Day 24: Ljubljana to Munich

Highlights:

• Efficient, smooth German transport
• Lovely Bavarian beer garden
• Venezuelan Luis, Lucas Sr and Lucas Jr

So snoring took on a whole new level last night. I was having this dream where someone was trying to force me to go to a dupstep club night, and I just wasn't interested. I could hear the beat, and my companion was all 'doesn't that sound awesome?'. I listened and I heard 'di-di-di-di hfraaaawn, hfran' on repeat. Gradually I woke up to find that hrfaaaawn was Simon from New Zealand, and hfran was a girl from the Philippines. Well, it takes about 90minutes to get back to sleep with dubstep in your ears. Bloody snoring.

I woke and packed, and slowly headed to the station. I stopped for a guilty McDonalds Cappuccino and caught up with the US girls as they legged it for their train. My last memory is of them, 5ft 11 Carly and 5ft 1-ish Brianna, jogging away from me on the platform, their huge backpacks bouncing as they descended into the stairway ahead.

At the platform, a stuttering guy came up to me with what I thought was a question about the train. Even when he'd reverted to English, I still couldn't understand him until he started repeating 'give me two euros' in an unusual way. I didn't give him two euros. I pretended I had to look at something further down the platform.

The journey was uneventful but wondefully smooth and beautiful as we headed through Austria. We're talking Austrian hills, green and vast against snow capped mountains and blue skies, with these little Austrian villages in the valleys. It went on and on, until you entered a 5minute tunnel through one of the mountains and then emerged again in another valley. We passed through Salzburg and then headed into Germany. The landscape become less epic, though after a few hours of fog, we hit some sunshine. A car transporter passed us on the track, full of brand new Volkswagon and Audi cars. There were two levels on each carriage, with seven cars stored on each level. About 50 carriages must have passed by on this train. That's mass German transportation.

I arrived in Munich around 3.30pm. The girl opposite me thought I was German and rather than disappoint her, I followed her lead and laughed at what seemed like the relevant punchlines. She looked like a German, dark-haired and pierced-lip version of my friend Helen Martin. We both laughed at a child crying in the corridor.

I was staying at the Wombats hostel, a 3minute walk from the Hauptbahnhof. The receptionist was refusing a 40something couple as I arrived, explaining that they were fully booked. The couple got angry, though the receptionist, with a somewhat smug grin, repeated that it was a busy hostel and you really needed to book; she couldn't exactly throw existing people out, could she? Quite cleverly, the hostel made you make your own beds. I was a bit outraged, until I got a grip and realised it was a pretty smart move and that I'd been spoilt for a month not having to change my sheets since Berlin.

As it was sunny, I headed to what I thought was a beer garden, recommended by my friend Gurk (her au-pairing had been in Bavaria, the capital of which is Munich). It turned out to be a beer hall, which was cool but I wanted to be outside enjoying the sun. After a brief stop off at C&A to see if they sold any baby lederhosen for my new favourite baby (Charge Gridley-Stickland), I found an outdoor beer garden on Viktualienmarkt. Loads of long tables, surrounded by beer and food huts. It was packed. I'm told it was their first sunny day in a while. I bought a beer then used my best 'Kann ich hier setzen' on a German family and sat reading Kindle Samples about the Munich Olympics massacre (the only thing I know about the place beyond the Busby Man United plane crash). I eavesdropped as the 13 year old daughter of the German family came back, having bought a T-Shirt with the word ROCK on. Her older brother moaned how lame those T-Shirts were, then defended his Nirvana T-Shirt saying 'Nirvana were not a rock band' (I've translated this). It all got a bit heated.

The family were soon replaced by three guys, a late 40s guy asking in English if he could sit down. The youngest guy of the group asked me something in German; the only German he knew it turned out, as they were all actually Venezuelan. They were returning from Kanton, China, where they went once a year for a conference on plastic pipes. They'd started their own company the previous year (and were all partners) and had their manufacturing based in China, hence the trip. The two older guys were Luis and Lucas Sr; the younger guy was his son Lucas Jr. They all spoke great English (though had to speak in Spanish for a while trying to work out what 'The Sound of Music was' (whilst the direct Spanish translation is supposedly beautiful, it's called something like 'The Rebel Nun' in Venezuelan)) but Lucas Jr had studied in Boston so he had to help the older guys from time to time. They were stopping on the way back from China for a short holiday in Munich, and invited me to join them in Salzburg the following day ("either Venezuelan Style or English Style". The former, they pay everything for me, and the latter I pay for myself). They showed me photos from Hong Kong Madame Tussaurd's, with various comic poses next to Mao, Princess Diana and Steve Jobs (showing him a blackberry). Lucas Sr bought me a beer and we hung out for a few hours as it got darker. I learned that Venezuela is famous for its beaches and beautiful women.

We left about 7pm, and I stopped off for dinner near the station. Quite proudly, I spoke entirely in German throughout the process, somehow making myself understood even in the Bavarian dialect, and then headed back the hostel. I'm sharing with two Chinese girls and a Taiwanese girl who study Jewellery making in London and were in Munich for this big ole jewellery fair. They felt it was a small world meeting someone from London. I don't think it's that unusual.

Also sharing with a really unique looking Aussie called Courtney; she had a Dutch-Indonesian Dad and an Aussie-Sri Lankan Mum. I headed to the hostel bar with Courtney, and we sat next to two Argentinians, Martin and Lucia. They were studying in a small city in Germany and could speak really good German, but limited English. German seems a pretty unusual language choice for two South-Americans though, doesn't it? They were playing a complex Argentinian card game called Gruco, using a pack of cards with four different suits (apparently it's always different in Argo).

Courtney had been travelling since August on her own. She'd been really shy when she started, and used to find it difficult going into restaurants alone (fairly problematic) or speaking to strangers. Her boyfriend was joining her in a few weeks, and they were heading to London, Berlin, Morocco, Spain, Italy and then New York for Christmas and New Year. They both worked for the National Bureau of Statistics in Australia, and she explained how she'd been focussed on the census Australia had last year (I used my best open university Census chat here; "it's just so important for allocation of medical and education resources"). She wasn't sure about going back there; the work environment is really sexist, and her bosses notoriously ganged up on the women in her position. We had a few drinks and then went to bed. Courtney showed real concern when I painfully slipped into the splits from the wet bathroom.

End of day 24.

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.

Day 22: Ljubljana

Highlights:

• Sax Bar
• Tivoli Park
• Slovenian Swing Dancers

The hostel I'm staying at is called Hostel Sax on Eipprova ulica. The hostel is above and behind a small bar called Sax, which was opened in the 80s and hosts jazz nights. It's a tiny bar, and not too busy, but it's got a great warm atmosphere. The bar and hostel are run by the same people, so they're alternately staffed. It's all very trusting out in Eastern Europe. The hostel has copied the Jazz style; the walls are full of records, and the rooms are named Ray Charles, Louis Armstrong etc. It's a new hostel so the decor is lovely, and the beds are comfy. It's super cool.

I dragged myself out of bed and into town, heading for Neboticnik 'The Skyscraper' (it doesn't so much scrape the sky, as just about rise above all other building in Ljubljana). The skyscraper has a bar and cafe, so I took a seat on the roof balcony and had some traditional Slovenian Bled Cake; pastry filled with a thick, sweet, eggy cream. It was good. From the roof you can look across the city and see the raised castle and idyllic streets. Someone told me the Brothers Grimm set a lot of their stories in Slovenia, and Ljubljana looks exactly like a Fairytale town. With the courtyards, river and then castle on a hill in the centre, it sort of looks very Sleeping Beauty-esque.

I had a look at the map to plan my day, and gleefully (yes, gleefully) noticed a park on the west of town called Tivoli. Show me a city which is circled with parks, and I'll bang on about it on here, and stay well and truly beyond the recommended stay duration. The whole city is pretty compact, so you can walk everywhere, and it only took a few minutes to find the main walkway. It was lined with a National Geographic display, highlighting the importance of protecting the world's natural heritage. It alternated large photos of world sites with Slovenian photos.

Bloody hell, Slovenia is beautiful. Overwhelmingly so. With a National Park and lakes and rocky gorges, it looks absolutely stunning. I sat and read my book (a Hungarian author that Andrew recommended), and like in that scene in Snow White, all these squirrels and birds just came and sat next to me. Pretty sure they were one step away from helping out with my laundry and chores. Lovely.

I spent most of the day there, completely guiltlessly. It was warm and sunny. Birds were tweeting. I made friends with the squirrels.

I headed back to the hostel around 5pm and met some of my dormmates. The place was fully booked, and as I'd extended my stay, I'd had to move to the larger dorm (from Armstrong to Ray Charles). I was staying with a Kiwi called Simon and an Aussie called Debbie. They'd met a month ago and had been travelling together since (not like that. Simon - "Debbie's a lesbian, otherwise we would have probably slept together"). They joined me in the Sax bar a bit later for a glass of cold red wine (seems to be the only way they serve red wine in Eastern Europe). Billie Holiday was playing in the background. It was getting foggy out, but the bar was warm and cosy.

We were joined by some other dormmates; Carly and Brianna from Idaho, and Rosie from New Zealand. We headed into town for dinner, deciding against the ridiculously cool and expensive Sushi bar, and stopping at a place near the main square when a young woman in zigzag leggings and a red beanie offered us the student price menu, and warned us the inside was "a bit crazy". It was a bit visually wacky. There was an upside-down cow in the entrance, and then a mixture of mosaic chairs and nude bronze ladies bent over into tables. There were cartoons playing on a tv in the background (Jetsons). I loved it.

So Rosie had studied Biomedical Sciences at Uni but had ended up working in a Winery. She'd needed her science degree to get the job, but said a lot of her colleagues had decided to study Oenology at Univeristy at the age of 18. Leaving yourself a bit isolated if you decided you didn't want to work in a Winery after that...she loved it though, and was able to return to that after travelling.

Brianna and Carly had met at University, though Carly was now a hair stylist (she really loved her job) and Brianna had been working on a Dude Ranch to save money for travelling. This was in Wyoming, in somewhere called Jacksonhole ("No, sorry. I've not heard of it") and basically gave Eastern tourists the opportunity to experience the ranch lifestyle, with horseriding etc. Apparently the place was worth $100m. Big money.

After dinner (Sangria and dinner coming to about €10. Since returning to a Euro country, you definitely notice an increase in prices), we headed to an area that was supposed to be lively with bars. Turned out to be dead, except for a busy bar playing swing music. We went in and found all these couples (generally early 20s to about early 30s) well and truly going for it on the dance floor. It was amazing. They just threw each other around and seemed to all know various routines. You didn't see one second of hesitation, even when they all swapped partners. It was a mixed bunch too, with alternative, pierced and tattooed couples going for it as much as the nerdy looking couples. Amazing. We were all enthralled.

We headed back around 11.30 and Ljubljana was in a complete fog. You could see people emerging out of the fog only 10m in front of you. It would have been creepy if you were alone.

End of day 22.

Day 21: Budapest to Ljubljana

Highlights:

• A sad farewell to Andrew and Gabo
• Sally from Southampton
• A great welcome to Ljubljana

I woke up to Gabo and Andrew's voices. I wouldn´t have minded another night in Budapest, but I had a train to catch.

Andrew looked crestfallen as I approached reception. He'd just had a bad review and couldn't understand it. I think in a city like Budapest and for a small hostel like HomePlus, a bad review really can damage your business. I promised to write a glowing review (and I will). Gabo offered me tea, which I declined. As he put sweetener in his he said 'this is sweet, but not as sweet as you!'. I think I've definitely made a friend. He offered to show me around Northern Italy, as he knows it well. I promised to email him (I will!). I got huge hugs from both of them, and I gathered my stuff and reluctantly left.

I walked to the Metro, where you HAD to pay for a ticket (Gabo had again advised getting the tram to the metro for free. I don't think he understood my reluctance to illegally ride transport in a foreign country). He'd said it was a long walk between the metro and main station. It was, but only because I accidentally got off a station too early. I've become a bit absent minded over this trip. Lucky it's not hindered me too much...

I was guided onto the train by a nice Hungarian station officer (I've found the Hungarians to be the nicest people of all the countries I've visited so far. Seriously friendly. I talked to someone later who agreed, but had said she felt the Polish and Hungarians seem somewhat repressed. It's true that in Poland, you couldn't see a lot of laughter, and no one really returned your smile. Not true of Hungarians though. Very jolly).

The train ride was nearly nine hours to Ljubljana (capital of Slovenia). I settled into a carriage and fashioned a bed out of the three adjacent seats. My phone was dead, and my Kindle and iPod were in their last minutes, but sleeping aside, the time just flew. I felt so relaxed, I had no worries, and my mind just ambled about pleasantly. I can't remember feeling this content in the last 10 years.

It wasn't all roses though. The toilet had no water, so was pretty grim and when we were told there were rail replacement services, it felt strangely reminiscent of every weekend trying to travel home from London and Essex. I'd also been in a rush so had only four biscuits, a bag of pom bear and a small bottle of water for the whole journey. I decided to impose some war-style rationing, but then ate all my food in the first twenty minutes of the journey. Yeah, rationing pretty difficult when you've got hangover munchies.

On the second train (even grubbier than the first) I overheard an English lady talking to two Hungarian girls. She was heading to Ljubljana also, so I knew my action plan from then on was to just follow her and hope for the best. We got talking as we transferred onto a bus. I couldn't tell you where we were. Middle of nowhere is probably a good description. Her name was Sally and I'll tell you later what I learned about her.

We arrived in Ljubljana an hour after we were supposed to. Coincidentally we were booked into the same Hostel, and she'd got a cab number from them to avoid getting ripped off by the station lurkers (charging up to €15 rather than the €3.20 we were charged). The driver was the big guy who spoke great English. Apparently it's compulsory in Hungary and Slovenia to graduate with two languages, and unlike the dubbing issue in Western Europe, Slovenians watch everything from cartoons to film with subtitles, so their English is a of a really good standard. The driver's first words were that Ljubljana was boring. Not a good start. He then explained that he meant for locals it was dull, being such a small city of 350,000. He gave us a bit of a guide on our short journey, pointing out this lovely castle on this steep hill in the middle of the city, and gave us walking directions from the hostel to the city centre. He was great, and of course we tipped him extra.

Sally and I dumped our stuff in separate rooms (I was in an 8 bed, and she in a 5 bed) and headed to a restaurant. She had Slovenian dumplings (made from potatoes, and a bit more like soft gnocchi, than the suet ones we're used to). We had wine to celebrate our arrival whilst I munched down a massive Pizza. Traditional er...slovenian pizza...

So Sally was on a 6 month sabbatical from her job as a Store Manager for a Superdrug in Southampton. She was near the end of the trip, having started in Florence for 2 months then with a few breaks home in between, had gone to stay with people she met in Italy in Czech Republic, Vancouver and Vienna. She was 48 and had decided to take the Sabbatical the day after her boyfriend broke up with her (quite sadly, he had developed Muscular Dystrophy and become depressed, and found a relationship too hard to handle). They'd got back together the day before her Sabbatical interview, but she went for it anyway; a good decision given they broke up shortly after. She looked amazing for 48. With skin almost as good as my Mum's (the youngest looking 50 something I know). She'd rented an apartment for two months in Florence, figuring it was a small enough city to live in, and a good base to see the rest of Italy from. On her last few days, she decided she wanted a bit of fun, so signed up to some internet dating site and immediately came across the profile of Bernardo. 'Hubba hubba', she thought. He was on business in Milan, but the next night they met up and spent the next week together. She said it felt like a traditional romance, the way he came to pick her up from her apartment every night, and then dropped her off after the date. I think Sally had a complex about being single (presumably other people make you feel there's something wrong with you if you're not settled by that age) so I hope it works out with Bernardo. At the end of the trip, she's finishing in Florence and staying at Bernardo's. She hadn't realised she would be, so unfortunately didn't have any sexy underwear, but I told her not to worry. He seemed pretty keen already.

It was good to meet someone of a different age group, and someone out of London. Sally did the comical middle class thing that Miranda Hart mentions in Miranda; lowering her voice whenever she mentioned the words gay/lesbian/black/asian. In Vancouver, she stayed with two girls she'd met in Florence, and only discovered on arrival that they were *hushed voice* lesbians. It was probably best that we didn't talk politics. I imagine there's probably a significant gap between us on the spectrum. It was good to meet her though. I was playing a significant part in her log that day; she was blown away by our chance meeting, with the same hostel and the same reason for going from Budapest to Ljubljana, instead of going to Croatia (we both had limited time, and realised Croatia needed a few weeks to enjoy the mix of cities, beaches and hiking). I didn't think it was that big a coincidence, but I like that I made an impact.

Went back to the dorm, and entered the room to hear Johnny Cash's Hurt playing. Good sign. Turns out I was with a few young people from Australia (Suz and Mim, sisters), Canada (Tim, 21 and has a pilot license) and an American (bit moany). We chatted until midnight about Seal, the song Killing Me Softly and Batman.

End of day 21.