Having fallen in love with Iceland — in summer, though; I can’t stand the cold —, I headed for Slovenia, where a girl I hadn’t seen for nine years — since we met in a two-week trip to the Netherlands — was waiting for me.There was a one-night stop in London on my way to Slovenia. The friend I had visited on the previous week was out that evening, so she left the keys in a flowerpot, like in films, and we had a chat in the morning.
By the evening, my plane had landed in Ljubljana, in a green country that is worth seeing from above. If there’s some land without a tree, that’s because there’s a house. The country is an unspoilt forest with clearings where villages lay. No wonder hiking is so popular there. We went hiking ourselves following a river — standard temperature — between mountains and to lake Bled.
That day we had dinner in a luxurious pizza place. Italian food is very popular in Slovenia, because of their proximity, I guess. Our waiter was a good-looking Belorussian translation student who got interested by my procedence when he heard us speaking in English and who spoke a wonderful Spanish. I know this because he stood next to me for ten minutes as the table behind us waited for the bill.
On the following day, we ate in a Mexican restaurant. Is Slovenia the place to go to listen to Sopa de Caracol, the Macarena, La Bomba, Aserejé…? Don’t get me wrong, I love these non-Mexican-although-in-Spanish, absurd summer songs; but who added Dragostea Din Tei, in Romanian, to that list?
I delighted myself in the breathtaking views from the air as my plane took off to the country that smells like goat.