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Saturday 22 November 2008

Old-world charm

James Campbell on the delights of Opatija

Any former communist town which likens itself to France in its efforts to distinguish itself must be desperate for a new tourist board. So it is with the Istrian town of Opatija — the pearl of the Adriatic — which has been variously described as the Habsburg Monte Carlo, Cannes, Saint-Tropez and Nice. There is obviously something to the comparisons: any coastal town with large hotels and decent weather is bound to be likened to the Côte d’Azur, but Opatija feels more like Aberystwyth on a hot day.

After a short decisive war between the two in the late 1990s, Istria has accepted its subordinate position in the tourist firmament to its sexier southern cousin Dalmatia. Its climate is markedly cooler; its women markedly dumpier. Driving in from Split, Istria seems like another country. As you round the Gulf of Kavner, the towns are unremarkable, full of decaying industry. Nothing prepares one for the Mitteleuropean splendour of Opatija and its wedding-cake hotels which rise steeply from the shoreline.

Between the arrival of the railway in 1873 and the outbreak of the Great War, Opatija was the playground of the Viennese rich, whose influence can still be seen in the enormous cakes served in its hotels. It was especially popular with royalty — Franz Joseph I and Archduke Ferdinand were frequent visitors — and in their wake followed the artists. Giacomo Puccini, Gustav Mahler and Anton Chekhov all stayed here, while modern dance can be blamed on the inspiration Isadora Duncan received from an Opatija palm tree. ‘Every day,’ she recorded in her memoirs, ‘I contemplated its leaves flickering in the morning breeze, and it taught me that gentle trembling of shoulders, arms, fingers...’ The town’s English-language website boasts: ‘Ever since, Opatija, both summer and winter, has been the abode of reputable personalities.’

The golden age ended with the Great War. From 1920 until 1945, Opatija was ruled by the Italians. However, they made little mark on the place. Whatever cultural influence they exerted is long gone as most of them departed shortly after Istria was absorbed into Tito’s Yugoslavia. Unlike in Split and Dubrovnik, with their booming tourist industries, the Marshall’s spirit still lingers in Opatija. Arriving without a booking in June, the hotels, many of which were at best half-full, were not much inclined to compete on price. The staffs were friendly and let us inspect the rooms but none of them lowered their rates as we suggestively returned the key.

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