How do you Poreč?

You know, perhaps, how it is when you are planning a day trip: you go online or pull out the guidebooks, or both, in search of the ten/ twelve things you must do when in a certain place. When a site lists five and two of them aren´t actually in the town itself, perhaps you should be warned to plan your day differently...

Anyhow, we first visted Poreč, along the coast from us in Croatia, ten years ago, and it sticks in my mind for two reasons: one, I left feeling I had not done the place justice, and two, an infamous incident which was sort of related to the first. Having wandered around and not really done much other than stare in the windows of closed shops, we were about to leave when we realised the tide had gone out enough for the girls to play down at the sea. Our eldest, about twelve then, gathered up a collection of sea shells which we boxed up and took home. Some time later that evening, there was an ominous scratching coming from the box, and we opened it to find that a dozen previously very shy hermit crabs had emerged and were scuttling about. After some futile debate involving salinating tap water, my husband had to drive down to Koper beach under cover of darkness to wreak havoc on the ecosystem. I still sometimes wonder if we changed the course of evolution that night.

Where did that toddler head come from?

Fast forward ten years. We had planned to go to Poreč on Saturday, but the toddler was knocked out with a cold on Friday, so we waited a day, even though I was leery that most places would be shut, Croatia being a pretty devout Catholic country. But we hadn´t ventured far from Koper for ages, bogged down in school/ kindergarten administration, so we decided to give it a go. Crossing the border was pretty uneventful - the guard almost thought about opening our passports, then decided he couldn´t be bothered. The previous crossing was much more eventful. We were in a loaned car then, and we got thoroughly grilled at the border because why else would an Anglo-American family take up residence in Slovenia if not to steal old cars and make a getaway into Croatia?

Croatia, as I am ashamed to say I had to check, is in the EU now (it was not a member last time I was travelling around). In my defence, I was confused because it does not yet have the euro. The currency is the kuna, which I also try to forget because it involves memories of my husband spending money in Croatia and then singing "My kuna´s a goner" to the tune of Hakuna Matata from The Lion King.

Oh yes, Poreč. It is about an hour´s drive from us, and, like much of the region, used to belong to Italy until after WWII. But it was a settlement way before then, including as a Roman town, and with a paleo-Christian community. Wikipedia claims it has been the most visited tourist spot in the region since the 1970s, but to my mind the industry has grown even more since we first visited - that is true up and down the coast now cruises seem to be so wildly popular. I need not have worried about wandering empty streets because all of the shops and restaurants were open. 

Entering the old town is like you have stepped out of the Tardis into some sort of timeline crash: bits of roman columns butting up against a restaurant, a medieval tower turned cafe, a Venetian facade along one side of a square, centuries-old paving worn to a shine by millions of feet, lopsided shop doorways packed with wooden ducks. (I didn´t get the wooden duck thing. Maybe it is a message for time travellers.)

First, we decided to make for the one big nerdy destination, the sixth century basilica, built over the fourth century original, with some rather beautiful mosaics. But, like our last visit, the basilica complex was closed, and there was a service going on in the church. We veered off down the streets, deciding to make for the temple of Neptune instead, quickly getting confused by the criss-crossed streets and aforementioned bits of roman architecture dotted everywhere.

At this point, in the interests of truth, I have to confess to some marital disharmony. When we can´t find a place, I like to stop, consult all available maps, and only move on when I feel confident. My husband´s modus operandi is to just start going in any  feasible direction while he works out the route. There is not a good middle ground on this. Plus, I was coming down with my son´s cold, and the weather turned out to be a lot hotter than forecast, so the combination was not doing much for my temperament.

Like I said. Very Catholic.

Time for a retreat to the sea front and our picnic. Thankfully the people on the shadier bench next to us soon vacated it. As with last time, the sea was right up to the wall so playtime was limited to climbing down the steps to the edge of the water, watching jellyfish float by, or a pipe nose fish hunting smaller fish. We were about to retreat to the shade of town when we spotted a large jellyfish marooned on a jetty - and it was still quivering. I am an animal lover, but it was gross in an alien-movie kind of way. It was probably dying, but of course our daughter felt compelled to help it back into the sea (without touching it). This took a looong time in the direct sun, and involved more gross bits of jelly fish falling off ("It´s multiple organisms! It can survive!") so I hope Saint Francis was taking note.

You are lucky the jellyfish is indistinct here.

Resume mission: to find the temple of Neptune. Easy - if Google maps had been cooperating. There is something to be said for paper maps. After much wandering about, stopping at a random park as a preventative measure before the toddler had a meltdown, and sending my husband out on a scouting party, we got there. It was a small pile of ruins in a grassy square, right by the edge of the sea (who would have guessed?) but hey, it was off our list.

I thought I should have at least one photo from 2018 with me in it.

We got somewhat distracted along the way by an expensive natural beauty shop, where my daughter was somewhat annoyed that I did not fully payroll her purchase. She proceeded to give me a lecture on how important it is not to let terrible chemicals leach into my skin, and while I was at it I should stop shaving my legs and drying out my skin. And then she passed a fast food place and begged for money for a funnel cake because apparently what goes directly into your stomach does not matter. Or something.

Wandering back past the basilica, we decided to peek in again - and the church was open. Success! I have become pretty fond of early Christian mosaics. There is a proliferation of lambs (of God). And lots of shiny gold tiles. Plus, fun detective puzzles as you look at the pictures and abbreviated Latin and guess who is who. That means adults get to appreciate the art and children, even small ones, can be (mildly) entertained. Though actually our son was more interested in the nondescript original floor mosaics open for display below the current (by which I mean sixth century) floor level, because people had dropped things over the rails onto the floor (the coins on purpose I suppose; not so sure about the bottle of water), and I know he was wondering if he could do his bit to destroy history.

A final coffee (surprisingly more expensive than in Slovenia) and we headed home. We took several things back from this trip (but thankfully no hermit crabs - or jellyfish). First, we should admit we are not very good at just wandering around and experiencing the ambiance of a place (though to be fair this is harder when you have small children - or when you are coming down with a cold). Secondly, if we are going to a town where there is not a lot of nerdy things to do, we should plan for a nice meal somewhere rather than be cheap and bring a picnic (because see first point). Third, if you are a planner, be kind to yourself and actually plan. It saves the whole family much angst.

Touristy stuff. As I said, Poreč has become very much a summer tourist destination. It was reasonably busy even though the main summer season is ebbing, so I expect the narrow streets could be extremely crowded earlier in the summer (and really hot). I think we should have scoped out the actual beach options nearby and planned part of the day at one. But tourism and tourist shops aside, the old town is very pretty, with lots of chances to spot architectural gems from Roman ruins forward, and if you are good at wandering, you will really enjoy it. Chasing the Donkey has about the best overview of the area that I have seen (though of course I didn´t scroll down far enough to see that blog before we went). P.S. if you drive, there are two big, convenient car parks literally on the edge of the old town. The grassed one is two whole kunas per hour (24p, 32 cents) cheaper than the paved one.

Sunday in Koper

We have been pretty Koper-based for a while, getting the children settled in school and kindergarten, but that just prompted me into actually chronicling what we do around here at the weekend (hint: it is no longer cleaning a 4 bedroom, 3-bathroom house, mowing an acre, weeding or shovelling chicken poop). Sorry I am a bad photographer - I need an internet course on how to take good photos on your android phone when you are short-sighted.

On Sunday morning, there is a flea market in the old town, and, as we are second hand bargain junkies, it is pretty much the highlight of the weekend. We take the longer, but more scenic and shaded route from our apartment in the hills down to town, along the canal.

We come out via the main underpass, which has recently been painted with a mural depicting the history, culture and mythology of Koper...

...and onto the promenade. This wasn´t here when we lived in Koper before. The city is working hard to revamp this section of the coast and make it pleasant for local families and holiday makers.

Here is the entrance to the market. Sorry there are not interesting close ups of the stalls. I still feel dumb taking photos of things like that. It´s like saying, "Hi, let me take a photo of all your old clothes and display it to the entire planet." It is mostly non professionals trading, so there is a bit of everything. As far as I know there aren´t any charity shops/ thrift stores here, so this is where everyone goes for second hand stuff. People even pop over from Italy to sell. So far, we have got bikes for three out of the four of us, plus a few items of clothing. This Sunday, I bought a new-with-tag tunic dress for five euros.  The lady on the stall spoke Italian, but because I am concentrating on Slovene right now, it´s hard to dredge up my poco Italiano. She was rattling off numbers, and I got lost somewhere after solo cinque. I was thinking, Can´t we do this in Slovene? I know my Slovene numbers to 100 if you say them really slowly!

We peruse the market until our toddler is about to launch a full blown rebellion, then head off to the beach down the road. I have mentioned before that actual beaches are thin on the ground (or coast) in this area of the world, the Koper beach is a small artificial stone beach, with a nice park area behind it, plus a sand pit so that the children can actually make sand castles. I get to sharpen my language skills listening to sand pit talk between small children and their parents because they have to say things like gremo domov (we are going home) about twenty times over before they can get the children to budge.

Depending on the time and hunger levels when we leave, we head off for pizza or gelato. The little bakery up the hill sells you a quarter of a pizza for a euro. Or, the ice cream place at the entrance to the beach offers kid-sized portions of gelato for a euro twenty. I am not a big ice cream fan, which is a shame since we are in gelato country, but this weekend the shop up the road had my favourite flavour: ferrero roche, complete with swirls of chocolate nut fondant. So two trips to two ice cream shops later, we were headed back along the promenade, home for lunch. Here is the little one, eating the end of my cone, along with his own.

Happiness is... an ice cream for each hand.

And I would say as a postscript, I know these sorts of posts can sound like showing off, but really, I am so grateful when I stop to think about our new lifestyle. We worked and saved hard in the US for our "working retirement" here in Koper. It´s weird to be a cliche, but really, you are never to old to follow your dreams!

Tourist info: We´re here. Come visit :)

Quick Lit September 2018

This was my stash of second hand books from my trip to the UK. It might not look like much, but we took the "cabin bags only" option on Ryanair, so we had to be extremely careful on weight (and I also had a years´worth of my favourite UK magazine, Country Living). Nice to have some real books to hold.

Not a whole bunch of reading this month - my life has been consumed by filling out forms, especially for school and kindergarten. Here´s what I read for brief moments of relief.

Alan Bennett - The Uncommon Reader
I was really pleased to pick this up as a hardback at the Three Parishes Fete in Dorset. I have seen Talking Heads and The Lady in the Van, but never actually read any Bennett. One day, the Queen almost literally stumbles into reading for pleasure. She soon gets hooked, and chaos follows in the palace. This novella was a delight - witty (especially if you are British or up on modern British history) but respectful and admiring of Her Majesty. I finished it in a day because my husband went out for drinks with friends that evening (yes, I did encourage him to go).

Jenny Colgan - The Little Beach Street Bakery
Last month, someone was kind enough to compliment me on my reading tastes. I had to confess that, with a degree in literature, I feel compelled to be bit of a reading snob. A new exception is Jenny Colgan, a purely-for-fun author. Reading a Jenny Colgan novel is like when my husband brings home those bags of paprika peanuts from Hofer (the name for Aldi here): I open the bag and can´t stop eating them. I would have read this (e) book in the shower if I could. Polly escapes a failed business and relationship by taking cheap lodgings on Mount Polbearne, Cornwall, a tidal island. Her love of baking saves her and opens up possibilities for a new life. Oh, and this is chick lit, so of course there are several possible love interests. Pretty much the same formula as The Cafe By the Sea, right down to the billionaire American character, but hey, it works.

Muriel Spark - The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
A slight theme going here, in that the Maggie Smith film version has been a favourite of mine for decades, but I have never read the actual book. Miss Brodie is an unconventional teacher at a very conventional girls school in Edinburgh. Deciding that she has entered her prime, she selects a group of pupils whom she will cultivate to be "la crème de la crème", and proceeds to mould them to her vision: "Give me a girl at an impressionable age and she is mine for life". If you have seen a screen version, it is not really a spoiler, because the novel jumps between past, present and future; you begin to discover the fates of Miss Brodie´s pupils early on, and then must watch helplessly as she shapes their destinies. A short novel, where every sentence seems crafted, a complete pleasure to read. Now I can say I love both the film and the book.

Jill Murphy - Five Minutes Peace
It was good hunting in the UK this summer: this series favourite (for me and my three year-old - and his Nana, too) was a 50p charity shop find. What parent could not empathise with a book that begins, "The children were having breakfast. This was not a pretty sight"? And so Mrs Large tries to sneak off to the bathroom for an elusive five minutes of peace, with predictable results. The Large family stories hit that perfect note of appealing to parent and child alike.

Linking up with Modern Mrs Darcy and wishing you la crème de la crème of a reading month!

Slovenian Quick Takes: September 2018

A late summer evening in Koper

1. I have barely had time to read or write anything since I got back from the UK. At that point, everyone had finally received their residency papers, which is pretty much the golden key to everything, so it has been a final push on all aspects of living here, from boring but necessary ones like registering with a doctor (three doctors, actually, one for the adults, one for the teen and one for the toddler) to exciting ones like buying a car. And then the forms, oh the forms... the word vloga is forever seared on my brain with a red hot pen.

2. But at least the weather has cooled down. When we last lived here (arriving in sweaty August), I recall being told something along the lines of, "Don´t worry, the weather will break on September 3 at 2.30pm." And it did - then and now. So much better than Mississippi when you didn´t know if you would be perspiring into October.

3. The three year-old began kindergarten this week, and seems to be enjoying himself. He has already started saying "ne" instead of "no", so I think his language transition will be fine. Weirdly, his kindergarten is run by Seventh Day Adventists. I say weirdly, because as far as I (OK, Google) know, there is not even an SDA church in Slovenia. All it means in practice is that they say grace before their vegetarian meals.

We always have to stop by the canal for a spot of nutria watching on our way to kindergarten

4. Our teen began the new term at the International School Trieste, Italy. I would tell you all about her experiences, but she´s a teen, so all we get out of her is monosyllables unless it´s a demand for money to buy school supplies. Counting our eldest, still at MIT, this means we have three children in school in three different countries. Just colour us cosmopolitan.

5. As well as being the end of summer, September is known as one of the rainy months, so a couple of things we had planned to do were washed out by thunderstorms. We did get down to town one evening for an event called "The Street Revives", which was a hotchpotch of live entertainment, informational stalls (university, local businesses, associations etc.) and vendors, set out along the long, sloping street that runs from the central square to what was the old port. I got a free reusuable bag from a stall run by kids in return for taking their photo. When I said I would put it on my blog, they crowded in front of the camera, so, dutifully, here it is:

6. We are still haunting the Sunday morning flea market, and I scored with an almost new ladies bike last week. As soon as we get a kiddy chair fixed on, Alcuin and I will arrive at kindergarten quickly and in style via the extensive network of bike lanes here.

7. Breaking news: yesterday, I finally got Ted to swim in the sea. To me, raised on the icy coasts of Britain, it is luxurious here: cool (not freezing), calm (we are in a harbour), and more buoyant. To him: it is cold. But he went in anyway. This could become a yearly event.

And P.S. (official exoneration from plagiarism notice!), if any old readers are hanging around, yes, I borrowed the series title idea from Seven Quick Takes, first created by Jennifer Fulwiler, who found fame on Sirius radio and passed the baton to Kelly at This Ain´t the Lyceum.

Faking Slovene: Part 1

I have once again become a collector. Not stamps or rabbit figurines (they hopped out of my life years ago), but words. Slovenščina je težka - Slovene is hard, so I am cutting all the corners that I can and greedily snatching up any easily-learned words to add to my vocabulary.

Living in Koper, which is dual language Italian, there are many Italian words that are a part of everyday vocabulary here, and that I already know: ciao, ecco, allora, bravo, mama. I have a special fondness for allora - it means roughly then or so, the sort of word you use before summing something up or talking about what to do next. You can shove it in front of a sentence and sound like you understand the local dialect here.

Then there are the words that have come straight from English. For me, these fit into three groups. The first is ones that look and sound like the English, such as: super, stop, september, november, banana.

The second are words that have Slovene phonetic spelling but sound more or less like the English: turist, telefon, oktober, helo (a telephone greeting). I´d add vikend (weekend) in this category - you just have to pretend you are speaking with a  fake German or Austrian accent to remember it.

More tricky in this category are words where the pronunciation is about the same as English, but the spelling looks much stranger because Slovenian uses very different letters to make the same sound, like pica (pizza), where c is pronounced ts, sendvič (sandwich), where č is ch,and ček (cheque). Or the name Viljem (Vil-yem: William). Put all that together, and you are half way to being able to say you´re going to meet Viljem at the vikend for a sendvič :)

The third group has the English or near-English spelling but Slovenian pronunciation: ideja (ee-day-ah), april (ah-per-il), radio (rah-dee-oh). Again, time for a bit of play-acting at being an Eastern European speaking English.

My husband has coined the phrase ˝faking Slovene˝ for what we do right now - and word collecting is a big part of that. ˝Super ideja!˝

Note: yes, I did correct this when my husband spotted a mistake. I said Slovenian was težka!

Quick Lit August 2018

Good to spend some time away from the heat of Koper and enjoy the English coast for a fortnight - and to finally get a stash of physical books (here's hoping that my luggage won't be overweight!). Linking up with Modern Mrs Darcy for a reading round up of the last month.

Oscar Wilde - De Profundis
I resolved just to read light books this summer as moving across the globe is stressful enough in its own right, but I caved in to my brain and finally got around to reading this short literary piece by a favourite author. Wilde wrote De Profundis as a letter to his lover, Lord Alfred Douglas, while serving two years of hard labour for a gross indecency conviction (a sentence which broke him and led to his early death). It is an exploration of sorrow as the only true, wholly integrated experience of life and thus the highest form of art and aesthetics. But this is Oscar Wilde, and one cannot help wondering if it is really a repudiation of his old life as a ˝symbol of [his] age˝ so much as a manifesto for his becoming a symbol for all ages.

Wilde and Douglas. Wilde was posthumously pardoned in 2017.

Sarah Perry - The Essex Serpent
From the blurb, I had thought this was a historical romance/ mystery, so I picked it up for light reading. I was pleasantly surprised to find it more of a literary novel, with strong, quirky characters, emotional intensity, developed subplots and compelling themes. Freed by widowhood from an abusive marriage, Cora takes a holiday in Essex where she can indulge her suppressed love of natural history. But the coastal villages are astir with rumours that the mythical Essex serpent has risen again, to wreak divine judgment. While Cora is eager to find the serpent and prove the existence of a living fossil, the Rev. Will Ambrose is equally determined to prove it does not, and quell the rising superstitious hysteria sweeping his parish. A strong subplot concerns a different evil lurking in the slums of London. But at heart, it is about the serpents in us all. Definitely a page turner for me.

Esther Emery - What Falls From the Sky: How I Disconnected from the Internet and Reconnected with the God Who Made the Clouds
I wanted to really like this book. I was interested in the premise, and the author and I seem to have a lot of character traits in common, but I just couldn´t get deeply into it. The main reason was the style, in the present tense in the form of vignettes, ironically (given the subject) more like a series of blog posts than a seamless narrative. The one thing that caught my attention (and I don´t think this is a spoiler) is that the author turned out to be the youngest child of Carla Emery, guru of the back-to-the-land movement of the 70s and author of the Encyclopedia of Country Living, a well-thumbed copy of which sat on our bookshelf for many years, up until our recent move away from the rural US. The background story of her mother´s pursuit of a dream at all costs was, I´m afraid, more fascinating for me than that of her daughter.

That tea cup was mine when I was child, and I still get served tea in it when I visit my parents!

Joseph Loconte - A Hobbit, A Wardrobe, and a Great War
Written for a general audience, this explores the impact of the First World War on the beliefs, writings and relationship of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. Loconte covers some seldom-discussed aspects of the lead up to the conflict, such as the conflicting philosophies of the period, and his descriptions of the battles and trench warfare are emotionally compelling, but the book petered out into a sermon. Interesting, but I would have liked more depth.

Sara George - The Journal of Mrs Pepys: Portrait of a Marriage
Leaning heavily on Samuel Pepys' own diary, this tells the story of the 1660s from his wife Elizabeth's point of view. Definitely more a diary than a novel in format, this was well written and fascinating, especially if you are a history buff. George was pitch perfect in capturing a seventeenth century voice, dealing dispassionately with Pepys' verbal and physical violence towards his household and his #MeToo antics. I swapped this with my mother for Major Pettigrew's Last Stand.

I'm about to get back to Koper and try to get the last administrative problems ironed out before the new term, so reading might be quite thin in the coming month, but wishing you all good novels for the end of summer!

Thalssotherapy

As part of our eldest child´s visit, we planned a girl date to a new spa opened on the salt flats at Sečovlje. I have visited the salt flats themselves several times - it is one of my favourite nearby places. Right on the border with Croatia, they are otherworldly in their stark beauty. Cell phones and therefore my camera were banned at the spa, so I thought I would resurrect some photos of the salt pans taken by my friend on a visit ten years ago, which are much better than anything I could snap.

I agonized for a good while over whether to try a spa treatment because they began at around 30 euros, and, as I am on record as saying, communal nakedness makes me nervous. But my elder daughter was all for getting a salt scrub, so I booked one along with her. At least I would have moral support and I would actually find out if it was worth it (as my husband says, living here makes us feel obligated to know more about Slovenia than Slovenians).

Thalassotherapy, as I learned, apparently refers to the health benefits of the sea and its products, as well as being a fun word to add to your vocabulary. Slovenians are seriously into natural and alternative health treatments, and brine water and sea mud have been officially recognized by the Ministry of Health here as being natural healing products. In fact, you can even be prescribed a trip to a spa by a doctor, paid for by national health insurance. Personally, I always feel invigorated when I swim in the sea, but I was not convinced anything magical is going on outside my head. Maybe I was wrong, and I can feel vindicated for all those times my husband said I am insane for swimming in British (read: near freezing) waters.

The entrance fee got us access to the big salt water swimming pool and the Kniepp walking pools. The swimming pool was temperate and really salty and it was fun to be so buoyant. The walking pools were three long pools, each filled with a different size of stone, meant to be good for your feet. One was supposed to be a hot pool, but hadn´t heated up by the time we were there. You could pay extra to bathe in the brine pools (a by-product of the salt production here, denser than sea water and mineral rich).

After interminable days of hot weather, the morning started off cloudy with a threat of rain, and we ended up using our towels as blankets on the loungers and getting hot chocolate at the cafe. But the silence and the views across the salt pans more than compensated.

And so, it got around to treatment time. I roused elder daughter from her meditation on a stone, and we went to the front desk. A young man and women escorted us over to the treatment area, which was a series of open air cubicles. ˝I´m not having the guy do a salt rub,˝ I hissed out of the corner of my mouth to daughter, panic rising rapidly.

We arrived, and he handed us tiny packages with the words, ˝These are your thong underwear.˝ I am thinking, first, I should not be accepting thong undies from someone young enough to be my son, and secondly, that something more Mrs Slocombe would make me more comfortable. But I am in for the pennies, so I have to be in for the euros. Thankfully, he then left us to the ministrations of young women.

Those of you who watched the show know just what jokes I am avoiding right now :)

I sidled out of the changing room clutching my too small towel over as much of me as possible and tried not to look at the young couple staked out caked in mud as we made our way to our little booth with two beds - or at my smirking daughter who, she confessed later, was getting great enjoyment out of my discomfort. Then, at last, safely on a bed with a strategically placed sheet, I really did manage to close my eyes and enjoy the salt rub (a bit scratchy at times). Just as I had finally relaxed, the girl said ˝Okay, it´s done, time for a shower,˝ and pointed us to an open air shower right next to the mud people...

Emotional trauma aside, my skin really was much smoother afterwards, and the morning off mothering a toddler - with time to lie down and do nothing! - was regenerating. And that was way more than two minutes of bravery for introverted, inhibited me, so I get to pat myself heartily on the back. And never wear a disposable thong again.

Touristy stuff: Here are the websites for the Lepa Vida spa, the salt pans, and the salt pan products. I have already confessed to being frugal, so personally, I would plan a large part of a day here, and take advantage of the free entry to the salt pans that goes with the spa entrance fee instead of an expensive treatment. But if you enjoy communal near-nudity in the open air, slathered in mud and salt, then go ahead, you have found your people.