Day 23: Ljubljana

Highlights:

• Slovene Laundromat
• Roasted chestnuts
• Slovene Dan and Robert. Rob. Bob. M*****F*****
• Canadian Carly, American Brianna and Aussie Claire

On waking, I went to a little coffee shop just along Krakovski nasip near the river, called Cafe Zep (I assumed there was some sort of cosmic influence at work after my Led Zep cinema experience, so I went in). I'm not sure what the cosmic message was, as I think I walked in on an argument between the leather jacket-wearing waiter and his boss. It started with the boss telling him how to wash up, and from that point it all got a bit uncomfortable. The guy slammed the equipment around and was in no mood for my cheeky smiles. I've apparently got no ability to charm Slovenes. It didn't work with the Pizzeria waiter that evening either. It was a nice enough Cafe but I'd recommend a little questioning on employee/management relations before going to Cafe Zep.

I downed my coffee, left my money on the table and raced out. The waiter looked like he wanted to punch someone. I went back to the restaurant next to the hostel to have breakfast and plan my next steps. I had four nights remaining, and then I had to somehow get to Paris. You've seen a map though; Europe is huge. Every route seemed like I was missing out on something even greater. I ordered some yoghurt and black tea (I've got really used to drinking it without milk here) from the waiter. He was a tall, smooth talking, mysterious character. Not necessarily good looking, but he had a powerful and scary aura. I imagine he was an Italian assassin, but had been forced to lay low in Ljubljana after one of his kills gained too high a media profile. Probably.

I spent the early afternoon doing chores (it was overcast, so no assistance from squirrels and deer). I won't bore you with the details of the Slovene laundromat (4euros all in. Regulation washer/dryer). I'll fill the time with a few facts about Slovenia:

• After being controlled by Austria until 1918, Slovene control was split after WW1 between Austria, Italy and then Yugoslavia. The Slovenes generally resisted the Nazis (hurrah!). It became independent in '91 after a 10day war

• Population is around 2million, with 83% being ethnic Slovenes. 58% Roman Catholic

• Slovenia's most beloved writer is the poet France Preseren. It seems a lot of Ljubljana is named after him

• Siddharta are the most popular local rock group

I wandered back to the hostel through the market streets, stopping off for some roasted chestnuts. They're everywhere here, and about €2. Delicious. It brought back memories of picking loads in Norsey Wood, only to find many of them uneatable after they'd been roasted. The taste of slight victory amidst a tray of bitter disappointment. The Americans had never had them before, and suddenly the christmas lyric 'chestnuts roasting on the fire' all made sense.

At the hostel I spent the rest of the afternoon with the American girls, Carly and Brianna and a young Aussie called Claire. Carly was 5ft 11, had Dutch heritage and was blonde with blue eyes. Proper Heidi of the mountains. She was actually Canadian, and her Dutch grandparents still lived there after her immediate family moved to Boise (I think that's where they're from) in the US. Her and Brianna spent most of the afternoon planning my trip (which didn't actually end up working due to train times). They suggested the Cinque Terre in Italy, and the photos they showed me were amazing. They both got so excited by the idea of me going there, and lent me their iPad, train timetable and travelguide so I could make all the arrangements. Probably the two most helpful people I've met on the trip. I reciprocated with some Berlin advice, which mainly consisted of FRITZ KOLA.

I went for dinner in the Pizzeria from the first night. Midway through, two 30something drunk Slovenes were sat next to me. As I tried to anti-socially concentrate on my book, I heard a Kid Rock style voice singing "he wears a sweet bandana, he wears a sweet bandana. And a honkytonk down in Mexico". A bit of slovene slurring and then "Cause children walk hand in hand, no matter what colour." I'd never heard these songs. I glanced over at them. ERROR. I was spotted. The singer reverted to English on my blank look at his introduction. His name was Dan and he'd been in London two weeks ago (he told me this twice) to help a Finnish guy move to Slovenia. He loved London because, being cool like him, you could meet a lot of people. He offered a greasy, melted cheese-covered hand for me to shake. I declined as politely as I could, indicating the string of cheese hanging down from his third finger. He still looked offended. His friend introduced himself to me as "Robert. Rob. Bob. Motherfucker". Dan told me my name in Slovene meant 'never' and that if he had more time he'd tell me I was lovely. I took that as my cue to leave.

I'd been planning on going to a few bars with Aussie Claire though discovered she didn't want to leave until 12pm. She'd got significantly more excitable/annoying since I'd agreed to go out with her, so I used my unexpected early start as a get out. Pheuf.

So, Claire was from the Gold Coast, and loved r'n'b and dubstep clubs. Clubbing in general. She often went alone. She was self-admittedly spoilt; her parents had brought her a three bed house, and her daily spending budget for two months in Europe was AUS$150. She was wearing pearls and just bought a nice dress to wear when she met this guy she was seeing in Paris. Claire had met this German guy called Daniel in Munich during Oktoberfest whilst she was drunk (his opening line was "mine's a Gin and Tonic"). They'd hooked up a few times since (she gave us too many details about their sex life), and were planning this weekend in Paris soon. She seemed very eager, and talked about it A LOT whilst we were all trying to concentrate on planning our trips. Despite this and a lot of random interjections about her life that were unrelated to the general conversation, Claire was actually quite sweet. I think she maybe tried too hard, because she didn't know how to get people to like her. She was a nurse, and as she talked about getting stuck in and helping her juniors when they needed it, you could tell she had a good heart.

Of all the travellers I've met, Claire was the only one to pack high heels, pearls, eyelash tint and a 'how to get a man using body language' guide. Odd, but she gave us a few tips. When going for the handshake, either gently and briefly clasp their hand between both of yours or combine the handshake with a gental pat on the other person's safezone (elbow to shoulder). Apparently this will make them like you. Watch out for me touching all of your safezones on my return.

End of day 23.