In the introduction to his autobiography a friend of mine wrote about his three fairies in the account of his birth, explaining how they preordained his heroic and successful life. I do not believe that I was a hero, but somehow ended up in all possible "heroic" situations which remained heroic regardless of the lack  of my input. What did the  good fairies say at my birth? Perhaps, that I would  get into all manner of troubles and somehow manage to get through, in many cases, I now suspect, with the help of my guardian angel. I believe  my good fairies had a hard  time to agree on the course of my life, except that I would somehow get through!

I was born on a cold January day  in  Ljubljana, and  was always proud of the fact that I am a "ljubljanska srajca" to the dismay of those born in villages like Dobrova.  To add to the status of their birthplace they have to say 'Dobrova near Ljubljana'. So, it was in Ljubljana that my good fairies came to discuss my future, in a house on  St. Florian Street. The house was owned by a butcher  named  Jesih (which means vinegar); among his many accomplishments was making  'ocvirke,' for commercial purposes, that smelled  heavenly when they were warm.

After the First World War, when the Austrian empire disintegrated, My father was transferred from the Austrian Imperial Police to the Royal Yugoslav Federal police called gendarmerie.  The change from an important police force to a  Balkan style organization which was not respected by the community must have been devastating to him.  As I understand, he tried to get transferred to another branch of civil service as soon as he realized where  he has ended up.  

Just before Christmas every year a beautifully decorated Christmas tree mysteriously  appeared in  our living room.  Most of all I remember candies which were wrapped in  special paper with a loop to hang the treat  on a  branch. There were also candles, real candles, and only my father would litght them, because, as I learned later, there was always the  danger of fire. When I was about 2 years old, I remember looking through the keyhole in hope to see an angel bring the tree, as my mother told me.  However, to my surprise I saw my two older brothers, Edo and Ferdo, decorating the tree. So  much for angels bringing the Christmas tree!  December 5 was the most important day of the year; that night St Nicholas, or, as we called him  "sveti Miklavz" distributed goodies to children. He was accompanied by angels as well as devils for those who misbehaved through the year. 

I also remember that  my father used to take me on his bicycle to  a nearby airport at Devica Maria v Polju to watch the takeoff and landing of the planes. That was 'the' airport, civilian and military,  in Ljubljana. Those excursions  left impressions in my mind; airplanes  were something special.

On one of the excursions my father took me to Golovec, a hill near Ljubljana; there he made a little water mill by cutting two small forked branches  (rogovile);  he placed them upright in the running creek to support  a branch to which he attached small paddles.  The creek turned the paddles bringing the 'mill' to life, and I still remember the joy this simple toy gave me.

Along the narrow street where we lived, ran a street car, which wound its way,  squeaking,  up the small incline  past our house. Across the street from  Jesihs store, two or three houses down towards the church of St. Florjan, was a small grocery store 'Pri Metki'. On the wall outside the store was a red metal box full of chocolates, which  one could get by putting 10 cents in the slot. We did not have ten cent coins, so we devised a way to get to the chocolates.  A penny placed on the street car track  would  be flattened and enlarged by the street car to the size needed to fit the slot in the vending machine and produce the chocolate. I do not know  whether Metka, the owner, ever found out about our enterprise, although  she must have when she found all those flattened pennies in the box.

In the picture above, Helena and I are standing in front of the house where I was born, then number 42  St. Florian Street. As I 'explained' to Helena, that is where a Plaque will be placed  someday,  to commemorate  the important occasion of my birth.

One of the most impressive memories from the days of my life in Ljubljana were our explorations of "Vozarska Pot", a street behind the Jesih house, which ran from St. Florjan Street to the church of St. Jakob where I was baptized. Along Vozarska pot ran  an old stone wall where, when we lifted the stones, the scorpions ran to save their lives.  We caught them and put them in  little boxes.  I wonder if my mother ever found out what  we were up to.  At the bottom of Vozarska pot, in front of the church of St. Jacobs was a square (still there) bordered  by  large concrete balls, which we used as obstacles to jump over.