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.