Day Eight
Was it the seafood? I woke up feeling horrible. Probably dehydration.
Mercator is the supermarket of dominance here. We took a trip to the big one in Jesenice to get some European chocolate and see the place. A lovely shopping experience. They have no frozen dinners.
Jesenice has a lot of burned-out buildings from the communist era - living (or at least kinda living) history!
Lunch with the family at home was a deer hunted by Grampa. We then went to Bohinska Bela to visit him and his wife (Gramma). We found her at home, she sent us to the pub to get Grampa. Which means we sat there for three or four hours, having beers with Grampa. Eventually joined by Drago, and then Yupi, who lives right next door.
The whole party finally trekked down to the house and was force-fed dried meats, cheeses, olives, chocolates, and breads by Gramma. More drinking, which was followed by more drinking at the other Bohinska Bela pub.
I wanted to go home but ended up at Krcma instead - the Bled bar which is the current favorite of Z's circle. We were there until just after midnight. Even when you want to go home it can still be fun.
Day Nine
Our car needed returning, which got us up nice and early. Newly car-less, we became quickly reacquainted with the timeless pleasure to be found in walking, taking ourselves along the pathway bordering Lake Bled. After three days of rain, snow, and haze the sun was shining, the temperature was a balmy 3 degrees Celsius, and there was a general mildness about town. Everyone we met was smiling, many were arm in arm. Children fed the ducks and cyclists politely kept to the outer portions of the path. The world sparkled with the myth of December - an enjoyable winter day.
A beautiful day, a beautiful feeling
One of the famed (and protected) swans of Lake Bled
Several souvenirs for family and friends were in my mind, and required purchase. We accomplished the task with ease, stopping first in our favorite cafe, the Devil, and later at the nightlife spot Troha, which seemed oddly warm and cozy in daylight.
Shopping, we took some pictures of the town
Almost every picture of the town affords a view of the Castle
Again we lunched with the Pretnars and then took a trip across the front lawn to meet Zala Jemec, the youngest member of the family, at 4 mos. Little Luka (a favorite cousin of mine, 6 yrs old with angelic blond hair and blue eyes), who is now a big brother, saw fit to gather Drago, Spela, and the other grandparents and aunt who live in that house, making a neat little afternoon party. Luka made sure to pass around both candies and cookies, allowing himself access to both.
Drago and I on the porch of the Pretnar house
The Pretnar barn, in which the sheep live
Playing around on the Pretnar porch
Then it was packing. Z is much better at it than I am, or at least more anal. Now he is asleep, and soon we will hit Bled for the last few hours of my visit. I'm sure we'll start at Krcma.
What an emotional trip this has been! I'm glad I no longer feel the periodic need to cry in the afternoon (must have been the holidays), and that I know how the city breathes at night, and that I've seen Bled as a jewel in the mid-morning sun. But by far the best part is Z. I could walk silently down endless plain roads in his company and declare it, at the end (and from the hereafter, seeing as the roads I describe are endless), as time gloriously spent.
Day One-Zero
It began in the middle of a night out with the girls - at least I think it did, as I was on either my third, fourth, or fifth glass of wine at the time. Alenka, Mina, and I split from Krcma to the Art Cafe, and then on to Troha, where eventually the boys caught up to us. I couldn't have asked for a better going-away party.
I could, however, have asked for a better preparation for today's travel. We rolled (almost literally) into bed around 4am, and the alarm was set for 5:15. Surprisingly, not only did Z manage to get up and dressed on time, but both Klemen and Sasa also got up to see us off. The dark drive through the Alps to Austria had a certain ethereal charm, but the drama at Klagenfurt Airport (my bag 5 kilos overweight, and nowhere to purchase an extra bag) was in no way charming.
I made it through the departure only crying a little, and I can't really say if it was more than exhaustion and frustration. The puddle jump to Vienna was short and sweet. The pond jump to New York is already frightening me. Security seems good, and I know in some senses my fate is sealed, so I should just relax. Hopefully exhaustion will help with that.
So it ends on the other side of where it begins (ah! how profound). In the middle of the end, Vienna's airport, where ten days ago it was the middle of the beginning. It's always the middle of some story, and that seems like a very good place to start.
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