Christmas on the Istrian coast, out of season and the better for it

The Istrian peninsula, a heart-shaped wedge of land at the top of the Adriatic, has been fought over and shared out for most of its history. It has belonged to Rome, to Venice, to the Habsburgs, to Italy and to Yugoslavia, and it is now divided between Croatia and Slovenia, with a sliver of Italy at its northern edge. Every one of those rulers left something behind, which makes it a rich place to wander. In summer the wandering is done in heat and crowds. In December it is done in the quiet, with mild days, cold evenings and the towns to yourself.

The honest note is that out of season means just that. Some hotels, restaurants and beach bars close for the winter, the sea is far too cold for swimming, and the bora, a cold, gusty north-easterly wind, can blow hard down the coast for a day or two. But the towns are lived in, the Advent lights are up, and the coffee is just as good.

Opatija, the Habsburg riviera

Opatija, on the eastern edge of the peninsula, looking over the Kvarner Gulf, was a fishing village until the second half of the nineteenth century. Then the railway arrived and the Habsburg aristocracy discovered its mild winters. It became one of the fashionable winter resorts of the Austro-Hungarian empire, and it still looks the part. There are grand villas and hotels in pastel colours, parks of palms and laurels, and a long seafront promenade, the Lungomare, running along the rocky shore through neighbouring villages.

Its whole reason for being was the winter season, so in a sense December shows it as it was meant to be seen. A walk along the Lungomare on a clear winter morning, with the snow-capped peak of Učka above the town, is a good reminder of why the Viennese came.

Pula and Rovinj

Pula, at the southern tip of Istria, has one of the largest and best-preserved Roman amphitheatres anywhere, built in the first century AD. Its outer wall survives almost complete, an oval of pale limestone arches rising above the modern harbour. In summer it is busy with visitors and concerts. In winter it is possible to walk round it in near silence.

Rovinj, on the west coast, is the prettiest town in Istria and the most crowded in season. Its old town was originally an island, joined to the mainland in the eighteenth century. The houses crowd up a hill to the church of St Euphemia, whose tall bell tower, modelled on that of St Mark's in Venice, is a reminder of five centuries of Venetian rule. Out of season, the steep stone lanes and the little harbour are the town's own again.

Winter is also a good season for Istrian food. The peninsula's inland forests, particularly around the hill town of Motovun, are known for truffles, and the white truffle season runs through the autumn into early winter. The year's olive oil is newly pressed in late autumn, green and peppery. Istrian cooking leans towards Italy, with fresh pasta, risotto and seafood on the coast, and heartier dishes inland, such as maneštra, a thick bean and vegetable soup suited to a cold evening. The local white wine, Malvazija, is a good companion to all of it.

Postojna, and the Slovenian side

Just You's Christmas in Croatia, four nights, is for solo travellers. It takes in Opatija, Pula and Rovinj. Across the border in Slovenia, it also visits Postojna, one of the largest show caves in Europe. Visitors go in by a small underground train before walking through halls of stalactites and stalagmites. The cave is the home of the olm, a blind, pale salamander that lives its whole long life in the dark, and the temperature underground stays much the same all year, so it is no colder in December than in August.

For another season, Travelsphere's Scenic Slovenia and Lake Bled, seven nights, explores the rest of that small country: Ljubljana, Lake Bled with its island church, the Julian Alps, Kranjska Gora, the emerald Soča River and the Trenta valley, Bovec, the Predil Pass and the Vintgar Gorge.

A Christmas in Istria will not be the snowy, market-filled kind. It is a quieter, milder thing: a walk by the sea, a Roman arena in the winter sun, a bowl of soup in a harbour restaurant, and the whole coast at its own pace.