A What In The Middle of Town?

On to Pula in the morning after the traditional Croatian breakfast of every German dish you can think of and the finest Italian espresso you ever had. Down the rugged and winding coastline, kilometer after kilometer the crystal clear Adriatic waters gently lapping at the rocky shoreline. Not many beaches in this northern coastal part, none at all for many, many miles. Minute villages with red tile roofed houses right at the seafront, their foundations wet with the sea itself.

Little double-ended fishing skiffs of their unique design in reds and blues and yellows dot the water. Nets hung up to dry and piled on the bows as well. A beautifully scenic drive.


I exit the car often to clammor over the rocks and stare down into the water for starfish or a crab but only see the rare small fish darting behind the granite rocks. It is as though this was created yesterday, no moss, no sea life at all at times, no seaweed, no shells, no tide line at all. Back in the car along the lonely road to Pula. We stop in a larger town on the sea