I arrived in Ljubljana on Thursday night, after my train broke down in the middle of the Austrian alps and caused us to arrive four hours later than scheduled. Again I found myself at a foreign train station in an unknown city late at night, with all my luggage strapped to my back and no idea where I was going. But Ljubljana was nothing like other places I've been; even at 9:30 at night it was full of people, all of them young, riding bikes or roller blades, standing out on the sidewalk drinking beer, eating ice cream, and listening to music as though it was noon on a hot summer day. I felt like I was walking onto an extremely active and fun college campus. As I meandered through the well-lit, busy streets, I thought about what it would be like to arrive at Dartmouth on the coach at this time on a Wednesday night. Far from scary, it would be fun and happening, with students just getting out of Hop performances or leaving a late Food Court dinner, heading to the library or to Meetings, or maybe to a room party to pre-game Meetings. That's exactly what Ljubljana was like. If I wasn't so exhausted from traveling the whole day, I would have just sat down and had a drink and soaked it all up in one of the incredibly chic theme-bars lining Slovenska street, aptly adorned with names like "Buddha" or "Swank". It was about a three kilometer walk to my hostel, where, though I had booked a bed in a four-person dorm, I was the only one in there and had it all to myself. I think it's really saying something if you can arrive someplace (at the train station, no less, normally situated in neighborhoods that are the hotbed of seediness), and walk three kilometers late at night with a heavy backpack on, and still think you're in the coolest place ever.In the morning I got up early so I could spend my only day in Ljubljana exploring, and found it even more exciting in daylight. Full of baroque Austrian architecture, the city feels like some sort of extension of Northern Italy, with a beautiful crystal clear river running past rows of narrow, historic buildings, old stone bridges and block after block of sizzling sidewalk cafe or gelateria. There is nothing seedy or dangerous about Ljubljana in the least. The mains streets are packed with students and yuppies, window shopping at Zara, Gucci or H&M, and the narrow, Venetian-style side streets have even more to offer in the way of small, fashionable boutiques and traditional restaurants. I found out later while taking a boat tour of the city that the population is 270,000, with approximately 60,000 students from the University of Ljubljana. I guess that explains the exuberantly youthful feel of the town -- it's like the Boston of Eastern Europe.
Slovenia is steeped in fascinating history and culture, situated as it is in the crossroads between Northern Italy and Greece, Central Eastern Europe and the Mediterranean. It has been an important trade point for thousands of years, and has developed into a thriving, high-tech commercial center. With it's beautiful, mountainous landscape, nestled in the Eastern Alps, it is often referred to as the "Switzerland of the Balkans." But the people here don't like to be referenced in that way, or associated at all with the infamous volatility of the greater region. They prefer to think of themselves as the "Slovenia of Europe" -- which I think reflects particularly well on their sense of cheek and humor, but also their fierce independence. Certainly Slovenia feels much more like it's neighbors Italy or Austria than it does like less-developed countries I've visited, like Poland and Hungary. Sophisticated, bright, industrious and fun, the four most important pillars, I think, in a society, the people here are probably my second favorite in Europe (second because, afterall, what the Irish lack in sophistication they more than make up for in fun). This country truly is a hidden gem, one I am giddy to have discovered on my trip.At the end of my day in Ljubljana, I headed to the bus station to make the relatively quick journey up to Lake Bled. An hour's ride and I arrived, just before sunset, at this famous resort town where the wealthy and elite of Eastern Europe come to enjoy the mountain air and the renowned spas. I settled into my hostel, which was situated high up on the side of hill providing gorgeous views of the lake and the surrounding mountains, and went into the main part of town to try to find something to eat. I wasn't in the mood for something fancy or to have a long meal, I really just wanted a burger or something, so when I saw a big Guinness sign outside a cafe I walked right in. Unfortunately it was drinks-only at the faux Irish pub, so I kept walking, finding that most of the restaurants were closed because it's not quite tourist season (I'm about a week too early). Finally I found a little place with outdoor seating, and could see inside that there were some candles at the table, so I thought it seemed like the right place. The waiter was outside setting a table, and when he saw me he gave me a very friendly welcome and ushered me inside to sit down... where there was absolutely no one else. The restaurant was completely deserted. "Are you open?" I asked. "Oh yes, yes! We are open. Just no one is in Bled yet, so you will be all alone."
Awkward...
It was too late for me to bail and try to find a busier establishment, so I walked in and took a seat near the window. It's weird enough having to eat at restaurants by myself all the time, but being completely alone in the restaurant was unbearably uncomfortable. The waiter kept trying to make small talk with me, which just made me feel even more awkward about being there. And then it got worse. Craving something meaty, I ordered a sirloin steak, and sat anxiously awaiting my entree and sipping my glass of water. But when it arrived and the waiter set the plate in front of me, I suddenly realized what a mistake I had made. I ordered a steak. With only one functioning hand.
I looked at the plate, looked at my silverware, and then looked up imploringly at the waiter. He must have reached the same conclusion at about the same time, and said, "Um, would you like me to cut that up for you?"
I pursed my lips resignedly and nodded yes, and he came over next to me and spent two minutes cutting up my meat into little bite sized pieces like I was a five year old. I was mortified. Although at this point, I was feeling glad that no one else was in the restaurant to see it. Luckily the food was very good, and the service exceptionally quick, so I ate rapidly, paid my check and then rushed out so I would no longer be sitting conspicuously alone in the restaurant's window, eating tiny bites of steak.
Saturday was another beautiful, sunny day. I have gotten outrageously lucky with weather on my trip. Starting with Rome where it was gorgeous and warm, I then had atypically temperate, almost tropical weather in Ireland, (crap in Poland, but I try not to think about that), more sunshine for the whole week I was in Hungary, and a balmy, Slovenian spring. I really hope it continues. I feel that I can face almost anything as long as the weather and the food is good.
I took a tour of Bled Castle, then had lunch in town at a terrace cafe that is famous for being the original creator of Bled's renowned cream slice cake. And oh my goodness! It was so good! It brought to light some of my unresolved feelings about cream puffs, which I have long felt were a good idea in theory, but executed poorly. This cream slice cake was the optimal execution of the cream puff idea: thick custard cream, whipped cream, and a light pastry topping, all layered to create a perfect texture of deliciousness. Yum!
To make up for the indulgent lunch, after some super-cheap boutique shopping and as the day began to cool down in the late afternoon, I went for a run around Lake Bled, which is about six kilometers around and made for a perfect evening workout. Bled is the sort of place that is just begging you to become an amateur photographer: the picturesque little islet in the middle of the lake contains a quaint baroque church, famous for it's 99 steps leading to the entrance, up which grooms are traditionally required to carry their soon-to-be brides up to the wedding chapel in total silence. On the edge of the lake stands Bled Castle, perched precariously on a cliff and giving the obvious impression of keeping watch over the entire valley. At any angle and in any light, Bled is a paradise of images, and required me to prolong my run after making many stops to try to capture every stunning shot.
Sunday was my first Slovenian outdoor adventure day. I woke up early so I could go to Easter mass at Bled Cathedral near my hostel, and right afterwards I was picked up with a group to drive down to the Sava River for a full morning of white water rafting. I know what you're thinking: "White water rafting?! With a broken hand?!", but ah, you see, I had it all thought out. The trick with rafting, as with any similar group activity, is to try to get away with doing as little work as possible, while the others work hard and you can just relax and enjoy the ride. And with the broken hand, I had the perfect excuse to put in pretty much minimal effort, without getting extremely dirty looks from the hard-assed Italians in the front paddling their hearts out. It was great fun. The water was cold and I got soaking wet, but we went down some pretty exhilirating rapids and it was fantastic to be out on the water just taking in the amazing scenery and soaking up the hot sun.
The more I think about it, and the more places I go on this trip, the more I have come to realize how much I enjoy being outside doing things, rather than walking around seeing things, or sitting inside just talking about things. (NB: This is not to deny that my favorite past time is still lying in bed all day in the dark, but I am on vacation, afterall.) Again, I think that cities are fun, and many have unique and appealing aspects. But I grow quickly tired of sightseeing, and that's pretty much all there is to do in cities, unless you want to go out partying. Every city has a distinctive nightlife, so that can also be fun, but it's tiresome, and a beer here is like a beer everywhere (as with almost everything, though, Ireland is the obvious exception). I also become suffocated by the ubiquitous homelesness, honking horns, cigarette smoke and ugly green dumpsters, persistent in cities the world over. What I don't get tired of is being active, and I think that's why I love being in places like Chamonix, Dingle, Gyor or Lake Bled, where everyone is outside doing something all the time, and there are dozens of options of ways to stay occupied during your day. In my mind, cities are good for a day or two of seeing the major sights (if you must), and then the rest of the trip should be spent outside the city, in the sort of place where city dwellers spend their weekends, and the coolest people set up their homes. I'm not talking, like, the country, just smaller towns where you could easily walk from one end to the other, people have occupations like "gondolier" and "carriage driver", and every day there's something new and different to see. It just feels like much more of an adventure! I also think it's much more memorable. Of all the museums and cathedrals I have been to on this trip, I can really only remember a couple, not because they were great but because they were the most famous. I would imagine it's like that for almost everyone -- the buildings and historical sights just all run into each other after a while. But the memories that really stand out for me on this trip are bike riding around the Dingle Peninsula, ice skating at the Hotel de Ville, skiing in Chamonix, riding horses in the Hungarian country and rafting on the Sava River. The best experiences for me so far have been these kinds of activities, some great people I've met along the way, and, it must be said, some really incredibly meals. From now on, I'm focusing on making more memories like that, and having fewer pictures of churches and castles, which I will never remember ten years from now.On the rafting trip I met Nick, a really cool political consultant (I'll call him that for simplicity's sake, but it sounded mostly like he does what Timmy does, which is to say, not something I could describe in an epithet) from Denver who's studying for his Master's at LSE. After the rafting trip we decided to grab some lunch, and were instructed to go to the place known for having "Bled's best food." This place, called "Chilli's", turned out not to be serving traditional Slovenian food, or even Italian or Austrian food, but, in fact, Mexican food. We decided we were too hungry to care, sat down and ordered hot chicken fajitas and bad, watered down margaritas, and talked for three hours about environmental policy and religious influences in politics. It was really fun to be sitting and debating politics again, and I thought it was cool to meet someone with such similar interests.
In the late afternoon I had an appointment for a massage at the Park Hotel Bled, the very same spa that was oft frequented a hundred years ago by Archduke Franz Ferdinand on his vacations here in Bled (who would, of course, become much more famous later on for his spectacular causus belli death, just a couple hundred miles from here.) The hotel and spa were beautiful, elegant and, most importantly, cheap (only twenty euros for an hour-long massage, which I desperately needed after so much traveling around with the heavy backpack.)
On Monday morning I woke up early to get ready to go on an 8am
hiking trip through the Julian Alps. I was surprised to find, when the guide picked me up, that I was the only person signed up to go (how is it possible that their shoulder season is so quiet?), but it turned out to be a blast hiking up Stol Mountain with Joseph, my native Slovenian hiking partner. It was about three and a half hours to the top, where we found the most priceless views of the entire Sava River valley, Lake Bled, and the Bohinj Alps in the distance. Along the way we must have passed hundreds of other hikers, outdoors-y Slovenians enjoying the beautiful weather on their Easter Monday day off. It only confirmed for me that Slovenia is truly an outdoors paradise, and one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. (And, for the record, there are no land mines.)The rest of yesterday was a travel day, and when I say travel, I really mean the most grueling and exhausting kind of European backpacking there is. At 2:15 I left my hostel and walked to the bus station, where I caught the 2:30 bus out of Bled. I had to switch buses in Postojna, and arrived in Ljubljana at 3:45. Then I hopped on the 4:30 train to Zagreb, arriving at 7pm. I took another bus to the airport, checked in, and boarded my plane at 8:30. Then I flew to Dubrovnik, where I was met at the tiny airport by Stjepo, holding a cute little "Moira Sullivan" sign handwritten in green highlighter. We climbed into his little red Ford Escort and zoomed down the winding coastal highway 25km into Dubrovnik, where he showed me to my room in the hostel and I promptly fell straight to sleep. A mountain hike, three buses, a train, a plane, and a car ride rounded out the very full day.
And for the next two days I will be here in Dubrovnik, soaking up the sun on the Dalmatian coast in what's called the "Croatian Riviera." (Really, I think the word "Riviera" is getting a bit overused these days. It's like every city that has a coastline now wants to call themselves the something-or-other Riviera. From now on, I'm going to start referring to the Homer Spit as the "Alaskan Riviera.") But there's more beautiful weather, more great food, and more friendly people. So far so good!
