thirty six kilometers

13:28 31 July, Prian

Slovenia only has thirty six kilometers of seacoast, and it is possible to cycle into neighboring Croatia or Italy from anywhere along this coastline. Having been fully cycled-out from Bled, and not having a great deal of time, I opted to leisure around the town. When I got off the bus, I was confronted with the problem that there was no obvious tourist office from which to orient myself, and so, seeing two girls speaking English and holding a travel, I enquired as to their expertise on the city. they proved as disoriented as I, but together the three of us managed to find the tourist office, from which I procured a map. Splitting up with the girls, both Australian expats teaching in London, we planned to meet up later in the evening. I headed off for my budget hotel, dying from the heat and humidity. When I checked in, the first thing I did was take a nice refreshing shower, and change into more breathable clothing.

The city center, very Nice.

Having thus prepared myself, I set out to take a look around town. After a short time, I made my way to one of the city squares where I had arranged to meet the Auzzie expats. There was a young boy playing with a ball in the square, and when his kick errantly came my way, I gently kicked it back to him. Well, from his perspective, it was game on. With mom in sight we played in impromptu game of kick the ball back-and-forth, until I was rescued from a future of seemingly perpetual kickball by the arrival of the girls. We slipped into a cafe where we got a light dinner and a glass of the 80 euro cent house white wine (terrible). We stayed up chatting for a while, until I was prompted to continue my tradition of Mediterranean Travel by making a midnight run down into the ocean. The three of us daintily slipped across the "beach" - a collection of large boulders - and into the warm waters of the Mediterranean.

The enterance to the sea.

Tradition in tact, we parted ways and I enjoyed my first night of private accommodation since freezing in my tent in Iceland. This morning, the cost of the accommodation was partially offset by the excellence of the breakfast. Quite the spread met me when I came down from my room, with bread, jam, eggs, Mediterranean salsa, muffins, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and cheese. The eggs were not so very good, but everything else was fantastic.

I've spent the rest of my day trying to to look too closely at the "beach". While in many ways, Prian reminds me of Nice, there is a distinctly older population here. Families with young children running around in their birthday suits mingle with leathery old men burnt to the point of eligibility for affirmative action. Swim trunks still have yet to penetrate the Continent, and speedos do little to retain the modesty of beach goers so bloated as to evoke images of beached whales. Over the age of 50, it becomes common for the women to adopt Amazonian style and abandon upper body covering. The overall experience was enough to shake me to my Puritanical core.

The backways of Prian.

Now begins a rather hectic 24 hours, wherein I get on a bus to Ljubljana, transfer to the airport, fly to Budapest, find my hostel, sleep, and catch a 12:05 flight to Athens. Fingers crossed, I'll make it with all my possessions.

13:51 30 July, Veolia Bus to Piran

I raced the to the best station this morning in Bled. Late in the morning, I decided that I'd catch the 9:30 bus into Ljubljana to connect to Piran, rather than the 10:30 bus, so as to have more time to spend in Piran. At one point, I despaired of making the bus, when I made a 10 minute wrong turn that looped me around to my starting place, but I arrived at the station at the very moment the bus was departing, and flagged it down. It's in the high 80's in Slovenia right now (don't fear, I'll never bother reporting temperature in centigrade) so even without being burdened with all of my luggage, it would have been an uncomfortable run.

It all ended up being for naught as the forebodingly-named "911 Bus Service" to Piran wasn't running today for no explained reason, so I had to wait for two and a half hours for the next bus once I arrived in Ljubljana. No problem, I just rolled my luggage into the downtown, and had an early lunch (by now, this should be no surprise: a panini & beer) while I read by the riverside. It was a good way to kill two hours.

Just now, I thought I had almost missed the bus to Piran, when, after seeing it pull up to the station and offload passengers, it quickly started back up and took off in the direction of the superway (with me futilely trailing behind it, the wheels of my suitcase clacking feverishly along the cobblestone). However, it must have doubled back and returned to the station where I paid the 12 euro fare to Piran, plus an extra fee for luggage (apparently airlines are not the only practitioners of this bit of consumer trickery.) But now I'm rolling along toward the coast, hoping that Piran will be worth all the aggravation and expense (no hostels means dishing out $75/night for a budget hotel, plus transportation to and from the coastal town). I have every confidence that it will be great.

bleding hearts

3:14 27 July, halfway up the hill

I am sitting on a moss covered tree, angled just so as to create a natural cushoned bench. Down below, the torquois waters of Lake Bled are so calm that even the brilliantly shining sun is unable to cast sparkels out over the beautifully clear water. Bled, a summer vacation town in northern Slovenia, is almost indescribably beautiful. I pity those that grew up here, as there is little in the world they can visit that will ever match the tranquility and perfection of this little town. Rising up from the lake, on vertical column of limestone, sits Bled Castle, so prositioned that Disnesy animators would have rejection it's design for being unrealistically fairytale-esque. To further embelish the fairytale, a single island dots Lake Bled, with a small abby from which a single tower sticks up prominatly above the foiliage. I have only been here for 30 mins. and I'm alraedy wonderinf if 3 nightss will be enough. First though, let me describe to you the circumstances of my arrival.

Lake Bled, from the trail up the hill

I left Ljubljana with two Americans who were spending the next few nights in the hostel I was leaving from. Agreeing to my suggestion that they check out Bled, the three of us boarded a bus for the short hour and a half ride north through the mountains. I exited the train early, when I saw the neighboring town's train station, which is where I was supposed to wait for the shuttle service to my hostel. I arranged to meet up with the Americans in the city center in an hour and a half, and quickly collected my things. After buying an inexpensive Slovenian phone card, I called the hostel and was informed by the gentleman that the shuttle would be along in 20 - 30 mins. Seeing that I had some time, I sat down at the train station cafe and ordered a small lunch (a panini & beer) and waited. 5 mins. later, before the panini had even come out, the shuttle aarrived, and I hurried over to explain that I needed to pay for my food. I was a little disapointed to have missed out on the panini, but since this was a free shuttle, I didn't want to make them wait. However, the driver was rather short with me, and it took some talking to secure a promise from him to wait for two minutes while I went inside and paid for my food. Hurrying inside, I grabbed my check, paid the hostess, hurriedly collected my things, and ran outside. No shuttle. I looked around to see if he had just left to park, but no, he had left for good. So cursing him under my breath, I decided to go back to the cafe, finish my meal, and then call the hostel again.

"I'm not comming back to get you, if you want to come to the hostel, you will have to find a way" and then an abrubt disconnection, was the reply to my querry as to what had happened earlier. Quite taken aback, I was now, under no circumstances, going to stay at this hostel. Forsaking the $6 deposit, I went into the tourist office to find a map of the area (since I had arranged to meet with the shuttle in the neighboring town, I was now a ways away from Bled). In the tourist office, I was met with hospitality of the polar opposite demonstrated by the shuttle. They provided me with a map, they attempted (unsucessfully) to call the shuttle service back, and then they gave me a selection of available hostels in the area, and arranged for me to stay at one for the three nights I would be in Bled. I was even lucky enough to find that the owner was right near the train station, and within 2 mins. my things were in her car, and I was wizzing off to my new hostel.

Walt Disney [to animators]: "No one's going to believe this, make it less fairly tale-esque."

I am so grateful for the assistance of the tourist office, and I am incredibly happy with my new hostel. It's an eight minute walk from the lake, with comfortable rooms equipped with a balcony overlooking the mountains. There's a terrific little guest kitchen, and tomorrow I hope to borrow the complimentary hostel bicycle to bike around town. After cancelling my booking at the other hostel, I think things will have worked out for the best, and I'm looking forward to my next few days in Bled. Foor now: onwards up to the castle!

20:00 29 July, Hotel Hacienda in Bled

Wow, a lot has happened since I was halfway up that hill. First off, I made it to the top, only to find that I had gone up an old access road to the castle that lead to what might be a secret entrance/exit, but it was securely locked. Frustrated with having climbed all this way just to descend and come back another way, I decided to see if I could find someplace where I could scale the castle wall. Having made my way along the cliffside (very safe, I promise) I found a promising point of attack, and was soon on the other, touristy, side of the castle wall. I was also right in front of the admission booth, so my efforts at espionage did not net me free admission. However, the castle was well worth the student-discounted price of admission. The views are fantastic, and the museum the first I've been to in Slovenia - did a good job of acquainting me with the history of Bled. I lingered at the castle, occasionally offering to take couples' pictures, and generally enjoying the view. I stopped into the wine cellar to check out the wines, and was surprised to find that there were some that were in the neighborhood of affordability. I had wanted to pick up a nice Slovenian wine ever since I learned that Slovenia is home to the oldest vines in the world. Not wanting anything too pricey, but still nice, I bought a 7 euro bottle from the joking monk whose abbey had operated the cellar for hundreds of years. I then stopped into the castle print shop, mostly because of my family's bookbinder heritage, and chatted with the attendant. The Gutenberg-styled printing machine they had was fantastically authentic, and the attendant was very knowledgeable about original (as in: 500 year-old) printmaking and binding processes.

Inside the castle.

Leaving the castle with my wine and a small printed page, I made my way back to my hostel by way of the grocery store, where I picked up a few provisions. Breakfast and dinner items thus purchased (including what my mother would call a bottle of CWW, cheap white wine), I had a little trouble finding my way back to the hostel, but after consulting my map, I was back in no time. Not, however, before tragedy struck. While crossing a street, I heard a tear and a pop, and looking down I saw the 7 euro bottle of wine quickly draining onto the street. Trying to not let this loss get to me, I prepared a pasta dinner, which I consumed in the company of two girls from Manchester, and two guys from Canada. I declined an invitation to check out the nightlife of Bled from the girls (knowing from other people's stories that there is no night life in Bled, a conclusion later drawn by the girls) and chatted with the Canadians for a good long while. We were later joined by a Hungarian who offered us some of his grandfather's wine, which wasn't half bad. All in all, a good night.

The next morning, I prepared my customarily large breakfast, and then set about investigating claims of a hostel bike. Finding such a bike, I grabbed my camera and headed in the direction of the lake. After getting my own copy of the picture that led me to come to Bled (with the island and the castle in the same shot) I lingered and watched a mother duck with her ducklings entertain the lake-goers. Lazily relaxing by the lake, I came across what appeared to be a walking stick, or possibly a fishing spear, I don't really know. I decided to upgrade it by stripping off the bark, and weaving into a comfortable grip. If anyone would like to know where I acquired this weaving skill, ask me some time about the basket weaving course that I took in Boy Scouts that left me with one of my more obvious scars.

The picture that launched a thousand ships... or at least one flight from Copenhagen, and one bus from Ljubljana.

It takes a long time to sneak up on a (flock?) of sleeping duckings when mama's around.

Admiring my handiwork.

Securing my new walking spear to my bike, I backtracked to where I had seen a sign for the neighboring lake. Lake Bled is the famous Alpine Resort of Slovenia, and most of the Balkans. However, there is another lake, Lake Bohinj, that is larger, less developed, and worth visiting. So when I saw signs to this lake, I decided to head toward it.

The road to Lake Bohinj

Even without the detour that I would end up taking halfway up a mountain, it's a long way from Lake Bled to Lake Bohinj. All tolled, I logged just under 50 km. on my bike that day, almost all of it absolutely beautiful. I rode through tiny alpine hamlets and rugged mountain passes. I stopped once to liberate an apple from an overburdened apple tree, and against my New English heritage: it was one of the best I've ever tasted. About 4 hours into my ride, I stopped at a gas station to fill up on calories and just about any kind of beverage they were willing to sell to me. The calories were provided by Jaffa Cakes, which have a history of providing me with sustenance during long journeys (a package purchased before a train ride from Brussels to Berlin would prove near-lifesaving). The beverage I selected because it had a picture of a person riding a bicycle, and I figured it would be appropriate.

Not exactally health food, but it did the job.

If you look closely at the bottom of the can, you'll notice the phrase: "pivo in limonade". The third word is easy enough to work out, "in" means "with", and "pivo"... well, "pivo" is Slovenian for "beer". "Beer with Lemonade". 50% beer, 50% lemonade... weird. But after a long ride, it satisfied the "any beverage they were willing to sell me" requirement, and I quickly put 1000 calories worth of food and drink into me, and continued on my way.

After some stops, I eventually made it to the lake at around 6:00. After enjoying a light lunch by the lake, during with thunder began to rumble over the mountains, I retreated inside to wait out a light shower. Emerging after only about 15 minutes, I mounted my bike, and cycled to the other side of the lake. This was a really neat ride, because the sun was shining down on the freshly rain watered road, casting up bits of mist that fit perfectly with the alpine surroundings. From the other side of the lake, it was another 20 minutes to a locally-revered waterfall, and the ride took me though the White Forest, so named (by me) because it was entirely populated by birch trees growing amongst moss-covered outcroppings of limestone.

Finally arriving at the waterfall, I paid a small admission fee, and climbed for another 20 minutes to see one of the more unique waterfalls I've ever seen. Slovenia is famous for their magic waterfalls, shoots of water that seemingly come from nowhere. Because of the limestone terrain, rivers often vanish for miles underground, only to reemerge in spectacular fashion. The falls, and the view, made all 7 hours of the ride worth it.

The view...

...and the falls.

I cycled back to the far side of the lake, and from there I was able to catch a bus back to Lake Bled. Loading my bike underneath, I climbed in and despite trying to fight against it, promptly fell asleep for the hour-long ride back. Today, after another excellent breakfast, I repeated my cycling habits, albeit in a less intense fashion. Having a general aversion to swimming, I did not bring a bathing suit with me on my travels. However, today I decided that life only gives you so many opportunities to swim in an alpine lake and you'd be foolish to pass them up. So I packed a towel into my camera bag, and mounted ol' faithful (as I've just now dubbed her). Cycling around the perimeter of the lake, I found a nice private place where I could take a dip. While I did not have a bathing suit, I did have travel boxers. Travel underwear is fantastic, I highly recommend it to you despite its $50 for two pair cost. The best thing about travel underwear is that it dries wicked quick, and so, because the day was hot and the water cool, I stripped down to my skivvies and took the plunge. I was in the water for less than an hour, but it was nice, and after jumping out I was fully dry inside of 10 minutes.

A good day starts with a hull breakfast and an excellent view.

As I was collecting my things, I came across the largest snake skin I've ever seen. Extracting it from the grass, I measured it out to be just over 1.5 meters (4.5 feet). I'll just have to wait and see if Asia or South America can exceed these standards.

After the lake, I biked through the countryside to Vintgar Gorge, which is, well, a gorge. Once again, the curious combination of flowing water and limestone produced fantastically photogenic results, and a really enjoyable walk. Like the other lakes and rivers in the area, the water in Vintgar Gorge is so clear that fish are clearly visible at depths exceeding 8 meters. With binoculars, it was easy to see these river dwellers at a level of clarity that I've only experienced in aquariums.

It was gorges, no? Haha, I owe Ithica College $0.05 now.

There was a seriously high canyon wall.

Cycling back from Vintgar Gorge, I've been spending the rest of my day relaxing. I made a couple of cheese sandwiches and sipped Schweppes Bitter Lemon (unequivocally the best soft drink ever made, besides maybe Gini) as I read my book from my hostel terrace. Tonight, I'm going to see about posting these entries online from a wireless signal in town (you'll obviously know whether or not I'm successful) and packing my things for tomorrow's trip to Piran. I hope everyone's doing well back home. Leave a mailing address in the comments section if you'd like a postcard from somewhere along my travels! (*I already have the mailing addresses of family members)

dungeons & dragons

After sitting around the Munich airport, twiddling my thumbs and drinking cup after cup of complimentary coffee, my flight finally arrived, and I headed out to the tarmac to greet it. Take-off was a bit nerve-wracking, maybe the pilot was fighting a serious headwind, or maybe he wasn't very experienced, or maybe he just thought it would be fun to rock back and forth for a little bit, but once we were above 20,000 it was smooth sailing.

I landed in Ljubljana, and I had my breath taken away from the moment I exited the airplane. Climbing down onto the tarmac, the tiny airport was surrounded by an Ardennes-esque pine forest, behind which loomed the massive, sharply-peaking mountains of the Julian Alps. It was wicked warm, and as soon as I got my bags I sat down at an airport restraint for a panini and beer. I then mused over how best to get into Ljubljana, finally deciding to get a service taxi, which dropped me off right outside my hostel.

There are fruit and flower gardens are all over the place.

The hostel is great, it's rather new and the big fluffy pillows and comfortable lounge room help make this one of the best places I've stayed. It's a little bit outside of the city, though I decided to try the suggested one hour walk through the city forest into the center. It was a very nice walk, but I left my map behind and I ended up giving up halfway through on account of my sandals digging into the tops of my feet. Aside from raw and nearly-bleeding feet, the walk was quite nice, and upon returning I grabbed dinner at a local cafe (a panini & beer) and stayed up chatting with some girls from the Midwest and an Australian guy.

So while there are a lot of things you're not allowed to do in the park, propositioning birds is fine.

The sun going down over the pond by the hostel.

The next morning I went with the aforementioned "gang" to grab breakfast before making my second attempt to cross the city forest into Ljubljana. Foolishly leaving my map behind yet again, I was nevertheless successful at making it through the forest and into civilization. I was almost immediately greeted by a welcoming sight:

Unable to resist, I stopped in for a glass, served in the good old full Delirium glasses

Afterwards, it took me a little while to make it to the city center. I didn't exactly know where I was, and without a map I found myself making turns and selecting roads based on that sort of instinctual ability that all guys have for determining the proper direction of travel. Needless to say, I made it to the city center with no problem.

Once there, I was greeted with a very picturesque town square. Being a crossroad of Europe, Ljubljana was often victim to the destruction wrought by invading armies from the East. However, there has not been a destructive war in Ljubljana in over a century, and successive city councils have been keen on maintaining the beauty of the center.

The white puffy clouds would later turn darker, but only with the result of a light sprinkling.

One of the dragons of the aptly-named "Dragon Bridge", the dragon is the symbol of Ljubljana.

After looking around for a bit, I decided to climb up to the castle. It was a reasonably easy walk with several excellent vistas looking out over the city. When I reached the top, I passed by an on-going wedding ceremony, and made my way into the castle. There I settled down to have a nice lunch (a panini & a local Slovenian white wine) and I watched as the wedding party, complete with trombones, guitar, a selection of local instruments, and a chorus of drunken uncles processed by. The waitress recommended a traditional ice cream with hot cherries an amaretto sauce for a dessert, and after taking her up on it.

Unjustifying my distrust of cherries, this was quite good.

Happily paying for my meal (which, even with wine & dessert cost less than the coffee and croissant in Copenhagen) I was shown the way to a downstairs bathroom. When I exited from the bathroom, and despite my best efforts to avoid it for propriety's sake, I found myself scooped up into the wedding train. I was reasonably well dressed that day, and so I fit in rather well with the semi-formally dressed guests, and the next thing I knew, I was being handed some rice which moments later I daintily threw at the happy couple.

Having had my share of wedding crashing, and with a tour to catch, I scurried back up to the main entrance, bought my ticket, and joined the English-speaking tour both as the only American and the only guy. There were two separate groups, one of 2 and one of 5, of girls from New Zealand, and having rounded out the group with just a dash of Uncle Sam, we began our tour. I took the opportunity to learn about what I should expect when I make it to New Zealand, and in between stops (where I learned that the dungeons of the Hapsburgs are to be avoided at all costs), the girls happily regaled me with more information about customs, stereotypes, and weather patterns then I could ever hope to apply.

Ljubljana Castle was built on the site of a previous fortification by one of the Hapsburgs

The top tower is by far the highest point in Ljubljana, and offers some excellent views.

C'est moi, courtesy of one of the Kiwis.

With the conclusion of the tour, I thanked the New Zealander's for all their information, and headed back down the winding path down. Alternatively, I could have taken the inclined rail, and this turns out to have been the decision of the Kiwi girls, because as I was coming to the end of the path, they were getting off the rail. They waved hello, and after a brief exchange, we all decided to meet up later for dinner and drinks.

So I continued on my merry way, setting off to see the remains of a Roman Wall that once surrounded what is today the Old Town of Ljubljana. The wall is, well, a wall, but I'll walk an hour out of my way for nearly anything Roman-related so as to justify my otherwise unused Latin education.

One of the fortifications in the wall.

I made it back to the center of the city at the prearranged diner time, and the five, later seven Kiwi girls and I all headed into the restaurant. The food was quite good, again I tried to embrace the local cuisine, though most of time was spent supplementing what I considered my already thorough understanding of all things New Zealand.

After diner, we went to one of the local bars, where the eight of us quintupled the clientele, and we were thus given all kinds of special treatment, including a flaming table presentation and some rather exotic drinks.

Having put out the flame, we were instructed to drink the liquid from the orange half, then squeeze the remaining liquid and orange into the shot glass. It was rather good.

We all had a rather good time, discussing, amongst other things, the pros and cons of the American vs. Kiwi health system, and the wonders of Vegemite.

It was pretty fun evening, though I ran into a spot of trouble in trying to get back to my hostel. The buses stop running after midnight, and one cannot hail a taxi, but instead you must call for one. The Kiwi girls were very helpful in this regard however, flagging down a passing biker who happened to be a Brit living in Slovenia. He kindly called for a taxi, and I managed to make it home safe and sound.

Today, I've been reading, relaxing, and generally enjoying the beautiful weather. I'm also trying my best to figure out how to download movies to my computer, that I might have something to do during my future over-long stays in airport terminals. If anyone can provide insight, it would be greatly appreciated. For now, I'm going to pack up my things and get to bed. Tomorrow, I head up to Lake Bled, which promise some of the most storybook pictures of my trip.

we're in eastern europe

3:44 July 26, My Hostel Ljubljana

So the last two days have been rather interesting, but as it's 3:44 in the morning, I'm way too tired to update right now. So I'll just post some past entries (as I've been having trouble getting Internet until now) and go to bed. Remember to start from the bottom, if you want this to be in chronological order (which I recommend for this particular set of posts).

8:59 24 July, Munich International Airport

Around an hour ago, as my plane dropped below the cloud level, I casually checked to see when my connecting flight would be taking off. 8:55, my ticket read, with boarding beginning at 8:25. As it was just past 8:00, I realized that this would be a rather rushed connection. So, against the advisory of the overhead light, (not the "no smoking" one, I don't even know why they have those when there's been no smoking on planes since the early 80's) unbuckled my seatbelt, and began gathering my carry-on luggage. I glanced nervously forward from my seat in row 23, and, seeing a near full flight, I confided in my seatmates my intention to make a dash for the exit as soon as the plane came to a stop. When at last we touched down on the runway and began our concussive deceleration, I felt as prepared as I could be. But when the plane came to a stop, we were still sitting on the runway. 30 seconds later, the captain got on the intercom and reported something ominous sounding in Dutch. The message was then repeated in English: "Attention passengers, we are holding on the runway while we wait for the ground crew to tow away a plane that is blocking our entry. We thank you for your patience." 8:20.

And so, like a Thoroughbred stalled at the gates of the Kentucky Derby, I gripped the seat handle and figuratively pawed the ground. After a while, the plane started moving, and my senses heightened again, preparing for the moment when we would come to a stop and the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign would be dilluminated (which is now officially a word). 8:31. Engines stopped, light extinguished, and I'm off. Gracefully swerving through my fellow passengers, apologizing in four different languages - none of them Dutch, one of them Latin - I preformed the Herculean task of reaching the front door, still secured, with only two passengers in front of me. I shifted the balance of my carry-ons and awaited the refreshing hiss of the door opening. 30 seconds later, the captain got on the intercom with more ominous-sounding Dutch. The translation (embellished): "Attention passengers, we have been forced to divert from our original boarding gate, and are no longer in Munich, but rather, Eastern Kentucky. A service bus will be along shortly to pick you up from the tarmac. We thank you for your patience." 8.39.

When the door was finally opened, I rushed down the stairway, across the tarmac, and into the waiting service bus; only to wait for the 120 other passengers to amble in as well. Finally, when every handicapped grandmother and gigantic stroller-toting supermom was on board, we were underway. 8.47.

It was at this point that I considered bribing the driver to block the path of my fight with his bus, but after a short time, we stopped and were let out. Fortunately, I was leaving from G23, and we were parked right outside the entrance to Gate G. I raced past the Teutonic decorations of the Munich Airport, covering the distance to gate G23 in admirable time. It was 8:51 when I turned the corner to G23, relieved to have made it. Only, G23 was advertising a flight to Athens, rather than Ljubljana. I raced back to check the flight tables to see where my flight had been moved to, and was unable to find it. Quickly, I asked the Lufthansa Attendant at G23 if she could help me to find my flight. "Oh yes," she said in the kind of perfectly unaccented English that proves that the Germans speak better English than the English, "this flight has already left." 8:53.

In the let-down, I found it difficult to hear what she said next, or if an explanation was given as to why a flight would leave early when not all the passengers were on board, but she did apologize, and booked me onto the next flight out to Ljubljana. So now, instead of gaining altitude over Western Europe, I'm sitting in the Munich International Airport, which I have to admit is one of the best airports I've ever waited in (plenty of free coffee and tea, as well as a wealth of complimentary international newspapers). , I've got a while before my flight takes off, so I suppose I'll take a look around, maybe see if I can catch a bus into the city and check out how the renovations to the Royal City Palace are coming.

7:32 24 July, somewhere above Germany

After waking up at 4:15 this morning, I packed up the few things that I had taken out for my short stay at The Flying Viking! and headed toward the airport. I’m still not certain if I have my umbrella, as while I was leaving the hostel, the thought occurred to me that I may not have packed it, but I didn’t feel that I had enough time to unpack everything. Missing an umbrella and having a flight is better than its inverse. After a brisk walk, I made it to the airport a little more than an hour before my flight was scheduled to depart. An inordinate amount of this time was spent waiting for a pair of travelers to rearrange their luggage to be within the weight restrictions, while a line of increasing size and impatience formed behind them. When I was finally through security, I bought my final meal in Denmark (coffee and a croissant for the ridiculous price of $15) and boarded the airplane. I must say that despite the predictable aggravations, SAS – the fine carrier currently taking me over Berlin – is quite nice. Though they don’t include so much as a beverage, the seats are amongst the largest and most comfortable I’ve found in Economy Class.

After a transfer… somewhere (maybe Munich?) I’ll be on my way to Ljubljana, and provided that I can follow the directions provided by the hotel (which quite literally read: leave the train station, turn left at the iron statue, walk 400 meters, turn right at the red and black building, keeping the clock tower on your left… etc.) I should be comfortably situated in the Balkans by midday. For now, I’ll be catching up on my reading. Gut täg!

possibly the best beer in the city

The title, I must confess, is neither true, nor of my own creation. Demonstrating the kind of modesty that one would like from a ill reputed beer, the good people of Carlsberg have placed this suggestion on a billboard in Copenhagen. Carlsberg is - after a long list, including but not limited to: Bud Light, Moxie, Robitussin, and tap water from Mexico City - one of the worst beverages in the world when you've spent any time at all in Belgium becoming accustomed to what beer should taste like. However, since I was in the city where it is brewed, I decided to give Carlsberg a second chance. I must admit, if you're expecting hog swallor, Carlsberg is not that bad, and I managed to finish a pint without complaint, except perhaps about the price.

Copenhagen is the 4th most expensive city in the world, and the most expensive city in Europe. If you've ever felt gouged in Paris or London, fly over to Copenhagen and you won't feel so bad about it. Pints of bad beer are the equivalent of $10, and a trip to any kind of fast food joint or pseudo street vendor will set you back at least $15 - $25. A meal at a good restaurant in the city would cover a month's rent in Cairo. And that's how I'm rationalizing it. Copenhagen will be the most expensive place I visit (perhaps with the exception of Dubai), and by the time I make it to Egypt and Nepal, I figure that the costs will average out. Also, many of the museums in Copenhagen are free, and that makes the high cost of food and lodging more bearable.

I just remembered that I have yet to mention something that pervaded many aspects of my stay. Metalica is having a huge 5 day concert in Copenhagen, and the city is packed with fans and posters and billboards because of it. I guess that the drummer is Danish, so perhaps that explains the selection of this city, but it was very interesting to see the wildly dressed fans everywhere I went. Perhaps most surprisingly, when my roommates and I were stopping by a local grocery store (a good way to save money on food) Metalica's bass player was shopping inside. While I wouldn't have recognized him, it wasn't necessary for my Argentinian roommate to point him out, because he was swarmed by Danish fans. He seemed pretty cool about the whole thing, and took some pictures with some of the Danes.

Last night, I spent the early evening relaxing in one of the city's parks. A flower-lined path circled a rather large pond where herons nested. It was a nice place to sit and read a book for a hour or so. When I returned to the hotel, I met some American girls that had just arrived, and after chatting for a while I convinced them to come out with my roommates and I to explore the nightlife. Wednesday nights turn out not to be the best nights in Copenhagen, but we did find a nice bar with some live music and an interesting crowd.

The next morning, I packed my things up ahead of time, and stopped by the Danish History Museum. I met up with my Argentinian roommate around midday to check out the Geological Museum (not bad, though the Smithsonian is more impressive) and the Copenhagen Art Museum. The art museum was really cool. They had a terrific space for the paintings and sculptures, and a good mix of classical and modern art.

While I enjoyed everything there (except maybe some of the weirder modern art pieces) it was the last "exhibit" that we visited that will stick with me. Having reached the top floor, we entered a room where it appeared that the museum was preparing to host a new exhibit. A rough plywood structure masked most of the room, and while the first door we encountered was locked, the second was open. For those of you that don't know, my general rule for Europe is: if the door isn't locked, it's cool to poke your head in and look around. Following this rule has afforded me some rather memorable opportunities, most significantly a unauthorized tour of the attic of the Royal City Palace in Munich. My roommate was a little more hesitant, but I convinced him to take a look inside, and we soon found ourselves in what we came to believe was some kind of modern art structure. There were many different doors, some leading to small rooms with simple decoration (a table with a mirror and a newspaper, or a shelf with a yellow paintbrush and some electrical wiring). Some of the rooms had more doors, allowing you to explore a rather large area of distinct interiors. The whole thing was very surreal. When we were done (we were on the other side of the first locked door) we backtracked, and I noticed one door we hadn't gone into.

Opening this door, we found what appeared to be a back hallway for access to the exhibits for museum personnel. Unlike the structure we had just been through, this was a permanent part of the museum, and much more official looking space of the kind you're definitely not supposed to be in. But in keeping with the unlocked door rule, I convinced my Argentinian roommate to follow me down the long, white, gradually curving hallway. It went on for quite a ways, and because it was narrow and curved, there was no way of knowing how long it was. The whole thing felt even more surreal. At one point, what we would later discern as the halfway point, there was a short hallway running perpendicular, with a door at the end. Trying the door, I found it to be locked, and so we continued down the curving hallway.

Finally, we came to a door, much like the one we had entered the hallway from, and we opened it to find... the room of the structure we had exited from. There was no way we had gotten turned around, but here we were, faced with the room we had entered the hallway from. To confirm this, we went in, and there were all the other rooms of the structure, each with their simple yet distinct design. And yet, as I had suspected from the moment we exited the hallway, something was rotten in the state of Denmark. There were subtle differences in the placement of the objects, and it wasn't too much longer before I was able to verify that we were not in the same structure, but rather a mirror image, designed and decorated exactly the same. Surreal to the max. The whole experience was really cool, and it's become one of the highlights of my stay in Copenhagen.

After leaving, I checked out of the Hotel Jorgensen, said my goodbyes to my Argentinian roommate, and headed out to the airport. Helping a girl from California with the train tables along my way, I reached the airport and hiked out to the Copenhagen Airport Hostel (the Flying Viking!). It's decent hostel, though far away from anything except the airport. However, I'm just here because I have a flight that leaves at 6:30 tomorrow morning, and I wanted to be close by so as not to miss it. It's already 22:15 here, and since I'm waking up at 4:45, I should probably get some sleep. Next stop: Slovenia!

how bizarre

After a rather excellent breakfast provided by the hotel that included some nice samplings of chocolate, I was ready to explore Copenhagen. Before I could even get underway I was greeted by a rather bizarre, and quite awesome spectacle.

Before you start question my idea of "awesome", I want you to scroll back up and take a good look at the man's left shoulder... that's a parrot. A live, repeating things in Danish, parrot. That man, bearded, black capped, black vested, and unable to walk, uses a scooter for want of a peg leg. That man is a pirate. A modern-day, Danish pirate.

So with that bit of weird fully appreciated, I set off for the New Harbor, which is a canal with stereotypical scenes of the city. However, after a bit of looking around, I was greeted by some sights and sounds that made my first morning in Copenhagen even stranger. A whole group of Santa Clauses with marching band instruments, was preforming in the square.

Santas with Sousaphones!

Of course, this begs the question: what were these Santas doing? Why were they dressed up on a hot July morning playing Christmas songs? Well they were just welcoming the boat load of Santa Clauses coming down the canal of course!

Santas waving flags from all kinda of different countries in the world: Sweaden, Germany, America, even a Japanese Santa with a paper fan. It was like some kind of Kris Kringle UN. They departed the boat one at a time, and , as is the habit of a boat load of Santas meeting up with with a Santa Claus marching band, they then proceeded to have a parade through town.

Just the beginning of what must have been 150 Sanatas marching down the street

I would only later find out that this was the 54th Annual Santa Clause Congressional Convention (I'm not making this up) where delegates discuss important matters, such as: official candy color (set at red & white in 1972) , issues of elvish welfare, and whether various world leaders should be considered "naughty" or "nice". Truly bizarre, but at the same time, it was kind of fun.

So, fully immersed in the Twilight Zone, I figured that it would be a good time to visit Christiania. Christiania sits on the site of an abandoned, walled military base in Copenhagen. It was taken over in the 60's and 70's by hippies, and now operates as a kind of autonomous commune of peace, love, and every thing the Mama & the Papas ever sang about. The Danish Government, naturally, refuses to allow 3 blocks of Copenhagen to break away from the European Union, but issues of tax collection and law enforcement are rather murky in Christiana. Anyway, the first thing that struck me was how clean everything was. Every square inch of walls was covered in hippie murals, and Peruvian Flute Music, bongo drums, and Tibetan Flags abounded, but I had expected all of that. The cleanliness and management of the "autonomous collective" is a testament to what hippies can actually accomplish after they stop starving to death trying to grow their own corn in New Mexico.

Mostly graffiti-free, this ex-barraks now houses the town blacksmith

One of the most impressive pieces of graffiti I've ever seen

After leaving Christiana, I climbed to the top of the coolest church in Copenhagen (a city of some rather spectacular churches) to have a look around.

That spiralling on top is actually the outside walkway to the top.

The view (not to be confused with The View)

I spent the rest of my day at Christiansborg Palace (the large central palace used for State Functions, where I saw, among other things, where the ambassadors to Denmark received... those from Bow should know why this s significant) and the National Museum.

The evening was spent with my Argentinian roommate, chatting, drinking the local beer (which we quickly abandoned for the imported fare, as Danish beer is amongst the worst in the world; I give to you as an example: Carlsberg), and listening to performance at The Scottish Pub.

Today, my roommate and I saw the famous Little Mermaid statue, which is an entirely unnecessary tourist trap, but we played right into it. Afterwards we headed over to the Danish Resistance Museum, which I would recommend to anyone interested in the history of the Second World War. The Resistance Museum chronicles the efforts of Danish saboteurs, insurgents, and underground activists during the Nazi occupation of Denmark. Though small, it's very detailed and full of both artifacts and anecdotes of the resistance.

My final tourist-oriented activity of the day was to see the apartments of the recent kings of Denmark at Amalienborg Palace. Kings of Denmark, it seems, tend to decorate their studies in the style of your great aunt Mildred, who has a hundred different pictures of family members, piles of kitsch, some rather eccentric furniture piece, and absolutely no counter space.

The rest of the day I've been just walking around the city, exploring interesting looking alleys, and taking it easy. I retreated inside when it began to rain, and have no been out since, though it looks like things have cleared up, so it's time for some more exploring.