay for the coffee anyway.
Overall it is a quiet Sunday morning.
I enjoy this timekeeping via café. I think my friends George and Dennis would appreciate this.
It can be really crowded here in Rovinj, then quiet and charming. Depends on the day and time. When the cruise ships pull in, it is chaos.
I am sad to see they are building a huge new resort hotel acros the bay. Not only did it take out the entire beachfront there, but it looks huge. I am wondering how many more people it will drop into Rovinj on a daily basis.
Still it is beautiful here, the tall colored houses lining the waterfront like crooked teeth, the interior streets cobblestones, crooked and colorful.
We spent all day Saturday on the next island over. The ferry over to Otok (Island) Sveta Katarina leaves on the half hour, so rather than wait we pick up the water taxi for 25Kuna. He zips us right over, and we set off on the paved brick path around the island.
There are little coves here and there, but the really good beach is on the backside and bottom point, behind the hotel. There are beds if you want one (30Kuna, free to hotel guests) a bar centrally located and lots of private coves among the rocks and pines. We find a little cove of our own and settle in. As the tide slowly comes in the occasional wave splashes my feet. Napping swimming reading swimming podcast swimming... we take a beer break at the bar and get back to work. Napping swimming reading swimming podcast swimming...
The sun shifts, the pine shadow lengthens and covers us.
We know now the return ferry goes on the hour, so we time it for our return.
I shower and fetch up our laundry while Gail showers, then we have a glass of wine before heading out to dinner.
Gail's paper baked fish in wine sauce is really good tasting (she gives me half) and the potatoes have pulled in the fish and wine sauce flavor.
My lobster and crab ravioli, with a sparkling wine, shallot, garlic and chili sauce is a spectacular presentation, and tastes very good.
But the scallop tortellini with mascarpone cheese is only fair. The wine is solid, the coffee a welcome dose of bitterness, the dinner overpriced.
I want to go back to the Konoba; I am plotting and Gail is agreeing.
Today we have breakfast on the waterfront. A string quartet playing behind us. Sunny, clouds building. Coffee and almond croissant. Trying to decide if it is a beach day or a road trip day. 50% chance of thunderstorms later.
So we ate and tried to outguess the clouds. But now it is sunny and hot, so we take a chance and do both: beach until we are chased off by rain at 3:00, then head back to Restoran konoba Stari Podrum for dinner.
I called to make a 18:00 reservation, on the phone the lady remembered me (see food blog post).
Nights here it is fun to hang out and people watch.
We might sit at a café where I take an espresso and Gail an Irish coffee, or we might wander getting gelato and listen to the guitar player on the piazza.
Perhaps we just watch the ships dance in the harbor, or sit on a curb watching.
Everyone is out at night, the girls dressed to turn heads, the boys to impress.
Between walking the town, climbing to the church, taking our little road trips, beaching, reading, walking the harbor, taking photos, eating, the days pass neither slow nor fast, not boring nor over stimulating, just a relaxed, warm and comfortable pace.
Ahhh. Rovinj.