| Remember the photo site, www.webshots.com/user/Wrighteau The adventure starts again, as we farewell sad family and animals, and set off for our third sojourn on the Med. We flew over through Hong Kong which was drizzly so we didn’t see much there but it was a nice break in the middle of the journey. At Rome we took a detour and turned left to Valencia instead of right to Trieste to do our bit to urge the Team New Zealand boys on in the America Cup yachting race. A great delight was when the flight flew directly over the middle islands of Croatia, Hvar, Brac, Vis etc, all the places we go to, and could remember so well, and anticipate returning to. We found our apartment, which is in the old part of the city beside the Torres de Quart, a big arch which makes a very good land mark to find our way home, and headed off to find Jim and Rhonda, and Sooty and Julie and the rest of the crew who had saved us a seat at their table in the China base on the top floor. We were a bit shell shocked after our long journey from Hong Kong, but enjoyed the day of hot sun, a few jars and lovely lunch, but sadly not a win. The race started most encouragingly, we had a wonderful leap out of the start box, and gallantly set off up the racetrack. We rounded the top mark with 15 seconds or thereabouts ahead, so the atmosphere was electric. The spinnaker shot up with the skill and ease we have become accustomed to seeing, and a splendid sight of red ballooning out ahead of white down the track, when disaster struck. A very small tear was seen in the red sail, and before they managed to replace the sail, puff, it just blew out, then the next one they erected with a major mishap of one of the sheets, or ropes, not attached so bits of two sails flew about in the air. They had one more chance, up went the spinnaker, but this one had a wine glass in it, a big twist in the middle. This was all just too much, we plummeted into complete despair, after such a promising start, we watched as Alinghi sailed off past us. So on with lunch and after the race ended we went down to the canal where they all come in a big procession. Berterelli, Alinghi boss has built this magnificent canal and surroundings which make it a wonderful spectator area, word has it he spent 5 billion dollars buying up all the land around it, and of course has done very well out of it. The kiwis are madly enthusiastic, and very popular supporters, by contrast the Swiss on the other side of the canal flimsily rattle a few cowbells, waft one hand about and that is about it. So that was it for this day. Actually there was one little hiccup, on the deck of the bar we support from, the previous day some folk from Hawkes Bay apparently caused a bit of a ruckus, not that our chaps noticed, so it can’t have been so bad, but it was reported as far away as Britain in the papers, we think it was all a bit of a beef up by the Alinghi top brass in their bit to turn the public off NZ. On to another day, we held much hope today. We all met at Kiwi corner to cheer the boys on as they set off down the canal. The day was to be known as Super Saturday Kiwi Day, the anticipation of a good win over the Aussies in rugby and sailing over the Swiss. Sadly none of this went to plan, and it became not so super Saturday kiwi day. Still, always another day I suppose. This was followed by a day with no wind and no racing, but not all was lost, we found the most superb tapas ever tasted in Spain, in the old city just down from our apartment. It appears that we have found ourselves in a handy part of town, right beside the Torres de Quart in the old city. We have found the streets are not as quaint as the streets in the little villages of France for example, and we have also found the people are not so friendly. The weather of course is glorious. So after a lay day, it was back into it, but I’m afraid we feel the Swiss deserved to have the win. We found a hot sunny spot in front of a big screen that even had an English commentary with our very own NZ commentators and at the end of it we trundled off with heads low in search of a bar in our neighbourhood to drown our sorrows. We had a very early morning to get up, to be at the airport at 4.30 am, so it was a very early night to bed for us. Now we can get on with the business of getting to Croatia and our sailing excursion of our own. What an horrendous day it was, we had a 7 hour wait in the Milan airport, then when it came time to board the plane the pilot was not to be seen, so we were about 45 minutes late leaving, and at Trieste the Bora wind was doing its thing, and we circled in the air for 10 minutes before coming down in a Wellington style landing. We arrived at the Trieste bus station 5 minutes too late for the last bus to Pula. The thought of staying a night in Triest was most disturbing to me, the tellers at the station could not be more rude and unhelpful, it took many attempts at talking to them before one of them suggested we bussed to Rieka, in Croatia, and on down to Pula, only added an hour to the journey. So finally we arrived to Wrighteau at midnight. What a day. It is nice to be back in Pula, some of the familiar faces, but so many new faces. The marina staff has had a complete clean out, not many familiar faces to be seen. Our Turkey salad waiter is still here of course, and the internet chap’s face lit right up when I walked in. So that is where we are at so far. Time tol get shopping at Merkator, the big supermarket, and head off on Saturday or Sunday. So until next time, Do Vegenja, vidi mosa opet |
