Loob-lee-ah-na and the Yugoslav Five

(Typed while watching a Jackie Chan movie in German. Apparently the enjoyability of his cinematic artistry is able to cross language barriers. Maybe it explains any typos, too.)

Come May, only one country’s passport stamp was missing in my book before I’d tackled the Yugoslav Five, the Jeremy-given-title for the five former Yugoslavian republics. Serbia & Montenegro and (the Former Yugoslavian Republic of) Macedonia were tackled in December. Croatia and Bosnia & Herzegovina were crossed off in April. (I must admit, of course, that the Bosnian authorities did not actually stamp my passport during our brief encounter.)

Slovenia, the most northern and well-off of the "land of the Southern slavs," was the only country left to discover. Old roommate Nate Fronk had been there in the fall, and we’d only heard good things from others as well. Tucked between Italy, Austria, Hungary and the rest of the Yugoslav Five, Slovenia is a natural paradise. Entrusted with just a sliver of Adriatic coast, the Julian Alps more than make up for the minimal seashore. Still snow-capped in early May, they are no less dramatic than the other stretches of the range further to the north and west in Austria and Switzerland.

Another short overnight stay in Zagreb gave us just enough time to uncover new side streets and a chunk of the best cheese I’ve ever tasted. Smoked. Salted. Fresh from a little German-speaking man in the market. I couldn’t stop eating it all the way to Ljubljana.

The train ride was beautiful, the track follows the Sava River in a tight canyon most of the way upstream from Zagreb to Ljubljana. While the others slept, I befriended a gaggle of Croatian veterinarian students headed to the Netherlands. I wish would could have talked more, but once again, trains were stealing my conversation partners off to different locales. (I’d run into Australian Emma of Dubrovnik fame, completely by chance, in the massive Keleti train station, but she was off to Prague instead of Heves because she hadn’t been able to get in contact with me. Oops.)

With the luck of the planless-traveller, we managed to secure the last two "prison cells" at Ljubljana’s most infamous hostel. The Celica Hostel (celica is the Croatian word for cell) is a recently-renovated prison. The middle floor features 22 prison cells, complete with caged door and one small barred window. Each room was redesigned by a team of artists and given a unique touch. Jenna and Yerik had a lofted bunk for two along with some stylized artwork. Mariah and I had a split level cell with a blueish, devilish theme.

The hostel is the most magnificent I’ve ever stayed in. The rooms and bathrooms are great. The lower-level common room, bar/restaurant, and outdoor terrace are fantastic. Free internet to boot! The hostel even adds features beyond the usual. A room for quiet reflection and an Asiatic sitting room with Turkish water pipes. The cells are pricey (25 Euro a person a night), but if you plan ahead, you can get a bunk in the bigger dorm rooms upstairs for half the price.

Ljubljana must be one of the world’s smallest capital cities. Only 280,000 people live under the shadow of the Ljubljana castle. The city center is delightfully pocket-sized, easily accessible by foot. The old town is split by the Ljubljanica River. Memorable bridges straddle the clear waterway, hardly bigger than a large stream. Four bronze dragons stand sentinel on one, another is buttressed by two pedestrian bridges. Cafes flourish along the riverwalk; restaurants and shops pave the next street up from the river.

We toured the hilltop castle the second day. The view is more spectacular than the architecture. The city and her rivers wound through valleys peppered with green hills. Further in the distance, the Alps rose sharply. It started a good conversation: From what national capitals are mountains visible?

Ljubljana, Slovenia. Bern, Switzerland. Quito, Equador. Kathmandu, Nepal. Sarajevo, Bosnia.

Vienna, Austria? Oslo, Norway? Mexico City, Mexico?

From the top of the belltower, we saw men setting up a fireworks display below. As many people as we asked, no one knew for sure why there would be fireworks. We decided to use the mystery of the occasion to our advantage, and spent the afternoon concocting fireworks-related pick-up lines. For us before, during or after a fireworks display. Some of the favorites:

I hear there will be fireworks above Ljubljana tonight and between us!

Let’s make sure that these fireworks aren’t the last delightful explosion tonight!

These Slovenian fireworks are nice, but interested in seeing a real American rocket?

The best nights begin and end with fireworks.

If you liked that showing, I’m willing to arrange a second round of fireworks just for you.

Unfortunately, none of these lines were actually enacted, tested against the intricacies of the Slovenian mindset. We simply sat in an outdoor pizza café next to the river to watch the fireworks. A dixieland jazz band decided it was a good spot, so they set up their five-piece band right next to us. Fireworks, pizza and dixie proved to be quite the combo on a beautiful spring night.

A short bus is the easiest way to get to Lake Bled, high in the mountains, one of the prettiest sights tourists ever get to. Either I'm a bit spoiled when it comes to mountains, or the dreary rain got to me, but it's still a magical sight to see.