Istria, Croatia - January 2016

Slow flakes began to lightly fall as we stepped off the bus in Ljubljana. The Slovenian capitol (pronounced lou-blee-ana) was gray and the air had a bite to it. We didn't stay here long, nor venture far from the station.  It was only a stopover between Triglav National Park and Zagreb, Croatia.

Ljubljana had a little edge to her,though.  Graffiti on the walls and train cars. Something we hadn't seen much of until now.  However, it's hard to look your best in overcast and cold,before winters white blanket arrives.

After a quick bite to eat, we boarded our afternoon train to Zagreb. Upon arrival, the evening was setting in, and so was the storm. We were showered in large fluffy, wet, snowflakes as we performed the routine of arriving in a new place, a new country. Find an atm to get cash in the local currency (kuna), figure out the public transportation situation, buy a ticket, get on the tram, fumble through the new ticket scanning system. Each time the routine is less frenetic, more smiles, and more deliberate.

The snow was piling up in Zagreb, and the Christmas lights were on center stage.

We found our way to the Airbnb we rented for just the night.  My big backpack on my back and pulling Clare's bag through the snow.  Clare with the daypack and her handbag. We have settled on this configuration because there are too many stairs to navigate, and Clare is at the point where she can't (er, shouldn't) throw around a larger bag.

The apartment was nice and would more than suffice for the night. It was only equipped with a pull out couch bed and bunk beds. A fact we apparently overlooked when booking.  I took the top bunk, and Clare the bottom.

Excited to be in a city full of restaurants, we found our way to a tapas place we read about online. I had goose liver pate with sweet wine (John taught me that pairing), and followed it with lentil soup and a croation beer. Clare had a roasted beet and goat cheese salad.  The bottle of olive oil on the table was fantastic, the waiter telling us it came from Vodnjan, on the Istria peninsula. We made a mental note as we were soon headed that way.

After a chilly and fast breakfast in the morning  (the hot water heater went out during the night killing the heat registers and hot water for bathing), we headed out.  We geared up our bags and trudged through the fresh 5 inches of snow.  We caught a shuttle to the airport where our rental car was waiting.

When you book a car using an online aggregator and select the absolutely smallest and cheapest option (a VW Up! - 108 euro for 20 days rental) you end up dealing with a company called "Best Rent."

There was no line at the Best Rent counter, adorned by a wrinkled and faded sign. When the agent finally appeared he was all business.  Looking at us with his one eye,  he demanded passports, drivers license and credit card. After some photo copies and running my card for 800 euro "deposit", he handed us the keys and said nice day.  Before we could spit out any questions he had his eye trained down at his phone,showing us only the top of his bald head.  I guess you get what you pay for.  As we left the counter a little dazed and confused by the brevity, he was struck with a flash of humanity and handed us a windshield scraper.

The drive from Zagreb to Rovinj is a few hundred kilometers. About 2/3 of which it was snowing and with heavy traffic. We stopped in a little town just outside of Istria for lunch.  The waitress recommended either the game or the horse meat.  I reluctantly chose the game, figuring the horse would be offered regularly. I haven't eaten horse since i was in Chile in 2008, and always look forward to the opportunity. I blew it tho, haven't seen it again. Anyway, Clare followed suite and we got two large plate fulls of brown globs and dumplings. I think the meat was bear based on its fatty and chewy nature. It wasn't great, but i ate most of it.  Clare left a little hungry.

We descended down out of the mountains into Istria and the snow subsided. We continued on to the coast, and our homebase for the next three nights.

We rented a modest (cheap) one bedroom place on Airbnb. Our host Slobodan (goes by boban, i called him bobodan, not to his face) was a laid back cheery middle aged guy. He and his wife live above the apartment.  He gave us a couple dinner recomendations as it was already after dark, but promised to give us more in the morning.  When we told him we were on a mission for good food, he was on it.

Istria is like little Italy (actually quite near Trieste and Venice), known for its wine, olives, olive oils and truffles. Handmade pasta, cured ham, cheese and lots of fish.

Anxious to get a start on the day, we texted bobodan at about 9:30am and told him we were ready to talk restaurants. He came down and we busted out the map and pen and paper. We weren't but 5 minutes along when he paused, and got up and left.  A few minutes later, he returned with his hands full.  Three wine glasses,  a bottle of white, a bottle of red and a bottle of grappa and three shot glasses.

"It's not too early for wine?" he asked.

He started by pouring three shots of crystal clear grappa. His friend makes it for him. Strong but good. Clare pleaded that she was fine due to pregnancy.  After smelling her portion, i drank it.

Next it was white wine,  malvasia. His friend makes this for him, too. Bobo procures the grapes, then his buddy makes 150 liters for him. It was golden in color and mildly sweet and crisp. Yum. I drank mine and Clare's portion.

Next was red.  Again a home made variety that was great. Two portions for me.  As we meandered on about the food, the red wine kept flowing.

After a couple hours,  bodan left us be, (and left us with the two bottles of wine!). It was now time to find lunch!

We decided to head south and visit Vodnjan, the olive oil mecca the waiter in Zagreb told us about.  We grabbed a pastry at the bakery and hit the road.

As we pulled into the small ancient city, the walls collapsed around us.  Before we knew it, we were driving down cobblestone road that was max 6 feet wide.  We snaked around, constantly wondering if we were on a pedestrian walk way (always being reassured by a random arrow or do not enter sign) until we found a nook to park. It was raining pretty hard, so were happy to stumble across a tourist info office. The folks were busy doing some clerical work and were a little surprised to see us. Everything was closed.  The gal made a couple calls on our behalf, and was able to get a guy to come down to do an oil tasting at his shop. Paul was Irish, married to a croation lady with a family olive oil business, Brist.

He was supper chatty, running us through their lineup and answering all our questions. Needless to say we were the only people in there so it was really nice to have his undivided attention. The stuff we are eating in the usa is not the real deal.

Paul and his wife left other careers to move back to Croatia and help with the family business. It was entertaining to chat with him since clare and i are in a similar situation. Turns out paul wrote a parenting book for ner do well dads to-be that was quite a hit in croatia.  He promised to send me the unedited and unpublished english manuscript.

We had a late lunch/early dinner at a place bodan recommended outside of Pula. Masdive portions of fried calamari, bean soup, istrian sausages and a truffle seafood pasta. I don't think we could muster dessert, but i probably had an espresso as I've gotten into the habit with all my meals.

We cruzed through Pula,saw the coliseum and headed back to Rovinj.

The next day we drove north in the rain along the coast. This is a touristy stretch, so most things were closed. Places that are open are generally "cafe bars" but it's hard to stop at those because every person in Europe smokes.  And they smoke inside. And most certainly smoke while drinking coffee. It's not 100% avoidable, but we try to limit Clare's exposure. We drove into Vrsar, an old little town perched on the sea. We again found our selves navigating extremely narrow roads, up and down hills, thankful we were in the worlds smallest car. We lunched in novigrad and then headed inland.

We wound our way on narrow back rounds to Hum (say hoom), the smallest town in the world. A charming little walled town that serves mainly as an attraction, i assume, but we were the only ones there.

That night we had dinner at Bobo's primary recomendation, Konoba Danijeli. Located in central istria in the middle of nowhere.

Following bodans specific advice, we started with istrian prosciutto with cheese and truffle oil. We then had a homemade pasta with a truffle white sauce. We finished with panacotta and espresso. I think he recommended that we get more, but we learned our lesson the day before. (A lesson we keep relearning as it turns out.)

The following morning it was time to move on.  We bid slobodan adieu and headed toward Plitvice Lakes National Park. We drove across istria then down the coast to Senj. We had lunch over looking the sea and were surprised by how stark and arid the landscape was.  I had calimari, half fried half grilled drenched in olive oil (preferred the fried - grilled is a little chewy and watery). Clare got the grilled shrimp. Erase what you are picturing and imagine a plate of 10 small lobsters.

After lunch we turned in from the coast and started winding up over the tallest mountain in croatia.  As we climbed, the rain turned to snow, and it never stopped dumping.

Dan, Clare