I am realizing as I pull out my computer that everything I own could use a good scrub. I will have to get on that soon… but anyway.
Last we left off I was on a late train from Venice to the former Yugoslav Republic. Slovenia, to be exact, which is the nicest one. When the war broke out in 1991, they were able end their part in the conflict in just ten days, declaring independence and beginning to build a society that would allow them to join the European Union and adopt the euro long before any of their neighboring Balkan states. Now, I got a lot of concerned silences and nervous questions when I told people I was going to the Balkans, mostly, I think, because the war is still the freshest association in many people’s minds. They needen’t have worried though, and I hope after this post you’ll understand why.
In the same vein as my love for Switzerland, I am going to go ahead and call Slovenia magical as well. The Alps in the country end just twenty five kilometers north of Ljubljana, the capital, where I spent most of my time. Even beyond the Alps, however, Slovenia is the third most densely wooded country in Europe, and there are lush towering trees everywhere. Whether on the train or in the city, you have no doubt that the forest is never too far away. Indeed, views from the train windows often reminded me of those scenes in fantasy films where the heroes are running through those forests that are too beautiful for words.
It helps the Ljubljana itself is barely a city. The population numbers something like 250,000, with the whole country coming in at a spare two million. Even with such tiny numbers though, the city looks like a capital. A Slovenian architect by the name of Plicnik, back in the country’s communist days, whole heartedly believed that Ljubljana should and would become the capital of an independent Slovenia one day. As such, he began designing public works for the city free of charge. Bridges, churches, and even a sprawling market populate the town center with structures that that inspire visual awe.
When I arrived at a little past eight in the morning then, too early to check in to my hostel, I dropped off my bag and set about exploring. At eleven, there was a free walking tour that I thoroughly enjoyed. Some of my favorite stories included those of the national poet and hero Preseren who consolidated Slovenian identity with his work, and the dragon mascot of Ljubljana, said to be the dragon that the mythical hero Jason defeated on his journey back to Greece with the golden fleece.
After the tour, I hiked up the mountain in the center of the city to visit Ljubljana Castle. Unlike many of the other castles I have visited, this one was destroyed, rebuilt, and renovated so many times that it resembles a modern fortress more than anything else. As a public space though, it was lovely. There was a spectacular museum on the history of Slovenia, as well as a movie about the history of the castle itself. My favorite part though was probably the outdoor reading space.
Far from being a castle specific attraction, these spaces peppered the city on weekends, showing up in squares and parks - anywhere with shade really. I don’t know if the program is private or public, but it consists of a bunch of folding lounge chairs scattered about a series of boxes holding books in a handful of different languages. The idea is to invite people to sit and enjoy a book, just because, because that is a lovely way to spend a few hours on a weekend if I do say so myself. I didn’t join in because I had other things I wanted to do, but the very idea made me happy, and I was definitely tempted.
As for those other things, it turns out I had arrived in Ljubljana just in time for the final weekend of the International Street Theatre Festival, similar to Busker Fest in Toronto, but scattered all over the city. I had picked up a program and wanted to see some of the shows, but the I seemed to have more trouble finding them than I expected I would. The first show I saw, an inexpert juggler from Venezuela with almost no sense of showmanship and some pretty disturbing attempts at jokes, nearly turned me off the festival all together. I concluded later that he wasn’t actually affiliated with the event, but everyone watching him in the main square seemed to think he was. I suppose that’s clever on his part, using the festival to draw large crowds.
When I did finally find a festival sanctioned show, it was much more what I expected. A comedy duo from Australia named Oskar and Stroodle put on a fantastically funny performance. I followed that with the tail end of a Slovenian act about undertakers that was on my way home. I didn’t understand much, but everyone was laughing and it was enjoyable regardless. By the time that was finished though, I was beat from what more or less amounted to an all-nighter, so I called it a day and went back to the hostel for a lovely shower. Sometimes, there is nothing more relaxing than simply washing one’s hair.
The next morning I had planned a day trip to Zagreb, Croatia, based in part on the many diplomatic cables I had read out of the city and in part on a lovely group of Croatian girls I had met in Istanbul. The problem with the trip, however, was that the trains rain at such infrequent intervals that I had a choice between one hour in the city or eleven. The eleven hour option, as you might expect, did not get back until late, and I didn’t think I could handle another late late night. I considered cancelling the trip altogether and then thought, “eh, what the hell. It includes a train, right?”
And so, in the ever comforting mindset that the train ride itself is something worth doing, I hopped the train to Zagreb, power walked the city for an hour, and hopped the train back. On the train, between involuntary naps, I decided Slovenia is prettier than at least the north of Croatia. I’ve heard lovely things about the south and the beaches, but from the train it was almost as if the tree line ended when we crossed the border. A border at which, I might add, border control gave me a passport stamp. =)
Zagreb itself was a sight to see. I would have liked to stay longer, but certainly not all eleven hours. Since it was a Saturday, almost always the best day to see a city and its people in their natural element, the parks were teaming with concerts and dancers and revelers and carts. I passed through the main square where a group of elderly Croatian men and women were performing traditional dances in front of the jumbo tron that I’m sure plays all the World Cup games live. There was also a trip through the market, teaming with life as most markets are, and a stop in at the Cathedral. The only thing I wanted to see on the walk and missed was the Stone Gate, a ruin of the old city, but I didn’t exactly have time to go searching. Another time, however, I would like to go back and see the museums. Zagreb is full of them, including all of the usuals like history, nature, and archaeological museums, but also some fun ones, like the Museum of Broken Relationships.
Back in Ljubljana by the early afternoon, I had time to see the Street Theatre Festival’s grand finale. In a park some ways away, there were to be nonstop back-to-back performances from four to eleven. I didn’t think I could last until eleven, but I did want to see a few, and so I set out walking towards the other end of town.
Being such a tiny place, I imagined walking wouldn’t take to long. My estimation put it at forty-five minutes, which didn’t seem too bad. As such, I decided to take the long way to pass by a park I’d planned to see the following morning, which would allow me to take an earlier train to Vienna and hopefully get in before it got late. In what had turned out to be the scorching heat of the day, however, I was tired and thirsty even before I got to the park. As such, I didn’t explore as much as I had planned too. Supposedly there’s a castle way far back by the forest on the other side of the park, but I hadn’t seen it mentioned on any tourism websites, and while I would have liked to see it anyway I just didn’t have the energy. It was a big park.
I assumed, on the other hand, that if I made it to the festival there would be shade and water and, because I was getting hungry at that point, food. (I should probably mention in an effort not to take out any Croatian kunas from the ATM I didn’t buy anything in Croatia, including sustenance.) Surely I could last the hour it would take to get to the festival grounds though. Well, an hour and a half later I wasn’t lasting very well. You would think the smart thing to do in that situation would be stop along the way for food and water, except Slovenia would not cooperate with your idea of the smart thing to do.
You see, Slovenian culture tends to close up shop on Saturday afternoons so people can go out and enjoy nature, not just in the parks, but all the way out in the forests and mountains. As such, nearly everywhere was closed. When I finally found an open pizza place, I was so excited I forgot to buy water. Luckily, the festival grounds ended up being right around the corner, but even then water was too expensive for me to afford more than a bottle. That was sad too, because most things in Slovenia were quite pleasantly cheap.
Nourishment issues aside, the festival finale was quite a treat. I saw shows by Slovenian, Australian, Italian, French, Polish, and Russian performers, all of which were stunning. Well… maybe with the exception of the Russians. They did a sort of puppet show, in Russian, and everyone just kind of stared and didn’t understand what was going on. It was kind of sad.
At this point, I should probably mention a note about language in Slovenia. There is an official Slavic language called Slovenian and spoken by the people, but English is also one of the four official spoken languages, and as such perfectly acceptable to use as well. Anywhere I went in the city, tourist area or not, I was usually greeted in Slovenian, but as soon as I said “hello” instead, I always got perfect English back without so much as a second glance. The only person I met who didn’t speak perfect English was a little old lady at the theatre festival dressed in traditional garb and selling clearly homemade food out of her own kitchen crockery, and even she knew the important words like “zucchini” and “two euro.”
Thanks to this ubiquitous knowledge of English, it wasn’t a problem for the international performers to use it in their shows. Even the kids knew a fair bit when Oskar and Stroodle had interacted with them the day before. As such, it was only the Slovenian acts that ever tripped me up, and the only one I watched at the finale, the story of three treasure hunters and their calamitous journey to a place called Tadam, was done mostly in grunts and bilingual exclamations.
I stayed much later than I intended at the festival, especially considering I wanted another early night, but every time I went to leave another performance started and I found myself drawn in. I just enjoy live theatre, I suppose, and when it came to street theatre these were some of the best. Well, it was that and the fact that the atmosphere was infectious. Street performance has apparently become an important form of expression to the Slovenians since the end of communist rule in the early nineties. While I don’t have any authority to claim the same about the rest of former Yugoslavia, even my short time in Croatia made me think that might extend to other Balkan states as well.
I finally made it out of the festival around eight, just before a joint Slovenian/American group went on with a show called Identity Card. That left me an hour long walk back to the hostel (which was closer than the park) along which I bought another bottle of water an some burek. Do you guys remember borek from Turkey? That cheese filled filo dough? Well, they have it in Slovenia too, and they claim it as their own. I don’t know or care who had it first, but for the record, I like Slovenian better. Don’t tell the Turks.
That night, I valiantly pried my eyes open long enough to finish my long over due Italy blog post before crashing into a nice solid sleep for not nearly long enough. This morning, I woke to a free hostel breakfast, and another delayed train. It was only twenty minutes this time, but that gave me enough time to start this post, and starting enough impetus to finish it on the train. We’re just getting to that part of Slovenia where the Alps become literally breathtaking again though, so I’m going to go stare like a three year old with shiny objects now. Love to you all!
Last we left off I was on a late train from Venice to the former Yugoslav Republic. Slovenia, to be exact, which is the nicest one. When the war broke out in 1991, they were able end their part in the conflict in just ten days, declaring independence and beginning to build a society that would allow them to join the European Union and adopt the euro long before any of their neighboring Balkan states. Now, I got a lot of concerned silences and nervous questions when I told people I was going to the Balkans, mostly, I think, because the war is still the freshest association in many people’s minds. They needen’t have worried though, and I hope after this post you’ll understand why.
In the same vein as my love for Switzerland, I am going to go ahead and call Slovenia magical as well. The Alps in the country end just twenty five kilometers north of Ljubljana, the capital, where I spent most of my time. Even beyond the Alps, however, Slovenia is the third most densely wooded country in Europe, and there are lush towering trees everywhere. Whether on the train or in the city, you have no doubt that the forest is never too far away. Indeed, views from the train windows often reminded me of those scenes in fantasy films where the heroes are running through those forests that are too beautiful for words.
It helps the Ljubljana itself is barely a city. The population numbers something like 250,000, with the whole country coming in at a spare two million. Even with such tiny numbers though, the city looks like a capital. A Slovenian architect by the name of Plicnik, back in the country’s communist days, whole heartedly believed that Ljubljana should and would become the capital of an independent Slovenia one day. As such, he began designing public works for the city free of charge. Bridges, churches, and even a sprawling market populate the town center with structures that that inspire visual awe.
When I arrived at a little past eight in the morning then, too early to check in to my hostel, I dropped off my bag and set about exploring. At eleven, there was a free walking tour that I thoroughly enjoyed. Some of my favorite stories included those of the national poet and hero Preseren who consolidated Slovenian identity with his work, and the dragon mascot of Ljubljana, said to be the dragon that the mythical hero Jason defeated on his journey back to Greece with the golden fleece.
After the tour, I hiked up the mountain in the center of the city to visit Ljubljana Castle. Unlike many of the other castles I have visited, this one was destroyed, rebuilt, and renovated so many times that it resembles a modern fortress more than anything else. As a public space though, it was lovely. There was a spectacular museum on the history of Slovenia, as well as a movie about the history of the castle itself. My favorite part though was probably the outdoor reading space.
Far from being a castle specific attraction, these spaces peppered the city on weekends, showing up in squares and parks - anywhere with shade really. I don’t know if the program is private or public, but it consists of a bunch of folding lounge chairs scattered about a series of boxes holding books in a handful of different languages. The idea is to invite people to sit and enjoy a book, just because, because that is a lovely way to spend a few hours on a weekend if I do say so myself. I didn’t join in because I had other things I wanted to do, but the very idea made me happy, and I was definitely tempted.
As for those other things, it turns out I had arrived in Ljubljana just in time for the final weekend of the International Street Theatre Festival, similar to Busker Fest in Toronto, but scattered all over the city. I had picked up a program and wanted to see some of the shows, but the I seemed to have more trouble finding them than I expected I would. The first show I saw, an inexpert juggler from Venezuela with almost no sense of showmanship and some pretty disturbing attempts at jokes, nearly turned me off the festival all together. I concluded later that he wasn’t actually affiliated with the event, but everyone watching him in the main square seemed to think he was. I suppose that’s clever on his part, using the festival to draw large crowds.
When I did finally find a festival sanctioned show, it was much more what I expected. A comedy duo from Australia named Oskar and Stroodle put on a fantastically funny performance. I followed that with the tail end of a Slovenian act about undertakers that was on my way home. I didn’t understand much, but everyone was laughing and it was enjoyable regardless. By the time that was finished though, I was beat from what more or less amounted to an all-nighter, so I called it a day and went back to the hostel for a lovely shower. Sometimes, there is nothing more relaxing than simply washing one’s hair.
The next morning I had planned a day trip to Zagreb, Croatia, based in part on the many diplomatic cables I had read out of the city and in part on a lovely group of Croatian girls I had met in Istanbul. The problem with the trip, however, was that the trains rain at such infrequent intervals that I had a choice between one hour in the city or eleven. The eleven hour option, as you might expect, did not get back until late, and I didn’t think I could handle another late late night. I considered cancelling the trip altogether and then thought, “eh, what the hell. It includes a train, right?”
And so, in the ever comforting mindset that the train ride itself is something worth doing, I hopped the train to Zagreb, power walked the city for an hour, and hopped the train back. On the train, between involuntary naps, I decided Slovenia is prettier than at least the north of Croatia. I’ve heard lovely things about the south and the beaches, but from the train it was almost as if the tree line ended when we crossed the border. A border at which, I might add, border control gave me a passport stamp. =)
Zagreb itself was a sight to see. I would have liked to stay longer, but certainly not all eleven hours. Since it was a Saturday, almost always the best day to see a city and its people in their natural element, the parks were teaming with concerts and dancers and revelers and carts. I passed through the main square where a group of elderly Croatian men and women were performing traditional dances in front of the jumbo tron that I’m sure plays all the World Cup games live. There was also a trip through the market, teaming with life as most markets are, and a stop in at the Cathedral. The only thing I wanted to see on the walk and missed was the Stone Gate, a ruin of the old city, but I didn’t exactly have time to go searching. Another time, however, I would like to go back and see the museums. Zagreb is full of them, including all of the usuals like history, nature, and archaeological museums, but also some fun ones, like the Museum of Broken Relationships.
Back in Ljubljana by the early afternoon, I had time to see the Street Theatre Festival’s grand finale. In a park some ways away, there were to be nonstop back-to-back performances from four to eleven. I didn’t think I could last until eleven, but I did want to see a few, and so I set out walking towards the other end of town.
Being such a tiny place, I imagined walking wouldn’t take to long. My estimation put it at forty-five minutes, which didn’t seem too bad. As such, I decided to take the long way to pass by a park I’d planned to see the following morning, which would allow me to take an earlier train to Vienna and hopefully get in before it got late. In what had turned out to be the scorching heat of the day, however, I was tired and thirsty even before I got to the park. As such, I didn’t explore as much as I had planned too. Supposedly there’s a castle way far back by the forest on the other side of the park, but I hadn’t seen it mentioned on any tourism websites, and while I would have liked to see it anyway I just didn’t have the energy. It was a big park.
I assumed, on the other hand, that if I made it to the festival there would be shade and water and, because I was getting hungry at that point, food. (I should probably mention in an effort not to take out any Croatian kunas from the ATM I didn’t buy anything in Croatia, including sustenance.) Surely I could last the hour it would take to get to the festival grounds though. Well, an hour and a half later I wasn’t lasting very well. You would think the smart thing to do in that situation would be stop along the way for food and water, except Slovenia would not cooperate with your idea of the smart thing to do.
You see, Slovenian culture tends to close up shop on Saturday afternoons so people can go out and enjoy nature, not just in the parks, but all the way out in the forests and mountains. As such, nearly everywhere was closed. When I finally found an open pizza place, I was so excited I forgot to buy water. Luckily, the festival grounds ended up being right around the corner, but even then water was too expensive for me to afford more than a bottle. That was sad too, because most things in Slovenia were quite pleasantly cheap.
Nourishment issues aside, the festival finale was quite a treat. I saw shows by Slovenian, Australian, Italian, French, Polish, and Russian performers, all of which were stunning. Well… maybe with the exception of the Russians. They did a sort of puppet show, in Russian, and everyone just kind of stared and didn’t understand what was going on. It was kind of sad.
At this point, I should probably mention a note about language in Slovenia. There is an official Slavic language called Slovenian and spoken by the people, but English is also one of the four official spoken languages, and as such perfectly acceptable to use as well. Anywhere I went in the city, tourist area or not, I was usually greeted in Slovenian, but as soon as I said “hello” instead, I always got perfect English back without so much as a second glance. The only person I met who didn’t speak perfect English was a little old lady at the theatre festival dressed in traditional garb and selling clearly homemade food out of her own kitchen crockery, and even she knew the important words like “zucchini” and “two euro.”
Thanks to this ubiquitous knowledge of English, it wasn’t a problem for the international performers to use it in their shows. Even the kids knew a fair bit when Oskar and Stroodle had interacted with them the day before. As such, it was only the Slovenian acts that ever tripped me up, and the only one I watched at the finale, the story of three treasure hunters and their calamitous journey to a place called Tadam, was done mostly in grunts and bilingual exclamations.
I stayed much later than I intended at the festival, especially considering I wanted another early night, but every time I went to leave another performance started and I found myself drawn in. I just enjoy live theatre, I suppose, and when it came to street theatre these were some of the best. Well, it was that and the fact that the atmosphere was infectious. Street performance has apparently become an important form of expression to the Slovenians since the end of communist rule in the early nineties. While I don’t have any authority to claim the same about the rest of former Yugoslavia, even my short time in Croatia made me think that might extend to other Balkan states as well.
I finally made it out of the festival around eight, just before a joint Slovenian/American group went on with a show called Identity Card. That left me an hour long walk back to the hostel (which was closer than the park) along which I bought another bottle of water an some burek. Do you guys remember borek from Turkey? That cheese filled filo dough? Well, they have it in Slovenia too, and they claim it as their own. I don’t know or care who had it first, but for the record, I like Slovenian better. Don’t tell the Turks.
That night, I valiantly pried my eyes open long enough to finish my long over due Italy blog post before crashing into a nice solid sleep for not nearly long enough. This morning, I woke to a free hostel breakfast, and another delayed train. It was only twenty minutes this time, but that gave me enough time to start this post, and starting enough impetus to finish it on the train. We’re just getting to that part of Slovenia where the Alps become literally breathtaking again though, so I’m going to go stare like a three year old with shiny objects now. Love to you all!
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