Waking briefly in the night, the gentle rocking of the van and a low whistling indicated that the wind had increased and this was confirmed when we woke in the morning. Although it was windy, the temperature was over 20and it didn't feel cold. It appeared that the peninsular that we had chosen was very popular with windsurfers, indeed all around us were surfing dudes.
Our morning was spent with chores. Jane did the washing and was fully occupied with ensuring that the washing stayed on the improvised washing line. Every time that she came back into the van, it looked as though she was returning from an appointment with a mad hairdresser. I, meanwhile was working on the laptop PC with a view of the azure blue sea through the van door.
All around us was frantic activity – preparations for windsurfing. The conditions were ideal for the experienced windsurfer – a strong constant wind and, initially, a calm sea although white horses began to appear as the day progressed. There were also a number of kite-surfers (if that is not what they are called, then it should be!) and two just by us inflated the wings of their kites before walking to the sea with the kites high in the sky above them. The kite-surfers were very impressive, using the strong wind to travel at high speed over the sea and occasionally making huge jumps or performing spins in the air.
In mid-afternoon we walked into the village to the Internet café and spent three hours catching up with emails and updating the blog. An overheard mobile phone call in the café illustrated the use of many languages. After a conversation in Croatian, the call ended with "OK, no problem. Ciao".
Then it was on to a local restaurant for dinner. We thought that we had timed it well to return for the rugby but were delayed by a complimentary 'Istria Grappa'. Very pleasant but we did miss the first five minutes of what the press had titled 'Le Crunch' – England v France in the Rugby World Cup semi-final. We were not too disappointed given that England were 5 – 0 up. Well it certainly was 'Le Crunch' and England thoroughly deserved their hard-won victory. I suspect that the press will be full of Jonny Wilkinson and that name kept cropping up in the S4C Welsh commentary (just about the only words that we understood). However rugby is not a game of individual stars, despite the fact that the press like to portray it that way. We only won because of the performance of the whole team.
The victory was somewhat marred by an incident at half time – not on the rugby pitch but in Henrietta. I closed the blinds over the cab windows and backing out of the area, I bumped into the table and sent my one third full glass of red wine flying. Pandemonium followed with cloths and water being used in a hurry in an attempt to minimise the damage. Fortunately, all was done before the second half started and we were able to enjoy the glorious England victory.
When we went to bed we became aware that the wind had strengthened considerably and I was somewhat concerned for the safety of the satellite dish on its tripod outside the motorhome. However, I had already moved it into the lee of Henrietta, weighted down with rocks and the satellite reception had not failed during the rugby, so I decided that it should be safe and snuggled under the quilt.
Photos: The peninsular pitch at Premantura; the impenetrable forest of Camping Village Stupice.
Our morning was spent with chores. Jane did the washing and was fully occupied with ensuring that the washing stayed on the improvised washing line. Every time that she came back into the van, it looked as though she was returning from an appointment with a mad hairdresser. I, meanwhile was working on the laptop PC with a view of the azure blue sea through the van door.
All around us was frantic activity – preparations for windsurfing. The conditions were ideal for the experienced windsurfer – a strong constant wind and, initially, a calm sea although white horses began to appear as the day progressed. There were also a number of kite-surfers (if that is not what they are called, then it should be!) and two just by us inflated the wings of their kites before walking to the sea with the kites high in the sky above them. The kite-surfers were very impressive, using the strong wind to travel at high speed over the sea and occasionally making huge jumps or performing spins in the air.
In mid-afternoon we walked into the village to the Internet café and spent three hours catching up with emails and updating the blog. An overheard mobile phone call in the café illustrated the use of many languages. After a conversation in Croatian, the call ended with "OK, no problem. Ciao".
Then it was on to a local restaurant for dinner. We thought that we had timed it well to return for the rugby but were delayed by a complimentary 'Istria Grappa'. Very pleasant but we did miss the first five minutes of what the press had titled 'Le Crunch' – England v France in the Rugby World Cup semi-final. We were not too disappointed given that England were 5 – 0 up. Well it certainly was 'Le Crunch' and England thoroughly deserved their hard-won victory. I suspect that the press will be full of Jonny Wilkinson and that name kept cropping up in the S4C Welsh commentary (just about the only words that we understood). However rugby is not a game of individual stars, despite the fact that the press like to portray it that way. We only won because of the performance of the whole team.
The victory was somewhat marred by an incident at half time – not on the rugby pitch but in Henrietta. I closed the blinds over the cab windows and backing out of the area, I bumped into the table and sent my one third full glass of red wine flying. Pandemonium followed with cloths and water being used in a hurry in an attempt to minimise the damage. Fortunately, all was done before the second half started and we were able to enjoy the glorious England victory.
When we went to bed we became aware that the wind had strengthened considerably and I was somewhat concerned for the safety of the satellite dish on its tripod outside the motorhome. However, I had already moved it into the lee of Henrietta, weighted down with rocks and the satellite reception had not failed during the rugby, so I decided that it should be safe and snuggled under the quilt.
Photos: The peninsular pitch at Premantura; the impenetrable forest of Camping Village Stupice.
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