Category: Travel

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Slovenia

Haven’t been away enough this year so booked us a Ryanair flight to Trieste. Hired a car and did 1192km around central Europe in 7 days, getting back this Friday just gone. We did it like this:

https://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&oe=utf-8&client=firefox-a&hl=en&s=AARTsJqsZs6h4KV-p8cewcZbPUivTV4Lmw&msa=0&msid=114441967077137183817.00045e799c04a55800df6&ll=46.038923,14.875488&spn=1.334618,2.471924&z=8&output=embed&w=450&h=350

Hotel in Stansted for an easier Friday 7th Dec morning start. A short cattlemongous flight to north-east Italy, Trieste. Drove through the town, sorry Triestians but from what we saw, didn’t think much to the place, industrial, nothing special. Decided to keep on trucking up and over to the nearby boarder with Slovenia and on to it’s fairly central capital Ljubljana. Found a central hotel fairly easily, checked in and walked into a compact, picturesque and Christmassy town. Drank: mulled white wine, ate: game. Good start. Moved hotel the next day, went up to the castle, walked about, ate, drank, made merry. Drove down to Zagreb the next day, casually cruising through the open toll stations, laughing at how they don’t make too many a euro by leaving them open for all and sundry to drive on through. Came to a stop at the border for not having a ‘vignette’. A vignette, you say? “Well Austria and Switzerland have them”. Oh, right. €150 later we found out that a vignette is their version of road tax which all toll road users must purchase. Either for €35 for 6 months, or for us a total of €185 for 1 week. So, a tip from the top for anyone driving in Slovenia; buy yourself the cheaper version at any petrol station as soon as you hit the motorways. Arseholes. But anyway, hit Zagreb, found a hotel, ate, drank, walked about, made merry. Unless we missed something, we didn’t miss anything. Nothing particularly attractive about the city and maybe a hint of people not paying Frankie quite enough attention, which was quite extraordinary. Speaking of which, all along, she was pretty much as good as you can expect a littl’n to be whilst sat in the back of the Punto. The odd whinge here and there but then who doesn’t get a little testy after prolonged journeys? Headed back into Slovenia, up to Ptuj, over to the snowy pass up on Logarska Dolina, devided it was too snowy for the car and us to continue, back down to Kamnik, nice little town, stayed in a very nice little Penzion there. On to Skofja Loka, up to the castle, museum, on to Lake Bled where Kate had holidayed as a little girl, down to Cerkno to check out a WWII hospital but the roads became unpassable due to snow. That took us up to day 6/7 so back to Trieste for the night before the flight home. So we drove around a lot, pleasantly impressed by Slovenia, ate a lot of pizza, drank quite a bit of Union lager, spent a little more than someone who had planned their journey properly would have but had a decent little trip.

And now, on to Xmas.

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Passport Control

Rolled off the ferry at Dover on returning from our Paris weekender. Now, I’ve got one of those luxurious/poncey passport holders and inside that I also have a passport sized notebook. Handed said passport over to some policeman, he seemed to be taking a little longer than the normal casual glance, then he passed my passport over to his partner, both smirking they then handed it back asking who Frankie was. (in case you’re not aware, Frankie is the name of our baby due in 4 weeks). The last entry I had was:

Things To Dress Frankie As:

  • Guantanomo Bay Inmate
  • Suicide Bomber
  • Arab
  • Builder
  • Butch Dyke

Do send in any further suggestions.

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Barcelona

Bit of a jaunt over to Spain for a loverly long weekend. This is what we did:

Train up to Luton, shuttle bus to the airport, checked in, drank, ate, chatted, got on the plane, flew in dark o’clock to Girona, picked up the hire car, drove up to Empuriabrava, checked into the hotel, went out, ate, went back, slept, got up, ate, drank coffee, skydived, landed badly, skydived, flared far too early, proper f*cked my heel and knee on landing, tried to act like it didn’t hurt, limped off, drove to Barcelona, DO NOT DRIVE IN THAT CITY, dropped car in the tightest car park ever, got out the car, realised my leg was worse than I thought it was, limped on to find our hostal, got lost, got a cab, checked in, went out, sat, drank, ate the wrong order, chatted, people-watched on La Rambla, hobbled back, slept, drank and ate, chatted, tubed around town, checked out some big church, drank coffee, walked (sort of) around town, down to the waterfront, shopped, ate, drank, chatted, watched some breakdancers flexing it, went to a market, drank coffee, went to a museum, back to the hostal, sauntered over to Barcelonetta down by the water, took in a bar where god and santa’s little helper were seated, found a very nice little seafood eatery, ate, drank wine, chatted, headed back, slept, woke, picked up the motor, drove to Tarragona, past some amphitheatre, parked up, saw no herbs, ate, drank, chatted, drove lots more, arrived at Torre Del Visco, wondered why we hadn’t got there earlier, wandered around in awe of the luxuriousness of the place, drank, chatted, drank, ate (far too much), watched half the Constant Gardener, slept, watched the other half (very good), ate, drank coffee, took photos, lounged, drank, packed, drove to the AP7 then up to Girona airport, filled up, dropped car back, queued, checked in, queued, paid additional bag charge, drank coffee, went through, ate, drank, chatted. looked at the phot from the past few days, flight delayed, waited, boarded, chatted, flew, drank coffee, landed, picked up luggage, worked out bus would get us back quicker than train, got on bus, sat, checked email, arrived at Vic, found cab, drove home, got in, went to sleep.

Perfect city breakage.