Ljubljana
Trip Start
Sep 02, 2005
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3
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Trip End
Dec 10, 2005
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Ljubljana,
Slovenia
Wednesday, September 7, 2005
'I'm plugging in now' is what Brad or I will say soon after boarding a train or bus on this trip, as we turn on our discmen. So much good thinking time happens in transit - it's an unspoken rule that this time is to read, write or collect thoughts - what a luxury.
And what a view! Ten minutes out of Salzburg and the things I'm seeing out my smudgy window belong to fairytales - brooding pine forests climbing to white alpine peaks and a clear blue stream dips and flows along by to the train tracks. And castles to complete the fantasy.
An older man in a safari hat motions at the door of our compartment to see if he can come in and also smoke. We nod reluctantly in anticipation of a smoke filled carriage. The instinct is to keep plugged in and keep dreaming. And then he is speaking and motioning enthusiastically at me and I pull the earphones out with an inward sigh. As I concentrate on decoding his movements I have a moment of clarity revealing the bleeding obvious. This is why I came isn't it? Not just to visit museums and cultural sites, take photos of buildings and eat new foods.
When we come off the train in Slovenia's capital Ljubljana we wave goodbye to our new train buddy who we have learnt is Bosnian, travelling from Innsbruk, where he has family, to his home in Belgrade. We have discussed war (passed) in the former Yugoslavia, the current state of things in Croatia and Slovenia, the natural beauty of Austria, along with more domestic issues such as the location of the toilet and the currency exchange office.
01. Julian Alps
And all this in hand gestures, through facial expressions and with the benefit of a few mutually recognisable words.And this was a fitting way for us to enter Slovenia, Melanie and Brad 'unplugged' and more receptive to local frequencies.
Ljubljana - observed from the castle on a hill at the city centre you have at the core faded baroque beauty and then as the city spreads, the sprawling muted tones of suburbia and industrial sites sprinkled liberally.
The old town is pretty and walkable, filled with nannas on group tours. The buildings are greens and yellows and pinks and whites and paint peels (fashionably) from the facades and young and old sit along the river sipping strong coffee from small cups.
We get stuck into the gelato and Brad sighs as I head for the market stalls, selling all kinds of bric a brac and jewelry, the kind of markets you find in every city in Europe. I'm always on the lookout for treasure. Lots of war relics too. Yugoslavian flags, gas masks and army fatigues, a kind of side project to war tourism ...
We stay in a hostel in the Metelkova district, which was once a prison. Now it is painted in flourescent pinks and oranges and the cells have been converted into rooms. Each room has an 'author' and all are unique. Our cell, with metal bars intact has a round bed, raised up of the floor and you reach it by a ladder. Poetry is scrawled on one wall and on the other wall three naked figures linger disinterestedly.
We eat at a local restaurant that night recommended for its traditional Slovenian cuisine. I request the stag steak. Our waiter, in full oldy worldy costume, refuses to take my order,
'Stag steak is much too heavy for the ladies, you will have deer medallions'.
Brad has a meal fit for ... a man - the country feast - blood sausage, smoked pork, veal, more sausage, lamb and some sausage on the side. And buckwheat mush.
A few days later we head north-west for Lake Bled in the Julian Alps.
