The end of the world, the ocean, the countries, the history. Or the beginning, you be the judge. Doors don’t mind, they lead into both directions.
Trieste in Italy next to Slovenia at the end of the Adriatic Sea is a rather peculiar destination. Some have called it melancholy, industrial, ugly. For me it’s a place where we used to buy cheap jeans, coffee and chewing gum back in Yugoslavia and boarded the ferry for Greece. Lately it’s a place where visitors hop on the train to reach us in the south of Tuscany by way of Orvieto.
And yet I have never been to its old streets, or at least not with my camera. That’s why I was glad when father found out there was a regular boat line between Piran and Trieste and invited me on a day trip. After some initial suspicion (see my first Trieste post here) we reached Trieste in about 30 minutes and spent a lovely if hot day in the city where James Joyce spent more than 15 years.
More doors that JJ used to open in my second post from here at a later date, today the initial mix of consufing historical impressions and door scenes.