Marc
left in the morning for Budapest. We had
decided not to go with him but to continue on to Zagreb. I was packing up my things when I walked in
on Aida and Pavlos, hearing them talk about going to a lake somewhere. Pavlos said to me, “You can go on to Zagreb
and then we can meet there.” I went back
into the kitchen to continue preparing to leave. Aida came in, “Aren’t you coming with us?”
“I didn’t think I was invited, I assumed this was a romantic walk around the lake you guys were taking.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Of course, you have to come with us. I wouldn’t let you come to Slovenia and not see any of the countryside.”
“Yeah, come on,” Pavlos said. I was confused. Didn’t he want to seduce Aida? But then, I did want to see the countryside, so I tagged along. We went to this town called Bled, which is in the mountains of Western Slovenia. Bled is a small town on the side of Lake Bled. Slovenia’s only island is in the middle of Lake Bled, where the medieval Slovenians built a church. On top of a great cliff side, overlooking the lake, is Bled Castle. We went to Bled Castle first, though the lake wasn’t visible, shrouded in fog as it was. The air was cold and biting, as we walked around the lake, it only grew colder and the fog thicker until all was dark and bright globes glowed in the fog like ships lost at sea.
We weren’t able to get back to Ljubljana in time to make our train to Zagreb. Being tired of wearing dirty underwear as I was, I decided to stay at Hostel Celicia, near the train station and on the edge of Metalkova. Pavlos called up Marushka and decided to stay with her. I didn’t really want to stay their either, since I knew Pavlos was going to try and seduce Marushka and it’s not a favorite pastime of mine to watch him seduce women. I was beginning to find his whole ritual animalistic and demeaning, but as he once told me, “Sometimes women just want to be demeaned.”
Hostel Celicia was an old prison during the Yugoslavia days. After the collapse of the Yugoslav state and the development of a free Slovenia, they stopped using the prison. It was later converted into a hostel, though they maintained many of the prison features for the rooms, including the steel bar doors on a few of them. Don’t expect any blood stains like in the KGB museum in Vilnius, as this place was otherwise thoroughly redone and was one of the nicer hostels I’ve stayed in. They provided sheets, towels and a continental breakfast, and my room had only four beds with a private toilet and shower, all for 19 euros. The only downside was that I had to pay eight euros to do the laundry, but there was no other option I knew of in town.
The next day, Marushka and Pavlos met me at the ethnological museum. It was closed for the day, but in her constant drive to network people, she was able to get a hold of someone who worked there who let us in for free. The museum wasn’t anything too special, only a collection of antiquities found in Slovenia and other things from families during WWII and later, to show representations of how Slovenians lived throughout the modern days.
After the museum and a short visit to the market, we made our way to the train
station. We smoked one last shisha pipe
at the shisha bar at the station (which, after smoking at two other shisha
bars, decided was the best one in town) and then boarded the train to
Zagreb. From the station, I guided us
the wrong way. We walked for twenty
minutes in the wrong direction with all of our gear until finally I decided to
start asking people for directions. No
one knew the street and no one knew the landmark I was told, which was a small café. One lady suggested we go into an office and
ask to use Google maps. A man with a small
dog went with us and, after he and the office worker found where we were going,
told us, “Look, I’m headed in that direction anyway, so I’ll give you a ride.”
We arrived not much later to Antonia and Iosip’s house. Both of them were laid back and relaxed. “We were wondering where you guys were,” Antonia said after we told her the story. “We’re pretty busy tonight,” they said, when we invited them out to a few drinks. We went on to a brew house called Medvedgrad, where we had some local dishes and beer. It was easily one of the best places to eat in Zagreb if you’re looking for traditional Croatian food – which means sausage, potatoes and sausage and potato soup.
The next day, our hosts couldn’t join us to show us around Zagreb, as they had a casting call to attend. Since they were students, they found the best way to get money was to do random jobs like commercial shoots or small acting gigs. Another French guy, who joined us later, noted that “You guys are a great looking couple. No, seriously, I know, I do lots of body painting back in France and you guys are good looking.” Pavlos and I left the house late in the morning with a typically slow start. We came across a bar called Hemingway, and since I was American, we decided to step into the bar (I was always being fascinated by what others thought was an "American bar", since most bars in America I can think of are either dives or Irish pubs). I told the barman, "We'll have two beers. What do you have?"
He began to list off beers that were either from the Netherlands or England. But I wanted something local. "No, no," I interrupted him. "Do you have anything local, like from Serbia?" And then I realized what country I'm in - "I mean, from Croatia!" He brought us back two miniature beer bottles, which was as if to say that he was quite offended by the mix up. Balkans have killed for less, after all. But instead, he laughed and asked us if we had just come from Serbia. "We're on our way there."
"Belgrade is a terrific city. And have you been to Bosnia yet?"
"Well, no, we're kind of skipping it." He frowned. I added, "You're not from there, are you?"
"No, I just lived in a village there for thirteen years, until the war, which is when I came here to Zagreb." I wondered if the village even existed anymore.
We walked to one of the main squares, Petra Preradovica square, thinking it was the main square. On one side there’s a Serbian Orthodox church (you read that right) and on the other end there’s a T-mobile store and elephant topiary. Crowning the square, towering over the church and T-mobile store alike, was a four level shopping center, with an H&M at the entrance. “H&M!” I called out. “Socks! Let’s go, I need to refill my socks.” For a man like myself who likes to wear crazy socks, H&M is a great store. I only recently discovered this when my Estonian friend, another connoisseur of crazy socks, made H&M his first destination when we went to Stockholm together. Needless to say, I bought some socks and Pavlos bought a sweater, as he was freezing under his five thin layers of mostly rain jackets.
We made our way from there to the Cathedral of the Assumption of Mary, which
towered over the true main square, Ban Jalacic Square, a block away. Ban Jelacic had nothing interesting like a
T-mobile store or H&M on it, only a giant post office and a stand with a
guy cutting ham. We hurried past the
post office to the cathedral. We looked
inside and then around the back, where there’s a large stone wall and
collection of small huts lining the wall.
A man came out of one of the buildings and glanced at us for a
moment. “You guys speak English?” he
asked.
“Yes,” we answered. I was thinking that
he was about to say that laymen were not allowed in the back of the
cathedral. But instead, he made small
talk and laughed a lot. And then – “I’m
on my way to a meeting. But you know, I
meet you guys, my friends. You are my
friends, yes? Haha! So, I show you around Zagreb.”
“You just said you have to go to a meeting?” I asked.
“No – yes – just it is important to show guests around. I am history teacher at the Jesuit university here. I show you around Zagreb.” Zlatko was his name and he pulled us from one building to another, telling us the background of all the different places. “A river used to be here, yes, and a bridge. The noble people lived on this side and the others on that side and they were always fighting. That is what that wall is for. No, not for Ottomans, but for each other. And that is why we call this road ‘the Bloody Bridge’, since many battles were fought on it. Though, the bridge used to be above this road. And over there, yes, is a pharmacy that was started by Dante Alighieri’s nephew in the fourteenth century. It’s still a pharmacy today. Obviously, it has changed owners, hahaha!” About two hours later, he pulled us into the tourism shop to give us maps and tour guides. “Here take these, they are for free, yes, haha! Now, I must go to that meeting.” And he left us back on the main square, our hands then stuffed with tour guides, prayer cards and a large picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.
“I didn’t think I was invited, I assumed this was a romantic walk around the lake you guys were taking.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Of course, you have to come with us. I wouldn’t let you come to Slovenia and not see any of the countryside.”
“Yeah, come on,” Pavlos said. I was confused. Didn’t he want to seduce Aida? But then, I did want to see the countryside, so I tagged along. We went to this town called Bled, which is in the mountains of Western Slovenia. Bled is a small town on the side of Lake Bled. Slovenia’s only island is in the middle of Lake Bled, where the medieval Slovenians built a church. On top of a great cliff side, overlooking the lake, is Bled Castle. We went to Bled Castle first, though the lake wasn’t visible, shrouded in fog as it was. The air was cold and biting, as we walked around the lake, it only grew colder and the fog thicker until all was dark and bright globes glowed in the fog like ships lost at sea.
 |
| The Church of the Assumption of Mary, Bled, Slovenia |
We weren’t able to get back to Ljubljana in time to make our train to Zagreb. Being tired of wearing dirty underwear as I was, I decided to stay at Hostel Celicia, near the train station and on the edge of Metalkova. Pavlos called up Marushka and decided to stay with her. I didn’t really want to stay their either, since I knew Pavlos was going to try and seduce Marushka and it’s not a favorite pastime of mine to watch him seduce women. I was beginning to find his whole ritual animalistic and demeaning, but as he once told me, “Sometimes women just want to be demeaned.”
Hostel Celicia was an old prison during the Yugoslavia days. After the collapse of the Yugoslav state and the development of a free Slovenia, they stopped using the prison. It was later converted into a hostel, though they maintained many of the prison features for the rooms, including the steel bar doors on a few of them. Don’t expect any blood stains like in the KGB museum in Vilnius, as this place was otherwise thoroughly redone and was one of the nicer hostels I’ve stayed in. They provided sheets, towels and a continental breakfast, and my room had only four beds with a private toilet and shower, all for 19 euros. The only downside was that I had to pay eight euros to do the laundry, but there was no other option I knew of in town.
The next day, Marushka and Pavlos met me at the ethnological museum. It was closed for the day, but in her constant drive to network people, she was able to get a hold of someone who worked there who let us in for free. The museum wasn’t anything too special, only a collection of antiquities found in Slovenia and other things from families during WWII and later, to show representations of how Slovenians lived throughout the modern days.
 |
| The Ljubljana market |
We arrived not much later to Antonia and Iosip’s house. Both of them were laid back and relaxed. “We were wondering where you guys were,” Antonia said after we told her the story. “We’re pretty busy tonight,” they said, when we invited them out to a few drinks. We went on to a brew house called Medvedgrad, where we had some local dishes and beer. It was easily one of the best places to eat in Zagreb if you’re looking for traditional Croatian food – which means sausage, potatoes and sausage and potato soup.
The next day, our hosts couldn’t join us to show us around Zagreb, as they had a casting call to attend. Since they were students, they found the best way to get money was to do random jobs like commercial shoots or small acting gigs. Another French guy, who joined us later, noted that “You guys are a great looking couple. No, seriously, I know, I do lots of body painting back in France and you guys are good looking.” Pavlos and I left the house late in the morning with a typically slow start. We came across a bar called Hemingway, and since I was American, we decided to step into the bar (I was always being fascinated by what others thought was an "American bar", since most bars in America I can think of are either dives or Irish pubs). I told the barman, "We'll have two beers. What do you have?"
He began to list off beers that were either from the Netherlands or England. But I wanted something local. "No, no," I interrupted him. "Do you have anything local, like from Serbia?" And then I realized what country I'm in - "I mean, from Croatia!" He brought us back two miniature beer bottles, which was as if to say that he was quite offended by the mix up. Balkans have killed for less, after all. But instead, he laughed and asked us if we had just come from Serbia. "We're on our way there."
"Belgrade is a terrific city. And have you been to Bosnia yet?"
"Well, no, we're kind of skipping it." He frowned. I added, "You're not from there, are you?"
"No, I just lived in a village there for thirteen years, until the war, which is when I came here to Zagreb." I wondered if the village even existed anymore.
We walked to one of the main squares, Petra Preradovica square, thinking it was the main square. On one side there’s a Serbian Orthodox church (you read that right) and on the other end there’s a T-mobile store and elephant topiary. Crowning the square, towering over the church and T-mobile store alike, was a four level shopping center, with an H&M at the entrance. “H&M!” I called out. “Socks! Let’s go, I need to refill my socks.” For a man like myself who likes to wear crazy socks, H&M is a great store. I only recently discovered this when my Estonian friend, another connoisseur of crazy socks, made H&M his first destination when we went to Stockholm together. Needless to say, I bought some socks and Pavlos bought a sweater, as he was freezing under his five thin layers of mostly rain jackets.
 |
| Petra Preradovica Square |
“You just said you have to go to a meeting?” I asked.
“No – yes – just it is important to show guests around. I am history teacher at the Jesuit university here. I show you around Zagreb.” Zlatko was his name and he pulled us from one building to another, telling us the background of all the different places. “A river used to be here, yes, and a bridge. The noble people lived on this side and the others on that side and they were always fighting. That is what that wall is for. No, not for Ottomans, but for each other. And that is why we call this road ‘the Bloody Bridge’, since many battles were fought on it. Though, the bridge used to be above this road. And over there, yes, is a pharmacy that was started by Dante Alighieri’s nephew in the fourteenth century. It’s still a pharmacy today. Obviously, it has changed owners, hahaha!” About two hours later, he pulled us into the tourism shop to give us maps and tour guides. “Here take these, they are for free, yes, haha! Now, I must go to that meeting.” And he left us back on the main square, our hands then stuffed with tour guides, prayer cards and a large picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.
 |
| Old Town Zagreb with Pavlos and Zlatko |
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