New York, New York

If a tradition is not upheld, it will fade away until it is no longer a tradition. So this morning started with a rousing rendition of the opening lines of Sinatra's New York, New York. 🎵Start spreading the news, we're leaving tomorrow....🎵, closely followed by "shut up Cocs", spoken with passion by an already sunbathing Laura. Don't get me wrong, it's never meant to be a complaint about not having had a great holiday. Admittedly, it may have had its origins in a desire to return to normal life in the distant past, but it has morphed into a joyous celebration of precious family time.

In the short time we have been here, I have grown to love this quiet little village. There is something uplifting about an early morning walk to the bakery for fresh bread. The local population is relaxed and friendly and the restaurants are of good quality and not overly expensive. There is a lovely little church in the centre of the village (with the requisite graveyard) which we have so far not found the time to visit, but occasionally we hear the church bells ringing from our patio. Perhaps we came at just the right time as we are staying in one of a group of 6 new villas and there is evidence of building projects around us.

Our villa faces east, and by midday the patio dining table is half in the shade and half in the sun, so with us all seated on the shaded side to eat our lunch, we must resemble Da Vinci's depiction of The Last Supper. "Table for 26 please......There are only 13 of you..... I know but we all want to sit at the same side." The pool is to the rear of the villa and is best enjoyed in the afternoon. By then, the 2 poolside umbrellas cast their shadows across the water and the sun has done it's work to raise the temperature after the relative chill of the night - if you can classify an overnight minimum of 22°C as a chill.

For our last evening out, we are visiting Medulin, a municipality in the southernmost tip of the Istrian peninsula which is renowned for it's campsites and beaches. The eponymously named small town is built up around a natural harbour and the town centre includes the main square and the twin-spired St Agnes Church. According to tradition (and Wikipedia), Agnes was born in 291 into Roman nobility, and raised as a Christian. She suffered martyrdom on 21 January 304, aged 12 or 13, during the reign of the Roman emperor Diocletian. Those were certainly dangerous times to have monotheistic beliefs.

T'internet had taught us earlier that the population of the town more than trebled to 10,000 during July and August and Google maps suggested we were in a busy area, however the town felt almost deserted. I can only assume that more than 9000 were crammed into many restaurants while we were there - they were certainly jumping. So apart from a nice dinner, a fiery sunset and Agnes' spectacular church, it was a bit uninspiring. I pulled driving duties on the way home and on some of the long straights I was reminded of the fact that Mario Andretti grew up in this area.Okumaya devam et