This is a long one.  You've been warned.

It was a dark and stormy night - wait, I need to begin earlier… We had a rare three-day weekend coming up (Easter weekend, 26 - 28 March 2005), and I wanted to go to a country I had never before visited. I looked around (dredged the Internet for most of a day) and found a cheap airfare to a city I couldn’t pronounce in Slovenia. I took it, and so a couple weeks later, it was Saturday morning and time for me to catch my plane. Those of you who have read some of my previous stories probably know something is about to happen because surely I couldn’t just pack, drive to airport, get on the plane, and fly to another country without event. And that was the case here.

I had been at Lakenheath for about a month, but I wasn’t in my own place yet. I had one picked out and had filled out all the paperwork, but it wouldn't be ready until late April. Consequently, I was still in billeting (like a hotel on base). However, I remembered as I was getting ready that morning that I was scheduled to check out of billeting on Monday. Monday was the day my reservation ended. I had not made another one. I had no plans or place to stay if I couldn’t extend my stay. So, I got ready for the trip, loaded my car, and went to the front desk to see about extending my stay. They said I couldn’t, that the room was booked for someone else. I asked if I could be put in another room. They said no. So I explained to them that I was going to walk out the door, drive to the airport and get on a plane, and I would not be back until late Monday night. I told them I would need another room for at least a week or even just a night or two until I could find something else. They said they might be able to put me in junior enlisted quarters, but I would have to sign a waiver. “Fine, I’ll sign whatever you need to me to sign as long as I can have a place to stay.” “Ok, please just move your stuff out on Monday to this other room.” “Um, well, I can’t, since I’ll be out of the country, but I’ll be back late Monday night. I can move out then or first thing Tuesday morning.” “Ok, I see, well, let’s just get you checked out now, then. If you’ll move your belongings into this other room now, that will be fine.” “Look, see, I’m leaving right now, the minute I walk out of this building, to go catch a plane. I can’t move my things now. It’s ok if you want to move them, but I can’t until at least Monday night.” “Ok, well, how about checking out Monday morning as scheduled?” And round we went. Eventually, I got to keep my room until Tuesday morning and move into another room for 10 days after that. For a while, though, I thought I would come back to see piles of my stuff sitting on the grass outside the building.

So, I got to the airport, got checked in, got on the plane, and flew to Ljubljana (loob-li-yana), the capital of Slovenia. And man is their airport small. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a modern airport with metal detectors and ATMs and customs and gates, but I am surprised that large passenger jets fly in and out of it.

I only had my backpack so I went to the currency exchange machine, put in 10 pounds, and got something like 15,000 units of the local currency. Don’t ask me what it was. Their money is brightly colored just like everyone else’s in Europe. On a side note, after seeing so many other countries’ currency, it really makes you appreciate US notes - they’re serious and of uniform size - US money looks like what money should look like. Anyway, parochialism aside, I got some cash, found my way to the bus to the city center (which wasn’t difficult since there was only one bus), and took my seat. The bus driver came around; I gave him some monopoly money in exchange for a ticket; and we were off. For not the first time during my first few minutes in a foreign country, I heard Berlin singing “Take My Breath Away” over the bus speakers as we pulled away. (See the Portugal story for the other time - of course, I haven’t put that one up yet.)

The airport is about 10 miles outside the city, and I got to see much of the capital on the trip to the center. I am continually surprised - and continually surprised that I am continually surprised - that cities that aren’t as large and well-known as London, New York, Chicago, etc. have skyscrapers and modern infrastructure.  (Yes, I know - provincial, condescending, blah, blah, blah...)  Ljubljana appeared much like any other small city (population appx 250,000), though it had a foreign feel to it that I couldn’t trace to anything in particular - perhaps just the signs in a different language (or perhaps I'm just imagining it since I was in foreign country)(doesn't matter).

We were dropped off at the bus station on the edge of the city center, and I consulted my map and started hiking toward the nearest hostel. That’s when the sun set and it started raining. And so:

It was a dark and stormy night. From the guidebook: “Spring can be rainy but beautiful.” Though I couldn’t read the signs, Slovenia used an English-looking alphabet, so I could at least find my way with my map. I trudged along for about 20 minutes before I found the hostel. Ah, shelter at last! It wasn’t cold, but I was getting quite wet. I waited in line at the front desk for 15 minutes before finding out there was no vacancy. From the guidebook: “The city and country are increasingly popular destinations, so it's a good idea to make your lodging reservations before you arrive.” Hm. Well, on to the next hostel.

The next hostel required me to climb over a small locked gate, squeeze through a fence, and slip in through what appeared to be the back door to get inside. Once inside, there was no one at the front desk, no one in that part of the building, and no one to ask what was going on. I scouted around the building, saw again the clearly marked sign for youth hostel, and even saw student-age people through the windows in a large dining area. I was wet, hungry, and tired and just wanted a bed for 2 nights. From the guidebook: “Some hostels are really university housing and are only available for tourists during the summer months.”

Hiking onward. I found a hotel (after trying what I thought was a hotel only to discover it was a women’s dormitory). More waiting in line while water drips from hair into my eyes. No vacancy. Moving on. More hiking. No vacancy. More hiking. Where in the world is a hotel? From the guidebook: “While quite welcoming to tourists, Ljubljana is not overly endowed with accommodations.” Finally, The City Hotel looms at the end of the next block. The guidebook said this was a little more upscale. As water dripped from my nose onto the front desk, I inquired after a room. “A double room?” she said with a look I had grown to recognize that evening. “No, a single room.” “Oh, we have some available.” “Really?! Great! What is the rate?” “It is 90 euros a night,” she said with a doubtful glance at my soggy attire. I did some quick mental calculations. “I’ll take it.” Only later when I checked my bank statement did I learn that the dollars to euros exchange rate was not 1 dollar to 1.4 euros as I had thought but the other way around. Oh well.

Single room, indeed. From the guidebook: "When they offer you a 'small' room here, they're not joking."  The room they gave me is undoubtedly the smallest and barest “luxury” hotel room I’ve ever seen.  Also from the guidebook: “Although The City Hotel has recently undergone a much-needed renovation, instead opt for the nearby Park Hotel, which offers a better value.” But the Park Hotel was full.  Still, the room was warm, and the bed was comfortable enough. I unpacked, consulted the map, and ventured out into the city.

By now, the rain had stopped, and I was in dry clothes. I headed to the oldest part of the city, which turned out to be only a few minutes’ walk away. The city center is centuries old, and a river winds gently through the middle of it. A steep hill rises to one side, and perched on top is the castle that once upon a time protected the city. The city itself is beautiful and charming. Cobblestone streets wind around 17th and 18th century buildings, with graceful stone bridges arcing over the river. From the guidebook: “Lovely Ljubljana.” Every few blocks the streets open up into a square lined with quaint buildings, perhaps with flowers or a fountain at the center. The night was now clear and warm, and the city was filled with people, strolling along the river or eating in delightful cafes.

I ate at a small cafe in a square along the river, discovered the guidebook was right in that nearly everyone spoke at least passable English, and kind of freaked out everyone in the café by whipping out my camera and taking pictures of everyone and everything in the restaurant. Hey - it was my first trip with a digital camera - I wanted to record it. Just be thankful I’m not including the pictures. I meandered around the city center, which is only about a mile or two in diameter with most streets for pedestrian or bicycle traffic only.

Eventually, I stopped at a dessert cafe (you saw that coming, did you?). They had a case filled with wonderful looking cakes, pies, and pastries. I immediately decided to try them all - not all at once, you sillies (yes, I know, it wouldn’t be out character for me, would it?), so I visited this place at least twice a day during my trip, each time sampling at least two desserts. Absolutely delicious! Oh sure, one or two of them were disappointing, but overall, lip-smackingly good.
I noticed a few things about Ljubljanians: they’re mad for ice cream - there’s an ice cream parlor on every corner, which I think is a perfectly sensible way to arrange a city; also the women are really into boots with their jeans tucked into them; and the men tend to have very short hair - I actually felt conspicuous at times because of my “long” (remembering I’m in the military) hair. Enough observations; on with the story. Actually, that’s about it for the night - I walked around the town and eventually went back to room, watched some incomprehensible Slovenian/Italian/German television, and went to bed.

The next morning - who am I kidding? - just before lunch, I got up and out and sauntered down to the riverfront again. But the main square was blocked off. After some quick investigating and pestering, I found out they were shooting a scene from a movie. The movie was to be called “Ljubljana Is Loved,” a WWII era film written by Ljubljanians, directed by a Ljubljanian, starring Ljubljanians, and no doubt produced by Ljubljanians, for screening in France. Or Ljubljana. They never mentioned. Except that I think they did.

I ate lunch, got dessert at my new favorite hangout in Ljubljana, and explored more of the city. The guidebook said there was a castle up on the hill, and I could see the tower from different parts of the city. I wasn’t clear on how to get there, and the guidebook indicated a longer route than I was willing to take. So I found my own way. I just started walking in the direction of the hilltop. I got close to the base of the hill, skipped through a few backyards, ducked around a wall, and found a path. The path appeared to go in a generally upward direction, so I took it, then blazed a more direct route, found another path, and eventually, after some huffing and puffing, found myself at the top of the hill near the castle’s old outer wall. I considered storming the castle by scaling the wall but some gathering rain clouds (and staring tourists) made me think better of it. Instead I did the usual tourist thing and walked around to the stairs.

I hiked around the castle for a few minutes before I saw the "real" castle just beyond the ruins where I was standing.  Apparently, I was in the ruins of the old outer wall.  So I walked over to the nonruined castle.  If you could take an old, somewhat unimpressive, and probably dilapidated castle and remodel it, this is kind of what it would look like.  A majority of the walls were still old stone, but some of them had been redone in glass and steel.  Also, there were modern doors to most of the rooms.  There was a small cafe in one corner (which was pretty cool - I had strawberry hot "chocolate" there, which I thought would be really nifty until I saw the guy behind the bar tear open a flavor packet and add steamed milk to it - oh well, still a new and tasty treat).  Inside the square castle tower, there was another very cool architectural feature:  a double spiral staircase!  Ok, I realize most people have difficulty picturing this and haven't seen one so you may have to do some research.  It's like the one they have at the Vatican, designed by da Vinci.  It's not two side-by-side spiral staircases but rather two overlapping ones.  Ok, enough with the spiral staircases; you'll have to look it up.

The castle was a little disappointing since it wasn't all old and medievally, but I had fun exploring it and going where I wasn't supposed to, though no real adventures to be had there.  Still, I did see one of the best settings for a restaurant ever.  It is in the basement (basement in a castle?).  Part of the room had smooth slate floors and part of it had rough, bare rock and boulders; and it was multi-level with two or three step staicases scattered around.  It's cool.  I have pictures.

After the castle, I took the steep but short paved path back to the town center and meandered around taking pictures.  Of course I had dessert.  Do you need to ask?  Then I decided I had to try this pizza place mentioned in the guide book: "Pre-eminent pizzarias include... warmly vaulted Foculus."  Yes, that's all I had to go on.  But it turned out to be good pizza - similar to California Pizza Kitchen, though not as good as California Pizza Kitchen.  The ceiling was vaulted and decorated to look like the leaves of oak trees going from early spring to late fall from one end of the restaurant to the other.  Quite pretty, actually, and I have a picture.
After my late dinner, I walked a little ways to a section of old Roman wall that used to encircle the city.  Now it runs the length of one street, and you can climb on it!  (And no, it doesn't bother me that I'm mucking about on ancient historical monuments - it would only bother me if lots of other people were.)  It's about 8 feet high and 3 feet wide, and grass is growing on the top of it.  I ran along it until I came to perhaps the oddest bit of architecture in Ljubljana:  inexplicably, the architect who designed and built the famous triple bridge I didn't mention, placed a cobblestone pyramid right in the middle of the wall.  It's twice as high and twice as wide as the wall - it's more like the wall runs through the middle of the pyramid.  Anyway, I climbed it.  Nifty.  Then it started to rain, so I trotted back to the hotel, stopping only for a quick ice cream on the way back.

Around 0230, my neighbors returned to their room, and one guy started playing the guitar.  In case I didn't mention earlier, the walls are rather thin, so had I wanted I could have quite easily joined in his song from my room.  However, I did not want.  I got up and went and knocked on their door.  A large, friendly, long-haired, and somewhat inebriated Australian answered and said hello.  I asked him to please not play his guitar.  He said, "But I just started," in sort of a pleading way.  I almost laughed, but I said I know and I'm sorry; goodnight.  Shortly after, he and the others in the room packed up and went off to find somewhere else to play.

Next morning, I checked out.  I wandered around the city a little more, had lunch (and dessert at my what is clearly my favorite cafe in Ljubljana), and walked to the bus station.  While waiting for the bus, I got a quick bite at Nobel Burek.  From the guidebook: "This place serves up Slovenian-style fast food," which to me now means greasy, cheap, greasy, gross, and greasy.  I ordered something like a calzone, but it was stuffed with bits of ham and, seemingly, noodles.  It was _extremely_ greasy, and I ended up throwing half of it away (me!  throwing away food!) and getting an ice cream cone.  Then back on the bus, back to airport, and back home.  Ljubljana was charming and has great ice cream.  And I got the t-shirt.  Good times.