Less Than Sunny Disposition - A Storm In Trieste (Eastern Europe & Me #19)

Thinking back across my trips to Eastern Europe, I now realize there has been one experience largely missing. That experience is storms. You know the ones with dark clouds rolling over a large body of water, body sized bolts of lightning dancing in the near distance, and a barrage of thunder that sounds like the heavens are splitting. The kind of storms that feel you with fear and remind you of nature’s infinite power. Those storms where you watch the rainfall coming across the face of the water. Where you cannot bring yourself to look away from the unfolding disaster. Terrifying to the point of traumatic, these are the kind of storms that I hope to survive and never will forget.

Calming Influence – The Delicate Sound of Thunder

Is there anything better than an ominous cloud burst accompanied by howling winds? In a matter of minutes, a placid body of water is transformed into a foaming rage. Alas, this experience in Eastern Europe was mostly elusive for me. I was too busy searching for shade to avoid the razor-sharp sunlight beating down on baked shoreline. With only a single exception, the time I spent beside large bodies of water was beneath cloudless blue skies and brutal heat. I understand that for most travelers this sounds like the realization of a dream. Who does not want to experience a holiday at the seaside basking in the sunlight? I am one of the few who would rather avoid this experience.

It was my luck to get the kind of weather that sends me running for relief in the nearest air-conditioned building. The beaming rays of sunlight were a source of constant irritation Being of Scottish ancestry, with fair skin and red hair, I try to avoid exposure to direct sunlight. This was all but impossible. The burning, white light that beat down upon me was draining. Seeing legions of beautiful people sunbathing half naked in the sea did nothing to lighten my mood. I equate sunshine at the seaside with suffering. While I agree that blue skies, warmth and radiant light is preferable for a positive outlook on life, a brooding seascape can unleash creative instincts that would otherwise lay dormant within me. Moodiness and melancholy are often associated with cloud cover. Add the spark of a storm and the adventure begins.

There is nothing quite so dramatic as stormy skies and the anticipation of a cloudburst getting ready to break upon you. When I was a child, I spent summers with my grandparents in the Piedmont region of North Carolina. Thunderstorms were a common afternoon occurrence. For my grandfather, these were something to avoid. He had been struck by lightning many decades earlier. Anytime he heard a hint of thunder or saw a flash of lightning on the horizon, he immediately made his way to the house. My grandmother had a very different reaction. As we sat through storms, she would become preternaturally calm. It was as though she were meditating with her eyes open. One time when I mentioned my fear during a storm, she displayed an astonishing tranquility. In a measured voice she said, “A storm makes me feel closer to God.” Anytime I hear the delicate sound of thunder, I remember her words.

The Looming Storm - Taking On Trieste

Alas, I did not hear any thunder, dodge a single bolt of lightning or run for cover from wind swept sheets of rain on all but one of my visits to the shores of the Aegean, Adriatic and Baltic Seas, the Sea of Marmara and Lake Balaton. I can still recall walking on the seaside promenade in Thessaloniki feeling like I was being burnt to a crisp by the silver flashes of sunshine reflecting off the Aegean. The coast of Croatia was beautiful beyond imagination until I realized that the medieval towns constructed from limestone radiated a white heat that threatened to melt me. When visiting the Baltic in late September along the Latvian coastline I should have been met with a chilly reception. Instead, the sun beat down upon me with the usual intensity. The Sea of Marmara at Istanbul was not much better even in December. As for Lake Balaton, all I got was blue skies and record heat. I sweated so much that I looked as though I had bathed in Balaton’s mesmerizing blue waters. When I think back to those days at or close to the seaside, all I can remember is one sunny day after another to the point that they all seem the same.

There was one notable exception though. An experience so singular and unique that the memory of it is still vivid a decade after it occurred. I was visiting Trieste in northwestern Italy, a city that is more Mitteleuropa than Italian. Before arriving there, I spent a week sweating it out along the Croatian coast. The weather in Trieste was in a very different mood from what I had found further to the south. The Adriatic looked uninviting and dangerous. There was no beach except for some pebble strewn shoreline beyond the city. Trieste was not what at all I expected, architecturally, aesthetically or culturally. The Austro-Hungarian Empire had come down from the mountains to touch the sea. My first experience of Italy was to be stormy in the extreme. The accommodation was awful, the restaurants refused to open until the evening, and after a couple of days I could hardly wait to leave.

Coming Ashore - Naturally Dramatic  

Trieste would not let me go without a more impressive memory. This came during my last afternoon in the city when the vicious Brora wind began to blow. A guide leading the city tour I was on spoke of the Brora as though it were part of the city. I knew what he meant. The wind was ferocious, threatening to tear the city apart and take me right along with it. This was only a precursor for a gathering storm. I took leave of the tour and rather than run for cover, foolishly made my way to an upper part of the city to snap some photos. Looking back down upon the lower part of Trieste, I saw an incoming storm surging across the Adriatic. A thick mist began to envelop the city. The Adriatic turned gray and menacing. Bands of rain driven by the fierce Brora blew ashore. The scene that unfolded before me was naturally dramatic. The fearsome energy of the storm lashed Trieste. The storm broke upon the city with a tempestuous ferocity. This was the only storm I ever witnessed by the seaside in Eastern Europe. It was everything I wanted it to be. And I even managed to survive the experience.