5: Koper // The Magic of Cranes
Seriously, cranes are awesome // © Madrugada Verde / shutterstock
Koper doesn’t get much love in Slovene seaside circles. When compared to the more picturesque towns on the coast it isn’t entirely difficult to understand why. It doesn’t have the beauty of Piran, the elegance of Izola, the mafia and gambling of Portorož. What it does have is size, a functioning port, and a vital strategic position in the hearts and minds (and geography) of Slovenia.
It also has cranes, massive cranes, and it was these insane pieces of engineering that I marvelled at with my morning coffee. The concrete beach was already filling up with sun-worshippers, a mass of people young and old but with very few in between. Some had already ventured into the water, splashing about as if it was their God-given right to do so. It was a sagging bellies and yelping voices sort of scene.
That in itself isn’t unusual, especially in functional seaside towns. What gave the scene itself an undeniable curiosity was the backdrop of cranes and shipping containers, a visual reminder of Koper’s true purpose. The hulking metal frames laboriously went about their business, completely disinterested by the fun and games of Koper’s swimmers. It all looked bizarrely dystopian, albeit a strangely joyful dystopia.
Is joyful dystopia possible? If not, it should be. Massive cargo ships dotted the distance out to sea, freighters carrying lord knows what to lord knows where as the giddily-neon swimsuits and conservatively pastel shorts dipped in and out of the water. I didn’t know what to pay more attention to, although it should have been an easy decision. The insanity of cranes trumps belly rolls, every time.
My lifting tackle family must shudder at this confession, but I have no idea how cranes are possible. They are like tunnels, examples of modern construction that, for want of a more tactful phrase, blow my mind. How do they balance? These seemingly simple constructions are lifting up tonnes and tonnes of stuff, yet they never seem to topple over. How? More to the point, how do you build a crane without a crane in the first place? What came first, the crane or the crane? I resolved to look into the matter as I sat staring at the things, becoming ever more keenly aware that it looked like I was staring at all the middle aged people in swimwear. The mechanics of a crane are infinitely more interesting than the bodies of strangers.
Cranes might strike me as being absolutely absurd, but the truth is they are gorgeous examples of the power of balance. The mast sticks into the sky, held in place by an insanely heavy pad. The gear and motor at the top allow it to rotate, and the jib (a wonderful word) does the lifting. The whole thing is an intricate web, a tremendous achievement of mathematics and physics, small forces coming together to lift much larger ones.
Balance. Not as easy to acquire as it is to type, I can assure you. It is absolutely vital to a healthy existence, yet so many of us spend such little time consciously looking for it. I’m a prime culprit. Always feeling somewhat lethargic, never adjusting my diet, sleeping schedule. Working too much or not enough. Finding the right balance of such things isn’t easy, but it is far more important than most of us realise.
I wasn’t exactly searching for balance as I gawped at the cranes by the sea in Koper. My understanding of cranes wasn’t improving, so I hit the streets again and sauntered around a criminally underrated town.
Koper’s buildings gave off a pastel vibe. The facades of its delectable buildings were faded by time, bright paint turned dull in the best way, a visual reminder of experience and age. Getting better with age, almost certainly, the architectural equivalent of a fine vintage.
The buildings looked old because, to be blunt, they were old. The names of the streets equally so. But that age didn’t drown the city in tired resignation, much the opposite; it allowed it to sparkle.
Heady words for Koper, I’m sure you are thinking, but then I had been awake since 04:41am. Slovenia’s fifth-largest city doesn’t top any beauty charts, focused as it is on its port, but it is important to remember that even the stereotypically ‘ugly’ Slovenian towns are more beautiful than you realise.
