Death in Pula

We stepped out of our hotel and into the colosseum. Not quite, but our hotel was so close it's the next best thing to staying there. Better, actually, considering a substantial percentage of the people who stayed there in Roman times didn't walk out again.

(Buying tickets I observed that Croatians sometimes do things a bit oddly by Australian standards.

At the colosseum/amfiteatar one person was selling tickets, another collecting. Fair enough.

The weird thing is the person collecting the tickets stands right next to the ticket window, watches the guy behind the window hand us the tickets, then immediately collects them.

I imagine this makes more sense during peak season, when there a lot people milling around, and she doesn't necessarily see them all. Today it was brilliantly pointless.)

The Pula colosseum is apparently the best preserved Roman colosseum in the world. It's smaller than the one in Rome, but the basic design is similar. We wandered the grounds, took heaps of photos watched the lions preparing for their fights (OK, only cats, not lions. But fearsome cats.)

There was a German tour coming through later, and a show was being prepared for the group. There was a sunglass-wearing Roman emperor or governor practicing his lines, slaves preparing food and drinks on paper plates and in plastic cups, a patrician lady wearing Doc Martin boots - the dedication to historical accuracy was striking.

In fairness they ditched the modern trappings before the tour group arrived. Pity.

There was also a gladiator show between two beefy looking men. Mario and I put our bets on the guy with the tatts, picking the chubby one to lose.

The fight didn't look rehearsed, at least until the end (beefy guy won; wished I'd placed a bet), so I think they may have been historical reenactors. 

Either that or they were hungover and had forgotten their moves. Both are possible.

This is when the death occurred. Deaths, actually.

While we were waiting for the gladiators I was experimenting with the settings on my camera. I hit a button I haven't managed to hit before, and erased all my photos.

All of them. 100% casualties.

RTFM, Brian. RTFM.*

Fortunately I've been regularly transferring photos to my iPad, so I have copies off most of the shots.

Several of the areas under the colosseum have been turned into museums. One was simply a series of banners with information about ships in ancient times, but the second had an excellent collection Roman-era olive presses and amphorae.

At one time Pula was the second most important olive growing region in the Roman Empire. Now the major industry is shipbuilding, with 6,000 people out of a total population of 50,000 employed in the shipyards.

We walked into the town centre, and saw parts of the old Roman walls (not much left) and a Roman archway (which was remarkably well-preserved).

Generally there isn't much else left from Roman times. There is one-third of a temple, had to be rebuilt after WWII and is now a freestanding structure. The middle third is gone, while the northernmost section has been remodelled and converted into government offices.

The temple doubles as an archeological museum, although this stretches the definition of museum. It consists of a couple dozen small statuettes, a few fragments of columns and statuary, and a couple bits knocked off from a mausoleum, in an area the size of a decent broom cupboard. It took five minutes to see the lot, and I was taking my time. 

Anna and Mario went off to see Mario's Uncle, and Emma and I grabbed lunch in a tourist trap restaurant on the plaza. Overpriced mediocre food, but the staff were nice, so we didn't do a runner.

There's also a very old church near here, dating back to the fourth century. Most of the current structure was added over the years, finishing in the fourteenth century, with a fifteenth century bell-tower in the plaza. You can't rush these things.

In the evening we went for another walk near the centre, and found a superb cafe near the Pula Train Station, which is a wonderfully overwrought building from the late 19th/ early 20th century. After dark we wandered into a very seedy part of town, saw the saddest casino in the history of gambling (the "Admiral Automat Club", a hideous box with peeling paint that would be vastly improved by fire), and beat a hasty retreat back to civilised country.

Our sense of adventure exhausted, we returned to our room and packed. Early start, for tomorrow is - Venice!

* RTFM = Read The Foto Manual