My Quiet Chapter in Pula

Well, here I am in Pula, but I’m not really feeling it. I think my trip around the Balkans was rushed — even for me. I’m not mad that I gave it a go, but I think future me needs to learn that one-night stops, especially when they’re stacked back-to-back, are just a little too much moving around. Sustainable for a week or two, but by week three it’s worn me down more than usual. I had a remote rehab session on my first morning here and had a bit of a chat about effort versus capacity as a way to describe how I’m feeling.

I feel like I’m not putting in enough effort on this part of the trip. It was pointed out to me that perhaps a kinder way to frame that is by thinking about how much capacity for effort I have at this stage of recovery. It’s not that I’m not trying — I just don’t have as much to give right now.

Luckily for me, I felt this coming a few days ago and changed my plans. The original aim was to continue my fly-through pace and be off to Berlin after two nights, for just two nights, before moving on to Brussels for one night — you get the idea. A lot. Instead, I’ve extended my Pula stay to three nights, giving myself a little breathing space. Arriving, I took a Bolt — glad they’re available here because I’m well and truly over getting ripped off by taxis. The driver was friendly, dropping me at the closest point to my Airbnb. A man approached me as I grabbed my bag from the boot.
“Carl from Australia?”
“Yeah…” I replied, a little confused.
“Ah, my wife is waiting for you in the apartment. I saw you get out with the bag and thought it must be you. Welcome to Pula.”

The apartment is just what I need for a few nights: a big couch, a kitchen, and hosts who kindly walk me through how everything works. “Narh don’t worry about that,” I say in full Aussie accent when they show me how to use the stove. “I won’t be cooking. I’ll go out for dinner.” There are 1.5 bathrooms, so I have a choice of toilets this trip. I’m shown how the TV and aircon work, how to leave the keys when I go, and then they head off to holiday in the mountains. I’d like to believe they live here, but it feels more like a rental — though they are a lovely couple. The rest of the building seems empty, but later I meet a lady with a little dog upstairs. By the end of my stay, the dog even stops growling when I approach.
The dog reminds me of Louis at home barking at passersby from his balcony throne. I miss my boys right about now.

Already feeling more relaxed, I make grand plans to do it all while I’m here. I’ll spend tomorrow morning in the old town, exploring the underground World War tunnels and then off to the Roman theatre. That evening I’ll take a kayak tour and cliff jump into the refreshing Adriatic Sea. The next day I’ll take the bus up the road to Rovinj and explore that town before returning for dinner in Pula.
Alas, that’s as far as my energy levels allow — planning it out. I go for a walk to get some snacks, but it’s Sunday and everything is closed. I retreat to the couch, put on an episode of Designated Survivor, and nap. I think I’ll be doing a bit of that in Pula.

Eventually, I get up — fortunately the sun sets late so there’s still daylight. I go to a burger place, order the chicken burger, and regret it. It’s not great. The chips, however, are lovely, so I demolish them, hide the half-eaten burger in the packaging, and go for a quick explore. The Roman Theatre, or Pula Arena, is like a mini Colosseum. I know Italy’s nearby, but have I accidentally landed in a mini Rome? Built between 27 BC and 68 AD, it’s one of the best-preserved Roman amphitheatres. It’s smaller than the Colosseum in Rome but pretty cute. I later find out Tom Jones is playing here on my last night — I didn’t even know he was still alive.

The rest of my stay in Pula is pretty quiet. I wake up feeling rubbish and eventually make it out for some food — vegetables are what I’m craving, but it’s all pasta and pizza here. Unsure if I’m in Italy or Croatia, I settle for a risotto-style meal with some spinach and pumpkin — the closest thing to actual veggies I can find. Then I nap the afternoon away, followed by an early dinner. This time I go for a Wiener schnitzel. It’s a little average, but it hits the spot. My mind wants to explore more in a flash of FOMO, but my body says no. I listen to the latter and reward myself with a Jaffa vegan ice cream cone.

My last full day in Pula is much like the one before — naps, chilling in the apartment, and the occasional wander around town to fight off the FOMO. I consider going to the beach, but even the 10-minute bus ride feels like too much effort. Instead, I head underground and wander through the cool air of the World War I and II tunnels beneath the fortress. I skip the hill climb by taking the elevator straight from the tunnels up to the fort. That express under-and-above view ends up being all I really see of Pula during my three-night stay.

Feeling a little like I’ve wasted my time here, I try to remind myself to have some self-compassion. We all need downtime — something I haven’t been giving myself nearly enough of lately. I take an evening walk to the arena for one last look and find it filling up with Tom Jones fans. Then it’s back to the apartment. I decline several invites for evening rendezvous from faceless “discreet” guys on Grindr, watch some TV in bed, and fall asleep — ready to head to the Netherlands in the morning.Baca lagi