Mooching around Muggia
Outing to Muggia and Trieste
After a particularly hearty campsite dinner one evening, the Oldies recognised – and actually acted on – the need to go for a walk to shake down the meal. And where do you usually go for a digestive stroll? To the next country, of course! Not that that was the intention, but as they climbed the steep path up the hill behind Ankaran, the Dynamic Duo found themselves exchanging rather puffed Dober dan!s with the locals one minute, wheezy Ciao!s the next. We had crossed the border into Italy before we’d realised it.
This little incursion into Italy spurred His Lordship on to go on a reconnaissance mission the next day. He duly came back with the suggestion of a cycle to Muggia, from where we could take the ferry to Trieste. Now, since we were talking about a round trip of less than 40 km, most of it by public transport, it wasn’t quite the stuff of an exotic expedition, but I couldn’t help getting excited about going on my first proper trip to Italy.
Muggia turned out to be a great start. I just loved it! A perfect seaside town with a pretty harbour, the water practically lapping the quaint town centre which is arranged around a picturesque square, the whole lot overlooked by an ancient castle. Muggia is just a stone’s throw from Slovenia and yet you don’t need to read the signage or listen out for what language is being spoken to know that you are well and truly in Italy. It has that Italian buzz about it – in spite of all the Covid restrictions, which the locals are most definitely adhering to!
We whiled away a happy hour sitting outside a café near the harbour, the Wingless Wonders sipping their espressos whilst desperately trying to resist the temptation of the delicious-looking cakes on display, Yours Truly enjoying the harbour view and lapping up that Italian je ne sais quoi. Or should I say, non so che.
On that note, I was very impressed that His Lordship managed to drag up some rather rusty Italian and sort out the ferry tickets without difficultly. But for goodness sake, don’t tell him I told you so!
The ferry trip to Trieste was a delight. Long before the city itself came into view, I was lapping up simply everything along the way: the rugged coastline around the bay, the ships out at sea, the cranes and warehouses growing larger and more impressive as we approached and finally docked at the harbour wall. I was delighted to see that it was just a short stroll from there into the city centre. I definitely approve of cities which are directly on the sea!
Although there is not much of a physical resemblance, Trieste somehow reminded me a little of Dublin. I can’t quite put my wingtip on it, but it has a similar sort of feel to it.
As if to prove me right, who did I bump into, but probably the most famous Dubliner of all, James Joyce. I seem to have a knack of running into this guy. First, I came across him in Sandycove in Dublin. Then our paths crossed again in Pula in Croatia. In spite of my numerous encounters with this literary genius, I can’t even begin to try to understand what went on in that incredible brain of his. But somehow, although I had only just arrived, I wasn’t surprised to learn that this illustrious Dubliner felt that his ‘soul was in Trieste’.
Unlike Joyce, we unfortunately didn’t have the chance to stay too long. But our stroll around the magnificent old city centre and my very first real Italian pizza certainly gave me a mouth watering taste of Trieste and a hearty appetite for a lot more of Italy.
