There are a multitude of reasons why Trieste ranks high on my list of European cities to visit.
The Adriatic and all it yields.
The city’s ancient historical treasures.
The gorgeous statue-featured piazzas.
The splendid mix of neo-classical, eclectic, and art nouveau architecture that give the city its grandeur.
THE ART
The gastronomical delicacies!
The city's night mood.
Easy day trips to the historical towns of Pula Croatia, and Piran Slovenia.
A drive to the nearby mountains of Slovenia and a visit to its unique, medieval pirate’s castle built into a cave.
Trieste’s citizens.
And the highlight of my winter visit...
CARNIVAL!
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On one of my many walks to Trieste's center I began to notice children of all ages gathered around the fountain in the Piazza Unita d’Italia cavorting about in their animal costumes, their darling faces appearing through a mound of fur, whiskers drawn above their little mouths, the tips of their noses painted with a bright red circle. Even babies in strollers were in costume, their mothers often dressed to match. It was a sight to behold, and I was the lucky spectator, but for the moment I was unaware of the significance of the costumes. 
One morning during a visit to the neighboring village of Muggia, I discovered that it was the beginning of Carnival in Italy; a time to put on your most outrageous costume
and hide your real identity behind a mask. I had always wanted to witness the spectacle of Carnival in Rio, but to have it served up Italian style was an unexpected surprise. And what I was about to experience was an artistic extravaganza that would last for five days and nights in the squares of Muggia and Trieste.
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The fishing village of Muggia with its Venetian style old town is only a twenty minute drive from Trieste; forty minutes if you take bus #20 from the central station. I took the bus that afternoon, now quite experienced at validating my ticket in the machine that clicked its approval as it took another little bite out of the edge. During the ride I enjoyed looking out the window to witness life going on at the edge of the city.
As I walked out of Muggia’s bus station I saw that the streets were crowded with vendors. It was an outdoor market day, and since it was on the way to the old town and I had nothing but time, I moved casually along the aisles of assorted clothing and wares arranged in neat piles, the clothing on hangers overhead waving in the breeze. If I showed the slightest interest I was immediately approached by a Chinese vendor pitching me in Italian and hoping to earn a few of my Euros. Farther down, the less insistent Italians, more preoccupied with conversing amongst themselves with their characteristic hand waving, were selling their produce and homemade jams. Once I passed the stalls I walked through the old stone archway into the ancient town of Muggia where I found myself taking a giant step back in time. I proceeded along the sun-deprived lanes to a square with a lovely white church, continuing down a narrow walkway passed a colorful vegetable stand,
and crossed the road at the end of a harbor where some fishermen, back from their morning at sea, were busy removing the leftover pieces of fish bait from their nets.
It was so picturesque there with the small outboard boats huddled together at the end of a canal, the sun-lit tower of the medieval castle on the hill and the rows of brightly painted buildings reflected in the calm water, while seagulls squawked and circled overhead intent on capturing tthe stray pieces of fish that got tossed into the water, the smell of fresh fish and the ocean all around me. It was difficult to leave and I wanted to plant myself on one of the many benches that sat along the wharf. But I tore myself away, for the back streets of the old Venetian town waited to be discovered by this curious explorer.
I began my tour taking a long set of stone stairs that led up to the castle. At the top I stopped to take in the beautiful views; one of the harbor with its tall mast sailboats that stood out against the blue waters of the Adriatic;
the other of the red tiled rooftops where the church clock tower shot through and chimed out the hour, I
It was particularly fascinating for me wandering through the maze of walkways in the shadow of the old multi-story buildings, wondering if Giovanna might have come here… perhaps to visit a friend, or maybe even a relative. Everywhere was quiet with only an occasional pedestrian passing by, the smell of Italian food drifting down the corridors. I found myself going back in time and visualizing the Venetian citizens leaning out of their windows to talk to a neighbor, their voices echoing down the corridor, their conversations easily heard by all those around them. Every walkway had a familiar feel, owing in part to its similarity to Venice, the birthplace and home of my grandparents until they immigrated to America in the early nineteen hundreds. John and I had spent two days walking the streets of Venice a year or so prior, and with the help of our GPS had found the street near the Grand Canal my grandfather had listed on an old passport as an “address in Venice.”
After talking with various people I learned that in centuries passed the Republic of Venic controlled the regions along the Adriatic as far south as Zadar, Croatia. The similarity to Venice could readily be seen in the layout of Muggia’s narrow streets and in its copycat architecture. I viewed it as a small and much quieter version of Venice, built on solid ground instead of timbers imbedded in the sea like its counterpart.
Not only was it a wonderful place to pass away an afternoon, it was also helping me to have a better understanding as to why I felt such a magnetic pull to Croatia’s Adriatic, and coastal Slovenia’s old Venetian town of Piran (another of Trieste’s neighbors.) During a visit to Piran some seven years earlier, and again on the most recent visit, I had a strange and inexplicable emotional experience as I stood on the platform in Piazza 1 Maggio (first of May) and began to cry uncontrollably. Why?
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Later that afternoon and on into the evening families in costume came to celebrate the opening day of carnival.
The once empty and quiet square that had sounded only with church bells now rang with the laughter of children and lively music, and it rained with the confetti everyone was tossing into the air.
They were so adorable, those little lions and leopards and cows and bears and bees and bunnies and fairies, running, acting out their parts, squealing their delight, dragging their tails behind them. It was a collection of beautiful little faces filled with wonder and I was darting about the crowd hoping to capture their expressions with the camera. But attempting to photograph a child in motion is like photographing a fast moving train!
That was my first experience with what carnival had to offer. There were still four days to go! Stay tuned for the finale.
Bus #20 from 
