The Whirlwind Mystery Tour 🇸🇮

It's Wednesday evening and the Three Amigos (Sam, Maya and I) are sitting down to a tasty Mexican pasta dinner, lovingly crafted by Aussie Sam. Sam is plotting an epic Slovenia road trip.. just as an unwanted text message threatens to spoil the whole trip...

I'm faced with a dilemma. Easyjet have kindly decided to cancel my Friday evening flight and I need to be back in the UK for a wedding on the Saturday. Shit! The only option available is catching a 1am coach from Lubijiana to Venice, to be there for a 9am Friday morning flight 😳.

After demolishing dinner, Sam kindly offers to drive me to Ljubljana, following the road trip. I decide 'what the hell' and decide to join them for the road trip the following morning. I take myself to bed for an early night, knowing how much I hate early starts!

We're up with enough time to neck a quick coffee (Sam and Maya are actually staying in the upstairs hostel but have snuck me in, like the fugitive I am - I may as well have just moved in tbh). We're joined on our forthcoming adventure of a liftetime, with our honorary 'fourth amigo' (Guilem from France).

Our bumpy car journey whisks us up and down windy roads, through various cute little Alpine style villages (Sam is clearly getting used to driving on the 'wrong' side of the road, whilst the other passengers and I offer our various utterings of encouragement, whilst being thrown around like popcorn kernels).

The first stop is the most impressive waterfall I have ever seen! It's a somewhat treacherous climb through creeping paths and undergrowth for about 10 minutes, as we trade various awkward 'hellos' here and there en route with other random waterfall enthusiasts.

The second stop is a idyllic, azure blue lake, which emits cute little 'fart like jets' through its crystal clear water (we laugh to ourselves as a rather large. random phallic shaped 'dildo fish' swims over to say hello, before chasing a random duck across the lake).

The third stop is another large crystal clear lake, framed by some an impressive mountain backdrop reflected on its surface. The lake is scattered with various tourists, splashing around happily in the water or basking in the sun on wooden decks . Maya has volunteered herself as chief lunch maker and knocks up us a bumper selection of delicious sandwiches, which are subsequently stuffed full of crisps (mmm). A rather curious duck waddles over to where Sam is lying and gives him a playful nibble on the back of his leg (this has made my day).

The fourth stop on the whistlestop tour is high up in the mountains, accessed by a 20 minute or so car ride up a long and windy road through the mountain pass. The mountain views are simply breathtaking, one of the winding paths up the mountain takes us past an abandoned concrete bunker ( I manage to amuse everyone by falling flat on my arse twice on the way down).

Just as reddish looking sun begins to set, our fifth stop, is a spectacular gorge, cut between two valleys, split by the clearest water I have ever seen. It could easily have been lifted straight out of Japan and gently placed in the Slovenian landscape.

Although we only have 15 mins or so at the park before we have to leave to catch our train back to Bled, we each have a few reflective moments to drink in the breathtaking landscape. It's a crazy kamikaze dash back up a million steps back to the carpark and although it's only a fleeting visit, it's well worth the 8 EUR entry fee!

After another 15 miniute drive, we're just in time to board the car train (yes you heard me correctly) - it's essentially a train dragging a trailer full of cars through the mountains and valleys back to Bled!

As we pull away, the sun begins to disappear behind the mountains and Sam has a well earned rest from the wheel. Maya's hands disappear into her bag and the next thing we know a large Bled cake, cut into four is passed around the car. We improvise some basic eating apparatus (cardboard, penknifes and the plastic lid from the cake).

I'm not sure whether it's the tasty, creamy, sugary goodness of the Bled Cake (Kremsnita) or the fact we are completely dumbstruck by our journey through the mountains, but a comfortable silence has finally descended on the car.

Even though the light is dwindling, the glimpses of several tiny villages, glittered with twinkly lights, perched in the mountains is like travelling through a high budget film set. The Aventure Express pulls us through a series of long, spooky mountain tunnels, dimly lit my an eerie red glow and I'm transported back to being a little boy on the fairground's ghost train.

Arriving back at the hostel, we're back to the original Three Amigos and we have just enough for a final pasta supper up on the hostel roof terrace. After a shower and a delicious dinner (although I do say so myself) Sam kindly drives me and Maya 45 mins to Llubijiana Bus Station,

As the car pulls away and I say a sad goodbye to my two amigos, I feel a lump in my throat - I dunno, maybe it's just the impending all night journey to Venice and onto the UK, but I can't help but think how lucky I have been on this trip to make such amazing friendships and to have shared the experience with them... I only regret not packing a spare Bled Cake for the journey home!

This is from our first stop at the waterfall 📸

Sam, Guilem & I at the waterfall 📸

This is the first lake we visited with the fart jets 📸

Maya and I at Lunchtime Lake 📸

The Vampire Duck (on the right) that nibbled Sam 📸

The concrete bunker we passed on the mountain pass 📸 (shortly before I fell on my arse twice)

I'm on top of the world 📸

When you got to go.. 📸

The Four Amigos 📸

A couple from our fleeting trip to the gorge 📸

Maya carving up the Bled Cake (Kremsnita) 📸

Welcome to the Car Train 📸

All aboard the Ghost Train 📸

Cake By A Lake 🇸🇮

I prise myself out of bed and drag my sorry ass, kicking and screaming along the riverside, to write up my daily blog. I find a serene spot overlooking the riverside and order a cappuccino with my limited Slovenian (basically ordering in English with a slightly dodgy Balkan accent).

About an hour later, suitably refreshed and buzzing from the caffeine, I cheerfully trundle through Llubijiana old town, to the bus station - my trusty backpack strapped to my back (I'm sure there's a song in there somewhere).

I have plenty of time to get my bus ticket and zig zag through the obstacle course of travellers and board my bus to Bled. The journey has some pretty gorgeous scenery and for the most part I have two seats to myself to manspread.

After a few stops, a group of Slovenian students get on, chatting loudly and raucously laughing to themselves, in a bizarre hybrid of Slovenian and English (let's call it Slovenglish for arguments sake). I can't help but notice that one of them has an impressively large mouth and equally large teeth, rather like a shark.

I'm delighted when Sharkie and the mean girls (band name) leave a couple of stops later and peace is finally restored, reverting back to manspreading over my two seats to my heart's content.

On arrival into Bled, the hostel is a short 5 minute walk up the road and I'm reunited with the lovely Maya from the last hostel. I get chatting to a nice Aussie called Sam in the lobby and, with Maya in tow, we head off out for a coffee to check out the lake.

The three amigos (as we shall now be referred to) get ingredients for a stir fry and I cook us up a delicious slap up supper of stir fry and rice, served with several generous servings of 3 EUR red wine from a plastic bottle. As the wine flows we muse about the meanings of life, whilst I interrogate poor Maya about what it's like to be an Airbnb host.

Maya has kindly provided a delicious looking cake, topped with poppy seeds, purchased from the local supermarket. Sadly the cake has the consistency of rolled sawdust and seems to sap every drop of moisture in my mouth.

Suitably merry and bellies full, we head downstairs to the hostel bar (I'm still in my PJ bottoms and flip flops but can pull off the hipster look). After far too many beers at a pub in town, and after chatting shite to strangers, I decide to call it a night - getting hopelessly lost on the way home (thankfully not ending up dead in the lake). Using the castle and lake to orienteer myself, I'm home in about 20 minutes and impress myself by managing to brush my teeth and not wake anyone up.

The somewhat optimistic plans of being up to meet my amigos at 10am are wrecked as I opt for a lay in instead. I'm both equally enticed and deterred my getting out of bed - Maya has voice noted me a 'get up out of bed song' and a threatened me with another slice of stale poppy cake (somehow my feet have gained a strange sense of momentum).

We have a fourth amigo now, Guilem (from France) and we spend the morning traversing the Lake Bled.

Between admiring the church on the island and all the itty bitty fishies in the lake, we stop for a coffee at a cute cafe by the lakeside. It turns out Bled Cake and coffee is a random cure for a stinking hangover (who'd have known). We decide that Bled Cake is just a vanilla finger on a croissant base but I'll take that over the poppy cake any day (sorry Maya).

It's a rather strenuous hungover climb to the viewpoint but I'm sure you'll agree from the photos it was worth it. On the climb down a random Chinese woman is screeching loudly to a friend/family member who seems to be miles away (I secretly hope she slips down the windy path to the viewpoint and suffers an injury).

Broken Stairs & Power Cuts

It's an early 5:50am flight from Gatwick to Venice - already EasyJet are playing silly buggers, as the stairs are somehow stuck to the plane - we're delayed by an hour and a half and now the cabin crew are bringing everyone tap water in plastic cups. There's something inherently wrong with that combination and I'm hoping this is not an indication of things to come!

The flight leaves without any further drama and I cocoon myself neath' my eye mask and ear plugs and snore all the way through to Venice.

It's the usual fun and games trying to locate the coach stop for the connecting transfer to Ljubljana - I amuse myself reading the snarky Google comments of fellow lost travellers, traumatised by missing their buses, in order to find the infamous coach stop. Time for some caffeine and some work emails and people watching as I have 2 hours or so to kill.

The sun has decided to make a welcome cameo, as I hang out alongside a group of backpack clad strangers in the carpark 'coach stand' - I ask a local who informs me I am indeed in the correct place and chat shite to a nice Irish girl about to start her Erasmus year in Slovenia.

The coach journey is relatively straightforward, although my nice window seat sanctuary is rudely interrupted by a bald Italian guy with tattoos who proceeds to grunt/ clear this throat continuously through the 3 hour or so coach ride. I wrestle with the idea of offering him a sip of water, or better still, pouring the contents of the bottle over his head - but don't quite fancy spending the night in an Italian prison cell (I'm sure I have stayed at worse hostels mind you).

Grunty Italian tattoo phone game guy gets off at Trieste (which I've made a mental note to visit as it is very pretty). He's replaced at Trieste with a Slovenian lady who eats mints and fidgets for the rest of the journey - out of protest I've kept my backpack on the floor as a human shield.

It's a 20 minute or so walk through the Old town of Llubjiana - I stop along the way to be a proper tourist - taking some snaps and admiring the laidback mix of locals and tourists enjoying cocktails/ drinks at many of the bars along the riverside.

The hostel is pretty random - each of the rooms is named after a famous jazz musician (I'm in the Louis Armstrong room). My roomies are two Brits on a trip between university terms, a German Iranian guy with a complicated name ( who I've impressed with the German skills) and a Colombian who I practise Spanish with. None of them are significant enough to remember their names.

I invite two nice ladies, Maya (from London), Fien (from Belguim) and a very chatty Singaporean guy (who's name evades me..). We share a bumper bottle of 2.99 EUR Slovenian plonk purchased from the local supermarket, in the communal kitchen. Somehow the hostel's power supply has blown and now a group of us are in the kitchen chatting and charging our devices, exchanging travel stories/ recommendations as the red wine gradually dwindles into the darkness of the room - who says you need electricity to have a good time?