<b>DAY TWENTY – LOSING OUR HEADS (ALMOST), GEE YOUR SKIN IS SOFT, SURELY YOU JOUST, TEA FOR TWO, SWORD PLAY AND LOST IN TRANSLATION</b>

The forecast of rain turned out to be correct (yes, miracles occur even in meteorology) as we awoke to a flurry of showers. We met in the cozy breakfast room for cereal, croissants, hard rolls and yogurt, and then it was time for Postojnska Jama, which was not something we put on our rolls. We were about to travel a little less than an hour southwest to the famed Postojna Caves.

There are two large cave systems to choose from in Slovenia, Postjna or Škocjan, which is a little further from Ljubljana. Tourists have visited these caves since the early 1800s. After parking, we crossed a little river in the rain and scurried to buy our tickets for the next time slot. Ticket for entrance to the caves is 19&euro;.

To enter the cave, all the cattle (I mean passengers) are herded on to a little train that twists and turns its way into the cave system. I don’t know how fast it travels, but it’s got some zip. The train ride was really neat, although you felt like you could be decapitated at any instant, which makes any ride just a bit more thrilling.

In fact, passengers are warned to keep their heads down, all the while keeping your extremities inside the train at all times. Kim, at 6 foot 3”, also attempted to take photographs while the train weaved very close to overhanging rocks, and he came precariously close to making Mary an instant widow (I think for 19&euro; she would have finished the tour, however).

Once inside, the groups are split into groups by language. Our tour guide was a terrific (and bright) young man who also led tours in French and Slovenian. He guided us on the paths and bridges that weaved through the unworldly stalagmite and stalactite realm. He told us that Russian prisoners of war had built these walkways during World War II.

We went passed through many different galleries, each one pretty spectacular. The tour takes about 90 minutes and is not strenuous at all.

The caves were both very cool and…very cool. Temperatures hover around the 46-degree mark, so taking a sweater or jacket is a wise move. At one point Tracy felt my arms and said, “Your skin feels like it has been rejuvenated.” And she was right.

Between the salt mines in Krak&oacute;w and these caves, something in the cool, moist air was making my skin softer and younger looking (Geez, that sounds like an Oil of Olay commercial). “If I spend a week in these caves,” I told Tracy, “you could be married to a 20-year-old.”

Our guide also told us that algae was infiltrating the caves, and if they are not very careful, at some point they might have to be closed to the public, which would be terrible for my now youthful skin. After one last look at a subterranean lake, we hopped back on the Guillotine Express. Kim has a great picture of a woman behind us who looks as if the next corner will do her in. Luckily, we all survived.

The rain was still pelting down when we emerged from our underground adventure, so we drove a little further on the small two lane road through the lush countryside (between the scenery and our foursome, lush was the key word on our trip) to our next destination, Predjamski grad (Predjama Castle).

Located about six miles (or about ten kilometers) from the caves, Predjama is an imposing looking castle built into the side of rocks. Predjama Castle was the last known hideout for Erazem, who fancied himself as a Robin Hood-type character, although he actually was a thieving baron. Erazem killed the emperor’s cousin in a duel and used this place as a base to lead raids on nobility and merchants.

In the end, Erazem got it in the end. One day, while sitting on the can, soldiers sent a cannonball through the thin walls into the latrine, and Erazem was killed where he sat. That’s the straight poop or as much straight poop as any legend can have.

As you walk to Predjama from the parking lot you pass by bleachers where people attend jousting matches in the summer. Alas, there was no jousting today, but we were hungry anyway, so it was time to get back to Ljubljana.

Kim and Mary wanted to go see an art exhibit, so they stopped and had a quick Mexican cuisine lunch (Si, I don’t make ‘em up). Tracy and I strolled over to the river and onto a little sidestreet where we found a little teahouse that had been recommended by the same girl who had turned us on to Gostilna AS.

The Cajna Hisa Pod Velbom was a nice place to take refuge on a rainy day. We both had chicken curry salad and a nice glass of red wine. I guess we really didn’t have tea for two after all.

By now, it had stopped raining so we walked around Ljubljana some more until we hit our next stop, the aforementioned Enoteca, located down a flight of stairs at Nazorjeva 12. Inside we met the proprieter, Sasha, who educated us on wines from the region.

He recommended we taste both a Carolina (not from North or South Carolina, but western Slovenia) white and red wine, and they both were quite good. We had told him that our next stop was Lake Bled, where we were going to learn Sabrage (how to open champagne and wine with a sword ) from a monk at the castle (well Tracy was going to learn that art, as I would surely kill an innocent tourist in the process).

Sasha said that he was sure the monk would charge some money for that demonstration, while he said he could perform Sabrage for free right here in the cellar. I stood a safe distance away as Zorro (I mean Sasha) whipped out his blade, slid his trusty saber toward the front of the bottle and cleanly separated the cork and collar from the neck of the bottle of wine.

“Now you can try that at your next dinner party,” Sasha said. Impaling guests is not my forte, and I said I would just be happy with the memories of Sasha’s sword expertise. Sasha recommended we dine at Cubo restaurant, located a couple of kilometers from the center of town. I wish we had followed his advice.

Instead we opted for something closer to our B&amp;B, and it turned out to be a mistake. Fortunately for Kim and Mary, they were dining at another place on this evening.

Tracy and I were told Gostilna Sestica was a “traditional Slovenian restaurant.” At first, everything seemed normal. A cute hostess seated us in a lovely courtyard. There were quite a number of locals dining here. That was as normal as dinner would get on this evening.

The restaurant has supposedly been open since 1776, which coincidentally was the year our waiter was born. He appeared to speak perfect English, pointing out specials and answering all of our questions. It was then that something was “Lost In Translation.”

The waiter, who might have been the slowest moving human in Slovenia, would bring out one dish at a time to the various tables at a pace that would bore a snail. Our wine, which we had ordered about 20 minutes before still had not appeared, so we asked if Igor (not his real name, but we had lots of time to come up with fictional names) could please bring it over, which he eventually did.

Another twenty minutes passed. Then it was half an hour. Igor would appear periodically to serve other tables, but we were inexplicably passed by. “Do I still have the breath that could kill an ox?” I asked Tracy. She assured me I was not the cause.

Finally, after an hour, Igor started to bring out our dinner; only the dinner he brought out was not the dinner we ordered.
Tracy’s arugula salad turned out to be watercress and radicchio salad. My beef noodle soup turned out to be, well it turned out to be nothing because he never brought me my beef noodle soup.

We asked Igor about Tracy’s salad, and he said that it was arugula. Trust me, even an Obama detractor from Iowa would know that it was not arugula. I was going to ask about my soup, but the main course came soon after Tracy’s fake Arugula salad arrived.

Tracy had ordered risotto with chicken and mushrooms. She was served rice with chicken and tomatoes. My “Steak Ljubljana Style” was supposed to be (according to that wacky menu) beef with roasted potatoes. Instead, I had a veal cordon bleu with polenta. When I asked Igor about this dish, he insisted that this was the “Steak Ljubljana Style.” I decided not to argue, and we decided not to have dessert here for fear we would be served pickled herring in a chocolate-raspberry sauce.

As soon as the bill was paid (unfortunately for Igor, his tip was rather paltry) we rushed back to Gostilna AS where I had another delicious panecotta, while Tracy ordered an incredible chocolate souffl&eacute; with cr&egrave;me anglaise and strawberries (a “Wow” dish to be sure). A couple of Irish coffees later and our “Lost In Translation” dinner was a faded memory (well, I guess not too faded).

We strolled the streets of Ljubljana again until about 11 and headed back to the b&amp;b. The following day would be the short drive to Lake Bled, a drive that would be made just a tad bit longer by the surprising cameo appearance by a suave, Slovenian police officer.

<b>COMING UP – DAY TWENTY-ONE – COPPING A PLEA, TAKING THE CAKE, RAINDROPS KEEP FALLING ON MY HEAD AND THE OLD, FAKE FIREPLACE TRICK BACKFIRES</b>

Maitaitom,

I've been enjoying this thread for weeks now - thank you so much. I feel like I was on the trip with you. Keep it coming!

-Chels

Thanks Chels. Has it only been weeks? We're finally at the home stretch with only Bled, Rovinj and Venice to go. At this pace, I should be done with the report by Thanksgiving (not sure of which year, however). Thanks for hanging in there.

No worries, Tom. I'm already giving thanks for this terrific trip report

Tom, I'm almost embarrassed. I am enjoying your trip report so much that I feel like I should be putting something in your tip jar.

My maternal grandfather was born in Karlovac, Croatia, just a hop SW of Zagreb. I knew that entire area would be lovely, and it looks so through your eyes! I look forward to discovering it for myself.

Can't wait to read more, and yet, sad that it will soon come to an end.

Thanks again for the free entertainment! (nobody talking on their cell phone, throwing popcorn or giggling like schoolgirls- oh, wait, forget that last one...)

Paula

<b> DAY TWENTY ONE – COPPING A PLEA, TAKING THE CAKE, RAINDROPS KEEP FALLING ON MY HEAD AND THE OLD, FAKE FIREPLACE TRICK BACKFIRES</b>

Overcast skies greeted us on this morning and after breakfast at the B&amp;B Slamič, we were on the highway for the short one hour jaunt to Lake Bled. As we neared the Bled turnoff, the highway quickly shrunk from four lanes down to two, and after another 100 yards, off to the side of the road, I spotted a man in uniform.

As it turned out, he had spotted me as well, and, holding a little sign, he waved me toward him. Knowing he was not the official Lake Bled greeter, but not thinking I had committed any driving infraction, I pulled over.

I rolled my window down and said, “Dober-Dan.” Well, I think that’s what I said.

DIGRESSION: By the end of our four weeks in the Czech Republic, Poland, Slovenia and Croatia, we were pretty messed up with which language we were attempting to speak, especially when it came to saying “Good day and hello.”

In Czech, it was “Dobr&yacute; den.” In Polish, it was “Dzień dobry.” In Croatian, it was “Dobar dan” and in Slovenian the aforementioned “Dober-dan.” With all the brain cells killed throughout these countries, we had been known to mix up our “Dobers” with our Dobr&yacute;s and our “dans” with our “dens.”

So, by the time I encountered the officer, I could have said something like “Daffy Duck” or “`Dizzy Dean” for all I know, but I think he knew what I said, because he just said “Hello.”

This guy had a really cool voice. If you are a fan of Magnum P.I. (or even if you’re not) he sounded exactly like the Soviet agent who blew up Magnum’s buddy Rick in the Ferrari and who called Magnum “Thomas” in an inimitable way (until today). It is the greatest Magnum P.I. episode ever; a two-parter entitled “Did You See The Sunrise?”

The officer asked me for my driver’s license, international license and my passport. Fortunately he did not ask for my first born because I don’t have one. On the outside I was Magnum cool. On the inside, I was Don Knotts’ nervous.

“Thomas,” he said slowly in his unmistakable movie star voice. “Do you know what you did?”

I did not.

“When you see signs that the highway is narrowing to only two lanes, it is a ‘No Passing Zone’.” I hadn’t passed any other cars, and he was around a corner so I don’t know how he would have known if I passed a car anyway, but getting into an argument with a Slovenian cop did not seem like the prudent course of action.

After checking all of our passports, he continued. “Thomas (although nervous, I really enjoyed hearing him say my name),” usually the fine for what you did is 20 euros.”

Like a great Shakespearean actor, he then took a dramatic pause, looked away for a split second, turned back toward me and added, “But today is your lucky day and I am going to let you go with just a warning.”

If only he had said, “Well, do you feel lucky? Well, do you punk?” I guess hoping he would impersonate a Clint Eastwood character would have just been too much to ask. At least he didn't blow up our car.

We drove (carefully) the rest of the way to Bled and our hotel, the charming and inexpensive Hotel Berc. According to my wife’s notes, it was a “gorgeous, Swiss chalet style hotel with an abundant amount of natural woodwork with a pretty garden setting in the back offering breathtaking views of the mountains.” I will stand by her account.

Our host, Luka (our second Luka of the trip), was very apologetic about the inclement weather saying, “It had been very warm up until the past few days.” We had been very lucky to this point, so que sera.

As we started walking toward the lake, a deluge of water drenched us as a substantial rainstorm hit the area. By the time we reached the Panorama restaurant, the four of us were soaked, but we were on a quest that neither rain nor sleet nor hail could keep us from (well, maybe sleet or hail, but since it was only rain, we continued).

I had read and been told about a Lake Bled specialty called kremna rezina (or kremšnita). It is a layer cake, but unlike any layer cake we have ever experienced. This cake has a layer of cream and another of vanilla that resides inside a delicate crust. It is said you can buy them elsewhere, but that the only genuine ones are found in Bled. The name is derived from the German word Cremeschnitte, or “cream slice.”

The kremna rezina was absolutely incredible and surprisingly light. Never have 50,000 calories gone down so easily. It absolutely just melted into my mouth, and I have craved this dish ever since coming back to Southern California. I told Tracy that I would return to Bled just to experience a kremna rezina again. The flavor was magnificent and with an espresso to go with it, it makes for an unbeatable combination in the morning (or afternoon…or night).

Back outside it was still pouring, and even though we had just consumed all those calories, it was time for lunch. We quickly hurried inside the Park Hotel (where kremna rezina was invented in 1953) and sat down at a window overlooking the lake.

The d&eacute;cor of the Park Hotel Restaurant is '80s Las Vegas chic with turquoise and lavender the prevalent color scheme. All that was lacking were some slot machines, a Keno girl and Wayne Newton. Fortunately, the view onto the lake kept our group from going temporarily color blind.

The food was good, however. I had pasta with blue cheese; Tracy opted for a beef broth with pommes frites, Kim a cheese omelet and Mary a veggie soup with salad.

It was now nearing mid-afternoon, and there was no sign of a let up from the rain. On the way back to the Hotel Berc, Kim and I found a little restaurant that looked perfect for dinner. Since we rarely ever knew what day of the week it was, Kim and I did not go in and get reservations, which would have been smart because it was a Friday night and Bled is a big resort town for Slovenians, Austrians, Germans and as we found out, Brits. There was also a huge rowing event taking place on this particular weekend.

We went back to the room for a little R&amp;R and I got caught up with some work on the free Internet provided downstairs just outside a lovely breakfast room. About 6 p.m. we meandered back down to the lake because the weather had cleared some, and there were now spectacular views of the Julian Alps, the castle on the hill overlooking Bled and the signature piece of land here, the island with the church on the lake (well, actually the island is on the lake and the church is on the island and the hand bone’s connected to the arm bone).

We stopped into a little pub and watched some soccer (of course, no one scored while we watched). Across the street from the pub was the restaurant where Kim and I decided earlier we would eat. By now it was really cold outside, and Kim had and I, in our best unscripted Abbott and Costello started adlibbing, a mistake that would soon bite us right in the ass and still lives in infamy today.

I believe Kim started this impromptu routine by saying, “There’s the restaurant we booked for tonight, Tom. I hope our table is ready.”

Then (in a moment of sheer stupidity) I added, “Yes, tell them we have the reservations by the fireplace. We’re just going to take a couple of more pictures.” Now as you might remember, we had no reservations and we did not have a clue if they had a fireplace.

“Great,” Tracy said, “I am freezing.” “Me too,” Mary added.

Like a couple of dolts, we stayed behind to take some pictures of the mountains and lake. Meanwhile back at the restaurant (Ostarija Peglezn), there were two freezing women sitting out on the patio, shivering and none too pleased with their respective spouses when we approached a few minutes later.

Our wives had gone inside and Tracy had asked for the “table by the fireplace” we had reserved. Well, of course, there was no reserved table…and no fireplace. They did have a table, however. Outside. On the patio. The very cold patio. Well, it was freezing.

Speaking of freezing, for about the next twenty minutes I received the deep freeze from Tracy. She was even too cold to give me the look or call me an idiot. That spells trouble for Tom.

“Isn’t the view wonderful?” I said to Tracy. “Look at how spectacular the mountains look tonight.” I might as well have been talking to the mountain. I hadn’t been in this much hot water since the famous “Rome Train Station Sherpa Incident of 2005.”

Thankfully, our charming waiter, great wine and terrific food thawed her out. She began speaking to me again through Kim and Mary, so a quick Slovenia divorce had been narrowly averted.

I started with a goulash soup and then ordered at the beef peppercorn steak with polenta.

Tracy had a really terrific dish of sliced beef on a bed of arugula (thankfully this place knew the difference between arugula and watercress).

Mary stayed the fish course with a fish soup and seafood risotto. Kim either didn’t eat or we forgot to write it down (I assume it was the latter, since Tracy had not completely thawed out from the fireplace incident).

This was all washed down by a couple of bottles of very good cabernet that our waiter called “gorgeous.”

“Just like my wife,” I added. She shook her head. She wasn’t buying that romantic drivel for a minute.

We liked the restaurant so much we made reservations for the following evening…inside!

As soon as we walked in the door of the Hotel Berc, the rain started up again, and we hoped it would let up tomorrow so we could get a better view of beautiful Bled. We had things to do, places to see and only one more day to do it!

<b> COMING UP – DAY TWENTY TWO – TOO EARLY FOR CHAMPAGNE, GET ME TO THE CHURCH ON TIME, WALK AROUND THE LAKE, PUBBING IT AND HERE COMES THAT RAINY DAY FEELING AGAIN </b>

I had to find a reference for your delicious description:

http://bled2004.ikpir.com/aboutbled.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kremna_rezina

I believe we had the kremna rezina while in Bled as well. Super yummy! I also distinctly remember having a cup of the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted while eating my cake in that restaurant in Slovenia. It was freezing when we were there too, although of course this could have been because it was November. I wish I knew the name of that restaurant, because I've been having fantasies of returning ever since...

Tracy

Tracy, As I sip an espresso this morning, I dream of the kremna rezina.

ellenm, Maybe I'll make that picture of the kremna rezina my screen saver.

Paula, You will love this little corner of the world. Glad you're enjoying the story, sans the thrown popcorn.

Wow, the kremna rezina cake sounds divine. YUM!
We considered a daytrip from Hallstatt to Lake Bled on our past trip in May, but it would have involved a lot of driving and there was so much to see in the Hallstatt area. I confess I am feeling a slight tinge of regret after reading about that cake though, LOL!

Hi Tom,
I have been enjoying and following your trip report. It is awesome!!
In fact, I find much info useful for my trip to Croatia and Slovenia next April - May.
You suggested on my THREAD - Help with itinerary etc. that we stay 1 night in Ljubljana. I LOVE your choice in Bled and will book the Hotel BERC! It looks wonderful!
BUT - I am stumped where to stay in Ljubljana. Rick Steves recommends Hotel Emonec. (Not too thrilled with it)
You stayed in the B&amp;B Slamic. I can't find a web site for it. It is reviewed on &quot;trip advisor&quot; but I can't find map, prices, pictures, location...etc. When I use google it doesn't help - just sends me to reviews on trip advisor.
Do they have a web address? Could you share it please?

As I said, your report has given me a sense of where to go and for how long. Thanks!
Nannibray

Hi nannibray,

www.slamic.si

Great location in the Old Town.

I'm only up to day 12! But I really have to stop and do some reading now or I'll get behind in my class.

Truly enjoying this Tom! I'll come back expecting more soon

Hi Tom!
FABULOUS report, what a labour of love! Thankyou for sharing!

Tom:

If you ever return to Dubrovnik, please look me up as I would like to show you the hidden gems. I so wish I had found this forum prior to your arrival in my new home.

Puna pozdrava

Carol
An American Living in Dubrovnik

Toucan, By the time I get back to this, you'll be caught up.

Kavey, not only is it a labor of love, but I feel like I'm giving birth.

croatiantravelady, We will be back. Guaranteed!

Busy work week, but in the near future I promise to get to the final week of our trip, before I grow too old to remember. Thanks to those brave few who have stayed with our story.

Not the &quot;brave few&quot; but the &quot;eager many&quot;!

Count me among the &quot;eager many&quot;

I am of two minds about this TR. I am quite impatient for it to continue (after all, it has been EIGHT days since the last installment), but on the other hand, dreading its fast-approaching end, like a really great book that you've hardly been able to put down.

All the same, Tom, I'm looking forward to tale of the DAy 22.

All right Tom, I'm back and I'm all caught up...where are you?