We Will, We Will Rab You!

We finally left Istria behind to begin our trek down the Croatian coastline.   And what a coastline it is: over a 1000 kilometers long, and over 1,400 islands.   Somehow we had to count them all!

We rounded the northern edge of the Kvarner Gulf, which set the stage for much of the coast that would follow: steep, barren mountains that pushed right up to the water's edge; narrow, winding roads carved into them at unknown expense; a maze of waterways and islands, some filled with fleets of boats and others vast and empty.  




Not for the first time, the islands themselves would remind us of Washington's San Juans, with their complex ferry schedules and quirky hamlets, crossed with the weather of Baja California.   The landscape alternated between lush vegetation and total desert, depending on exposure to the Bora, a salt-laden northern wind capable of extinguishing any life form larger than a lizard.

 

A surprisingly efficient ferry crossing took us to the island of Rab, where the iconic four-towered Old Town would be our home for the next few days.

Once again, Mrs. Falvy scored on the accommodations.   As views from one's balcony go, it was hard to beat this one.  



The view of the harbor wasn't bad, either.

 

It was also an excellent place from which to blow bubbles at terrestrial tourists below.

Rab also happens to be ground zero for a phenomenon with which we would become increasingly familiar in coming days: FKK, the German initials for Freikorperkultur (Free Body Culture).   We will let you use your imagination about what that might entail, at least for the moment.   But we began to notice lots of signs for FKK beaches, campgrounds, and even water taxis, existing in happy parallel to the amenities for less free bodies like our own.