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Monday, September 9th - Bled to Ljubljana - 10,956
It will be a light day today. I am only going as far as Ljubljana, the capitol of Slovenia, but as there is no reason to remain in Bled I head for the highway as soon as I have changed money at the bank.
Bled is four kilometres off the expressway, A2. I always try to avoid expressways and only travel on them when there is no other option. The only option from Bled is either to go into the town of Lesce or ride on the shoulder of the freeway. I go into Lesce and follow the only side road that continues beyond the town. That road isn’t on my map. I hope it will continue, but it crosses the Sava River and there is no sign of it crossing back over again as far as I can see. I don’t want to continue for an hour before realizing I must return to Bled and start again, so I return to the freeway.
I ride along the shoulder of the expressway until I can find another side road running parallel. A police car blares its horn and a cop shakes his fist out the window at me. I assume that means there are no bicycles allowed on the shoulder, which would be reasonable if there were any other options. It irritates me since I don’t want to be here anyway. It would be more productive if they were helpful instead of threatening. The cruiser doesn’t stop so I continue on along the shoulder until I can find an exit. That doesn’t happen until five kilometres later. 
The side road leads back to the Sava River and follows its banks for several kilometres and then swings back up to parallel A2 for several more. It slowly angles back to the river, reaching its banks as it enters the city of Kranj. It is still late morning but I take a rest as this is almost half way to Ljubljana. Kranj is Slovenia’s fourth largest city with about 50,000 people. It sits on the top of a rise overlooking the valley around it. The distance mountains to the north and west are an excellent backdrop.
I set off for Ljubljana on the same side road that brought me into Kranj. It goes all the way into the capitol. For the first 10 km it is straight as an arrow as it crosses the flat valley floor. The last 10 km is bends slightly to get around the edge of a ridge of hills that leads up to Ljubljana. 
Ljubljana is about the size of Halifax. It sits between two ridges of hills, running towards it from both west and east. It is a hub of trade routes coming from all directions and its castle, on a hill above the city, protected that hub. The city straddles the Ljubljanica River, from which it gets its name. Unlike most cities that have survived more than 40 years of communist neglect, the city’s historic downtown core is intact and devoid of drab, monolithic, Soviet concrete architecture. It is really charming. My favourite feature are the little sculptures of dragons on the Dragon Bridge. This place is steeped in fairytale mythology. It feels very western. There are many colourful mountain bikes being on the streets. I learn that they are manufactured here.
I have a Servas contact here in Ljubljana, an American named Paul who has been living here three years, but I must wait until 6 to hook up with him as he is teaching at an English school. I find the tourist office and then spend a couple of hours seeing the sites in the centre and riding up to see the castle. It is not a stunning city, but it is very well cared for and pleasant. The people here are ultra-civilized. Slovenia’s history is tied to the Holy Roman Empire and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, not the Balkans, and it shows.
I return to the centre and I am looking for a drug store. I stop and ask a sweet young man in his mid-20s if he speaks English. “No,” he says, beaming with the honour of having been spoken to and been given a way to help someone. Then, he begins to describe to me in fluent English how he missed the opportunity to learn English more fluently when he was younger. “Sit down, I’ll buy you a beer and we’ll talk about it.” I gesture towards the chair opposite me and he complies with enthusiasm. Thus, I begin a friendship with Ales Modrijan. We are locked on each other for more than an hour before I realize it is almost six and I must meet Paul. I excuse myself and we agree to meet at the same place later tonight. 
Paul is a curly-haired red-head with glasses and a beard, short, slender and very obviously straight. If he shoved his tongue down my throat I still wouldn’t believe he was gay. But he is intelligent and worldly, for an American. He knows I have just explored the centre so he doesn’t offer to show me around. Instead, he tells me about the city, how he discovered it while traveling, how he had loved it and fallen for a local girl. That’s why he returned to find a way of staying. He remained after his relationship failed. He enjoys teaching English and is in no hurry to return to the States. 
His place is a modest one-bedroom and I will be sleeping on the couch in the living room. I take him out for dinner at a local restaurant. When it is over, I suggest a walk around but he returns to his apartment to mark some tests. I look for Ales (the ‘s’ is pronounced ‘sh’) at the café where I met him and he is waiting there. I feel bad that he may have been waiting there a while, but he is thrilled to see me. We share beers and talk some more about our lives and travels. Occasionally, he pops out a compliment, like I am so smart, or handsome or kind. It’s very flattering. As it starts to grow late we go for a walk by the river. He is telling me he wishes we could always be friends, that he would love to live with me in Canada. That would be nice, I say, and he suddenly pounces on me with a full-on kiss. ‘Take me with you he says,’ pressing his face into my neck. I pull him over to a bench and sit him down beside me. I cuddle him, stroking the back of his head and kissing from time to time. I hold him like this for half an hour or so before telling him I had to go. He presses a piece of paper into my hand. ‘That’s my address. Promise you will write.’ I promise.
It is 10 pm when I get back to Paul’s. He is finished his marking and is up for conversation. I ask him about Slovenia and he is happy to oblige. He loves the people. He says they were schooled until this year in Serbo-Croatian, though Slovene is a separate Slavic language. Some also speak Italian or Hungarian and some speak German because of their close ties with Austria, but next to Slovene and Serbo-Croatian, English has become the favourite language. The average person here speaks at least four languages. He also tells me they feel no connection with the Balkans provinces of Yugoslavia and will definitely not have anything to do with a war between Croatia and Serbia if it comes to that. He also shows me a school children’s text book from the communist era (three years ago) on how to assemble and use a Kalashnikov semi-automatic rifle. I ask Paul what sights I should see. The great cave system of Postojna Jama is one. The coastal town of Piran is another. Both are already on my agenda. In fact, tomorrow night I will be in Postojna.
PHOTO 1: city of Kranj
PHOTO 2: the river in Kranj
PHOTO 3: Kranj statue
PHOTO 4: Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia
PHOTO 5: Ljubljana bus and train station
PHOTO 6: Paul
PHOTO 7: dragon on the Dragon Bridge
PHOTO 8: bike parking on Ljubljana
PHOTO 9: bikes are forbidden on some streets
PHOTO 10: Ljubljana town hall
PHOTO 11: a central square in the city
PHOTO 12: Nadskofi Stonica (??)
PHOTO 13: Ljubljana fortress and flag
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