I scribbled down a bunch of stuff when I was in my hotel room in Pula (the most excellent Hotel Scarletta, near the arena). I don’t want to forget how it felt to get there, so here it is.
It is a nice town.
Six kinds of mortadella in one small supermarket? I may never leave.
It’s pretty quiet, almost sleepy (at least for a port town!) but it isn’t dull. Or at least, it doesn’t seem it to me.
There’s a McDonalds, two Benettons, Max Mara, Office shoes… The price of multinational commercialism.
My left headphone stopped working somewhere between the Pula airport baggage hall and the hotel room, and I can’t see why.
Roasted chestnuts turned out to be pretty good, but they don’t taste half as nice as they smell.
I can see the Roman amphitheatre from my hotel window, and that can’t be a bad thing.
Amphitheatre totally wins at life compared to the crumbling ruin in Rome. For this I blame the Pope and Michaelangelo.
I would’ve really, really loved to have come here with Granddad.
I really, absolutely, totally wish he was here.
One day, I should be so lucky to be rich so I can buy one of the houses on the hill leading up to the fortress.