Is there much to say about Rovinj? Well, yes, in that it again represented a Venetian-style, maritime town – aspects of which were indeed very similar to Venice with three-storey pastel-painted terraced villas seemingly rising up out of the sea, standing dominant and picturesque on the edge of the town centre. We’d initially been excited to have discovered an ‘aire’ within easy walking distance of the port, and even more delighted to find it had sufficient free spaces for us to park up under a bit of tree-shade, as we’d planned to remain here overnight and explore Rovinj.
It was hot. Rovinj was delightful – but overly busy and very touristy with a lot of souvenir-stalls, so we climbed a steep path to visit the now classic Church (of St Euphemia, just in case you wanted to know) which – yes – you guessed it – dominated the town from its lofty position up a steep hill. And it was really very hot. A languid, shady lunch was the only antidote – which we enjoyed at a small pavement café on our way back down, (alarmingly on perilously slippery polished pavements where more than just us almost took a tumble) and well away from the teeming waterfront. At some point during this romantic, culinary indulgence we must have decided to do some laundry (can you tell how long we’ve been married, I wonder?) and thus ambled back to the van, via some very expensive fruit-stalls where our relaxed disposition led us to accidentally acquire some very expensive fruit.
Having somehow gleaned the location of a local launderette, we decided we’d ‘done’ Rovinj so moved on to the outskirts where we spent an enforced hour’s wash and forty-minute’s tumble-drying – in the company of an Anglicised German Biker from East Grinstead, who was also ‘running his smalls’ and clearly hadn’t been married to anyone for any time at all and, as such, just wanted to talk. He did, however, seem to understand how the launderette worked so we pretended to be his friends for as long as it took us to get our laundry done.
Prior to all this, on our route south from Novigrad to Rovinj, we’d been forced inland to circumnavigate the Limski Kanal – an impressive fjord-type natural intrusion into the coastline – where we’d also found classic road-side stalls competing to sell expensive olive oils; grappa and truffle-based products – which of course, with our still fervently relaxed disposition, we also had to purchase. This experience of the Istrian interior – coupled with the slightly disappointing lack of any sandy beaches – prompted a decision to cross the surprisingly lush and verdant landmass and see what the less-developed east coast might offer on t’other side.