Happy Independence Day!
This is the first time we will be out of the country on the Fourth of July. I always liked the Fourth of July – it is a low fuss holiday, it usually involves lots of food, and it gets you another day off mid-summer. Plus, there are explosions. What’s not to like?
I was trying to remember how we spent the last couple of Fourths. Last year, we went to our friends Matt and Mindy’s annual picnic. There was that potentially dangerous combination of beer and fireworks, but no casualties.
This picture about sums up the state of the world today:
I don’t recall what we did the year before, in 2008. I’m hoping it didn’t involve work, but it is a distinct possibility if there are no pictures.
It didn’t surprise me that the holidays in 2006 and 2007 were spent in some house renovation related context. In 2006, with the help of our friend Scott, we must have spent the day painting our kitchen. Back then, long weekends meant renovations, without fail.
In 2007, at least we got to combine home renovations with travel – a strange concept, I know. Did I mention that not only did we spend four years fixing up a house that we ended up selling to take this trip, but that we were completely crazy in our efforts to do so? Long ago, I dreamed about writing a house blog, but there was never time. At one point, our plan was to stay in our house forever, but somewhere along the line of replacing character stripped out years ago to make room for bland apartments and fixing decades of other people’s shortcuts, we realized that the house was not for us. But not before we drove all the way from Pennsylvania to Iowa to pick up antique 5 panel doors complete with transoms that were likely similar to the ones originally in our house, saved from an Iowa farmhouse. In truth, we went much because it gave us an excuse to see many of the fly-over states – the ones where everyone says there is nothing but corn. Well, yes, but there is also a lot of life going on between the coasts. Our midwest road trip was one of my most favorite trips. We stayed in a B&B in a different state each night. We spent the morning of the Fourth that year in St. Louis.
After stopping by to taste some pie at a Slice of Pie in Rolla, Missouri, we arrived in Fort Scott, Kansas, by nightfall. Fort Scott, chosen at random because it was on our way, was the epitome of mid-Western, small town America. I still recall the enthusiasm and vigor with which the townspeople celebrated the Fourth. Driving through the town, we were surrounded on all sides and above by big, intense fireworks. We watched what we thought was the town’s official fireworks display, until we realized it was just a family shooting off fireworks in the yard.
There will be no fireworks for us this year, but I suppose that’s the tradeoff. I hope everyone has a happy, safe, and fun Fourth of July!
Europe’s Ugliest Car
The unfortunate thing about Slovenia is that all public transportation goes through Ljubljana. We tried to figure out how to take a bus or train from Ljubljana, to Lake Bled, to Bovec in the Julian Alps, to Piran on the coast. We realized it couldn’t be done: all busses travel through Ljubljana, which would have required a lot of time backtracking. So we rented a car for the Ljubljana to Bled to Bovec leg, returned the car to Ljubljana, and took a bus to Piran. The car we rented was, um, interesting. We used a local company, which got us perks like a free GPS and Cockta (a strange tasting Slovenian cola), but also got us the smallest, cheapest car he had: a 2003 Fiat Multipla. European automakers should stick to what they know best, and that is not SUVs. We rented a rather strange looking SUV type thing when a group of us went to Normandy, but the Multipla really took the cake. It was bulbous and boxy at the same time, and had this strange shelf looking thing on the outside with teeny buggy lights. The guy at the rental car company kept telling us it was a six seater (as if this was a plus, being that there was only two of us), but we didn’t know what he meant until we saw the upright seat in the middle between the driver and front passenger. The Multipla was so ugly, even the Europeans were making fun of it. When it was parked in Bled, we saw a group of people pointing at it and peering in the windows, laughing. I wanted to yell out, really, we didn’t choose this car, it is just a rental!
Alas, as aesthetically challenged as it was, the Multipla performed fine, chugging up and around the fifty hairpin turns in the Vrsic mountain pass through the Julian Alps.
USA! USA! USA!
I don’t think I realized what a high pitch squeal I have, at least when cheering for sports, until we watched the United States play Slovenia in the World Cup. We found ourselves in Bovec, Slovenia on the afternoon of the game, which is a small town in the mountains consisting of less than 2000 inhabitants. The pouring rain dashed any hopes of watching the game at the big screen television set up on Bovec’s main street. We only had about two or three other options, so we ducked into a local bar and found a spot towards the back of the room.
We quickly realized that we would probably stay incognito until the United States scored, as everyone was focused intently on the game. Plus, despite all our tough talk on the way to the bar, I realized that I am a wuss and did not have the guts to barge in a bar full of Slovenians chanting, USA! USA! USA!
In the first half, Slovenia looked strong. We watched the bar go wild when Slovenia scored a goal.
Then, in the second half, it happened. The United States scored. Sean and I both let out cheers from the back of the room. Only the two people in front of us whipped around to face us and not the whole bar, as I had feared. Luckily, they were pleasant and did not run us out of the bar. Although I had notions of good natured ribbing and cross-cultural interactions, this World Cup business was serious, especially for a small country like Slovenia. No matter how good Slovenian athletes may be, there are simply less of them. For a country as small as Slovenia, who had a scrappy fight to qualify for the World Cup in the first place, it must be frustrating to not beat the United States in a sport that is so huge in Slovenia, yet so insignificant in the United States. I almost started wishing Slovenia could win, but then my American competitiveness and pride kicked in. As it turns out, Slovenia and America tied, leaving many of the Slovenians glum. What did you think of the game? we were asked. Slovenia was robbed, they said, even though it was the United States who had what would have been the winning goal taken away from them for no apparent reason. I’m just glad we weren’t around the following week when the United States scored a winning goal against Algeria at the last minute. America’s win caused it to edge past Slovenia to advance to the next round along with England. Luckily, we were long gone by then.
[And unfortunately, before I got to post this, the US was knocked out by Ghana. So that’s that.]
Rafting in the Rain
Bovec is known as the adventure capital of the Soca River valley, so of course we had to partake in some adventure. We opted for rafting, the cheapest option, and something we had done once before on the rivers in Richmond, Virginia. (There are actually class III and IV rapids right by the city of Richmond). We chose a company that had good reviews and had been in business for about 20 years (we suppose since the fall of communism).
We ended up rafting with a big stag party – otherwise known as a bachelor party. I was the only girl in a group of about 12 Italian guys and Sean. If only I had pictures of Sean and I, surrounded by the Italians, with too small wetsuits and silly looking helmets. If the Italians were not drunk, they were certainly slap happy. There was much singing, roughhousing, and silliness, which pretty much set the tone for the trip. When we went rafting in Richmond, there were lots of rules, instructions, and seriousness. In Slovenia, it was the opposite. There were some instructions, and we wore life jackets, wet suits, and helmets. But about 15 minutes into the trip down the river, all trust in our guide was lost. He told us to prop ourselves up on the side of the boat so that we could paddle faster. Suspicious, everyone did as he said. Two seconds later, I found myself in the freezing cold river, sputtering and flailing around, along with everyone else in our raft – except the guide.
Being intentionally pushed overboard pretty much erased any credibility the guide had. Not to mention the guide’s directions for us to intentionally ram the raft onto rocks or the other raft with the rest of the Italians (both much to the delight of our Italian raftmates). So it was hard to know if our guide was serious when he said things like, anyone want to jump off that rock? It is about 700 meters high but it is really fun! or we need to paddle hard up here, because at least four people die here every year.
It was unseasonably cold and rained every day except one while we were in Slovenia, and this Saturday was no exception. The rain was constant while we were on the river. This company had advertised that they would go out rain or shine, and would never cancel, just delay if it was storming too bad. As we rafted down the river, we heard loud claps of thunder and saw at least one bolt of lightening. I kept glancing at Sean, wondering if the rain or shine policy really was a good idea.
We knew we were a long way from home when the guide had everyone get off the raft and flipped it up onto a rock. He instructed everyone not just to slide down the raft, but to run down it. Despite my wariness of the guide, I suppose I trusted that we would not land on a pile of jagged rocks or get caught in a huge undercurrent when our guide started doing backflips in the air into the water.
Although a risk taker I am not (not counting the part where I gave up a career and house to travel the world), it was fun to loosen up a bit and splash around in the water. Plus, actually rafting the rapids was pretty neat as well. The rapids were not huge, but fast enough to give you a little thrill as you sailed down the river. It was wild to be out there in rushing blue-green waters, tree covered mountains on either side, soaking wet, with pouring rain beating down on your face and roars of thunder overhead. Especially because we did not, in fact, get struck by lightening.
Slovenia continued, continued.
Part three: Bovec/Soca River Valley
As magical as Bled was, I was rather drawn to Bovec and the Soca River Valley. To get there, we drove the Vrsic pass through the Julian Alps: a road built mainly by Russian WWI POWs with 50 hairpin turns rising up and then down again through the mountains.
When you land on the other side of the mountains, you are greeted by the Soca River, a river with clear pale turquoise waters.
There are a lot of little towns in the valley, but we especially liked Bovec, a town with less than 2,000 people that is surrounded by mountains on all sides. More on our adventures in Bovec to come.
Part four: Piran
It is hard to ignore the call of the sea, so we headed south to Piran, a quaint town smushed onto a peninsula jutting out into the Adriatic Sea. Very close to Italy, we heard just as much Italian as we did Slovenian. The rain did not let up for most of the time we were there, confining us mostly to our room or a coffee shop, but when it did shine, Piran woke up out of its slumber. We were befuddled by everyone’s proclivity to lay out on rocks or concrete. All seemed very uncomfortable, but I suppose if there is no beach, you make own of your own.
We liked Piran, but it didn’t seem to have a lot of things to do. There were not many shops, and most sold touristy junk. Most of the restaurants served the same types of food, including sea bass upwards of $40. Fish may cost $40 in places like Pittsburgh when it is flown in fresh from far flung places daily, but I couldn’t understand how fish could cost that much in a town next to the sea. I later read that the Adriatic Sea has been overfished, forcing fishers to go further and further away. Piran may be worth a visit if you have lots of time, but we think out of the places we saw, the best parts of Slovenia lie north.
