Really, water cascading down these stairs – it was exciting.
I wish I had taken a picture of the deluge Noahing down these stairs when we arrived. I tiptoed through it in my gazillion dollar walking shoes (worth every penny and more!) pulling the large, very large, red bag. In Rovinj there is an old town and a new town. Our apartment is through one of the old gates to the city. Right up these stairs and to the right.
The inner building stairs are being replaced as we speak. Well, not really as we speak, time zones being what they are, and workmen being what they are … but they’ll get done soon enough. Right now we are staying in Toma’s childhood bedroom on the second floor. I keep trying to figure out the original architecture of this 12th century building, but I can’t quite get it. One room on each floor – originally used as a quarantine house for people coming from or going to Venice to insure that they didn’t pass the plague around – then a summer house in this incredibly beautiful port.
Just before sunset
The apartment is tiny but serviceable. We discovered the washing machine one floor up and now have our clothes hanging out of the windows, like everyone else, hoping that they dry before we are completely out of underwear.
We are now registered visitors in Rovinj – with a leave by date, and to prove that we are scholarly citizens – a library card. I’m reading Michael Connelly’s Void Moon at the moment. The library is just up the hill in the new area – really a relative term – and one of it’s graces is that it’s humidity controlled which means I get a chance to dry out. We have a plan to work there regularly though we haven’t been able to access their free wifi connection yet.
Sebastian, at work
Sebastian, one of the librarians has been to Milwaukee and Madison, speaks great English and drives a Yamaha motorcycle though I think he yearns for a Harley after having been to the factory when he visited. Apparently he’s got cousins in Wisconsin … small world. Smaller than we think. I’m waiting for that moment when I’m walking across the square and one of my zillion ballroom students shouts out, “cha-cha-cha” as has happened to me in NYC.
