The Crawshaws Overseas Trip - Ljubljana Day 2

Tuesday 28 May - we ate breakfast with the hordes of other guests in the hotel dining room, then set off to find the yoga studio. Although there was evidence of rain during the night, the morning was clear and crisp. It took us about half an hour to get to the street address. Miha had said in his message that the entrance was at the back of the building. Try as we might, we could not find it. Eventually I went into a café to ask. The barista came out and pointed to some steps about 3 doors along. These steps led down to below ground level, with a yoga sign on the wall. Relief was short-lived as the door was locked and no amount of knocking yielded any response.  We were too early! Michael hung around until a young woman dressed in yoga type gear showed up and went down the steps only to be faced with the locked door. Then she made a phone call after which she said that Miha was running a bit late. I sent Michael on his way, waving away the map, assuring him I would have no trouble returning to the hotel. 

Miha arrived just before 9.30 am, apologising for being late. I introduced myself and he seemed genuinely pleased that I had made the effort. He announced to the group that he would be speaking in English for this class, a thoughtful concession to the foreigner in their midst. Soon, there were 6 of us being guided through Iyengar postures, with frequent adjustments from Miha. It was an hour and a half of dormant body parts being reluctantly brought into alignment, some protesting more than others at their rude awakening. By the end of the class though, I felt a familiar surge of calm settle over me. Sadly it didn't last. After thanking Miha, I set off for the hotel, immediately taking a wrong turn. Half an hour later, I had no idea where the dickens I was, and with no chance of being enlightened. I asked a passerby where was the town centre. She pointed in the direction she thought it might be but didn’t seem all that sure. By now I knew Michael would be wondering where the I was, as we had an early afternoon tour booked. So I turned on data roaming (hoping like heck that the maximum of $10 per day was in place) and phoned him. Not that he was able to help, it was more to let him know I was still alive, and well and truly lost. He told me to catch a taxi but I had no clue as to where one might be, so I just entered the hotel address on google maps and followed the little blue beacon in whichever direction it flashed. Every now and then the little blue beacon began flashing wildly away from the designated route. I had to keep stopping and turning in circles to get back on track. I finally arrived back at the hotel, a hot and sweaty mess. Of course Michael made mileage out of this latest misadventure. I don't think he realizes how scary it can be, having no shred of an internal compass.

At 1 pm, we went downstairs to wait for the tour guide to take us to  the Postojna Caves and Predjama Castle. We waited and waited, wondering if someone would show up. Finally, 25 minutes later, a young woman hurried into the hotel foyer and introduced herself as Vesna, our tour guide for the afternoon. She led us outside and into her people mover. We were the last pickup of a party of 7, the others being a couple about our age from New Zealand, a girl from Brisbane and a couple in their eighties from Washington DC. It was about a forty minute drive and along the way, Vesna gave us a history lesson about the castle and also the caves, Postojna being one of the largest cave systems in the world. By this time, it had started raining again. When we arrived at the castle, Vesna gave us each an umbrella and off we trooped up the hill to the entrance. It was very fascinating and an indiviual audio device gave us the run down on each room of the castle. However it was also cold and dank, hard to imagine anyone actually ever enjoying living there. 

Next we drove to the Postojna caves. The last tour of the day was scheduled for 4pm. Once there, we hurried to the entrance, eager to get on the miniature train and down into the cave system. Actually, eager might be too strong a word. It was more a case of extreme damp and cold, raining topside, and stalactites dripping incessantly underground. The sooner we got started, the sooner we would be taken back to warmth and comfort. We spent 15 minutes on the train and an hour traipsing after the male English speaking guide (Vesna remained above ground). We never caught sight of this guide, there being close to a hundred people in our group. Michael and I hung back, making sure the couple from Washington DC were ok. They seemed in good health but frail all the same and probably had not bargained for all the arduous walking. Neither had we quite frankly. At times, we were so far behind, it seemed as if we were the only people down there. Twice, the underground lighting failed, only for a few seconds, but enough to scare the living daylights out of us.  We passed through spectacular cavern after cavern, marvelling at the myriad of rock formations and pools of mountain spring water. We might have missed the geological blurb on the caves but we certainly had a visual appreciation of this magnificent phenomenon. Eventually we caught up to the masses, all making their way back to the train. Another 15 minutes of being hurtled back through the caves, perilously close to the stalactites overhead, more incessant dripping. Finally we all flooded to the outside world, where it had begun to rain in earnest. Vesna was waiting, umbrellas at the ready. Our little group piled into the van and Vesna drove us back to town. The rain intensified, visibility was poor but Vesna didn't falter and we arrived back at our hotel safely. We thanked her for the experience, genuinely glad we had made the effort.

There was a pause in the rain so we walked to the town square for beer and marguarita, to the same café bar as the previous day. We had discovered that in Italy and now Slovenia, it was not always an easy task to order a marguarita, so this was the place for me.The animation of the city was palpable, especially here in the square and we enjoyed soaking it in, at least for a little while before fatigue and more threatening weather forced us back to the hotel for dinner. 

Predjama Castle

Postojna Caves

Caveman

The margarita bar

The Crawshaws’ Overseas Trip - Ljubljana Day 1

Monday 27 May - We were out of bed by 4am, showered, dressed, packed and ready to go by 4.45am. After checking and rechecking the apartment for stray belongings, with suitcases in tow we clattered our way along the dimly lit cobbled lanes to the empty square. Our taxi arrived at 5.10am and Rita drove us the 700 metres to the train station. We could have walked but the road was uneven and poorly lit, so we figured it was safer by car. We were there in less than 5 minutes, little small talk from Rita, apart from telling us the waiting room was locked, our train would leave from platform  2 and our taxi fare was 30 euros! As Michael started to splutter a protest, Rita quickly pointed out a sign on the station wall which clearly stated that any fares to the station prior to 7am would incur an automatic charge of 20 euros. Plus 10 euros for travel to the station. So that was that.

The air was chilly as we waited for the train in the gloom. Another couple finally showed up and then a fellow with a briefcase who crosssed the first track just as the train pulled into the station on the second track. We now realised that this was obviously platform 2. We followed him, heaved our bags on board and then settled back for the hour journey to Milan. The train made 4 stops along the way. As the train pulled out of each station, a recorded message announced that anyone caught travelling without a ticket would be persecuted. I guess you don't mess with the Italians! By the the time we pulled into Milan station, the train was fairly crowded, some travellers like us and others commuting to work, judging by the lack of luggage. 

Our train to Trieste was scheduled to leave at 7.45 so we had plenty of time to sit and have a cappuccino in the station cafeteria. Then we went and stood under the electronic board advising which platform for departure, along with a huge crowd. It was a bit worrying as the platform numbers weren’t being displayed until about 5 minutes before the trains were due to leave. Eventually Trieste popped up, platform 21, so we hurried off down the myriad of platforms to our awaiting train, hurled the bags up on to the luggage rack (Michael’s job) and sank back into comfortable seats for the 4 hour journey to Trieste. I did a bit of blogging, Michael read his book, we went to the dining car for coffee and panini. The time passed fairly quickly and around midday we arrived at our destination. 

Next hurdle was to find the bus station for our journey to Ljubljana. We were directed to a building across the road from the train station. Grey skies and drizzle greeted us on the outside. We had to manoeuvre our way around road works to get to the entrance, getting a bit damp in the process. Once inside the bus terminal, our tickets were validated and we hung about for a while, checking out the small shops crammed into the ticketing area. I convinced Michael that a couple of fold-out umbrellas would not go astray, given the forecast for the next week in Slovenia, rain, rain and more rain. They fitted neatly into the side pockets of our back packs, so we were still hands free.

We ventured into the cavernous bus depot, found the sign which said Ljubljana and waited, first in line. When the bus turned up, it wasn’t one of those plush coach types, complete with toilet on board. Our bus was very ordinary, no toilet, and only one side had compartments for luggage. So it mattered little that we were first in line as there was a mad scramble to load luggage in the space provided. The driver just opened the two compartments and got back on the bus, leaving us all to heave our bags aboard. We managed to get ours in a spot only to see a young American move mine to one side so he could fit his in. A slight problem with that was he had shoved mine sideways and half out of the compartment. I quickly sorted it, shoving mine back in and his half out. He reluctantly conceded defeat and moved his bag somewhere else. There was a lot of grumbling from a group of older Americans about the inadequate loading space. By the time we climbed on the bus, it was half full, so we just plonked down in seats at the back and waited for our last leg of the day’s travel to commence. 

The journey from Trieste to Ljubljana lasted about 90 minutes, along four lane highways, two lane highways, through the many tunnels and densely forested mountains. Relief was the word that sprang to mind when we arrived at Ljubljana bus station. Long haul bus travel held little attraction for me. Ok, 90 minutes did not qualify as long haul, but memories of a cramped toilet on a bus trip from Melbourne to Adelaide through the Lofty Ranges fifty years before still lingered. 

We were booked in to the City Hotel which was within walking distance from the bus station. Setting off in light rain, umbrellas in one hand, steering our bags with the other, we found it surprisingly quickly.  A cheery young Slovenian woman with the unlikely name of Barbara checked us in. Shades of the naming of Norman in Varenna. Barbara was very proficient in English, as we discovered were most Slovenians in the hospitality industry. Barbara showed us a couple of good restaurants on a map and also the location of a yoga studio where I had booked a class for the next morning at 9.30am.

Given my lack of directional skills, we went on a trial run to find the yoga studio. I surprised us both by finding the way. We had a little impasse when we reached the river. Michael wanted to go left, I wanted to go right. I did the turn-the-map-around thing which proved to be the deciding factor. It was a fair distance, about 20 minutes walk but we found the studio and I felt confident that I could follow the trail the next day. We also did a quick reconnaissance on the whereabouts of the car hire company, Avantcar. Again, we had little trouble in locating it.

Back at the hotel, I sent a message to Miha, my contact from the yoga studio to say I had found the place and would be there the following morning. He sent a message straight back, asking me if I wanted to cancel my spot in his class as I was attending another studio. It was the wrong one! All that effort for nothing! I sent a message back saying no,no, I wanted to go to his studio. A friend in Albany had told me about this Slovenian who had come to Albany a few years ago and took a few classes for a yoga teacher while he was away. The friend in Albany was ‘friends’ with the Slovenian on facebook. It had to be this one for the sake of continuity if nothing else. He sent me a map and so with the help of google, I plotted the route for the next morning. Michael was going to walk with me so at least I had half a chance of making it on time.

Later in the afternoon, we went back to the town square near the river and had a beer and margarita at an outside café. Sitting under an enormous canopy, protected from spasmodic rain, we lingered, having another beer and margarita, admiring the colourful architecture and enjoying the vibrant atmosphere of Ljubljana.

That night we went to one of the restaurants recommended by Barbara, called The Slovenian House. Barbara had phoned to see if there was room for us and had booked a table for 7pm. Just as well, for after we were seated, a few people tried their luck and were turned away. Michael ordered the Slovenian Sausage dish and I had a beetroot salad, feeling the need for  greens. The meals were reasonable but we shared a dessert which was amazing. Some sort of Slovenian chocolate cake with cream and ice cream, absolutely delicious. I didn’t catch the name of it and they whisked the menu away before I had a chance to check. Michael wasn’t that keen, I however would rate it as one of the best desserts I’ve ever tasted.

We retired to bed before 9pm, worn out after our day of travel and exploration. To top it off, the bed was super comfortable, it was like sleeping on the proverbial fluffy white cloud. 

The Crawshaws’ Overseas Trip - Varenna Day 7

Sunday 26 May - last day in Varenna. I took our washing up to Eve and Max’s apartment, as, even though listed on the inventory, our apartment had no washing machine. Max offered me coffee and cake while their washing machine did its thing. I declined as I was meeting Michael for coffee at our usual café in the square. He told me later that he had gone to the small deli up the road and bought some cakes specially. I felt bad, not only for being inhospitable but for missing out on cake!

After our cappuccinos at the café, Michael and I went to collect the washing. It was in it’s final rinse so we made plans for the remainder of the day. Eve and Max had been going to take us out for lunch for our last meal together so we could pack later in the day. We needed to be in the square by 5am in the morning to be taken to the train station for our 5.35 am train back to Milan. They were also leaving Varenna but not until later in the morning. However, when they found out that our packing would not interfere with us going out for dinner, we all agreed that a last supper was more fitting.

That sorted, and after getting instructions from Max on how to use the dryer in the laundromat, we set off back down the hill with the washing. When we got there, the machines had signs on them indicating they were out of order. As Max had been there the day before, it seemed highly unlikely that this catastrophe had occurred overnight. Then we noticed the machine just inside the entrance, a big red dryer. I threw the wet clothes inside then fed euro coins into the slot. They kept rolling out. Just as I could see my day going up in steam from draping clothes over the coil heater in our apartment, repositioning them every half hour, Michael found the token machine inside the entrance on the other side. Neither of us obviously listened very carefully to what Max had said at the time but then we both remembered, red machine, token machine. My hysteria subsided, we fed tokens in the slot, then left our garments swirling clockwise within the vortex of the dryer.

Michael and I went to the eatery across the road from the café and ordered pizza, on Max’s recommendation. It was delicious, crispy base and cheesy topping. In no time at all, I had eaten half, washed down with Italian beer. Grazie and Prego, all in one!

After collecting the bone dry washing, we went back to the apartment. I folded the clothes, then worked on this blog while Michael wandered off to read his book. After a while, sick of being in our pokey quarters, I joined him on his bench at the edge of the lake. He regaled me with the happenings on the waterfront since he had arrived. Firstly, a tall, leggy teen with a cameraman and two lackeys in tow, paraded up and down the pontoon. She had at least three changes of outfit while the camera captured stills of her in various poses. They were still at it when I arrived. In the midst of this, a young American geek (Michael’s description) sat down on the bench next to him. He then unfurled his swag and produced a drone. Measuring about half a metre square, he proceeded to launch it skywards and take countless photos of Varenna from above. He told Michael that his drone had a range of 3 kilometres. He also said that if things went haywire, he had an emergency ‘come home’ button. When absorbed back in his book, Michael was suddenly startled by the drone  hovering close to his head, convinced he was about to receive a number one haircut or worse. Thankfully the young American ‘pilot’ manouvered it to the pavement at their feet. By the time I arrived he had moved on.Michael and I sat contentedly in the warm sun, eating gelato and watching the Como crowd pass to and fro.

Around 5pm, Michael headed to the café for afternoon beers with Max. I continued with my blog lakeside for a while. Eventually I joined the others at the café for pre-dinner drinks. It was so relaxing sitting outside, sipping on a gin and tonic, reminiscing about our week together. We were joined by the owner’s big, black, curly haired Portuguese Water Dog named Aqua. She was very friendly and let us stroke her silky coat. Before we left, Eve gave the owner and her daughter koala key rings. They were delighted with their gifts and placed them on display inside the café.

We left the café to go to straight to dinner. The dilemma was that the restaurant was right next door to  the café. Even though the café was outdoor seating only, and we preferred to sit indoors,  we felt disloyal hopping from one to the other. Luckily there was another entrance to the restaurant, so we ducked around the corner and snuck in the side door.

As before, our meals were tasty, the wine smooth and the Prosecco and Limoncello complemented either end of our evening. We parted company, wishing each other further fun on our respective travels. Holidaying with Eve and Max had been the highlight of the trip so far.

The Crawshaws’ Overseas Trip - Varenna Day 6

Saturday 25 May - we arose at 5.20am, showered, dressed and headed down to the ferry terminal by 6.05am. Eve and Max beat us to it, not wanting to line up for tickets. There was no fear of that happening as the ticket office was shut. At around 6.20, a woman turned up and unlocked the office but then proceeded to put the barriers in place, then popped the life buoys into their slots and opened the waiting room. Finally she entered the office and Eve was able to purchase our fares, four on the one ticket, 64 euro in total. Our plan was to buy the return ticket as well but no, that was not possible, one way tickets only. So it would be Michael’s turn on the way back.

It was cloudy but no rain, although bitterly cold at this early hour. A few other people turned up.  One young man, probably mid thirties, jumped out of a car and headed straight into the waiting room. The driver of the car, an elderly woman, followed him out of the car, calling to him. He came to the door of the waiting room where she tried to hug and kiss him but he resisted her efforts, verbally and physically. She gave up and drove off. I felt sad for her. He was obviously embarrassed by her affection but perhaps did not realise that he was diminished in the eyes of  onlookers by the lack of compassion for this woman, more than likely his mother or grandmother. I felt like giving him a good slap.

The hydrofoil arrived at 6.40am, and within 2 minutes, we were away. There were 6 stops in all, including Como, our destination. Como was the end of the line on the lake, the journey taking about an hour in total, a lot quicker than the normal ferry ride to Como which was about 2 hours. There was some drizzle on the way, hopefully short lived.

We disembarked at Como at about 7.45am, still very early . Our plan was to buy the return ticket before we left the terminal but the ticket office was shut until 8.30am. We headed off and found a café not far away. The café was warm and cosy and we ordered cappuccinos and croissants filled with custard for breakfast. Delicious!

Then back to the terminal for our return tickets. Michael asked for tickets to Varenna on the hydrofoil. The impatient attendant told him that the hydrofoil did not go to Varenna and we would have to get off at Bellagio and catch the normal ferry to Varenna. Michael added that we wanted to leave at 2.30pm. Oh well, that was a different story and yes we could take the hydrofoil to Varenna after all.

Tickets sorted, we headed off in search of the all day markets. Como was a large city compared to Varenna and we enjoyed looking at the sculptured buildings and peering into designer shop windows as we made our way to the markets. Once found, we meandered through the colourful rows of stalls which seemed to stretch forever. The wares were many and varied, from clothing, shoes, bags and makeup to household appliances, quirky knick knacks, books and toys. Eve and I bought tiny cars for our little grandsons while I also bought socks for all of my Albany grandies plus a plaited wrist band for the older two. I also bought myself a pink puffer jacket which seemed to be all the rage in Italy. I was after a spray jacket but this one was warm as well as waterproof so it was just the ticket.  I convinced a reluctant Michael to buy a long sleeved collared sweatshirt in charcoal grey. It looked good and was the right size. Max liked the look of it and bought one as well!

Eventually we were marketed out and headed back towards the lake. Eve and I got sidetracked by the shops along the way so the boys left us to it. Eventually we reconnected for a panini lunch before parting company yet again for antother stint at the shops before meeting up once more near the ferry terminal.

The hydrofoil returning up the lake was infinitely more populated than when we ventured down. Once we were under way, the rain fell in earnest. At each stop, more people poured on, all scanning the boat for seats. One young woman, who was walking down the staircase to the lower deck, slipped and  fell down the remaining steps. We weren’t sure what happened to her but it would have been a painful descent!

Eventually we docked at Varenna, alighted from the boat and headed back to our respective abodes.
We met up for dinner at our by now regular restaurant, Alberto’s and another good night was had by all.

The Crawshaws’ Overseas Trip - Varenna Day 5

Friday 24 May - another day of rest and relaxation. Breakfast in the apartment consisting of fried eggs, tomato and toast. Morning coffee at one café in the piazza, lunch at another. Meals were interspersed with strolling around town, writing my blog, reading, watching Miss Marple and Father Brown on the English channel and afternoon beers at the Bistro for Michael and Max. Michael also took another load of washing to the dry cleaners.

Michael also got into the habit of taking his book to a bench directly down from our steep flight of steps, on the edge of Lake Como. He read, watched the boats come and go, ate gelato, conversed with other bench sitters. Very relaxing way to spend time while on holidays.

That evening, we dined at the Albergo Ristorante on the corner of our alleyway. Norman was our waiter, who buzzed about very attentively. As a starter, he brought out a glass of Prosecco each for each of us, on the house. I asked him where he was from, with a name like Norman. He said he was born in Italy but his parents both just liked the English name. Our meals were served  fairly quickly, enough to cause conjecture that the meals might be par cooked, in particular the pasta. In any event the food was tasty enough. I had grilled sea bass, with vegetables. Michael had calzone pizza, Max and Eve had pasta dishes. We had profiteroles for dessert, followed by the obligatory Limoncello. We retired at a reasonable hour, having made plans to visit Como the next day, catching the hydrofoil at 6.30am!

The Crawshaws’ Overseas Trip - Varenna Day 4

Thursday 23 May - A day of relaxation in and around the town square. Tonight was to be a belated celebration for Eve’s 70th. Eve’s actual birthday was 17 February but this was our opportunity to celebrate her milestone. Michael and I wandered around, looking for an appropriate restaurant for the occasion. We tried to book at a restaurant near our apartment but we were told very abruptly that there were no tables available on Thursday, Friday or Saturday nights. So we went further afield and found a lovely restaurant called Al Prato. When we asked the maître d’ if there was a table for that night, he was very friendly, saying “Si signore, what time?” We opted for an outside table at 7pm. The restaurant was set at the rear of a cobblestoned courtyard, surrounded by ivy covered walls, promising an agreeable ambience for the birthday dinner.

The ambience lived up to our expectations. The maître d’, Giovanni, was lively and witty, his English far superior to our Italian. It did take a while to be served, for even though there were other staff delivering food and drink to tables, Giovanni seemed to be the only person taking orders from patrons. When he finally took our drinks order, he told us he was the owner of the restaurant. He laughed and joked his way around from table to table with the specials board, constantly on the go. 

We ordered a bottle of Prosecco for our pre-dinner drinks. Max and Michael also had a local beer. The red wine was fabulous, grown and bottled within 50 kms of Varenna. Eventually Giovanni took our order for the main course and we sipped our various drinks, enjoying each others’ banter in the balmy evening air.

It was fine dining at its best. Our meals were simply superb. Eve had lamb chops with mustard sauce, Max had beef steak with truffle seasoning, Michael had duck a l’orange and I had my Italian favorite, tuna steak. Max declared it was the best steak he had ever had, my tuna was done to perfection, ditto for the others. It could have been the wine working on our inhibitions but we waxed lyrical on the food, each of us sampling the others’ choices. 

For dessert, we all chose tiramisu from the specials board. When they were brought to the table, Eve’s dessert had a lit candle beside it. We and a lot of the other diners sang Happy Birthday to her, and then they all clapped. After dinner, we were plied with complementary Limoncello. Michael made a little speech, praising his big sister for her life-long love and support of him. It was an emotional moment to end a very special evening. 

The Crawshaws’ Overseas Trip - Varenna Day 3

Wednesday 22 May - our plan today was to visit Tremezzo, where Villa Carlotta was the star attraction. It was two ferry stops from Varenna, not far, so we left mid morning. The ferry terminal was directly at the base of the Villa. The entrance fee was 10 euros, 8 euros for the aged, for which we qualified naturally. 

We entered the botanical garden of the Villa, marvelling at its beauty. Covering about 8 hectares, the garden was terraced at the front of the Villa, with pathways trellised overhead by lemon and mandarin trees. There were azaleas, camellias, and rhododendrons in vast arrays in this Eden like paradise. Pockets of foliage akin to rainforest soared above the manicured lawns. Waterfalls cascaded down the slopes, adding to the sense of exotic wilderness.

We found a café on the outer edge of the property, overlooking the lake. We had cappuccinos all round and a brief respite to enjoy the view and marvel at our surroundings.

The Villa itself was stunning. There were three levels, each one displaying incredible artwork, ornate furnishings, sculptures and artefacts dating back centuries. After looking in all the rooms, we stepped out on to the balcony to  admire the breathtaking view. Lake Como sparkled in the sunlight, its surface a dappled deep blue.

Eventually we turned back into the Villa to begin the descent to the ground floor. My legs were still in a vice like grip. Climbing up the stairs to each floor was just bearable but I knew going back down would be excruciating. As we moved towards the top of the stairs, suddenly there before us was a lift. Such relief! We shared the short ride down with another couple, with whom we managed to exchange countries of origin. They were Italian but lived in San Diego. 

We made our way back to the ferry terminal. The next ferry arrived in 40 minutes so we found a boat bar not far away and popped on board for a beer and some snacks. We sat on the deck in the warm sunshine, sipping our cold beer, all feeling content with our world.

That evening, we were again guests at our travelling companions’ apartment. This time maestro Max whet our appetites with anti pasta to start, then a mouthwatering spread of spaghetti carbonara, salad (courtesy of Eve), crusty bread with olive oil, balsamic vinegar and pesto. Bellissimo! We provided the beer, wine and limoncello plus some background music from Michael’s phone piped through the bluetooth speaker. Another tasty meal worthy of any decent restaurant and yet another entertaining night with good friends.

Longest hair at the ferry terminal in Varenna!

One of the colourful American tourists on the ferry

Villa Carlotta