Rainy season (16.07.+17.07.)

It's raining. Not as heavy as in the flood-stricken regions of Germany, but more than one would expect on a summer vacation in Adriatic, as confirmed by our host Marco.

We could discuss karma again, but we'll spare you the same old arguments.

Currently, our daily activities are determined by the short-term rain radar forecast: Is it dry in Izola for the next few hours? Alright, let's go to the sea with the whole family.

We drive along the coast from Piran to the fishing village of Izola and are pleasantly surprised by the availability of many free parking spaces and plenty of space by the water, despite the usual conversations (you know: "Everything must be full, let's park in the town right away!" - "Oh no, let's give it a try first!").

We don't stroll, but take advantage of the moment and dive into the water.

In no time, we feel like we're in the Arctic, with the icy cold wind blowing.

The wind is much stronger than we would like, the sun has disappeared, and the opposite coast is soon no longer visible behind the rain front.

Being clever, we have only packed the essentials (we have learned from Lars getting mileage money while looking for parking in Strunjan). So no jacket, no umbrella, no extra towel to fight against the blue lips. We make a run for it and dash through the rain cloud to Izola.

Contrary to the claims that all other places are negligible compared to Piran, we find it to be the opposite: Izola appears less dilapidated and morbid, overall more lively and inhabited.

Even though the cityscape is actually very similar. We find a restaurant with indoor dining that offers good grilled fish and natural ingredients (they don't even have ketchup for our little sugar lover). Of course, ice cream is a must to keep our vacation blood sugar levels high, and as compensation, we are even rewarded with sunshine. What more could you want?

The rain settles in the inland, so we also escape to the coast on Saturday. First, we take a look at Lipica. Lars and I could have skipped this part of Slovenian culture, but Ida, who is galloping with about 23,542 horses half the time (the car door is even opened again because one of the imaginary horses didn't get in correctly), has been looking forward to this program point since December.

Again, we can hardly believe how empty the parking lot is. On a Saturday. In peak season. Where are all the tourists? Isn't this a magnet for the already vaccinated retirees (we don't want to offend anyone)? And if not for them, then for parents like us who are plagued by Bibi & Tina, at least we confirm that with our visit!

With only three other families, we watch the mares and their foals as they are allowed to graze on the gigantic (and I mean really gigantic!!!) pastures. 

They are really cute with their long, skinny legs that don't want to obey properly yet. After that, we take a tour with Anita, whom we found on our own in Lipica (please, for the catchy tune!) and learn how important the ancient stud farm is for Slovenian national pride. The little horses are even minted on the 20 cent coins.

Even Anita's pride can be heard in her voice, which comes from the work at the stud farm. Only people who can actually ride and have passed a test with the local horses are allowed to work here!

To be allowed to ride dressage alone, it takes seven long years of work and training at the stud farm!

The rearing and ranking of the horses are also strictly regulated, and only those who have the best genes are allowed to mate!

And mind you, not with a mare but with an "insemination machine," which Anita explains to us in great detail with deep eye contact...

Ida in particular wants to know the most about this part of the stud farm.

10,000 sqm of pastures, 315 horses, and the most important thing seems to be a piece of worn out leather!

Well, overall, we adults are also very impressed by the work and tradition that is lived here and can definitely understand the national pride!

After a half-hour training tour (4 riders on 4 horses and an instructor with a sergeant-major appearance), we say goodbye. In retrospect, we are quite satisfied to have included this item in our vacation. Now it's getting visibly busier at the Martinshof...Lipica stud farm!

Since we're already on the Italian border anyway, and we really liked our last visit to Trieste despite the hustle and bustle, we decide to go there again. From afar, we can already see two cruise ships in the harbor. Ah, there are all the tourists. Not good.

But turning around is not an option. Our timing is sensational, and we are already indulging in the anticipation of pizza heaven. We head straight to the pizzeria, which is bursting at the seams. We can't find a place outside, and inside we are simply ignored. After several rounds of "I spy with my little eye," we don't want to wait any longer and try our luck with take-away pizza. It's actually faster, but this time it costs us a whopping 4€ more. Huh? Is that the weekend surcharge? Or did they increase the prices because of the cruise ships? Like, they have plenty of money?

Even when we ask for the pizza to be sliced, the staff don't even bother hiding their displeasure and blatantly roll their eyes. They reluctantly quarter the pizza. Well, thanks a lot.

We sit right in the middle of the sidewalk (there's no sea view anyway because of the floating fortresses), ignoring the bewildered looks of the passing crowds, and eat our already cold pizza. The wind blows so strong that even the aluminum coating couldn't prevent it from cooling down.

We roll along the harbor, drive other pedestrians and the Fux crazy with "Don't touch the lines," and admire the Grand Canal and a few basilicas. Now all that's left is enjoying the obligatory ice cream and heading back to the tent.

After long deliberation and some urging from the ice cream vendor, Ida, as always, chooses lemon and dark chocolate (it would take a miracle for her to choose something different. You know what I mean, Mari? "Uh, um... Goudi!"). And because the small shop is too crowded, we send her out again.

Less than a minute later, she has paid and we leave the gelateria as well. Ida stands on the sidewalk with a half-melted ice cream, looking like a dejected poodle. Do you know those moments where the details come together in slow motion and gradually make sense?

1. Tiny ice cream. 2. It's not actually that hot for it to melt so quickly. 3. Ida is very unhappy. 4. She's spotted. 5. It's raining on her. 6. It's ice rain. 7. Lars' ice cream starts to disappear too. 8. Damn wind!

So we quickly devour the ice cream. It's really not the same as savoring it.

Bella Trieste. If only it had remained a one-day stand.