The Slovenians are, by and large, I would say an exceptionally passive, slow to smile (unless drink is involved) people and they will not smile at all if they are of the older generation. Lamenting the government is a national pastime, which seems very odd to me as the country appears in excellent running condition with fabulous roads, people living in generally comfortable if modest means, with very little evidence of crime, disrepair or poverty. Talking about the seaside is also a national pastime, which would make you think they have as much coastline as California, instead of the 30 miles they actually have.
They are a quiet, practical people, with bland Italian food, missing the produce aspects (tomatoes and lettuces and olives) heavy on the pizza and pasta, but illustrating an exceptional amount of creativity when it comes to pork products. (They have a pork based meatloaf like dish, with multiple different pork preparations extruded through the loaf, and then sliced. Creative.)
Slovenia is far north compared to the States making for exceptionally long days as you approach the summer solstice. Combine that with the frequent light showers (which lead to the Slovenian word that roughly translates “April-ish” as a weather description for anything goes with lots of showers) and the lush green foliage abounds in every direction.
And they make use of that, directing you to the lush green with lots of Pot signs. The Slovenian word “pot,” displayed every where by where I stayed, translates to “trail.” I had the great luxury of renting a flat perhaps three miles from Ljubljana, the major city center of Slovenia. My flat was also feet from a natural park perhaps seven miles in circumference, with miles and miles of pot(s), up and down hills, over streams, to ski jumps, to a church at the peak and a pub at a look out. The park, weather permitting, was packed full of runners, hikers, bikers or all ages. I was stretching at wooden outdoor gym equipment, when I thought I heard an approaching downpour. This confused me, as it did not feel like rain was coming. Then, turning the trail/pot corner, came a pack of twenty fifty-something year old women, all with hiking poles pattering against the trail just akin to the patter of pouring rain, much to my surprise.
In a strange way, I have never felt so at home. This is perhaps why I stayed so long. Eighteen days in a single city is perhaps the second longest time I have spent in one city in well over eighteen months. (San Francisco from January 25th to February 15 perhaps being the longest stay I have recently had in a single city.) My flat, with double French doors, looked out upon hectares of forest. Exiting my flat, and turning left provided an amazing view of what I believe are the Slovenian Alps. Church bells from up the street regularly punctuated the time and logistically, there was a market just a block away.
I am a world traveler. At this point I would say I have a friend in perhaps half of all western countries. I have many friends who call Austria home. So Sunday, taking a midday break from work, I decided to drive half way across Slovenia to meet a friend in Austria for lunch. (Note, driving half way across Slovenia takes approximately an hour and a half.)
The drive was amazing. Slovenia boasts not just steep, plentiful, dense forested hills but downright vertical snow-capped Slovenia Alps. Somehow, the first week I was there, perhaps in all my attentive observation of the foreground, I completely missed this beauty in the distance. When I suddenly did see the glorious sentries to the north, I dumbfoundedly exclaimed, in downright astonishment, “Oh my god, where the hell did those mountain come from? Where they there last week?” My coworker, driving, was amused in his sedate Slovenian fashion, but did show the slightest hint of a smile.
Slovenia, was, in truth, about work. In my 18 days, I doubt I averaged working less than nine hours a day; those days were filled with phone calls to London, St. Petersburg Russia and Miami.
I am a woman, and a loud somewhat gregarious California girl, in a quiet man’s field (software development), and in Slovenia a country that is fairly quiet, understated and subtle in its manor. I imagine the serine quiet of the Ljubljana development office will be glaringly apparent in absence of my loud laugh, easily heard for miles. (I imagine this quiet may be MUCH to the relief of my coworkers).
I am going to miss the boys, the lovely Italian cappuccino at 10am, the miles and miles and whole country of incredible green foliage, miles of trails (pot) steps from my doorstep, and the gloriously inviting forest through my double French doors.
I must admit that I am kind ok with leaving behind the pizza, pizza, pizza and creative pork products for a good Californian salad. I am definitely ok leaving behind the workload. (But I will take the chocolate covered marshmallows.)
I am amazingly grateful for two lovely Sundays in a row, once with the great hospitality of my VP and his girlfriend at their home enjoying the most amazing meal of octopus and risotto. The following Sunday spent in great company, perched, somewhat precariously, in a winery’s restaurant above steep sloping Austrian vineyards.
As I fly from Ljubljana to Frankfurt, on my way to working in Nova Scotia, I am so grateful for the experience my life delivers.
A big thank you to Matej Jaksa, the Ljubljana boys, and Stefan Fröhlich.
Stupid: So much work!
Cool: The experiences work provides, amazing friends, and amazing places.
