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 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.