Wednesday and Thursday Oct 15 & 16
Wednesday, our first day in Istria, was rainy, and while many (most?) of our intrepid fellow-travelers set out biking on what was advertised as an "easy" day, we chose not to ride in the rain no matter the GPS profile. So we had a second quiet day in a row on the ship, sinking into our novels and resting. When the riders came back, they described an interesting tour of a family-owned olive oil factory, with tastings and free bottles of olive oil. They were wet, but happy. I have a mild regret about not at least taking the bus ride that was offered (because of the rain) to go and see the olive groves and learn more about olive oil. Joe believes the extra rest day was good for us.
Thursday was the last ride of the trip and we were ready to go. The route took us from the ship (docked actually in a yacht harbor), through the tiny town of Umag and then inland on not very busy roads. The first route for the long-ride lovers would cross the border into Slovenia and ride up to a seaside point partly on a rail-to-trail and then through a resort area. We figured if we made it to the border, got our passport stamped and turned to head for the lunch route, we'd be doing well. As it was, the descent toward the border was longer and steeper than we were ready for, so within sight of the salt pans near the Slovenian border, we made the wise choice to turn around and selected the "Umag Route B (short)" on the GPS that would lead us to lunch. After only one minor, easily correctable, missed turn, and a lovely ride on country roads passing olive trees and vineyards and perfectly tended home gardens, we arrived a the brewery for a delicious lunch of fresh pasta and salads. The memorable dish was freshly made linguini in a butter-truffle sauce with huge pieces of shaved truffles on top. I had never really been able to appreciate, or even recognize, a distinctive flavor of truffles when it was drizzled over some dish in whatever restaurant served this very special ingredient. Boy was this a different thing. These truffles have a really strong musky taste that I imagine could be acquired (my description); Joe says they are smoky, rich and luscious. An American living with his Croatian wife (one village over from our lunch location) was recruited by the McCreadys to arrange the lunch and a truffle-hunting demonstration. He had been a contract employee for the State Department as an advisor to ministers in Bosnea and Kosovo. He decided to quit that strenuous work and with his wife bought a small farm in Croatia near Slovenia and have turned it into a bed and breakfast called "Due Momianesi," along with a bike hostel for bicycle touring and training in Istria (Bike Hostel Momjan." They are now living a very happy life. His comment at lunch was that he could never again live in a place where he could not get fresh truffles on a daily basis.
The truffle hunting demo was pretty interesting. A daughter of the four-generation truffle exporting business showed us how her dog could find buried truffles and talked about how the puppies were trained from 5 days old by putting truffle oil on the mother's teat, then moving to bread and meat, then burying it a couple of centimeters, gradually moving over a three year period to 20+ centimeters in the ground. She said that in a litter of 8 puppies, maybe 1 or 2 would grow up to be good enough to stay with the business. The others go to a long list of willing homes for inferior truffle finding for their families.
The ride back down to the ship was again wonderful, almost no traffic on the single lane country roads, speedy but comfortable descents and curving turns through quaint villages. The approach through the town of Umag was much easier than we expected, except for a short gravel stretch through a construction zone. Let me just say that it was a really good feeling to ride up to that ship and know that our riding days were over for this trip. Victorious and relieved!
We had contracted with one of the mechanics to take our bike apart and pack it in the box, so I happily walked around on the top deck taking pictures (see the photo section) of the beehive of industrious couples working cooperatively and intently to break down their bikes and pack them into their long boxes, stand-up bags, two cases, or one huge case (like ours).
Wednesday, our first day in Istria, was rainy, and while many (most?) of our intrepid fellow-travelers set out biking on what was advertised as an "easy" day, we chose not to ride in the rain no matter the GPS profile. So we had a second quiet day in a row on the ship, sinking into our novels and resting. When the riders came back, they described an interesting tour of a family-owned olive oil factory, with tastings and free bottles of olive oil. They were wet, but happy. I have a mild regret about not at least taking the bus ride that was offered (because of the rain) to go and see the olive groves and learn more about olive oil. Joe believes the extra rest day was good for us.
Thursday was the last ride of the trip and we were ready to go. The route took us from the ship (docked actually in a yacht harbor), through the tiny town of Umag and then inland on not very busy roads. The first route for the long-ride lovers would cross the border into Slovenia and ride up to a seaside point partly on a rail-to-trail and then through a resort area. We figured if we made it to the border, got our passport stamped and turned to head for the lunch route, we'd be doing well. As it was, the descent toward the border was longer and steeper than we were ready for, so within sight of the salt pans near the Slovenian border, we made the wise choice to turn around and selected the "Umag Route B (short)" on the GPS that would lead us to lunch. After only one minor, easily correctable, missed turn, and a lovely ride on country roads passing olive trees and vineyards and perfectly tended home gardens, we arrived a the brewery for a delicious lunch of fresh pasta and salads. The memorable dish was freshly made linguini in a butter-truffle sauce with huge pieces of shaved truffles on top. I had never really been able to appreciate, or even recognize, a distinctive flavor of truffles when it was drizzled over some dish in whatever restaurant served this very special ingredient. Boy was this a different thing. These truffles have a really strong musky taste that I imagine could be acquired (my description); Joe says they are smoky, rich and luscious. An American living with his Croatian wife (one village over from our lunch location) was recruited by the McCreadys to arrange the lunch and a truffle-hunting demonstration. He had been a contract employee for the State Department as an advisor to ministers in Bosnea and Kosovo. He decided to quit that strenuous work and with his wife bought a small farm in Croatia near Slovenia and have turned it into a bed and breakfast called "Due Momianesi," along with a bike hostel for bicycle touring and training in Istria (Bike Hostel Momjan." They are now living a very happy life. His comment at lunch was that he could never again live in a place where he could not get fresh truffles on a daily basis.
The truffle hunting demo was pretty interesting. A daughter of the four-generation truffle exporting business showed us how her dog could find buried truffles and talked about how the puppies were trained from 5 days old by putting truffle oil on the mother's teat, then moving to bread and meat, then burying it a couple of centimeters, gradually moving over a three year period to 20+ centimeters in the ground. She said that in a litter of 8 puppies, maybe 1 or 2 would grow up to be good enough to stay with the business. The others go to a long list of willing homes for inferior truffle finding for their families.
The ride back down to the ship was again wonderful, almost no traffic on the single lane country roads, speedy but comfortable descents and curving turns through quaint villages. The approach through the town of Umag was much easier than we expected, except for a short gravel stretch through a construction zone. Let me just say that it was a really good feeling to ride up to that ship and know that our riding days were over for this trip. Victorious and relieved!
We had contracted with one of the mechanics to take our bike apart and pack it in the box, so I happily walked around on the top deck taking pictures (see the photo section) of the beehive of industrious couples working cooperatively and intently to break down their bikes and pack them into their long boxes, stand-up bags, two cases, or one huge case (like ours).
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