When I was hammering out the next week of my Balkans plans the most
challenging element was trying to figure out how to get from Lj to
Split. The direct bus was a long overnight one and I wanted to see some
thing in between, but what, and how? I eventually decided I wanted to
see something of Piran, Rijeka, or Zadar. Some brief research led me to
the conclusion that Zadar was a more attractive option than Rijeka-
there was more stuff to see/do and it was closer to Split. I can't
remember how I got tipped to Piran, but I looked at a few google images
and decided I had to go.
To accomplish all this I came up with he
following itinerary: 8:30am bus from Lj which would get me into Piran at
12:00. I would then have about 4 hours to tour Piran before catching
the 4:30 bus to Postonja getting in around 6:30 where I would connect
with the 8:20 night bus to Zadar. Because I wouldn't be arriving in
Zadar until 3am, I thought it was foolish to book a hostel for that
night. But I'll get to that part of the story later.
Everything for the fist leg went off without a hitch and I arrived in Piran at almost exactly noon. The bus station is right along the water and only about a 5 minute walk from the main square. I know what you're probably thinking: "ok, you plan to tour the city in four hours but what are you going to do with your pack? Surely not carry it around in the heat for four hours?" The answer to that question is simple: you think like a boss. A BOSS. Which means you employ a strategy developed many years ago by my ex and I during our travels: the classic Random Hotel Drop and Run.
To execute this maneuver the first thing you need to do is locate the nicest hotel within a reasonable proximity. It's important to pick a nicer hotel because the classier they are, the less likely they are to hassle you or ask questions. Second, you walk in and locate the bell boy if there is one, and if not, proceed to the front desk. Then simply and confidently deliver a line such as, "it's ok if I leave my bag until my bus departs right?" I find this method most effective because you're not really asking if you can or can't, you're simply asking for confirmation that you can. Which means for them to say no, they are going to be contradicting what you already believe. Also, by providing no other information the natural inclination is to believe you are a guest of the hotel and therefore prompt no further inquiries. So, if they are operating under the assumption that you are a guest, it is inconceivable that they would deny you bag storage.
Sometimes, however, they will follow up and ask if you are a guest in the hotel. At this point you have two paths to go down: (1) bluff that you are (or were) a guest of the hotel and perhaps create a back-story; or (2) tell the truth and as sweetly and kindly as possible throw your mercy on the court in the hopes that they will feel empathetic and help you out. Alternatively, if it is a bell boy you can flash a few small notes and say, "it won't be a problem for a few hours will it?"
Everything for the fist leg went off without a hitch and I arrived in Piran at almost exactly noon. The bus station is right along the water and only about a 5 minute walk from the main square. I know what you're probably thinking: "ok, you plan to tour the city in four hours but what are you going to do with your pack? Surely not carry it around in the heat for four hours?" The answer to that question is simple: you think like a boss. A BOSS. Which means you employ a strategy developed many years ago by my ex and I during our travels: the classic Random Hotel Drop and Run.
To execute this maneuver the first thing you need to do is locate the nicest hotel within a reasonable proximity. It's important to pick a nicer hotel because the classier they are, the less likely they are to hassle you or ask questions. Second, you walk in and locate the bell boy if there is one, and if not, proceed to the front desk. Then simply and confidently deliver a line such as, "it's ok if I leave my bag until my bus departs right?" I find this method most effective because you're not really asking if you can or can't, you're simply asking for confirmation that you can. Which means for them to say no, they are going to be contradicting what you already believe. Also, by providing no other information the natural inclination is to believe you are a guest of the hotel and therefore prompt no further inquiries. So, if they are operating under the assumption that you are a guest, it is inconceivable that they would deny you bag storage.
Sometimes, however, they will follow up and ask if you are a guest in the hotel. At this point you have two paths to go down: (1) bluff that you are (or were) a guest of the hotel and perhaps create a back-story; or (2) tell the truth and as sweetly and kindly as possible throw your mercy on the court in the hopes that they will feel empathetic and help you out. Alternatively, if it is a bell boy you can flash a few small notes and say, "it won't be a problem for a few hours will it?"
I've had
success with nearly all variations of this method over the years and it
has proved handy time and time again. In Egypt I left a bag in the
Sheraton hotel for over a week, in Athens I left my large bag for 5
days, and recently in Nice I left my bag in a hostel for 3 days (though
that was more out of kindness than employing the Boss strategy). But I
only needed to buy four hours on that particular day and so I went into
the first nice hotel I found, within a few meters of the station, and using the low information play, the lady
at the front desk gladly accepted my bag.
Now rid of my cumbersome burden, I was ready to rampage through the
streets of Slovenia's most beautiful coastal town. The first thing you
see is walking from the station is the main "square" which is actually
an oval. At one point it was a small inner harbor which was subsequently
filled in and made into a trolley roundhouse. After the trolley system was removed, it was filled in with polished marble stone. It is called Tartini Square, named after the famous violinist who hailed from Piran. You can see a statue of him in the center and the large yellow house is the one he grew up in.
Piran isn't a very large town- you can probably stroll the entirety of the old town in an hour or less. The old town itself is a triangular shaped peninsula with two main streets on the outside meeting at the tip of the peninsula. Seafood restaurants and ice cream shops populate the storefronts along these main streets, patrolled by attractive young Slovenian women soaking in the sun.
At the end of either street you will find the Church of Our Lady of Health and the annexed lighthouse. I particularly like the design of this old lighthouse- I can't say I've ever seen anything quite like it.
In between the edges of the peninsula are a maze of windy alleys, filled with houses, shops, and restaurants. Many of the houses burst with color- reds, yellows, blues, oranges, and greens all make appearances. Definitely worth checking out on flickr. As you stroll through the middle of the old town, life seems to slow down. Even dogs find it easy to nap away the day.
If you proceed to the north side of town and ascend the ramp, you can climb the bell tower of St. George's church where you will find the best views of the city as well as a great place to take your daily obligatory photo of yourself on your travels.
Just be careful climbing the stairs of the tower as they were old, rickety and wooden. They reminded me a bit of the stairs that Nick Cage is trying to climb down at the end of National Treasure and everything starts collapsing. The other main attraction in Piran is the old city walls which also provide some nice views of the city.
The stairs to the walls are also very odd in that they are cut away to one side making it impossible to climb them but with a specific left-right combination. What is it with Piran and weird wooden steps?
From up on the city walls of Piran I got to thinking about my travels in the past few days and my traveling philosophy in general and the following ruminations emerged:
"The old adage 'time is money' is almost universally true, perhaps nowhere more so than when it comes to traveling. If time is no object you can accomplish all you want at a fraction of what could be the cost. There is a hefty premium on having things quick, accessible, and easy. Convenience doesn't come cheap.
But if you're willing to be routed on longer flights, take buses instead of trains, cycle instead of buses, walk instead of cycling, your travel costs will plummet. If you're willing to walk further and seek out cheaper food, or better yet, buy groceries and cook for yourself. Wait to visit attractions until days when they are free or at times when they are at discounted prices. Stay further out of the city center. Stay in hostels rather than hotels, or couch surf instead of hostels.
And if you can stay in a place long enough and are willing to do a little work, most hostels will put you up for free and give you food. Take public transit instead of cabs. And trust strangers- maybe it means hitching a ride, maybe it means accepting an invite for a meal or staying a night. The more you are willing to be inconvenienced the more money you will find in your pockets."
Having a little over a hour and a half left to kill before it was time to retrieve my bag and return to the bus station, I strolled down the boulevard looking for a place to sit. Feeling peckish, and not wanting to shell out top dollar for seafood, I spotted a cafe offering very tasty looking pizzas on the cheap and took a seat. From there, I enjoyed an inexpensive but very good lunch and watched the scenery walk by for the remainder of the afternoon.
Finally it was time to hit the bricks and I returned to the hotel, picked up my bag, and headed to the station. On the way I stopped into Tartini Square and got one last shot of the plaza and the famous old Venetian buildings with St. George's in the background.
A few hours later I found myself back in Postonja, for the third time in 2 days, awaiting my night bus to Zadar. There wasn't much open in Postonja so I ended up buying some rolls at a bakery and sitting on the stoop of the station (which is really just a numbered parking lot). Fairly uneventful. The bus ride from Postonja to Zadar, however, was quite the adventure. I documented it freestyle, which I'll post here with the corresponding picture. Beware, as the ride wore on I began to slip slowly into a temporary madness:
9:50
Stamped out of EU. In Croatia. It just got real. No Croatia stamp. Seems sketchy. Arrogance of Croatian overpasses and highways agitates me. "we have cliffs, look we can build pointless overpasses way off the cliff faces with 450 foot concrete support columns. Why, because we can!" Eat a fat one Croatian corp of engineers!
10:10
There are 9 of us on this bus after Rijeka. The TV froze playing Cedric the entertainers "The Cleaner." Now Cedric is staring at me with this goofy expression on his face for the whole ride.
10:45
I'm now having a conversation with Cedric. I'm asking him questions to get his reaction. Like "what do you think about me having to spend the night in a bus station?" boom. "how do you feel about the bus driver just picking up a large taped together parcel from two people along side the road and neither of them getting on the bus?" me too. "what do you think my chances are of getting any sleep tonight?" I see. "of me going 2 nights sober?" haha, punk. "of Croatian highway arrogance?" e-freakin-xactly.
Cedric made it to 11:30. I thought for a minute that they would leave him on making that goofy face all the way to Zadar but alas, he's been put out of his misery.
12:30
Zooming along the winding coast- late at night, high on these rocky cliffsides, with wildlife roaming around- it reminds me of that night burner through the New Mexico desert with Barb back in 06. Couldn't sleep then, can't sleep now.
1:30
Becoming delirious now. I nod off and come to- shadows dance through the bus. I see ghosts of men and women riding with us for fleeting moments. Disappearing just as we go around a corner. I look down and see flashes of light- like firecrackers or the glistening twirling antanea of some exotic insect. I see houses and I believe I am with those people, I live in their village and I know their trades. I am their king and for my benevolent ruling they provide me with priceless treasures. I tower over their buildings as I am a giant and they are but toys, yet I know that one day I will be killed to usher forth a new king and era. My ashes will be scattered in bits atop each of the houses of the village and the rest disposed of at sea. I am dictating memoirs from my deathbed to my son Lawrence. May he have peace with the dealings of my life and return those video tapes I owe.
2:10
The moon hangs low and deeply yellow now. It looks huge, grotesque, and jaundiced. It seems to be getting larger by the second. Our bus is driving towards it. The spirits of the people who built this road soldier past. Everywhere around us is water and rocks. A lagoon of death and decay. God that moon! Look how it just hangs there bigger still. Mocking us. Laughing at our futile attempts to flee this purgatory. In this place there is no time or space. Or words or reason. We are ghosts now and the spirits are the living. For only they can flee this place. The moon, obliterates us with its girth- its putrid yellow beams smother us. The colors have begun to shift in its wake, blacks are reds, greens now deep purple. The moon is nearly on op of us now. So big it appears to dwarf us. I smell it's stench. The hair on my head is standing- pulled by the nearness of the stinking moon. His face is so giddy, so teasing. He knows we are trapped forever. But he is setting. Soon the spirits will be free. When I close my eyes everything is drawn in crayon.
2:55
All is black now. All is ended. We are here and nowhere forever.
Piran isn't a very large town- you can probably stroll the entirety of the old town in an hour or less. The old town itself is a triangular shaped peninsula with two main streets on the outside meeting at the tip of the peninsula. Seafood restaurants and ice cream shops populate the storefronts along these main streets, patrolled by attractive young Slovenian women soaking in the sun.
At the end of either street you will find the Church of Our Lady of Health and the annexed lighthouse. I particularly like the design of this old lighthouse- I can't say I've ever seen anything quite like it.
In between the edges of the peninsula are a maze of windy alleys, filled with houses, shops, and restaurants. Many of the houses burst with color- reds, yellows, blues, oranges, and greens all make appearances. Definitely worth checking out on flickr. As you stroll through the middle of the old town, life seems to slow down. Even dogs find it easy to nap away the day.
If you proceed to the north side of town and ascend the ramp, you can climb the bell tower of St. George's church where you will find the best views of the city as well as a great place to take your daily obligatory photo of yourself on your travels.
Just be careful climbing the stairs of the tower as they were old, rickety and wooden. They reminded me a bit of the stairs that Nick Cage is trying to climb down at the end of National Treasure and everything starts collapsing. The other main attraction in Piran is the old city walls which also provide some nice views of the city.
The stairs to the walls are also very odd in that they are cut away to one side making it impossible to climb them but with a specific left-right combination. What is it with Piran and weird wooden steps?
From up on the city walls of Piran I got to thinking about my travels in the past few days and my traveling philosophy in general and the following ruminations emerged:
"The old adage 'time is money' is almost universally true, perhaps nowhere more so than when it comes to traveling. If time is no object you can accomplish all you want at a fraction of what could be the cost. There is a hefty premium on having things quick, accessible, and easy. Convenience doesn't come cheap.
But if you're willing to be routed on longer flights, take buses instead of trains, cycle instead of buses, walk instead of cycling, your travel costs will plummet. If you're willing to walk further and seek out cheaper food, or better yet, buy groceries and cook for yourself. Wait to visit attractions until days when they are free or at times when they are at discounted prices. Stay further out of the city center. Stay in hostels rather than hotels, or couch surf instead of hostels.
And if you can stay in a place long enough and are willing to do a little work, most hostels will put you up for free and give you food. Take public transit instead of cabs. And trust strangers- maybe it means hitching a ride, maybe it means accepting an invite for a meal or staying a night. The more you are willing to be inconvenienced the more money you will find in your pockets."
Having a little over a hour and a half left to kill before it was time to retrieve my bag and return to the bus station, I strolled down the boulevard looking for a place to sit. Feeling peckish, and not wanting to shell out top dollar for seafood, I spotted a cafe offering very tasty looking pizzas on the cheap and took a seat. From there, I enjoyed an inexpensive but very good lunch and watched the scenery walk by for the remainder of the afternoon.
Finally it was time to hit the bricks and I returned to the hotel, picked up my bag, and headed to the station. On the way I stopped into Tartini Square and got one last shot of the plaza and the famous old Venetian buildings with St. George's in the background.
A few hours later I found myself back in Postonja, for the third time in 2 days, awaiting my night bus to Zadar. There wasn't much open in Postonja so I ended up buying some rolls at a bakery and sitting on the stoop of the station (which is really just a numbered parking lot). Fairly uneventful. The bus ride from Postonja to Zadar, however, was quite the adventure. I documented it freestyle, which I'll post here with the corresponding picture. Beware, as the ride wore on I began to slip slowly into a temporary madness:
9:50
Stamped out of EU. In Croatia. It just got real. No Croatia stamp. Seems sketchy. Arrogance of Croatian overpasses and highways agitates me. "we have cliffs, look we can build pointless overpasses way off the cliff faces with 450 foot concrete support columns. Why, because we can!" Eat a fat one Croatian corp of engineers!
10:10
There are 9 of us on this bus after Rijeka. The TV froze playing Cedric the entertainers "The Cleaner." Now Cedric is staring at me with this goofy expression on his face for the whole ride.
10:45
I'm now having a conversation with Cedric. I'm asking him questions to get his reaction. Like "what do you think about me having to spend the night in a bus station?" boom. "how do you feel about the bus driver just picking up a large taped together parcel from two people along side the road and neither of them getting on the bus?" me too. "what do you think my chances are of getting any sleep tonight?" I see. "of me going 2 nights sober?" haha, punk. "of Croatian highway arrogance?" e-freakin-xactly.
Cedric made it to 11:30. I thought for a minute that they would leave him on making that goofy face all the way to Zadar but alas, he's been put out of his misery.
12:30
Zooming along the winding coast- late at night, high on these rocky cliffsides, with wildlife roaming around- it reminds me of that night burner through the New Mexico desert with Barb back in 06. Couldn't sleep then, can't sleep now.
1:30
Becoming delirious now. I nod off and come to- shadows dance through the bus. I see ghosts of men and women riding with us for fleeting moments. Disappearing just as we go around a corner. I look down and see flashes of light- like firecrackers or the glistening twirling antanea of some exotic insect. I see houses and I believe I am with those people, I live in their village and I know their trades. I am their king and for my benevolent ruling they provide me with priceless treasures. I tower over their buildings as I am a giant and they are but toys, yet I know that one day I will be killed to usher forth a new king and era. My ashes will be scattered in bits atop each of the houses of the village and the rest disposed of at sea. I am dictating memoirs from my deathbed to my son Lawrence. May he have peace with the dealings of my life and return those video tapes I owe.
2:10
The moon hangs low and deeply yellow now. It looks huge, grotesque, and jaundiced. It seems to be getting larger by the second. Our bus is driving towards it. The spirits of the people who built this road soldier past. Everywhere around us is water and rocks. A lagoon of death and decay. God that moon! Look how it just hangs there bigger still. Mocking us. Laughing at our futile attempts to flee this purgatory. In this place there is no time or space. Or words or reason. We are ghosts now and the spirits are the living. For only they can flee this place. The moon, obliterates us with its girth- its putrid yellow beams smother us. The colors have begun to shift in its wake, blacks are reds, greens now deep purple. The moon is nearly on op of us now. So big it appears to dwarf us. I smell it's stench. The hair on my head is standing- pulled by the nearness of the stinking moon. His face is so giddy, so teasing. He knows we are trapped forever. But he is setting. Soon the spirits will be free. When I close my eyes everything is drawn in crayon.
2:55
All is black now. All is ended. We are here and nowhere forever.
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