My Yugoslav Tour Diary Part 1

During the marathon Easter break all the Austrians and I got from school and work (three weeks from university and two weeks from school!) I went to Slovenia and Croatia with Emily, a Fulbrighter who lives in Linz, and Matt and Amber, who are teaching assistants and also live near Linz.

I had wanted to go to Lake Bled since I saw it on Travels with Rick Steves (a recurring theme in my life) and left a day early to go see it. The town was unimpressive and was basically a lot of big hotels/resorts (though my hostel was in a more rustic part of town... the chickens across the street made the whole area smell like a petting zoo), but the lake itself was beautiful. I took an overpriced boat ride on an electric pletna out to Slovenia's only island to see the church, ring the wishing bell, and walk down the 99 stairs that grooms are supposed to carry their brides up. It's said that if the newly-wed husbands can handle that then they can handle a lifetime of marriage..

I also walked the entire way around the lake and saw Tito's villa (I imagine this as the Yugoslav Camp David), lots of swans, the mountain featured on Slovenia's flag, and even made a friend. I forgot what his name was, but he sold me a 4 Euro painting and spoke in giggles and what was probably not broken, but rather drunken, English.

Oh yeah, and I ate cake for breakfast (a Bled specialty called kremšnita).

The next day I met up with Emily, Matt, and Amber in Ljubljana. I had already seen the big sights back in December, so I wasn't in the efficient traveler mode that I usually am. The weather was pretty nasty, so I only took a few pictures. I think the one below of the pastry display case best illustrates the approach I took to my second stay in Ljubljana. I did make a trip to the City Museum, which had an exhibit on Picasso's graphic art and an oddly compelling display about a few Slovene hippy communes.

Fortunately the weather in Piran (which I took a daytrip out to a day after Matt and Emily did- I felt really sick when they went) was beautiful. Slovenia has 40 km of coast and  I had never seen the Adriatic and wasn't disappointed. The town was adorable and like a mini-Venice with cleaner water. You can even go scuba diving here. One of the buildings in this picture is a dive shop, which I knew had to be close when I smelled drying rubber (wetsuits) and found myself thinking about my dad.  The tower in this picture is the lighthouse. Told you it was adorable!

I spent the day in Piran wandering through alleys and onto squares,

eating ice cream and drinking wine for lunch, peeking into churches,

taking pictures of myself,

and happening onto a period movie set. The movie turned out to be about the Italian occupation of Slovenia during WWII (look for Piran, Pirano in Eastern European theaters next year), and on the way out of town I ran into two extras. One posed with me and the other was nice enough to let me wear his hat and hold his gun. How friendly!

The next day Emily, Amber, Matt, and I left Ljubljana for Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. On our way out of town we went on the first half of a FREE walking tour and ate a four-course lunch at a Chinese restaurant. We even made it to the train station with plenty of time to spare, and the tickets turned out to be cheaper than we expected. With a beginning like this, the day had the potential to be great.

Until we got to the Croatian border, that is. As for the rest of this story, I really wish I were making it up.

I'll just go ahead and say it... I forgot my passport. How? I have no idea. It should have been (and from now on always will be) the first thing I grabbed when packing, but after being within the Schengen zone (the part of Europe where you don't need to show a passport to cross borders) for so long, I guess I just didn't think about it. Everyone had assured me that it probably wouldn't be a problem.

The moment the police boarded the train, though, I knew it wouldn't be ok. I gave the police officer my Austrian residency permit, explained that I had forgotten my passport, and got off the train, terrified, when he told me I would have to go home and get it. Emily offered to stay with me, but there really wasn't anything she could do to help me so I told her not to.

The police officer turned out to be a nice guy, didn't fine me (he could have), and helped me figure out the train schedules to get home. Unfortunately the next train didn't leave for two hours, and the border town of Dobrova left a lot to be desired (the picture isn't of Dobova, but of another tiny town called Zidani Most, which is a transfer point where I also spent a lot of time over the next few days). So I did what anyone else in my situation would do, and went across the street to drink a liter of beer at a bar.

I caught the train at 7 PM all the way to Maribor, where I was supposed to transfer to the train that would take me back to Graz. Of course the last train to Graz was at 6:30 PM, and by the time I arrived in Maribor it was already 9 PM.

I went to the only hostel I knew of in Maribor, but no one would answer the door. I called the phone number posted by the door bell. The owner answered, but explained that she was out at a strip club. She very kindly invited me to join, but I asked for other hotel recommendations instead. Before she could give me directions my phone died.

At this point I was stranded in an unfamiliar city with a dead cell phone and heavy suitcase, feeling completely defeated. I walked back to the train station to try to find an outlet to charge my phone, but couldn't find one anywhere. I had almost resigned myself to spending my first night in a train station when I spotted an outlet behind a vending machine. Somehow I was able to pull the vending machine out so I could crawl behind it (I think it was a similar kind of moment to when mothers lift cars to save their children), charge my phone, and call back the strip-clubbing hostel owner to get directions to another hotel, which I immediately walked to and got a room.

The next morning I took the first train to Graz and grabbed my passport before turning right back around and taking the train to Zagreb. This was quite possibly my worst travel nightmare ever, but it certainly did feel like much more of an accomplishment when I crossed the Croatian border, and this trusty little document will never be forgotten at home again.