7 A Room with a View

Our 4th floor room was spacious with double French doors opening to a balcony that yielded sweeping views of the bay. Wow! The scene was amazing. Just below a colorful flower bed surrounded a large fountain and next door was the bus station where rows of tour buses lined up awaiting their call of duty. Donna commented that the hotel had the elegance of a 1950’s seaside resort where movie-star sightings were frequent. She was right. Opatija is the French Riviera of the Adriatic. Steves pans it as too Geritol but I disagree. Though it shows its age, this resort town exudes classic, elegant charm. It’s perfectly laid out for sunbathers and swimmers alike with an expansive promenade and several semi-circle swimming bays each the size of a high school pool.

One morning I woke at 4:00; my bio-clock was still off. Rather than lay awake in bed, I parked myself outside on the balcony to catch up on my musings. I experienced Opatija waking up. The air was chilled but still; a deep breath reminded me I was next to the sea. The silence broke just as dawn appeared like the light in a room with a dimmer switch being slowly turned. The sounds began with a random tag-team of high-whining Vespa scooters passing by, no doubt the drivers on their way to a service job. The large fountain below sprang to life. The seagulls stretched their wings and began their chant. A street sweeper rumbled by with the familiar sounds of a low rumble and whisking brushes. At 6:00 AM, the chorus of charter buses fired up as their diesel engines billowing out small clouds of smoke; they signaled to the city that there was a schedule to keep. At 6:30, the sun peaked over the ridge and when the rays met the sea, it was game-on.