Have a mini inter-rail adventure through Italy, Slovenia, and Croatia on an affordable route that takes in the Adriatic’s aristocratic history. A report from our ‘roving judge’.
The Trieste to Rijeka train
I’m riding a Slovenian train from Italy to Croatia, on a line built by the Austro-Hungarian Empire 150 years ago. Back then railroading Viennese royalty could breakfast in Trieste, shoot Slovenian game for lunch, then catch a show in a theatre decorated by Gustav Klimt in Rijeka, Croatia. A five-hour version of the route continued into the 1980s.
Now, after more than 30 years, the line between the port cities of Trieste and Rijeka was reinstated to run until late September, with a view to operating long-term. It’s now a two-hour dash across three countries that costs £7. But since Croatia joined the Schengen zone last year, you can hop on and hop off at any of eight Italian, Slovenian, or Croatian stations on the new route. I chose to travel over a long weekend, buying a new ticket from the conductor for a few euros each leg. I was one of the first passengers.
My journey started in Trieste. Until 1918 the Italian city was the principal port of the Austrian Habsburg monarchy. The port ran like clockwork to import coffee beans from the Ottoman Empire to perk up the Austro-Hungarians. Trieste remains a regular Vienna-on-Sea. Locals pause punctiliously at zebra crossings. Triestini are still thought to sip more coffee than the inhabitants of any other Italian city.
Miramare Castle in Trieste. The port was the principal port of the Habsburg monarchy and the castle was built by Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian, who became emperor of Mexico
At Antico Caffè Torinese I go local by ordering a capo in B (a heart-starting cappuccino in a bicchiere, or glass). This grand Trieste establishment stocks a zany selection of liqueurs forgotten in newer cafés: amaro d’erbe made with iris and mugwort; infuso di rabarbaro powered by rhubarb and a high alcohol content. However, café patrons wear blue jeans and puffer jackets rather than stylish Italian garb — this is Mitteleuropa meets the Med.
Outside the café, I ride a bus to Miramare Castle, Trieste’s Habsburg must-see. The neo-gothic mansion was built by charismatic Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian, the spare heir to Emperor Franz Joseph, who ruled the empire until 1916. The castle’s Aztec eagle motifs hint at the Habsburg’s global gallivanting, which climaxed in Maximilian becoming emperor of Mexico, where he was eventually executed by a firing squad.
I stay at funky new hotel, The Modernist. Imagine a stylish Italian escape meticulously run by Austrians — perfect (B&B doubles from £103; themodernisthotel.eu). James Joyce wrote and drank around the corner during the final days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and once reflected: “[Trieste] was a ramshackle affair but it was charming, gay.” Habsburg machinations would result in Joyce’s departure in 1915, when the empire’s twin ports of Trieste and Rijeka became divided by politics. I’ll cross that former Cold War border tomorrow.
On day two I board the 7.50am train to Rijeka from a small station in the ritzy northern Trieste suburb of Villa Opicina, a 10-minute cab ride from Trieste’s main station. En route, I savour a breakfast box prepared by The Modernist: a child’s fantasy consisting of one cake, three biscuits, two fruit yoghurts, and a brownie. At 8am, my phone pings as I cross mobile networks into Slovenia and gaze out from the new train’s picture windows. Drystone walls are razor-straight. Rows of winter cabbages stand to attention. Unlike in Italy, everything is organised just so.
At 8.54am, I alight at the charming Slovenian town Ilirska Bistrica, which has been governed by five regimes since 1918: the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Italy, the German Reich, Yugoslavia, and now Slovenia. During the interwar period, Ilirska Bistrica’s Italian overlords built 60 miles of tarmacked forest roads. These have been turned into cycle tracks in Slovenia’s most bike-mad town. I navigate them on one of the eight e-bikes for rent from the tourist office in the town’s centre (£22 a day; visitilirskabistrica.si). The topography is Austria for softies: a green sheen of forest ringed by the snow-dusted Julian Alps, plus mossy streams that could double as a screensaver.
Honey producer Andrej Bergoc. He now offers tours, which include tasting sparkling honey wine and different types of honey
I pedal my e-bike past some of the town’s 40 watermills. They once milled flour for the Austrians and sliced wood to box up Italian lemons. Ilirska Bistrica (population about 4,500) has always been international. I sample the town’s signature dish of sauerkraut, introduced by French engineers who helped to build the railway for the Austrians in the 1870s, before pedalling over to the honey producer Andrej Bergoc and the floral artist Sonja Prosen’s freshly renovated 18th-century cottage Belakapa (one night’s self-catering for six from £171; belakapa.si).
The couple give me their homestay’s honey-tasting experience (£34pp). It starts with sparkling honey wine and Slovenian sheep cheese that Bergoc traded for several jars. The highlight is the honey degustation. I try my host’s linden honey (menthol, chewy) and chestnut honey (spicy, smoky) chased by three shots of apple-honey liqueur, before settling into a sweet sleep. The next morning Bergoc makes me an omelette with his hens’ eggs and asparagus plucked from his garden. If only all Airbnbs were like this.
The next day, I board the new train at 8.55am. For 40 minutes we barrel through plum blossom and poppies before punching through a tunnel onto Croatia’s sunny coast. Opatija-Matulji railway station is choked in bougainvillea and has its own rose garden and vegetable plot. Plus a wooden swing from which to enjoy the sun-licked, clickety-click mise en place. I’m betting the adjoining resort of Opatija is fabulous.
Andrej Bergoc and Sonja Prosen’s recently renovated 18th-century cottage Belakapa Slovenian town Ilirska Bistrica, home to 40 watermills
And it is. 15 years after the train line arrived in 1873, 85 grand hotels and villas graced this rococo resort. These include the Heritage Hotel Imperial, where I check-in. The Imperial has an imposing staircase wide enough for a hussar to gallop a horse up, and a ballroom (now the breakfast room) ceiling of Sistine complexity. At the turn of the 20th century, hotel staff hailed from across the Austro-Hungarian Empire: Prague, Lviv, Krakow, Sarajevo. Last month, several new staff arrived from the Philippines and Nepal (B&B doubles from £99; liburnia.hr).
To get my bearings I hike the seven-mile Lungomare seafront promenade. It’s a gorgeous symphony of Austrian architecture, Italian peacocking and Croatian coast. Greenfinches serenade the trail. Terraces edge towards the Adriatic carrying the scent of jasmine, iris, and rose. This is Croatia’s answer to Capri or Cannes.
Lunch is fancy. Restaurant Bevanda could cater for an oligarch’s daughter’s wedding. Vast window panes overlook a shimmering Adriatic. I start with a tartare of Opatija’s famous prawns drawn from the Kvarner Gulf. Anchovies that taste like seaside jerky and octopus as crunchy as seafood chips follow. Just offshore, tuna hunt sardines that jump from the water. Seafood doesn’t get fresher.
Seafood on sale. Rijeka’s fish market looks like a Viennese palace and was hailed by Michael Palin
The next morning only a 10-minute journey remains along the new train line. At 9.37am, we meander to Rijeka like a clinking voyeur, past balcony breakfasters and laptop-tappers. Rijeka’s seafront railway station looks like a Habsburg wedding cake, built to impose. I arrive to witness a marathon, an outdoor jazz festival, and a superyacht leaving port. Trieste’s twin brother is buzzing.
I visit the Sugar Palace opposite the station first. The former headquarters of the city’s sugar refinery is now a museum that shows — using blocks of sugarloaf, ocean liner models, and fin de siècle fashions — how the port became Vienna’s window on the world. Nearby hotels, such as the Lloyd and the Europa, welcomed wealthy migrants, including the newsman Joseph Pulitzer and the inventor Nikola Tesla, who took ships directly to the New World from Rijeka.
My accommodation is even more central. Botel was once an Adriatic ferry that served Mali Losinj, an island that tempts across the bay. It has been sympathetically converted into a floating hotel with wooden panelling, exposed engines and deckchairs on the roof (room-only doubles from £83; botelmarina.com).
On my final morning, I’m up early. Rijeka’s fish market looks like a Viennese palace filled with gilthead bream, clams of all sizes, and swordfish spears. Michael Palin called it a “cathedral of fish”. This architectural wonder was completed in 1916. Two years later, the polyglot Austro-Hungarian Empire was a train wreck. Its motto of “indivisibiliter ac inseparabiliter” (indivisible and inseparable) was sliced like the train tracks from Rijeka onwards. Miklos Horthy, the vice-admiral of the empire’s navy, who had attended naval academy in Rijeka, became the leader of land-locked Hungary.
There’s time for one last lunch. Since 1885 Conca d’Oro has served local fish in an alleyway frescoed with portraits of city figures. My waiter, Dominik Mihic, tells me how wasabi and sesame oil have infiltrated the city’s salty soul. A seafood platter that might cost £100 in London is £30 here, and could fill a family with carpaccio of octopus and prosciutto-style dried tuna. I’d love to lie down on the pine-scented beaches of Sablicevo, a 20-minute walk from Rijeka city centre, but I have a train to catch. On the 6.25pm to Trieste the sun sets on Slovenian hills and Italian villas. The aristocratic Adriatic is back on track.
Where to stay in Rijeka
1. Hilton Rijeka Costabella Beach Resort & Spa
A 15-minute cab ride from downtown, this is Rijeka’s prime address. It’s the resort with it all: a 43m-long infinity pool, private (pebble) beach, kids’ club (ages 4-12) and six restaurants. The biggie is the Michelin-starred Nebo (tasting menu £125; neborijeka.com), which elevates local amberjack and shellfish with foraged asparagus and heirloom apple varieties. Rooms including suites and two-bedroom family apartments are contemporary: the Costabella opened in 2020 to coincide with Rijeka’s Capital of Culture celebrations. Most rooms enjoy a thumping panorama over Croatia’s Istria peninsula. Saltwater fiends can try wakeboarding, flyboarding or paddleboard yoga on the calm Kvarner Bay out front.
Details B&B doubles from £135 (hilton.com)
2. Old Town Inn
This vintage charmer is just off Korzo, Rijeka’s buzziest boulevard. Built in the 19th century, stone arches frame the foyer, while vaulted brick ceilings grace the guesthouse’s fancier rooms. The Old Town Inn is individual and highly rated — but petite. Some of the clean, white en suite showers are shaped to fit slanting ceilings. Steep steps mean the hotel, welcoming though it is, is not accessible to all.
Details Room-only doubles from £54 (oldtown.rest)
3. Botel
No accommodation captures Rijeka’s salty soul like Botel. Built in the 1930s, this former ferry chugged to nearby islands including Silba and Mali Losinj until 2007. It is now reincarnated as a floating hotel with exposed engine parts and steep naval staircases. The location is unsurpassed: slap bang in the centre of this port city. One, two, three and four-person rooms are basic and bright. Most have portholes that peep out onto yachts anchored alongside. The best part? Botel’s alfresco bar on the stern. Sink a flinty malvasia white wine or local Pan Zlatni lager on tap.
Details Room-only doubles from £66 (botelmarina.com)