Pula the other one

The mosquito died, crushed by a mighty blow delivered with my strong right arm. Thus was order restored to the world.

I think I killed it, although I never found the corpse. It's possible I didn't kill the mossie, it may have simply moved on after watching me slap myself in the head a dozen times.

Whatever. It left, and I got a decent night's sleep.

Sadly we said goodbye to Plitvica and set off for Pula, in the far north-west of Croatia. Easy driving, clear weather, no cliffs. Nothing of note until I saw the tanks and armored personnel carriers in Karlovac.

Mario did a u-turn, and we drove back. Sure enough there were tanks, APCs, jets, artillery pieces in an outdoor museum dedicated to "the Homeland War", the Croatian name for the war following the breakup of the former Yugoslavia in the late 80s to early 90s. The fort at Karlovac was the site of "the battle that stopped the Serbian conquerors" according to a sign on the site.

The tanks were a strange mixture of Soviet, American and Croatian fighting vehicles, ranging from World War II era Sherman tanks to odd-looking improvised Croatian armored cars. I don't know if all if the equipment we saw was used in the "Homeland War" - some of it was well and truly obsolete - but it may have been a case of using whatever they had available.

We had coffee at a small coffees hop across the road. There were still bullet holes in the building next door, a fact Emma found very disturbing. 

(We also had the most honest waitress in Europe. Mario gave her Euros instead of Croatian Kuna, which are about seven times more valuable, and she gave the correct change back. Then I left my bag with my iPad there, and she ran across the street to the shop we were in to make sure we got it back. Mario gave her five Euros as a thank-you, which I keep forgetting to recompense him for. But I'm not the most honest waitress in Europe, so maybe I'll keep "forgetting".)

We hit the motorway after that, followed by rain, and a truly horrendous fog that reduced visibility to fifty metres. No more 160 kph driving after that. More like 40, with all eyes out for morons like the guy driving his truck bumper to bumper. While texting.

The weather cleared as we drew close to Pula, and this time the GPS didn't fail us. We found the Amfiteatar Hotel on the first attempt, although finding parking added five minutes to the trip.

The Hotel was reasonable, smallish and a bit run-down around the edges, but with polite staff and a brilliant location, just a few hundred meters from the colosseum (AKA amphitheatre, and "amfiteatar" in Croatian, hence the name.)

Mario and Anna went to visit another of his countless uncles, and Emma and I wandered along the waterfront, catching a lovely sunset, and walked a short way into town. Just on the edge of a park I spotted a small excavated site, cordoned off from the public with a small sign.

"Wow!" I said. "This is so cool! This is a first century mausoleum!"

"I see a nice red coat in that shop across the road," Emma replied.

We seem to have quite different interests on this trip.

The meal back in the hotel was good, with Emma ordering the pasta with truffles. She's wanted to try real truffles for years, and finally had the chance. Verdict: ok, but not worth the squillion dolars an ounce they charge for them.

Worn out by this stage we climbed into bed, readying ourselves for adventuring in the local colosseum. BYO swords.