Trieste is at the end of Italy, where the Adriatic ends and the Karst plateau begins, and it has a faintly melancholy beauty that comes from having once been something bigger. Under the Habsburgs it was the empire's main seaport, and the grand Piazza Unità d'Italia, open to the sea on one side, is the largest sea-facing square in Europe. The city had writers, too: James Joyce taught English here, Italo Svevo wrote about its middle class, and Rilke wrote part of the Duino Elegies at the nearby castle. Trieste is also a coffee capital, with Illy based here, and its cafes have their own vocabulary for the different ways of serving it.
The wind has a name, the bora, a cold, violent gust from the north-east that can top a hundred and fifty kilometres an hour, and in the old town ropes are strung along the streets to help pedestrians. For a motorbike, the bora is a serious hazard, particularly on the coast road and the viaducts on the Karst, so check the forecast. On calm days, the light on the gulf is sweet, and the white castle of Miramar stands on a rock above the water.
Above the city, the Karst plateau is a different country, with stone walls, sumac that turns scarlet in autumn, and small villages. The old tram that climbs to Villa Opicina, a rack-and-adhesion line, is a curiosity. In the villages, farmers occasionally hang a leafy branch, the frasca, to announce that they are selling their own wine and ham, a tradition known as osmiza. The road continues into Slovenia, to Ig, near Ljubljana, where the long day ends at a prehistoric pile-dwelling site in the marshes, part of a UNESCO listing. Note that Slovenia requires a vignette for motorways, which you can buy online or at the border.
Fuel is easy in Trieste and on the approach roads, and prices may be lower across the border. Eat a plate of jota, a bean and sauerkraut soup, and seafood from the gulf, with a glass of Terrano or Vitovska. Carry your passport, and leave the bike in a secure place in the city.