Changing Temples Pt. 13, Deportation Pt. 3
“I am trying to move on to Italy as soon as possible as I hate this Catholic country with its hundred races and thousand languages. . . . Pola is a back-of-God-speed place—a naval Siberia . . . . Istria is a long boring place wedged into the Adriatic peopled by ignorant Slavs who wear little red caps and colossal breeches.” James Joyce
The grand experiment to be able to continue my personal version of the Grand Tour by avoiding Deportation concerns was largely a failure I am afraid. Almost exactly to the minute three days later, I am on the train back to Venezia.
The final important Avoidance Behavior was the “Exit” stamp from Croatia. If buried somewhere inscrutable, then my “exit” from Shengen Agreement requirements within 90 days would be a fairly respectable varnish. Of all the Passport pages to choose from, the border officer choose the same one as the Entry Stamp. So, there visible to even an undiscerning eye is clearly straight forward evidence of only a three day visit to a non-Shengen Country. Well, nice try. Now I have to rely upon other behaviors and hope Fate will smile a bit.
The sunnier aspects of the three days lend some solace. One very unprofound insight for instance. Pula was a nice and even interesting place to visit. The insight for me was a new one in travel. Nice to visit is significantly different than a place where you fell some deep urge to stay. Visiting implies moving on, and Pula was nice within that particular travel concept. I did not make it to Pula’s version of the famous Croatian beaches, which by all accounts are spectacular. But Pula was a place where you have to work the public transit system to get there – to the tune of 20 minutes or so, which wouldn’t be all bad of course.
But the reference point is the kind of place one is tempted to stay in, and by that I mean truly stay in – we’ve all been in a place like that or imagined one. Twenty plus minutes just to see the coast and beach (as opposed to the bay and harbor) does not bring a place up to my “want to stay” standards. I suspect the Croatian coast would reveal villages and towns of that type, but it would take a “back-of-God-speed” effort, concerted research, and either a rental car (meaning one is unlikely to do anything but visit anyway) or the challenges of rural, inter town buses. With only three buses out of Pula each day to the main rail hub of Trieste (65 some miles), you get some idea of the challenges referred to. Of course the discovery might be quite remarkable because no tourist hordes.
The price of living was also a sunny aspect. Roughly only one-half to one-third the cost of Venezia. Because I am paying rent in Venezia I didn’t save anything much really. Probably went in the hole some. But it was still nice to not pay such a premium.
So, I am back in Venezia. I have to say I am past the magic phase, though moments of sun diamonds or moon diamonds on the Adriatic – choose the gorgeous sparkling of your particular preference – belies that on occasion. Still, three and one-half months in, I have returned to the ordinary attempts to fill the day. That is a fascination for another time.
Continued . . .