Rovinj - Croatia’s St Tropez

Valda, our Airbnb host in Pula, had urged us to go to the resort of Rovinj (pronounced Rovene): ‘It’s Croatia’s St Tropez,’ she said. So we headed there for the afternoon, stopping on the Riva (seafront) for lunch. It was to be our last day of vacation before driving back to Zagreb so Carol was keen to savour Cuttlefish Black Risotto one last time, and I had one last chance to photo her black tongue!

Rovinj Riva

We found a restaurant and the waiter ushered us in. I’d watched him joking in Italian with patrons at a table by the door as we perused the menu. I needn’t have worried; he was just as fluent in English as he showed us our table, poking fun at us as if he’d known us for years, then he switched to German at the next table. These guys are amazing – not just ‘making do’ in three or four languages but genuinely functioning in them. The food was good too.

As we ate, a tractor pulled up at a stop sign in front of the restaurant. ‘That’s something you don’t see in St Tropez,’ we laughed.

The bay at Rovinj is full of small boats jostling in the waves. The Riva sweeps round in a curve and we walked around it in order to climb the steep, cobbled streets to the Cathedral of St Euphemia. As we puffed up the hill the buildings on either side seemed to crowd in on us until we got to the open grassed crest. All the way up we’d been beside four middle aged women complaining about the heat, their marriages and/or divorces, relatives and so on – they didn’t have a good word to say.

Mother Teresa Shrine

We entered the Cathedral, another attractive building hosting the relics of its Saint. Unusually, amid the statues of Jesus, Mary and the apostles, stood a statue of Mother Teresa (now St Teresa of Calcutta), wearing her distinctive white and blue robe.

Stair detail

As usual, my friend Marc and I headed for the bell tower; this one only accessible from within the Cathedral. We’d climbed many scary stairs over our time in Croatia but none compared to these, and at 200ft they are the second highest in Croatia. They were old, wooden and open, rotting and spongy at the edges; at times they were little more than rough-hewn squares. And, as you reached the top they turned into an ancient ladder, propped up against an opening no bigger than you’d find in the trap door to your loft. ‘This bell tower would have been shut down by Health & Safety Canada years ago,’ I said as, nevertheless, we climbed them. The Cathedral is at the very Western tip of a peninsula, jutting into the Adriatic: with a little imagination we could almost see Venice. Then, with quivering legs, I made my way back down through the hatch.

Staircase from Above

As if in anticipation of the sighs of relief and swearing that would accompany anyone getting back to the bottom of the stairs, a sign directing ‘Silence’ greeted you as you re-entered the Cathedral. Marc and I walked back down the aisle to meet the girls, when whom should we meet but the four women from the cobbled climb. I urged them to go up the staircase: ‘The views are wonderful,’ and they were. But, as I looked to my right I saw Mother Teresa and I swear I heard her tut-tutting…

View from St Euphemia Bell Tower Looking North