Day 3, Part II
Bled, Slovenia – Ljubljana, Slovenia
We got going again after a local beer and a few photos around the lake. The motorway was quiet and the landscape was becoming less frequent of any mountain or hill. The weather thought it would give itself a change, and for the first time in a while, it began to rain. We hoped that this wouldn’t last the whole two weeks that we were away, as it would just be the worst timing. But this downpour didn’t matter to us in any way, due to the fact that we were in the car and thankfully it soon ended.
Finally, Ljubljana was in sight, and it was now just a matter of finding somewhere, preferably convenient and cheap, or free, to park the car. The hostel was right in the centre on the riverbank. It was awkward, because even though Ljubljana is a small city, it’s also an old one, and the streets were sprawled everywhere, many were in pedestrian zones, in one-way systems or obstructed by road works. But first, we had to cross the river.
Thankfully, it wasn’t so bad finding a parking spot. We managed to find one next to the river. As I had to get the car through automatic bollards, we thought there would be a charge for it, but there was no sign of any signs to tell us. And we were only going to be there until the next morning.
The hostel didn’t prove the easiest to find, either. We knew it was beside the river, but no idea how it looked. We had to count the number of the buildings down, only to realise it was just the street up from where we parked. We counted down as we lugged our cases and bags with us, making some noise as the wheels ramped over the countless cobbles. We had to pass through areas full of tables and chairs and people at cafés and bars that ran the length of the river until we got to the hostel. Tucked away in the corner of a building, out of view from our direction and right next to a trendy looking bar.
Through the large wooden door, all there was to be seen was a desk, a few laundry baskets and a few steps leading up to glass doors. It was quite dark and quaint, and after checking in, we made our way upstairs when we found where they were. The room was of a decent size. It had seven beds: three bunk beds and a single. Three of them were occupied; two English guys were sorting their stuff out and another guy (who we later learnt was a guy from Oregon called Sheldon) was sleeping but snoring as loud as something old and mechanical. We hoped that he would be out and about for the night, going by the assumption that he wouldn’t be tired after sleeping the whole day.
We headed out to the city after dumping our stuff in the room, and wandered about to see what the place had to offer. Rob had been here before and suggested to take the funicular up to the castle that stood upon the hill. On the way there, Rob went to a cash point to get some money out, while I noticed a bare footed tramp sitting and writing away nearby. His beard was long and bushy and possibly had signs of primitive, single celled life thriving in there somewhere. If not, I’m sure microbiologists would also have a field day under his toenails.
And from the top of the hill, we stood on one of the castle walls, which looked over the city. The development of the area was easy to see. In the centre, all you could see were red tiled roofs of the old houses and buildings, now mostly serving as restaurants, hotels, shops and banks. Then on the suburbs, we saw dilapidated and aged blocks of flats. They were of the typical Soviet architecture: grey and dull concrete, dirty single pane windows, satellite dishes popping out of the balconies and the shape of the buildings were square. They were just horrid blocks of concrete and ugliness. Further afield and beyond the mass of huge Lego bricks, the landscape was flat, apart from the mountains in the far distance, and could just about be worked out in the haze.
We didn’t really stay long up there. The tower was closed off due to restoration works and there were admission fees for museums and such, and after a walk around the outside of the castle we headed back to the funicular, which seemed to have stopped half way up for some reason. And when it eventually arrived to the top, me and Rob, the only passengers so far, boarded it, only to be told to get off again and wait five minutes.
We didn’t really understand what the staff member meant, but we got off anyway, and saw him take it down to the bottom, only to pick up some passengers waiting at the bottom. So it seemed doubtful that there was any kind of mechanical or technical problem. He then made his way up again, they all disembarked, and we got back on and things were back to normal once more. And the point of that was…? Answers on a postcard, please!
We continued to wander about the centre, passing a market square, cluttered with rubbish, discarded fruit and veg, and council workers with those old-school bristly brooms sweeping endlessly. Later on at the Three Bridges, there was an old lady selling flowers to passers-by. Not your average pensioner, this one was a bit crazy, preaching something in Slovenian to everyone and shoving bouquets in people’s faces, expecting them to buy it.
A couple of days ago, a friend of ours, Oliver, visited Ljubljana when on his trip, and suggested this pizzeria, which happened to be opposite our hostel. I ordered a large pizza with plenty of meat on top, expecting it to be the size of a normal large pizza. However, this was a different type of large. I’m not sure on the measurements of it, but it was about the size as a family pizza. And this place also did family sized pizzas. It took a while to finish it, and both the pizza and the evening were getting cold by the end! But for what we got at a low price and the rapid beer service, it was up there on my ‘favourite pizzerias list’.
We ended up at an outside bar on a square next to the river. As it was cold, for me anyway, we sat next to those heater type things with the flame inside it, even though it was contained in some thin, tall glass tube. The sofa type seats we were on were so low and too far apart from the table and each other, so we moved onto another table with normal chairs that were possible to move. And in our previous spots, three girls sat there. They spoke English and sounded Irish, however, it turned out that two were Canadian and one was actually Mancunian who was part Bosnian. They were all working in Sarajevo to identify the missing and dead of the recent war.
They also recommended taking the route via Mostar and the valley, as the landscape and scenery were spectacular and the town was very beautiful and famous for its bridge. To be honest, that was our planned route anyway, but it’s good to know it was going to be a good route!
We headed our way back to the hostel later, and I could have done with an early night in order for a long drive the next day to Southern Croatia. I thought I’d check some e-mails, too. I was expecting a couple due to problems with my landlady of the house last year at uni, and also update people on how things were going. But that wasn’t possible. My laptop couldn’t access the Internet and the computers at the hostel may just as well be decoration. I think a carrier pigeon would have been more useful. But it was nice to see good ol’ Microsoft 98 again after so many years!
The two English guys in our room were playing cards in the ‘computer room’, and were off to Bled the next day to go hiking. They told us of their own travels, they were, and presumably still are, on a hiking trip around the Mediterranean. Most people would only do the European half, but they were doing it on a much epic scale. Not only Southern Europe and the Balkans, but also they were planning to travel through Israel and into North Africa and along the coast over to Gibraltar and Spain. They were estimating three months it would take, but unsure on the financial side of things. Though I wonder where they are now. But nevertheless, an idea for a future trip!
Time called for us to go to bed, still hoping for the absence of whatever noise that American was making. However, half way through the night, I was awoken not by pneumatic drill-like noises going off by the side of me, but arguing. At first, I thought it was a random who was having a go at one of the English guys about nicking a pillow, and as I tried to hide mine under the blanket and pretend to sleep, I listened in. In reality, it was not someone being peeved off about his pillow going missing, there were two Irish guys going on about who should have which bed. The only ones available was a single bed by the window at the far end of the room, or the bed above Sheldon the Oregonian Snoring Champion. They even argued and cursed each other (a lot) about one owing the other nine Euros and whose turn it was to have a single bed. It got so close to getting out of hand; they almost broke out into a fight. But they were yet to experience the wonders of a restless night as Sheldon soon got back. And with even being woken by one of the Irish guys in hope he’d stop, he carried on almost immediately.
If the nights were to be like this the whole time in each hostel, it would be quite a problem for me, who’d have to drive throughout the whole route. Being an optimist, I still held onto the thought of nice and peaceful and quiet nights!
They also recommended taking the route via Mostar and the valley, as the landscape and scenery were spectacular and the town was very beautiful and famous for its bridge. To be honest, that was our planned route anyway, but it’s good to know it was going to be a good route!
We headed our way back to the hostel later, and I could have done with an early night in order for a long drive the next day to Southern Croatia. I thought I’d check some e-mails, too. I was expecting a couple due to problems with my landlady of the house last year at uni, and also update people on how things were going. But that wasn’t possible. My laptop couldn’t access the Internet and the computers at the hostel may just as well be decoration. I think a carrier pigeon would have been more useful. But it was nice to see good ol’ Microsoft 98 again after so many years!
The two English guys in our room were playing cards in the ‘computer room’, and were off to Bled the next day to go hiking. They told us of their own travels, they were, and presumably still are, on a hiking trip around the Mediterranean. Most people would only do the European half, but they were doing it on a much epic scale. Not only Southern Europe and the Balkans, but also they were planning to travel through Israel and into North Africa and along the coast over to Gibraltar and Spain. They were estimating three months it would take, but unsure on the financial side of things. Though I wonder where they are now. But nevertheless, an idea for a future trip!
Time called for us to go to bed, still hoping for the absence of whatever noise that American was making. However, half way through the night, I was awoken not by pneumatic drill-like noises going off by the side of me, but arguing. At first, I thought it was a random who was having a go at one of the English guys about nicking a pillow, and as I tried to hide mine under the blanket and pretend to sleep, I listened in. In reality, it was not someone being peeved off about his pillow going missing, there were two Irish guys going on about who should have which bed. The only ones available was a single bed by the window at the far end of the room, or the bed above Sheldon the Oregonian Snoring Champion. They even argued and cursed each other (a lot) about one owing the other nine Euros and whose turn it was to have a single bed. It got so close to getting out of hand; they almost broke out into a fight. But they were yet to experience the wonders of a restless night as Sheldon soon got back. And with even being woken by one of the Irish guys in hope he’d stop, he carried on almost immediately.
If the nights were to be like this the whole time in each hostel, it would be quite a problem for me, who’d have to drive throughout the whole route. Being an optimist, I still held onto the thought of nice and peaceful and quiet nights!
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