Slovenia is a Real Place

When we left Venice, Krisztian and I decided that we would cut through Slovenia instead of heading down to Croatia. We were already close and itś just a small country between Italy and Hungary, right? HAHAHAHA.

A few nights ago we crossed into Slovenia from Italy. Once again, there was no one to check our passports at the border. In my ignorance, I didn't know whether Slovenia is part of the EU or not. It turns out they are presiding over the EU right now. Opa!

Ever since we left Venice, the Alps loomed over us, far and too the left, as we rode past vineyards on perfectly flat terrain. As we finally approached Slovenia, it became immediately apparent that the Slovenian landscape is unfuckwithable. We had managed to ride through the Pyrenees and smaller parts of the Alps, but within a few kilometers we found ourselves walking our bikes for the first time in the trip. There is no way to ride a fully-loaded touring bike up a 15% grade for two kilometers in the hot hot sun. No way. We were humbled by Slovenia.

To contextualize the formidable terrain of Slovenia, within five miles of the border we came across a railroad bridge which contains the largest free-standing stone arch in the world. During Franz Ferdinand's reign of the Austro-Hungarian empire, the only way to connect Slovenia to the economic network of the region was to make a giant, giant, giant railroad bridge over a river valley. It was beautiful after a long mountain climb. The alpine river was so cold that I could barely swim back to the shore and didn't feel that I cut open a few of my toes. It was well worth it.

A huge thunderstorm commenced as soon as we made it to Nova Gornica, a valley village with a grocery store. We found shelter under the canopy of the vacant border station, a strange refuge indeed. I wish I could put pictures up right now. By the end of the night, muddy and slightly miserable, we had crossed the border at least four times looking for a place to set up camp. Our campsite was pretty sketchy and obviously on private property, but it was getting dark and we resolved to leave by 6 am. When we woke, of course, there was a very elderly woman walking down the dirt driveway. She was non-threatening and said nothing, but her evil eye instilled in us a sense of guilt that I haven't felt in a long time.

We knew it was impossible to ride through Slovenia, so we would have to take a train somewhere. We had met an American girl, currently living in Germany, in Venice, who suggested that we meet her and her cousin in a town called Bled. All we knew about it was that there was a lake and a lot of outdoor activities. And a cool name. So we hopped on a train and went. The train was full of cyclists, and we knew we were going to the right place.

We have now been in Bled for three days, Nhaving never got in contact with Meghan, our American friend, because her phone number isn't working. However, that lucky coincidence of running into her at a Venician pizzeria led us to one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. There is a perfectly clear alpine lake with a castle, huge mountains in every direction, cheap camping and an island with a historic church. We have been spending our days alternating between swimming, drinking wine, biking, laying in the sun, fishing, taking photos, and making friends with the hoards of English, Australian and other Anglophone people who are at the campground. I have heard more English here than in any other place on this trip. Usually I prefer to avoid tourists, but I really like being able to communicate easily with other travelers. This is definitely a place for tourists, but they are outdoorsy types and spend their days swimming, hiking and biking.

As much as I have gotten used to being stared at all the time, it's nice to be somewhere where I can sit on the ground and eat with my hands, wear garish spandex shorts in a grocery store, speak in English, and drink wine from the bottle without getting any odd looks. We are among our own.

This place is really magical.