After leaving Bled we drove straightaway to our Adriatic sea destination – Trieste (which coincidentally has a different name in Slovenian, Croatian and Greek, showing the tumultuous boarder history of the region). The weather began to get warmer as we drove South and after crossing some mountains you could feel that we were getting closer to the sea. Ahhhhhh. The sea. There is something so wonderful about being near water when you live inland. The air is different. The food is different. The people seem more immediately relaxed. There is more sun, wind, life… it is brilliant.
Trieste’s first impression is one that perhaps many drivers feel when entering Italy. A sort of “oh my god” feeling. As co-pilot, I just kept saying to Brano, “you’re doing great, good job, that way, ok now I think, this way…. ummmm… watch out for that moped!!!” We entered the first parking garage and squeezed up the ramp, then went on foot to find the place that we had reserved only that morning.
Our walk took us past the main square “Piaza Unita D’Italia” and into the small medieval streets of Trieste. There was a moment when my hazzardly written notes didn’t make sense and I suggested that we phone the people who rent these apartments and then we turned around and it was there. We’d found another location. Yet again, without any sense for where we were. Amazing.
Our apartment was down a small pedestrian “street”, perhaps in English it would be called an ally, but it was a bit more than the width of my arm span. It was cute as can be and we were more than happy to call it home for two nights.
We began our first night in Italy at a small bar/café on the corner from our apartment. Immediately, it became apparent that we were no longer in Slovenia. People were sitting outside, laughing, gesturing wildly. The servers approached the table with an informal swagger and said “Ciao”. People drove up onto the sidewalk with their vespa, took off their helmuts, and yelled, “Caio Bella!”. I felt like I was living in a stereotype.
After our cocktail we traversed the Trieste streets. Trieste has had a tumultuous past. Its heyday and grandeur developed during its reign as a commercial port in the Austrian Empire. It became part of Italy by the end of WWI. After WWII it was briefly a part of Tito’s Yugoslavia, but then returned to Italy with the support of Allied forces. The city had its share of grandeur and downfall, but what remained is a mix of Italians, Slavs and Germans. I felt like I was in Italy. But, that is my frame of reference.
We traversed the city, climbed the steep stairs up to the 15th century castle, walked up and down the hills of cobblestone streets. The town was lively. People were out, despite the colder weather. Finally, we went to a small upscale restaurant on a quiet square by our apartment. It was great! Waiters were dressed in tuxedos and as we sat down they took our coats and ran for a little stool. I looked at the stool sheepishly and asked the woman at the next table, “Is this for my feet?” “No,” she smiled, “your bag”. Ahhh. So I placed my three-dollar-tjmaxx purse on its perch. I suppose if you have a 1000-dollar-gucci bag it does deserve a perch.
The menu was spoken to us in wonderful English and it consisted of a splendid range of hot starters, pasta dishes, and finally large plates consisting of a wide array of fish. I had an octopus salad and then sea bass with potatoes; Brano had soup and a scampi dish. The food was delicious and meticulously prepared.
A quick picture caveat... We spent most of our Trieste time there in the evening and night, thus, the pictures are a little sparse.Trieste’s first impression is one that perhaps many drivers feel when entering Italy. A sort of “oh my god” feeling. As co-pilot, I just kept saying to Brano, “you’re doing great, good job, that way, ok now I think, this way…. ummmm… watch out for that moped!!!” We entered the first parking garage and squeezed up the ramp, then went on foot to find the place that we had reserved only that morning.
Our walk took us past the main square “Piaza Unita D’Italia” and into the small medieval streets of Trieste. There was a moment when my hazzardly written notes didn’t make sense and I suggested that we phone the people who rent these apartments and then we turned around and it was there. We’d found another location. Yet again, without any sense for where we were. Amazing.
Our apartment was down a small pedestrian “street”, perhaps in English it would be called an ally, but it was a bit more than the width of my arm span. It was cute as can be and we were more than happy to call it home for two nights.
We began our first night in Italy at a small bar/café on the corner from our apartment. Immediately, it became apparent that we were no longer in Slovenia. People were sitting outside, laughing, gesturing wildly. The servers approached the table with an informal swagger and said “Ciao”. People drove up onto the sidewalk with their vespa, took off their helmuts, and yelled, “Caio Bella!”. I felt like I was living in a stereotype.
After our cocktail we traversed the Trieste streets. Trieste has had a tumultuous past. Its heyday and grandeur developed during its reign as a commercial port in the Austrian Empire. It became part of Italy by the end of WWI. After WWII it was briefly a part of Tito’s Yugoslavia, but then returned to Italy with the support of Allied forces. The city had its share of grandeur and downfall, but what remained is a mix of Italians, Slavs and Germans. I felt like I was in Italy. But, that is my frame of reference.
We traversed the city, climbed the steep stairs up to the 15th century castle, walked up and down the hills of cobblestone streets. The town was lively. People were out, despite the colder weather. Finally, we went to a small upscale restaurant on a quiet square by our apartment. It was great! Waiters were dressed in tuxedos and as we sat down they took our coats and ran for a little stool. I looked at the stool sheepishly and asked the woman at the next table, “Is this for my feet?” “No,” she smiled, “your bag”. Ahhh. So I placed my three-dollar-tjmaxx purse on its perch. I suppose if you have a 1000-dollar-gucci bag it does deserve a perch.
The menu was spoken to us in wonderful English and it consisted of a splendid range of hot starters, pasta dishes, and finally large plates consisting of a wide array of fish. I had an octopus salad and then sea bass with potatoes; Brano had soup and a scampi dish. The food was delicious and meticulously prepared.
Town Hall on Piazzo D'Unita D'Italia
"Our street"
Inside our apartment building
An image of Trieste from the hills above
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