Strolling in Piran

The town of Piran on the Slovenian coast, next to the borders with Croatia, is legendary for its beauty. Crammed on a small cape, it is often regarded as the “little Venice of the Istrian peninsula” (without the canals or the hordes of tourists) and emanates an ambience of bygone times that leaves no soul untouched. Its rich cultural heritage, excellent culinary delights, and numerous artistic events have turned Piran over the past couple of decades into a beloved destination for travellers, though the locals, disheartened by the limited (and expensive) parking options and the tourist-focused promotion, seem to avoid it. Similarly suspicious of such a commercial hype, I initially I thought that strolling quickly through a few central alleys would be enough; in the end, though, I got so enchanted by the grace of Piran that I wished I could have stayed there longer, for the town is cordial, sophisticated, and utterly welcoming.

The cape was inhabited since antiquity, but the initial settlements grew substantially from the Roman era onwards (that is, from the 2^nd c BC). According to the most prevailing theories, the town’s name originates from the Greek word “pyrrhos” or “pyrrha” (most probably from the Byzantine era, 7^th century), and refers either to the reddish hue of the flysch stones that are typical of the region (and of which most buildings are constructed) or to the fire of the lighthouse at the tip of the peninsula. Given its strategic location, Piran was conquered by the Romans, the Byzantines, the Franks, the Venetians (their dominion lasted for almost half a millennium), the Austrians, and the French (during the Napoleon times). In the 20th century, it initially belonged to the Free Territory of Trieste, was later annexed to socialist Yugoslavia, and finally became, in 1991, part of the independent State of Slovenia.

One inevitably begins Piran’s exploration at the Tartini Square, which stretches next to the port and represents the administrative heart of the town. It is named after the famous violin virtuoso and composer, Giuseppe Tartini (1692-1770), who was born in Piran during the Venetian era. At the centre of the square, there is Tartini’s monument: a larger-than-life, bronze statue of the musician, hoisted on a pedestal at the end of the 19^th century to celebrate the 200^th anniversary of his birth. Tartini’s birth house still adorns the square, along with the Town Hall, the Court Palace, and the so-called Venetian Building – an edifice of beautiful architecture and an even more alluring story.

 

Walking through the maze-like, cobbled alleys, one reaches the top of the hill where the Cathedral of St George, the bell tower – Piran’s trademark – and the Baptistry stand next to each other, protecting the town and overlooking three countries: Croatia (on the east), Slovenia, and Italy (on the west).

 

The church, dedicated to St. George (the patron of Piran who, apparently, once upon a time, saved the town from a violent storm), dates to the 14^th century while its Baroque style was added during the 17^th-century renovations. Although access to the church’s interior was not allowed during my visit, I managed to peek through the door, checking the seven altars, the statues of St George and St Nicholas, the painted, wooden ceiling, and the Venetian-school paintings on the walls. Still, I was much more interested in the excavation taking place outside the church, unearthing remnants of the town’s Roman era, though what exactly was being revealed remains a mystery to me.

 

The Baptistry of St John the Baptist, on the other side of the bell tower, is an octagonal edifice and represents the latest addition to the church’s complex (mid-17^th century). However, it boasts a Roman gravestone dating to the 1^st c AD, which was reshaped into a baptism font and still bears the relief of a winged boy riding a dolphin (an ancient symbol of transition into the afterlife).

 

The bell tower, though, is the most fascinating element of the complex, not only because, being a smaller-scale copy of the Venetian San Marco Campanile, it represents the emblem of Piran, but also because it offers some of the most spectacular, panoramic views of the town. It was built at the beginning of the 17^th century and 150 years later was topped with the metallic figure of Archangel Michael who eternally blesses the city while indicating the direction of the wind. The old bell dates to 1477 and still rings every hour, while the newer ones are a recent gift from Berlin and perform the rest of the chiming scheme. The staircase is decorated with carved, angel-shaped designs and, most surprisingly of all, the names of the angels written in Greek as well!

 

The medieval walls that still embrace the old neighbourhoods offer the second-best spot from which one can admire Piran from above. Unlike Koper or Izola – the other major towns on the Slovenian coast – which, being islands, were protected by their geography, Piran had to be secured with a series of fortifications. The first walls date to the 7^th century (Byzantine era) and were around the oldest district, close to the tip of the peninsula, but, as the town expanded over the years, new walls had to be erected, the latest and most discernable ones dating to the 15^th century, constructed to intercept the Ottoman invasion.

 

The Cape Madona (the tip of the peninsula) is the next, evident stop while on an exploratory tour of Piran. The lighthouse is based on parts of the old fortifications, while the little church in front, originally dedicated to St Clement (the patron saint of the sailors), was re-dedicated to Our Lady of Health, after a plague epidemic in the 17^th century. The rest of the corniche is dotted with benches, fish taverns, and posters of old photos recounting stories that turn the medieval town into a more familiar place for the ignorant passerby.

 

Although the numerous restaurants overlooking the port seemed like an obvious choice for a snack, we chose the less touristic Old Square (or, 1^st May Square) at the centre of the Punta quarter (the oldest district of the town), where, according to the locals, the authentic heart of Piran beats day and night. I thought that the square’s elevated platform was a Roman cistern, but, apparently, it is a stone rainwater collector, constructed in 1775, after a severe drought. The gutters of the surrounding houses were connected to the reservoir where the water was collected, getting cleansed on the way as it seeped through the stone, and redirected later towards the fountain to be pumped up with a manual pump. The square is still guarded by two statues representing Law and Justice and hosts several tables from the nearby cafes and restaurants. We sat there to lunch on some delicious fried calamari and girice (tiny fish, similar to the smelt), enjoying the medieval ambience, and the authentic taste of the town. On the negative side, we were threatened by the pigeons that were flying at a menacing distance, and were shocked by the unexpectedly high price of the bottled water. Still, the neighbourhood is highly recommended, as it bears the patina of old times with a romantic tenderness that deletes any unpleasant surprises.

 

There was much more to experience in Piran – medieval churches, museums, art, and music – but we had to move on. Till the next time, then!

 

Photo credits: © Konstantina Sakellariou.

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