Get your Croat, you've pulled...
The whole goal of this trip had been to get to Croatia and that finally happened this week. Our first stop was Rovinj, a stunning little coastal town built on a peninsula by the Venetians – so, as you’d imagine, it has lots of narrow cobbled streets and crumbling buildings with lots of wooden shutters. Imagine Venice on a little hill with no canals. It is very beautiful – and thankfully pigeon-free.
We ran out of camping gas while we were there and it turned out the only place we could get this was down the coast in a town called Pula. Just before we set off though, we were approached, rather randomly in a car park, by a man who was the colour of a conker and the texture of a walnut. He told us that Pula was “crap man, just horrible” and that instead we should give him a lift to a nudist beach just along the coast. “Yeah, come with me to the nudist place, get naked, you’ll love it” he pleaded. This was a person that looked like he really shouldn’t be allowed any further exposure to the sun. Our need to get gas suddenly became even more urgent so we left him standing in the car park shaking his little walnut head.
We got our gas and then headed up into the mountains and, almost immediately, the weather changed. We literally went into a tunnel in blazing sunshine and emerged on the other side a few minutes later into a misty realm of cold grey drizzle. We were heading to Plitvice Lakes but it was quite a way, and our little van really isn’t comfortable attempting anything even approaching an incline, so we found a campsite on the map that seemed about half way. Unfortunately, when we arrived, that campsite was very closed. While we were discussing our next move, a smiley farmer appeared beside the van and started to helpfully point out that the campsite was closed. Now, most Croatians seem to be able to speak either English or German as a second language. This farmer spoke German about as badly as I do but we managed to ascertain that he was offering us a room for the night. “Great. Why not?” we thought. He led us to his farm where we were joined by his portly English-speaking wife who directed us to a small building in the yard, proudly opening the door and ushering us in. What they’d managed to do was somehow recreate a Communist-era Gulag camp inside a big refrigerator. It would actually have been warmer – and possibly more comfortable – to sleep out in the yard. But, of course, we are British and when faced with a potentially embarrassing situation we take the path of least resistance. So rather than apologise and say that we’d go elsewhere, we smiled, made approving noises and handed over our passports. And if we were wondering what it was exactly that this farmer farmed, well that was answered upon entry to the bathroom… there were herds of mosquitos lining the walls like a living wallpaper. Presumably we’d been lured here from the roadside to become feed for his livestock. We spent about half an hour in that bathroom chasing down and squishing every single last one of them. After an evening spent wearing our coats indoors and a fairly restless night sleeping on wafer-thin mattresses, we woke early, grabbed our passports, thanked them very much and fled. And, despite the cull the night before, we’d still managed to get bitten.
We are great believers in karma and the redemption for our night of penury came that same morning when we came across a stunningly enchanting village – albeit with a stunningly depressing name – Slunj. This pretty little settlement is literally awash with waterfalls cascading down between, under and through the houses. It is unreal and looks like a ready-made set for Lord Of The Rings.
And if you’re a fan of waterfalls (who isn’t?!) then our target destination, Plitvice Lakes, will have you positively quivering with excitement. This is a series of about ten or so interconnected lakes that cascade down into each other via a series of waterfalls and they are truly awesome and the fact that we arrived on such a misty day just added to the ethereal nature of the place. The crystal clear lakes and their resulting waterfalls vary massively in size but are all equally arresting. It’s hard to know just what is so mesmerising about what is essentially some water falling off a ledge...
Just as mesmerising, for me at least, was watching people turn up in the most inappropriate attire for what ends up being a 7km uphill hike through the lakes. Seeing girls wearing wedged flip flops or high heels slip and slide across the wooden bridges and through the mud was as entertaining as the waterfalls themselves. But my favourites were the group of Japanese gentlemen who turned up in business suits, clutching their packed lunches in little paper bags and wearing hats they’d made from the tour maps to protect them from the drizzle. One guy even spent the afternoon walking around with a cardboard box on his head. Utter genius.
We ran out of camping gas while we were there and it turned out the only place we could get this was down the coast in a town called Pula. Just before we set off though, we were approached, rather randomly in a car park, by a man who was the colour of a conker and the texture of a walnut. He told us that Pula was “crap man, just horrible” and that instead we should give him a lift to a nudist beach just along the coast. “Yeah, come with me to the nudist place, get naked, you’ll love it” he pleaded. This was a person that looked like he really shouldn’t be allowed any further exposure to the sun. Our need to get gas suddenly became even more urgent so we left him standing in the car park shaking his little walnut head.
We got our gas and then headed up into the mountains and, almost immediately, the weather changed. We literally went into a tunnel in blazing sunshine and emerged on the other side a few minutes later into a misty realm of cold grey drizzle. We were heading to Plitvice Lakes but it was quite a way, and our little van really isn’t comfortable attempting anything even approaching an incline, so we found a campsite on the map that seemed about half way. Unfortunately, when we arrived, that campsite was very closed. While we were discussing our next move, a smiley farmer appeared beside the van and started to helpfully point out that the campsite was closed. Now, most Croatians seem to be able to speak either English or German as a second language. This farmer spoke German about as badly as I do but we managed to ascertain that he was offering us a room for the night. “Great. Why not?” we thought. He led us to his farm where we were joined by his portly English-speaking wife who directed us to a small building in the yard, proudly opening the door and ushering us in. What they’d managed to do was somehow recreate a Communist-era Gulag camp inside a big refrigerator. It would actually have been warmer – and possibly more comfortable – to sleep out in the yard. But, of course, we are British and when faced with a potentially embarrassing situation we take the path of least resistance. So rather than apologise and say that we’d go elsewhere, we smiled, made approving noises and handed over our passports. And if we were wondering what it was exactly that this farmer farmed, well that was answered upon entry to the bathroom… there were herds of mosquitos lining the walls like a living wallpaper. Presumably we’d been lured here from the roadside to become feed for his livestock. We spent about half an hour in that bathroom chasing down and squishing every single last one of them. After an evening spent wearing our coats indoors and a fairly restless night sleeping on wafer-thin mattresses, we woke early, grabbed our passports, thanked them very much and fled. And, despite the cull the night before, we’d still managed to get bitten.
We are great believers in karma and the redemption for our night of penury came that same morning when we came across a stunningly enchanting village – albeit with a stunningly depressing name – Slunj. This pretty little settlement is literally awash with waterfalls cascading down between, under and through the houses. It is unreal and looks like a ready-made set for Lord Of The Rings.
And if you’re a fan of waterfalls (who isn’t?!) then our target destination, Plitvice Lakes, will have you positively quivering with excitement. This is a series of about ten or so interconnected lakes that cascade down into each other via a series of waterfalls and they are truly awesome and the fact that we arrived on such a misty day just added to the ethereal nature of the place. The crystal clear lakes and their resulting waterfalls vary massively in size but are all equally arresting. It’s hard to know just what is so mesmerising about what is essentially some water falling off a ledge...
Just as mesmerising, for me at least, was watching people turn up in the most inappropriate attire for what ends up being a 7km uphill hike through the lakes. Seeing girls wearing wedged flip flops or high heels slip and slide across the wooden bridges and through the mud was as entertaining as the waterfalls themselves. But my favourites were the group of Japanese gentlemen who turned up in business suits, clutching their packed lunches in little paper bags and wearing hats they’d made from the tour maps to protect them from the drizzle. One guy even spent the afternoon walking around with a cardboard box on his head. Utter genius.
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