Krk Camping on the beach and the poor man’s Slavic Ibiza

Boats in Krk, Croatia by night - small

Krk Camping on the beach and the poor man’s Slavic Ibiza

After spending a few relaxing days on the beautiful peninsula of Istria we continued our trip by following the Croatian coast, heading in the direction of the consonant heavy Krk. For the hitchhike out of Rovinj we got to the edge of town, assumed the position (careful) and watched as fleets of Dutch and German cars sailed past us. One Dutch car did stop, Ania ran the 20 m to go and talk to them and they drove off as soon as she got near the car. Charming. In a small measure of revenge Ania carved a rather rude description about our Dutch cousins into the pavement with a flint (don’t ask) and we continued to wait.

Eventually a Belgian family pulled up and took us on our way. After this initial jump we were again picked up by another Belgian couple and we had made good progress. For some reason I have always held the stereotype that all Belgian people are boring, stupid probably (but in all honesty yet disproved) but perhaps I should reassess my views. One more lift with a second officer who was living in his car in between embarkments and after 5 hours we had arrived in our destination.

Krk Camping on the beach and the poor man's Slavic Ibiza

Krk is similar to a host of Croatian seaside towns: beautiful but beginning to bend under the weight of Eastern European tourists. The Romans, Byzantines, Turks, Venetians, French, Italians, Yugoslavs have all been and gone but that’s not why the tourists come. They come for the crystal clear water, cheap booze and chance to lie on a pebble beach and turn red.

Krk Camping on the beach and the poor man's Slavic Ibiza

A quick walk through the town at night was an experience, a personal highlight being a pub that employed scantily clad woman in fluorescent bikinis to dance on podiums outside. I tried to convince Ania that we should stand opposite them and bust our own pop and locks but she demurred.

‘I can bust with the best of them’ I declared.

Krk Camping on the beach and the poor man's Slavic Ibiza

A laugh was enough to know that probably I couldn’t. Still, our campsite was right on the beach and it was nice to open our sweat box of a tent to see the sea lapping gently against the coast a meer stone’s throw away. But maybe my calling isn’t to dance for the masses, or perhaps…

Krk Camping on the beach and the poor man's Slavic Ibiza

written by: Jon

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