No Doctor Luka, but I still fell in love
The ER heartthrob might be nowhere in sight, but Dorota Nosowicz doesn't mind - a twin centre trip to Croatia and Slovenia is twice as nice
Sunday August 1, 2004
The Observer
The harbour at Rovinj, Croatia, where the culture and food is heavily influenced by nearby Italy (op-ed: And vice versa).
The only Croatian man I have lusted over, along with thousands of ER fans, is Goran Visnjic, the moody but gorgeous Doctor Luka Kovac. So it was with expectations of great natural beauty that I arrived at Rovinj, on Croatia's rocky Istrian coast.
First impressions were favourable. The sun shone high, the green sea sparkled and the dusty pastel bars and houses of the old harbour looked inviting. Everything about Rovinj - 40 kilometres from Venice - breathes its Italian influences. Menus and street signs are in both languages and Italian is taught at school.
Bohemian and charming, Rovinj is a perfect base from which to visit other parts of Croatia. We wandered the old town of chalkstone-cobbled streets lined with chic shops, artists' studios and cafes, the sun glinting on corn-yellow houses with high-stacked chimney breasts.
There was the obligatory religious stop, climbing 192 woodworm-riddled steps to the bell-tower of the 17th-century church of St Euphemia. The reward was a stunning view of terracotta-tiled rooftops, clear sea and surrounding islands. In the distance was Monsena, a nudist resort, celebrating a long Istrian tradition, of which the church strongly disapproves.
There are plenty of boat trips from Rovinj - Venice is a two-hour voyage. A shorter option is to sail 12km down Lim Fjord, the longest outside Scandinavia. The rocky coastline, dense with vegetation, is populated by fishermen and naturists - particular thanks to the man who stood full frontal watching our boat pass by (no Doctor Luka he). At the end of the fjord, an amazing restaurant served a banquet of freshly caught giant prawns and squid, helped along by fruity cold wine. We headed back to Rovinj to drink cocktails lying on cushions on the rocks of a shoreline bar.
Early the next morning we drove to Fazana, a small harbour village, for the boat to Brijuni: in 1983, three years after his death, Tito's former private island was opened to the public and made a national park.
Here you can hire funny looking golf carts and whizz round the island, stopping to check out the Tito museum which brims with photos of him meeting world leaders. Visiting heads of state would offer as gifts animals from every continent (Gandhi bestowed two elephants and a holy cow). When the creatures expired, Tito would have them stuffed - and they're still there.
The beautiful Brijuni has long been popular with the famous: Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor came, and Princess Caroline of Monaco holidays there every year.
The town of Pula, however, didn't do it for me. Once the Austro-Hungarian Empire's naval base, it was furnace hot when we visited, and although the guidebook describes it as 'engaging', our guide was the grumpiest known to mankind. That said, James Joyce must have found something to write home about, since he taught English there in 1904-5.
Certainly the amphitheatre is impressive, built by the Romans towards the end of the first century BC and now a concert venue for the likes of Sting and Plácido Domingo.
That night we discovered what has to be Istria's best kept culinary secret: Taverna Vodnjanka in Vodnjan, an unpretentious restaurant run by a Croat family who have embraced all the best elements of Italian food. We gorged on pasta with fungi, truffles and asparagus, sheep's cheese, followed by sea bass, and oven-roasted lamb, washed down with Malvazija white. If I'd stayed any longer I would have come back the size of one of Tito's elephants.
Croatia is clearly keen to welcome back tourists: one of our guides was so enthusiastic he assured us that his country has the tallest men, the lowest crime rate in Europe and entirely organic food. What no one talks about is its recent bloody history: in 1991 the Balkan conflict erupted as emerging Croatian and Serbian nationalism tore former communist Yugoslavia apart and Croatian nationalists seized land from the Muslim population.
That summer the Croatian parliament declared its independence; autumn and winter saw a terrible war between Croat separatists and an army and paramilitary loyal to Belgrade. Independence was won amid widespread death and destruction on both sides. Croatia also played its part in the carnage across Bosnia between 1992 and 1995 during which Bosnian Croats carved out vast tranches of country inhabited by Bosnian Muslims.
Slovenia broke free during a 10-day war in 1991, pulling out of the Yugoslav Federation and voting in favour of independence. In May 1992, with a new constitution, it was admitted to the UN, becoming a full EU member last May. At this year's Observer Travel Awards, it was voted favourite European country.
We arrived at the serene and stunning Lake Bled in the north west, which offers long walks by day and blueberry schnapps by night. For the not easily embarrassed, a noddy train circles the massive lake; for cyclists and walkers, there are the Karavanke mountains nearby.
On to Bohinj, comprising the Julian Alps, Slovenia's only national park and Lake Bohinj, which we sailed across with a group of sprightly septuagenarians. Like us, they proceeded to walk 240 feet up through the forest to reach Slap Savica, a beautiful waterfall. Our guide was like Denis Lawson's Gordon Urquhart in Local Hero - the island's lawyer, hotelkeeper and bartender. A celebrated musician, he had also appeared in a Slovenian soap opera as a gay hairdresser.
I discovered I still had a pulse at Adrenalinski park: here, after too many placid lakeside hours, I allowed myself to be secured into a harness, attached to a giant swing, winched high in the air and released to swing backwards and forwards screaming.
There was some silent screaming that afternoon on a boring tour of a cheese factory and museum that charted the history of alpine cheese making. A part of me died in that museum. Otherwise Bohinj is gorgeous - coveted by walkers, climbers, summer cyclists and (with two ski resorts) winter piste-bashers.
Slovenia is as pristine and welcoming as Croatia, and although I didn't spot any Dr Luka lookalikes - the food, the clear sea and mountain air kept me deliciously light-headed for the whole visit.
For further information on Croatia contact the Croatian National Tourist Board (020 8563 7979; www.croatia.hr).
http://travel.guardian.co.uk/countries/story/0,7451,1273654,00.html
