While we were in Bled, we met some more, fluffier, locals than Igor… Read the rest of this entry »
By 9:30am we were standing at the exit of the last service station before Austria on the autobahn out of Slovenia. We’d got our first lift from Bled with a guy who, having been out for a few drinks the night before in anticipation of the weekend, had not been the happiest man alive when work phoned him early on that Saturday morning to tell him a machine had broken down. He really musn’t have wanted to go into work because he took us out of his way to put us in the prime location for our day’s hitch to Innsbruck. We were sitting pretty. At least, we thought we were.
A very quick hitch NW out of Ljubljana is the town of Bled. It’s such a quick hitch that it actually took me more time to make the sign than it did to wait for someone to stop. That’s the kind of day’s hitching I like.
We’d heard about Bled before. Back to our hostel in Zagreb, we’d shared a room with, Scott, a Californian. We chatted over places we’d been and places we were going to go. He’d had a lot of different experiences all over Europe and he had a lot to say about them. But Bled, our next planned destination, stopped him in his tracks. He could do no more than emphatically and economically describe it in a word of one syllable.
Now we’ve seen enough of west coast USA to know that if someone from California has to resort to an expletive to express their impression of the beauty of a place, it’s worth visiting. Sure enough, we stayed a night longer than we planned.