CROATIA

Rovinj is one of those places that rewards early risers. At dawn, with the sleepless, the jetlagged and the morning-shift waiters, I love to wander to the Ribarnica Pescheria, the fish market by the city’s harbour, and watch grizzled fishermen discuss business over a caffè corretto (“corrected” with eye-watering local grappa) at Taverna da Baston, the kind of dimly lit old-timers’ bar that feels smoky even though no one smokes inside any more. In the square outside, skinny cats are beginning their shifts, too, prowling between trestle tables, ingratiating themselves with stallholders, who gossip as they stack wild asparagus and plums, onions and bouquets of herbs around old-fashioned brass scales.

Sometimes I’ll take a steep path to the peak of the Stari Grad, the medieval-era Old Town, where I’ll usually find an acolyte sweeping the steps of the grand St Euphemia church in the early morning, or lighting a candle near the slightly creepy sarcophagus of Euphemia herself, the patron saint of Rovinj. In the marina far below, where it seems every Rovinj resident worth their salt keeps a boat, I’ll watch overall-clad sailors untangling nets or scrubbing decks. By the time the sun has fully risen, setting the deep green Adriatic aglow and burnishing Rovinj’s old stone buildings, I always feel as though I’ve taken part in an elaborate establishing shot for a movie.