North American Chums

Lil and B are not Americans. They were, back when they first met at Woodstock in 1969, B using the awesome chat up line of "have you got any uppers?" However, a few years later they were Canadians, and now they're in Italy for a month and may even meet up with some distant relatives they didn't know they had down in Sicily. But yes, distinctly Canadian and keen to make the distinction, as had Thor, Monica and Matt back in Bremen. But regardless of their distinct North American identity, B and Lil are a lovely, chatty couple and we were very pleased our tiny table in the tiny Venetian Pleasure Cafe ("good things come in little packages") was pressed up next to their tiny table.

We had been equally pleased when we bumped into the International Student Brigade again on the shores of Lake Bled, having first met them up the top of the Ljubljana Castle the day before. Two of the Americans in their midst, Noah and Keith, promptly gave us their email addresses and told us to drop them a line if we fancied a trip to Trieste. Which we did, so a few days later we met up with both of them in Trieste's stunning Piazza Dell'Unita and were treated to a guided tour of the city plus a blagged pizza in the University Cafeteria.

Both Northern boys from up near the Canadian border (Keith from Montana, Noah from Vermont) they were full of enthusiasm for their new situation and stunned to find out how popular Americans are in Italy. (This may have had something to do with the fact that Trieste only remained Italian after World War Two thanks to the presence of Allied forces, otherwise the city - previously Venetian, then Hapsburg - might have been absorbed into Yugoslavia along with the rest of Istria.) We had a great evening hanging out with them and, depending on their travel plans, may very well end up seeing them again.

Becalmed at Lake Bled

How recent history repeats itself! Six months ago, the day after our wedding, Theo and I were both afflicted with various maladies, namely a stomach bug (in both our cases) and severe laryngitis in mine (which had robbed me of my voice for my wedding day). Today, half a year on, we have postponed our planned return to Italy because we've both been struck down by a chest infection. Well, struck down is maybe a little overdramatic. We don't feel too bad, but our lungs are rather tight and tickly and our voices have taken a husky dive into our boots. You would have thought with all this fresh mountain air and our reasonably healthy lifestyle would see us in the pink, but no. Still, you can't argue with Lake Bled as a stunning place to convalesce. The nights have a distinct autumnal nip in the air, but the sky is blue and it feels very warm in the Slovenian sunshine. Even the snowy caps on the alps overlooking the lake have quite melted away. We are now doing what invalids are supposed to - eating grapes, lazing around and reading books - while taking advantage of the pause in our journey to do a bit of laundry.

So I thought I would mention one of the other attractions of Slovenia aside from its stunning scenery. The Slovenians themselves.

The fact that they are multilingual, with just about everyone able to manage a bit of English, German and Italian as well as their own language, makes life much easier for the visitor. But time and time again we have also seen how friendly, helpful and kind they are - as well as having a sense of humour we can easily understand.

When we shopped at the large outdoor market in Ljubljana, one stallholder threw a few extra onions and small bulb of garlic into our bag after we had paid, another gave us each a generous slice of cake on the completion of our transaction. In Italy you get that sort of thing all the time if you happen to have a small child in tow, but this was just us.

You never get the impression that tourists are a necessary evil to be simultaneously endured and ripped off, as we have found in some other places. Here, the attitude is welcoming and patient. Letting visitors endlessly ring the bell in the church on the island in Lake Bled would surely drive most people crackers quite quickly, but here they encourage you to have a go. Mind you, it makes life confusing if you happen to be wondering what the time is.

Which leaves me wondering why my bank views Slovenia with suspicion and won't let me access my bank account online from here. Of all the Balkan countries, it's easily the most up-to-date and efficiently run.

Still, what do they know?

Luvverly Ljubljana

If Bratislava was unprepared to become a capital city what of Ljubljana, the tiny, bijou capital of Slovenia? Ancient Emona (as was) founded, as legend has it, by Jason of the Argonauts - a case of bad navigation as they were trying to get back to Greece but mistook the Danube delta for the Dardenelles - was for years under the sway of either Venice, Vienna or, until 1992, Belgrade. It's a bit like Cornwall declaring its independence and Truro taking on capital city status.

However, of all the former communist cities we've visited, the Slovene capital seems to have suffered least from the usual contagion of concrete blocks. Or at least that's how it seemed to us as we admired the panorama from the top of the Castle's tower (like the city, the castle is tiny and understated but very pretty and well situated).
Instead the city makes the most of what both nature - in the form of the ring of snow capped mountains and forested hills surrounding the Sava River plain that it sits on - and previous rulers have bestowed upon it - quaint bridges, colonnades, art deco houses and market squares. It doesn't bowl you over, just gently seduces.

Ljubljana also has quite an alternative streak to it and we got a little taster of this. We had picked up a flyer in, of all places, the tourist information office, for a Tribal Infusion night, promising belly dancing, body paint, turbo folk, live music and DJs. Sounded fun (and it was free) so we headed along about 11ish (it went on til 6am!) to find that the venue was situated in some kind of artists' collective in a half derelict factory. If you are from Bristol, think The Black Swan meets The Cube. Donations on the door, dreadlocks everywhere, lasers, smoke... all that was missing was a few dogs on strings and we could have been back at the Rocket Festival. It was ace. We drank, danced and tried to take half-decent photos before finally calling it a night at 3am.

We love Ljubljana. Even if only Kate can say it properly.