We continue southwards. Next stop: Pula, over 2000 years of history. An amphitheatre half the size of the Collosseum in Rome. We cycle through the area. No beautiful beaches anywhere. Everything is full. A tour of the old town in the evening. The food is greasy, bad and expensive. There are jugglers on every corner. We can’t find a single real bar. No Hula a Pula.
Medulin is the Mecca of Croatia’s wind junkies. Well, that is, of course, only as long as I’m not there. Windfinder predicts a week of calm and is right. We fry in the dirt on the crowded beach. Sun cream floats on the water, the stones bite into our feet. There’s nowhere to get to the water, and where you do get there you mutate into an oil sardine.
The towns remain beautiful but become increasingly overcrowded. We get stuck in a few traffic jams. This corner sucks. On the morning of our departure, a fat git steals our fruit salad stored in the kitchen. In the intermediate low, we speed off through the centre towards Cres without breakfast. There’s a stupid speed camera on every corner. Understandable. Croatia is too cheap.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.