Sleepless in Slovenia

Hot on the heels of our four day weekend in Venice, came our lazy three day weekend in Ljubljana, the capital of a little country called Slovenia.

Half the size of Switzerland and part of the former Yugoslavia before it broke free for independence in 1991, Slovenia is a small we country which borders Italy, Croatia, Austria and Hungary. Quite a pretty wee country too with more than 57 per cent of its land mass made up of forest. There you go, now you've had your geography lesson we can kick off with the blog.



We arrived in Ljubljana (pronounced Lube-eee-ana) on Friday evening, thanks to a nice relaxed day of annual leave which saw us leisurely making our way to the airport, rather than the mass Friday evening scramble! The team consisted of us, our flatmate Jess and her friend Ange - two Kiwis and two Aussies. Our first thoughts were completely wiped out by the cold - it was -2 degrees and we were feeling it. We got a bus to the city and rolled out the map, before making our way to our hostel - Hotel Emonec right in the centre of the old town. Reviews promised service that was less than friendly and we weren't disappointed on that front, but the location was amazing and our room was clean - fine for us.



It was interesting being in a place outside of tourist season. We practically had the city to ourselves and after unpacking we ventured into the market square to admire the buildings and pick up our first of the season, cup of mulled wine (oh how I love it). Brad ordered a huge burger, before we decided to walk to Slovenia's best burek joint, which is essentially a massive pastry scroll stuffed with cheese or meat. We looked up how many calories were in them afterwards as we had a sneaky suspicion we might drop dead of a heart attack and to our shock we learned that it was over 9000, but we're praying this was a typo! They were AMAZING and to Brad's credit he managed to eat an entire one, before realising he'd probably eaten 20,000 calories that day, which threw him into a pit of despair! Bellies stretched with cheese, oil, pastry and wine, we schlepped back to our hostel and got a bit of shut eye, ready for the earlyish start the next morning.



We were all up at 7.30am the next day, quite a good effort for a Saturday, and after breakfast at our hotel (where strangely everything was wrapped individually in plastic, including pieces of cheese and slices of luncheon, and the orange juice was the colour of blood) and were out the door en route to the bus station to get to infamous Lake Bled - one of the most picturesque spots in Europe. This was our first encounter with Slovenia's whacked public transport system as when we got there to buy tickets for the 9am bus, we were told that it's not running - our only options were 10am and 8.30pm, despite the timetables everywhere advertising the hourly buses. Not a worry though as we set off back into town for a coffee (quite the addict now) before jumping aboard the 10am bus, Bled bound. The 1.30 mins journey passed quickly as we kept ourselves enthralled with the small, sleepy, Slovene towns that passed our window, as well as the election results courtesy of our phones.



Bled is BEAUTIFUL. Picture a foggy lake with a castle on a hill, with a tiny island in the middle which is home to a wee church. It would be a stunning site to behold any season, but in winter when it was foggy and frosty, it had such a beautiful, mysterious edge. We stood on the lakes edge enthralled for quite some time, before deciding that if we were going to explore it, we needed to get out of the sub-zero temperatures for just a few minutes and what better way to do that then with a piece of traditional Bled cream cake and another coffee (our third for the morning)? We then set off outside, taking our time wandering around the lake, soaking it all up, before finding a little wee hotel who hired out boats for the hour - just what the doctor ordered! Brad was designated rower of course and we all piled on board, where we were very expertly rowed out across the glass-like, emerald-coloured lake to a tiny wee island in the middle, home of a pretty wee church. It was just as fairy-tale like as it sounds believe you me. Aside from the slight fear that we would capsize and freeze to our deaths, the whole experience was utterly bliss and so peaceful. It would be great in summer as it would obviously be a lot warmer; however, there would also be a ton of tourists as well, so we gladly took the cold. We docked, explored then slowly made our way back, stopping every so often to just float there in peace - that is until an American rowed past us and shouted out 'Ahoy there!'







We caught the bus back in the afternoon and the moment it stopped at the station, we were off at the speed of light, so ravenous we could barely think. First stop - Hot Horse! Like the name suggests, it serves horse! A horse burger is the most typical Slovenian snack, so of course we had to give it a whirl. After walking there through a local park, Brad ordered a burger the size of his head. I couldn't bring myself to purchase my own, nor could the others, but I did manage to take a bite! We then went past my beloved burek joint, where I giggled away as I made my purchase, overcome with excitement once again. The girls couldn't face another 9000 calories, so instead opted for pizza.



Despite the early hour, all the shops were closed, so we wandered around in search of our token souvenir, before giving up and retreating to a wine bar. I headed back to the hotel to hug the heater for an hour (quite literally) and then met the others a bit later when I'd defrosted some. Here we drank red wine until our cheeks hurt from laughing, before heading to a nearby local traditional restaurant which had rave reviews online, despite the weird name of 'Markey & Me'. It was dead quiet, no doubt because everyone was too cold to leave their houses, which meant we were really able to take over the place. We loved it! Despite being so full from the burek, I managed to fit in two courses, as did the rest of the crew. Oh what fun! We then made our way back to the hotel, laughing ourselves sick along the way.





We woke on Sunday feeling a little down in the dumps at the fact we had to leave. That said, we certainly made the most of the day and after the usual individually plastic wrapped breakfast, we hit the road, only to walk smack bang into an antiques fair, much to Brad's excitement! The girls downed two coffees at a nearby café in the time it took us to wander through all the Hitler memorabilia and Slovenian odds and ends. We love stumbling across these markets as you get the most interesting souvenirs and in the end we settled for a tiny wee Slovenian bible - super cute and super old.



Our next stop was a castle on the hill, overlooking the city. It was q quick but steep 10 minute walk up to the castle, and not that much to do once you got there. The view was quite pretty, although visibility was limited significantly due to fog. The castle itself, was not the best - in fact, we referred to it as 'Europe's worst castle'! Don't get us wrong, it's from the 16th century which is amazing in itself, but it just goes to show how snobbish you can get when you travel so much. It takes a lot to impress us! That said, entrance to the castle was free so it was no skin off our nose whatsoever. You'd be mad if you paid, but as we didn't we had a fine time walking around.



After making our way down the hill and stumbling across a tree made of plastic bags (yes, you read that right), we found a delightful wee pink and white dessert place where there were so many cake and dessert options we spent almost 30 minutes deciding! We left an hour later feeling sick as anything, but satisfied by the most gorgeous pieces of cake that looked like utter works of art!



A wander through town by the river, alongside a pit stop for roasted chestnuts (everywhere in Europe at Christmas) and another burek, brought us to the end of our time in Ljubljana and we made our way back to the bus station with our tails between our legs. That is, until we were told that the only time the bus went that day was not at all what was advertised on the timetable, meaning we would be hard pressed to make our flight! Ljubljana public transport - 2, us - 0. Luckily we found a private shuttle, which saw us make it back to London with plenty of time to swing past McDonald's for a feast fit for a king!

Lovely times, lovely company, lovely Ljubljana.

x

Venice de Menace

Our much anticipated trip to Venice rolled around incredibly quickly. In fact when we booked our luxury trip way back in March, it was hard to believe we would ever get here. Which is why we found ourselves a little shocked come Friday morning when we arrived at Gatwick, luggage checked ( a real luxury given we weren’t flying a budget airline) and were boarding our plane, Venice bound, with what looked like London’s elderly community. I swear - aside from us two, there was not an able body on that flight.

I didn’t really believe we would ever get here, and it wasn’t until our bus dropped us off at the train station onto one of the 117 islands that make up Venice, that I truly believed I was here. We stepped off the bus and straight away drew in our breaths. This term is all too often bandied about (especially in this blog!) but Venice truly does take your breath away. Oh my god it is truly beautiful. At the risk of sounding like a Hallmark card here, it is picturesque, romantic and ominous all at the same time. As I said, it is also built upon 117 islands and even Abel Tasman wouldn’t be able to navigate his way around this city without getting lost more than a few times, before giving up the search for pizza and a litre of wine. On that note, we found our hotel after taking a few wrong twists and turns, and were greeted with a stunning wee boutique hotel right on the Grand Canal. We could have wept with joy – especially when we were told we had been upgraded to a suite. Lord have mercy, this was just too much excitement to take. He must have been testing us though as there was still further joy to be had, and when the porter opened up the room to our gold palace, complete with two bathrooms, an old-fashioned princess bed, televisions behind mirrors and his ‘n’ hers sink, I knew we had died and gone to heaven. I was half expecting the staff to come in 10 minutes later as we were jumping on the bed with joy, with smirks on their faces saying something like ‘You gullible f***s – you didn’t really think this was yours did you? Get your crap and get to the dorm.’

Because of the beauty of our dorm, the entire weekend passed on an utter high – glorious beauty outside, glorious beauty inside. There was never an ugly moment. We bathed in the luxury of it all – quite literally, Brad had nine baths over the four days lavishly pouring in bath salts and foam every five minutes!



Friday night was spent bathing, wandering, giggling and squealing at every turn as we reached for the camera every 30 seconds, as well as eating copious amounts of pizza.
After a luxury night’s sleep in our princess bed, complete with draw back curtains, we were up and at our buffet breakfast hungry as could be, despite our carbohydrate-loaded dinner the night before. It was at this meal I made history, by having my first ever coffee. I had made a few half-hearted attempts in the past, a sip here, a sip there, followed by the screwing up of the nose and a quick sip of orange juice to take the taste out of my mouth, but I decided that as I was in Italy it would be absolutely criminal to not have a cappuccino. I was a little hesitant, but it’s a little like riding a bike, once you get the hang of it you never look back. Suffice to say, I had quite a few of these fluffy gems while I was in the land of red, white and green.

Peaking on caffeine, as experience previously unbeknownst to me, we launched ourselves onto Venice overcome with excitement. The fog had lifted and oh what a sight! It reminded me of Iceland, where we were overcome with photo-taking, ‘oh my god’ exclaiming fury, as we hopped from one foot to the other in excitement. Brad reigned me in gently after one self-take too many and managed to drag me away from the grand canal (at this stage we literally had made it only two metres from our hotel) and we set off to explore. We spent the day exploring every beautiful nook and cranny that we could, past exquisite walkways, gondola-laden canals, markets selling fresh fruit and fish, plus countless Venetian masks. To say we had a ball is an understatement and as we wandered through the most amazing sights, I literally couldn’t remember being so utterly, blissfully content.



While we had visited San Marco Square the night before to see Venice’s most famous site, the San Marco Basilica, we hadn’t been able to see it in all its glory on account of the fog. Boy is it beautiful. We had a look around inside, lit a few candles and sat back to soak it up. I love visiting churches in Europe – they’re so warm, welcoming and breathtakingly beautiful. We watched a little Italian family squabble over who was going to light the candle, only to have the little girl win and almost burn the place down, before wandering outside to feed the pigeons. I was utterly against the idea (rats of the sky aren’t they Kate?), but Brad was dead set and after tourists flocked around to see the crazy bird man in all his glory, I decided to give it a whirl. As you can see my reaction wasn’t quite the same.





By this stage we decided to head off for some lunch. Were we hungry? Absolutely not, but when in Italy after all. We found a delightful trattoria where we stuffed ourselves with more pizza and wine – such a hard life. We were having a good old time relaxing and ear-wigging on a neighbouring couples argument ( well I was, while Brad acted all holier-than-thou), but after emptying our bottle of wine we decided to set off. We didn’t get far as I spotted a fantastic mask shop and had to go in.

Masks are absolutely everywhere you look in Venice and we decided to be ultra careful around our choice – not to be ripped off, but not buying a token tourist option either. I had a whale of a time in this shop, which Brad soon tired of and waited outside, staring in through the shop window like a sulky toddler. The Italian shop-keeper managed to communicate to me in broken English: “I think that he does not want to be here, although sad for him, he will be here until he comes back inside and give you his idea.” You don’t need to speak English, the look of a fed-up male while his female shops is simply universal. I eventually made my decisions (after Brad came back in of course) and walked away feeling like the happiest girl on the planet – smug in the knowledge that I hadn’t been ripped off and had the world’s prettiest, one-of-a-kind mask. I was simply looking for an excuse to wear it, even suggesting I might wear it to the opera the following night much to Brad’s distress. I walked around bathed in post-purchase glow for all of two minutes, before I saw the exact same mask for 6€ at a shop down the road. The exact same one. FARK it! Brad on the other hand, selected his below budget, further fueling the taste of bitterness which was left in my mouth. It was only after he paid twice the price for a present for Manaia from a vendor down the road that my glory returned – I turned to him a tad relieved, a tad-smug and comforted him with the fact that ‘we all make mistakes’… The fact that his was only a difference of a 1€ didn’t matter one iota to me.





Late afternoon we headed back to our gold palace for more bathing, relaxing and reading, before we bundled up into our jackets, gloves and scarves and set off in search of dinner. We had quite a few recommendations up our sleeves and after wandering around exploring for a few hours we decided to go with our own instincts and went to this crazy American-themed Italian place. By that stage we were too hungry to care, but it was actually really good. Needless to say we ate more than we’ve ever ate before and waddled out of the restaurant two hours later, well-fed, thirst satiated with house red wine and ready for bed.

After further cappuccinos and espressos, we set off on Sunday to Murano – a small island which produces the world famous Murano glass. Our hotel offered a free water taxi service to the island, complete with a tour and demonstration. It was a nice visit, although we didn’t purchase anything on account of not having a spare few thousand in the bank account! That aid, it was so interesting to see how they make sculptures and we also got a free tour on water, although fog diminished a lot of the view.





By the time we were ready to go back to the mainland the fog was so bad they couldn’t send taxis out, so we caught the Vaporetto, or water bus, which actually turned out to be the best option as we got off at a different point and explored a whole new side to the world’s most beautiful city. We wandered and got lost for three or so hours, before heading back to the hotel for a rest for an hour.

We had purchased tickets for the opera the day before, getting A-class tickets – only the best for us, and had decided to have a picnic in our hotel before the show. Popping out for a quick pizza (so good, so cheap, why not?), we went back to a spread of wine (a plastic bottle filled up at a wee store for 2€!), olives, Italian biscuits and bread – delish. We nattered away for a few hours and then set off to see La Traviata – North America’s third most popular Opera don’t you know. It was really great and the building itself was worth paying to see. Brad particularly loved it (closet fan) and the two hours absolutely flew by. Even though it was in Italian you could tell what was happening as we had been given a sheet with a synopsis of the story, and they were such great actors. It was great to be able to see an Opera in Venice, but sadly Brad didn’t let me wear my mask.



We woke up on Monday, dreading the thought of leaving. Thankfully our flight was at night so we had all day to enjoy the city, kicking off with the fact that we had amazingly timed our visit with Festival Madonna della Salute – a religious festival in which locals give thanks to Madonna. The festival was held at the most beautiful domed cathedral which sits at the entrance of the grand canal and is such a postcard site. We hadn’t been there yet, as we’d been saving it for Monday. There was so much going on, both inside and outside, and we spent some time inside the church watching everyone light the world’s biggest candles and sing in Italian. We then found ourselves in the food part of the festival, where we munched on a few delicious delicacies – arancini balls (risotto, cheese and mushroom deep fried!) and candied strawberries on a stick – no prizes for guessing who ate what. We were stuffed, but managed to squeeze a bit extra in. When in Venice after all.





The rest of the day was spent soaking up the ambience. Eventually the ‘I’m so full I feel sick’ feeling settled down, and we decided to stretch our bellies even more with one last pizza each. The pizzas in Italy aren’t just regular size – they’re so big they don’t even fit on a big pizza plate. I couldn’t even provide an NZ example, they’re that big. I went for my usual – a delicious number covered in aubergine, sausage, ricotta and emmental, while Brad opted for spicy sausage, cheese and olives. Mouth wateringly good and the perfect last meal. We were still full when we arrived back in London seven hours later!



It was hard to leave Venice – the four day lifestyle of luxury, delicious food and wine was all too tempting. If all else fails in London, I’m heading back to this pretty city to open up my own rip-off mask shop. There’s money to be made from mugs like me!

xx

Brylie do Bergen

So despite bankrupting ourselves in Oslo earlier this year, we decided we hadn’t quite has enough of Norway, which is why we found ourselves at Gatwick airport on Friday night, jumping on board Norwegian Air Bergen bound with Jess and her sister Sarah.

Bergen is on the opposite side of Norway to Oslo and is widely regarded as the most beautiful Norwegian city. Despite being the second biggest city in Norway, there are only 240,000 inhabitants which is the perfect demonstration of Norway’s sparseness! It’s a perfect weekend getaway as it is perfect for wandering, as opposed to charging around trying to fit everything in like a maniac.



We arrived in Bergen just past 11pm, which is a similar time to what we arrived in Oslo months before, but this time with a key difference – it wasn’t still light. In summer it hardly ever gets dark and in winter its hardly ever light, so given our visit was right on the cusp of winter we spent the weekend wandering around in dusk.



Our accommodation wasn’t too flash, but we’ve stayed in plenty worse and given we weren’t keen on bankrupting ourselves to meet Norwegian prices, it was more than adequate – aside from our heater sparking and smoking when we turned it on in attempt to heat up the chilly room. Having had a bumpy landing into Bergen, we were all a little green around the gills and as soon as our head hit the pillow we were out, cold room and all.

The next morning we were out the door in record time (record given there was one shower and three girls) and soon found ourselves wrapped up to the nines and exploring the town. Bergen is just like a quaint wee fishing village, albeit slightly more populated, which was reinforced when we stumbled across a fish market right on the waterfront, selling everything from lobster to whale meat. After sampling some of the local produce which was more fresh than we could ever have imagined, we made our way to the Bryggen area which is a cuter than cute strip of Norwegian buildings housing everything from Santa memorabilia to restaurants. We then realised we couldn’t put off food any longer and decided to bite the bullet and head to a little bakery, where we indulged in a few local baked delights. Outrageously priced given what you get, but a lot better than Oslo so we couldn’t complain. Named Godt brod, which we took to mean Good Bread, we decided we would be back here as we were all thoroughly impressed with our custard bread creations.



Our next stop was Floibanen, home to the funicular, which is essentially a tram which takes you 320m above sea level to a mountainside which looks out over the whole of Bergen. The ride up was excitement in itself and we had a grand old time on top of the mountain taking photos, posing in the troll gardens etc. More dedicated followers of the blog, might remember that Norway is the home of trolls, so everywhere you looked in Bergen there was a sneaky wee troll popping its head out from behind a tree. It was my bright idea to make like a local, and walk down rather than riding the funicular. We were promised that the trip would give us an authentic taste of the Norwegian forest and nature and it definitely lived up to its hype. Sadly our choice of attire wasn’t the most appropriate given we weren’t in hiking gear, but it was beautiful all the same – waterfalls, moss, rocks, trolls and more trolls. It took us just over an hour and it was great to see the natural beauty of Norway, but that said, we were also glad to get to the bottom where we headed straight to another bakery and recouped our agency with hot chocolate and more baked goods.







The rest of the day was spent wandering through the streets, stopping for the occasional hot dog (a Scandinavian staple), taking countless photos and soaking it all in. We then headed back to our hostel, via the supermarket, where we brought some of our favourite Norwegian snacks from last time, including the best chocolate treats on the face of the earth called Daim. After stuffing ourselves sick and declaring we wouldn’t need dinner, a game of cards was started, but I opted for bed instead and had a wee cat nap, before being woken by Brad as the team had decided to head out for food after all. Sheepishly we set off in search of a cosy and affordable wee place, only to split up. While Jess and Sarah were in search of refreshments of the alcoholic kind, Brad and I had our eyes set on coffee and cake. We dropped the girls off at a bar, bidding them farewell until 1am when they would stumble in with hot dogs in hand, while we headed to a great wee find that reminded us of cafes back home. Sitting down with Caribbean crepes, wedges and apple cake (crazy, but delish combo), we were swept away in conversation about the creepy art on the walls, forcing each other to choose a favourite which was torture in itself given each painting was more unsettling than the last (I’m talking decapitated heads unsettling). After Brad was pointing to one image in particular that just screamed serial killer, a girl at the neighbouring table turned to us and started nattering away in Norwegian. Realising we didn’t understand, she soon switched to English – turns out she was the artist! Mortified, we then had to spend an inordinate time gazing at each painting, oohing and aahing over the creepiness. Thank god she just tuned into the convo at the very end! It just goes to show, you never know who is listening so shut the hell up at all times!

The next morning we all awoke at 10am, amazed that we had slept for so long – one of those glorious sleeps when you wake up 100 per cent refreshed. Despite the late start, we were up and out in nothing short of miraculous time where we headed straight back to our beloved Godt Brod. Now here’s an interesting observation that needs to be observed in NZ - it seems that Sunday morning is ‘father’s time’ in Norway, as countless dads took their young ones out for brekkie, leaving Mum at home to lie in gloriously. Everywhere you turned a single dad was in tow with beautiful Scandinavian children, each child more blonde and blue-eyed than the last – just gorgeous! We were seated next to two Dad’s who had joined forces and were treated to their gorgeously charming, well-behaved little faces for a few hours, including one delightful wee tot who took a shining to our Jess. Jess, who isn’t clucky in the slightest, was melting at the mouth at this little bundle of perfection. I tell you, Scandinavian children could bring world peace. And what a great idea – mothers across NZ unite and declare Sunday as a day for lying in while Dad’s take the kids out for hot chocolate and custard buns. It’s no wonder Norway is constantly voted the best place in the world to live – with kids that cute and Sunday lie-ins, what’s there to moan about? The weather of course, but when these kids are all wrapped up in their furs they look even more cute. I know I sound border line child-snatcher here but god-give-me-strength I was this close to tucking this little one under my arm and hooning out the door. The only reason I managed to control myself was the thought of the constant fighting in the flat over who was going to hold the baby.



After scaring these poor fathers, we decided to leave before we had a criminal conviction (of all the places, we really couldn’t afford bail in Norway) and trotted off alongside the ocean coming to another pretty park right on the water’s edge.

The remainder of the day was spent exploring, drinking tea and eating more hot dogs, before we reluctantly caught the bus back to the airport. Even the bus ride didn’t disappoint and was like a tourist attraction in itself, winding us through beautiful valleys and landscape.



Bergen gets two beautiful thumbs up – low key and lovely.

x