The bus trip to Piran was scenic—Italianate villas with orange corrugated roofs, coastal greenery and boats on the grey-blue Adriatic were a drastic change...from mountains to the sea, from pines to palms. The route went through four small towns before getting to Piran. Venetian Gothic buildings date from the late 13th century when the Venetians held it for 500 years. Its tiny narrow streets with laundry hanging out windows were picturesque. Nearly a dozen small churches dotted the town. The big one is St. George (slaying the dragon). What's left of the town walls "protect" the enclave from invasion. The sea was deliciously cool. Never mind the "beach." It was piles of rocks or flat concrete slabs providing sunning space. Although not the sandy softness one would expect, sunbathers compensated with cushy air pads or headed directly into the water. Walking along the peninsula sides preceded a huff-and-puff climb about 500 feet to the citadel, which resulted in a great panorama. To recover, I sat with a glass of wine at a cafe favored by a cool breeze.