Checkout is at 10am. I'm supposed to be meeting the Aussie trio at breakfast in the bar area after. Breaky they call it. So I pack up my stuff, wait a half hour for the Korean guys to finish in the bathroom, and head downstairs. Checkout is a breeze as usual and I leave a few postcards with them to mail for me. Then I eat. I meet a couple from Scotland over breaky and they ask where I'm off to.
"Well," I tell them, "if three Aussies come through that door in the next 15 minutes I'm off to Slovenia. If not, I'll probably be staying in Munich."
"You've got people after you?"
Yes, I'll be going into hiding in Slovenia.
I tell them the story. Then the Aussie trio of Liam, Emma, and Nicole come through the door.
We pile in their leased Peugot, set the navigation (which they've named Ana) to Ljubljana, and head off. The scenery along the way is absolutely the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. We spend the majority of our trip in the Austrian Alps. They tower all around us. Lush greenery, jagged granite faces, and rushing rivers. We drove through it for hours, climbing higher and higher into the sky and cornering tight curves in the road. The more I think about it the more I realize I've put my life in the hands of an Australian woman on some of the most dangerous roads in the world when she usually drives on the left side of the road.
Crap.
I can finally stop holding my breath when we stop in a small Austrian town to get lunch. Liam gets out his phrasebook so that we can decipher the different things on the menu, but when the young waitress comes to order she speaks perfect English.
Everyone speaks English.
I order some sort of sausage and it comes with a roll, mustard, and raw horseradish. I decide to pile it all in the roll I've cut in half and it's great. Then I follow it up with an apple stroodle. The Austrians really know their stroodles because this thing is out of this world. I tried to savor it, but I really couldn't help but scarf it down. So good.
After we're thoroughly satisfied with lunch we get back in the car and drive off. We cross the border into Slovenia in a tunnel at the top of a mountain then make our descent into the heart of the country. We finally arrive at our hostel, Vila Veselova, and I ask the receptionist if she has an extra bed. Since I only just decided to come to Slovenia at 1am this morning I haven't reserved a place. She had room for me though. In the Turquoise Room. All of the rooms in the quaint Vila Veselova are color themed at meticulously up-kept. The place is more of a bed and breakfast than a hostel.
We meet a few people in the common area and all make plans quickly. Tonight we'll make dinner, have a beer, and watch the olympics. Tomorrow night we'll go on a bar crawl.
Seeing this as an opportunity to save money, I set off to the grocery store in search of the cheapest dinner. I settle on one can of Lasko, a local beer, and tortillas and cheese for quesadillas.
Back at the hostel I make quick work of the quesadillas. They're easy to make and take little time. Emma is dumbfounded.
"What's a quesadilla?"
It's one of the finer things in life. Melted cheese in a folded tortilla.
She tries a bite and likes it. Who wouldn't.
We all sit down at the table and watch the olympics for hours. I'm much more reserved with my enthusiasm for the American athletes in Europe than I am back home. I'm being respectful of the other nations. Especially since we just keep racking up medals. Then someone makes a comment about how Michael Phelps should have never come back to the Games. I bite my tongue. Swimming is next. Phelps wins gold. By a mile.
"So what was that you were saying about Phelps being no good anymore?"
Sweet, sweet victory.
"Well," I tell them, "if three Aussies come through that door in the next 15 minutes I'm off to Slovenia. If not, I'll probably be staying in Munich."
"You've got people after you?"
Yes, I'll be going into hiding in Slovenia.
I tell them the story. Then the Aussie trio of Liam, Emma, and Nicole come through the door.
We pile in their leased Peugot, set the navigation (which they've named Ana) to Ljubljana, and head off. The scenery along the way is absolutely the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. We spend the majority of our trip in the Austrian Alps. They tower all around us. Lush greenery, jagged granite faces, and rushing rivers. We drove through it for hours, climbing higher and higher into the sky and cornering tight curves in the road. The more I think about it the more I realize I've put my life in the hands of an Australian woman on some of the most dangerous roads in the world when she usually drives on the left side of the road.
Crap.
I can finally stop holding my breath when we stop in a small Austrian town to get lunch. Liam gets out his phrasebook so that we can decipher the different things on the menu, but when the young waitress comes to order she speaks perfect English.
Everyone speaks English.
I order some sort of sausage and it comes with a roll, mustard, and raw horseradish. I decide to pile it all in the roll I've cut in half and it's great. Then I follow it up with an apple stroodle. The Austrians really know their stroodles because this thing is out of this world. I tried to savor it, but I really couldn't help but scarf it down. So good.
After we're thoroughly satisfied with lunch we get back in the car and drive off. We cross the border into Slovenia in a tunnel at the top of a mountain then make our descent into the heart of the country. We finally arrive at our hostel, Vila Veselova, and I ask the receptionist if she has an extra bed. Since I only just decided to come to Slovenia at 1am this morning I haven't reserved a place. She had room for me though. In the Turquoise Room. All of the rooms in the quaint Vila Veselova are color themed at meticulously up-kept. The place is more of a bed and breakfast than a hostel.
We meet a few people in the common area and all make plans quickly. Tonight we'll make dinner, have a beer, and watch the olympics. Tomorrow night we'll go on a bar crawl.
Seeing this as an opportunity to save money, I set off to the grocery store in search of the cheapest dinner. I settle on one can of Lasko, a local beer, and tortillas and cheese for quesadillas.
Back at the hostel I make quick work of the quesadillas. They're easy to make and take little time. Emma is dumbfounded.
"What's a quesadilla?"
It's one of the finer things in life. Melted cheese in a folded tortilla.
She tries a bite and likes it. Who wouldn't.
We all sit down at the table and watch the olympics for hours. I'm much more reserved with my enthusiasm for the American athletes in Europe than I am back home. I'm being respectful of the other nations. Especially since we just keep racking up medals. Then someone makes a comment about how Michael Phelps should have never come back to the Games. I bite my tongue. Swimming is next. Phelps wins gold. By a mile.
"So what was that you were saying about Phelps being no good anymore?"
Sweet, sweet victory.
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