Ljubljana...The next best thing to living on the Sun!

Observation about Slovenes: If nothing else, Slovenes love their ice cream stands...they have one, it seems, every ten feet. So just in case you find yourself in desperate need of ice cream it's only a few steps away. Perhaps they are made of a diffeernt material, alien to us regular humans, that needs constant nourishment in the form of ice cream. That might help to explain why no matter what you order, it tastes like something else. The tiramisu tasted suspiciously like vanilla with a hint of coffee, and the toblerone like rum balls...neither are bad, but both surprisingly not what I ordered. Why would you not constantly buy the ice cream...every purchase is an adventure to be met by even the faint of heart, though perhaps not the lactose intolerant.

It is the longest day of the year and the Sun has been out in force this weekend, with blazing temps of nearly 40.C Crazy hot. Ross and I decided to bail on Ljubljana and head to beautiful, albeit touristy, lake Bled, where temperatures were lower and we could swim in the lake after rowing to the glaciatic island built out of triassic stone. It was a great afternoon and Ross learned me all about the secrets of martial arts in their glorious varieties... yes grasshopper. Think Lake Louise, except that you want to go in the water.

Ljubljana is an interesting place; with a heavy student population it is suited for having a good time and lots of eye candy. The women of Ljubljana are really very attractive and surprisingly diverse compared to Regensburg, but they get knocked a few points on the Helen-Scale (named after the face who sailed a thousand ships. Thus 1 Helen is equivalent to your willingness to sail a thousand ships for them, likewise, -1 is equivalent to sailing 1000 ships to get away from that person...both scores are unattainable, however.) Anyhoo...they lose points for two factors: first they're not very friendly and if you try asking them something they have been less than eager to help. Admittedly my Slovenian is limited to a few brutally massacred words - and Slovenes do not take kindly to massacres of any shade. The second factor is that Slovenian women do not seem to smile. Ross contends otherwise, but perhaps it is simply a matter that they're anti-Cory rather than generally unfriendly. I have been known to have that affect upon people, but it's often because I've rammed their car with my bicycle or some such thing.

The first thing that caught my eye in the town square was a statue not to some valiant warrior, nay, their state hero is, in fact, a poet. France PreŠeren (pronounced - Preh shar un) So I had to go find out what this was all about. My first adventure was finding some of his works in English (see paragraph 1 for explanation of why not Slovene). It turns out he is prolific not only in his poetry, but sonnets, and most importantly wrote what would later become the national anthem of the country...it's about love, rather than shit being blowed-up. He was clearly an ardent nationalist and an excellent prognosticator (write that down) because he signaled an independent Slovenia more than a century before it would occur:

˝Of both my pain, your praise a monument
In future times for Slovenes will resound
When moss upon my early grave is found
Wherein will present pain be somnolent.˝

In many ways he's more important to Slovenia than Shakespeare is to Britain, and his works technically very complex, but really easy to read. I won't go into it, but I know why he's revered now. So it seemed fitting to spend my last evening with his ˝Wreath of Sonnets˝at a cafe to finish off my stay.

Monday night was the real adventure though, when after going for an extremely long walk after dark to explore a bit, I happened into a dive of a bar and found myself talking to the son of a Memeber of Parliament, who was not only happy to talk to me about the history and politics of his country, but get me roaring drunk on potent local beer and a cocktail known as the flaming Lambourghini. I don't know exactly what the initial mix in the martini glass is (or rather those brain cells were killed) but they light it on fire and pour blue curacao and bailies into it as you try to finish before your straw starts melting. It was awesome, but I have a feeling that it contributed (along with wine at dinner and several beer chasers to my very fuzzy stupor today). It was all pretty tame, although I think I remember peeing in the middle of a street, albeit a small one, street that is. But I had a great time, and about 4:00 stumbled into my room, after having agreed to meet him again since both of us were too drunk to figure out how to find a pen at that time of night (the hotel being the obvious, although sober, answer). It didn't happen, but it was fun. Friendship here for good time, not long time.

In another, unrelated story, I may or may not have shit my pants when I climbed up with the Tates to the top of the castle tower overlooking the town. It's open, and freaking high up. Then Ryan proceeds to grab Erin while up top and I instinctively lunged for the center of the tower fearing my own unlikely freefall. ˝What's that smell?˝ I seem to be asking. ˝Did I shit my pants?˝fortunately, my answer was no, but I swear there was at least a small sharding. Geoff didn't fare a lot better than myself, but we both did it, survived, and will likely never again climb to the top. I've especially enjoyed my time just hanging out with the Tates, watching football, and complaining about the heat.

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