Wonderful (or Was it) Western Desert

Cairo marked the end of the road for a substantial part of our group. Twelve of the original party were saying goodbye here and we were sad to lose a few like minded souls. We had always had someone to chat to, play cards with, or have a beer or two with. The first part of the tour had gone well but we were rather apprehensive about the next bit and the new members of our group. A sighting of 4 rather unenthusiastic souls in the lobby did nothing to improve our outlook. After the night of Karoke we boarded the truck and to our delight the new 5 were not those we’d spotted the night before. They were, while quiet initially, a similarly fantastic bunch to the lot we had left behind. And just as well, we had 3 days with them and nothing else but desert. It’s ironic that we were drawn to see a place where there’s nothing much to see. So many people head out to see the western desert, but for the most part there’s absolutely nothing to see. Perhaps it’s the lack of landscape that becomes the attraction, and the vastness of that nothingness. Unfortunately this seemed lost on at least two of my companions (Adam and Kelly) who were heard saying multiple times, “ is this it?” (Photo - The Desert and I, Credit - Adam.)


The days were all rather similar and as such the desert experience has merged into one incredibly long drive. Day 1, 12 hours through the white desert to our campsite amongst strange whitish limestone formations some of which Kel described as mushrooms. This was the 1st true camping of the trip and apart from Pasq who had a wolf circling him most of the night, we all had a great time sleeping out under the stars. Day 2 - A million hours drive through the black desert, which was undiscernible from the white desert, to a tiny desert oasis (read really dusty, dirt town) of unmemorable name. Stopped to look at an art gallery/house on the way where Adam was disappointed with the watercolour prices. Incredibly we found some wifi from the roof where we sleep that night and caught up on a few emails. Day 3 - a least a million hours drive to a Nubian village, just across the Nile from Aswan. Yes we had made it back to the Nile and quite a few members of the group were stoked to be back near civilisation, and flushing loos.

Mystical Mt Sinai, the Suez, 1 night in Cairo, karaoke, and a KFC run by deaf people.

Leaving the relaxing Dahab we headed inland to Mt Sinai. At the base of the biblical mountain sits St Katherine’s Monastery (which houses the famous Burning bush, or a descendant of). The itinerary included a walk to the top in order to watch sunrise. For some reason most people think that climbing a small rocky mountain is not painful enough, and think that climbing it in the middle of the night, in order to watch sunrise is a much better idea. Having climbed Sinai last time I was here (that time for sunset, a much more pleasant undertaking) there was no way I was missing a night of sleep to watch the sun complete its daily birth from the eastern horizon. Perhaps unfortunately my lack of enthusiasm rubbed off on the others, or maybe they truly saw the pointlessness of climbing a largely insignificant (to us unreligious types anyway) rocky peak in the middle of the night. Either way we all opted for a nearby guesthouse and a good nights sleep. After the escapes of my birthday celebrations the night before, everyone was asleep as soon as their heads hit the rather hard pillows.(Photo above: Breakfast with the truck in front of Mt Sinai)

We awoke refreshed, but down a few pints of blood courtesy of the local mosquitoes. A long day driving through the Sinai peninsular got us to the Suez canal and the ever amusing sight of ships moving through the desert. As you can’t get very close to the actual canal due to security reasons, it looks like the massive cargo ships are simply moving through the desert. After negotiating the Cairo traffic with liberal use of the horn (a thoroughly unenjoyable experience for our driver Yo), we arrived and, of course, headed straight to that beacon of culinary excellence, KFC. But it was not only the delicious chicken that drew us in, the opportunity to give something back to the Egyptian community (the restaurant is entirely run by deaf individuals) also attracted us. Perhaps. Or maybe it was just the chicken. Either way, we sought the safety of the deep fryer, and while our hearts may have suffered, our bowels were thankful. After a little Karaoke, we were off to bed, in preparation for our trip into the western desert the next day. (Photos: Above Adam gets in some liquid refreshment on the way to Cairo. Below, filming the crazy Cairo traffic)

Delightful Dehab

Situated in a picturesque bay, full of coral, Dahab is a red sea diving paradise. We had plenty of time here and there was only a few things on the itinerary: dive, eat, drink and chill out. After a few more dives in the red sea (including the famous Blue hole) we really were convinced that this was one of the most spectacular places to dive in the world. I believe that together with Sipdan island in Borneo and the far reaches of the upper great barrier reef off far north Queensland it is the best in the world. The abundance of fish and brightly coloured coral make it hard to know where to look during the 50 minutes you get moonlighting in their underwater world. (Photo: Author, Pasq and our tour leader Neil celebrating)

The bay, while flush with fish and coral, is also completely flanked by waterfront restaurants. And unlike a lot of the rest of Egypt, the food is quite good. Breakfast in particular was a surprise as we got a merciful rest form the ever present sweet, stale bread, eggs and jam. With eating and diving taken care of, the only thing left was to celebrate and my (belated) birthday provided the (seldom needed) excuse. Churchill’s Bar provided an ideal location, especially from my friends point of view, as shouting me a drink would never cost them more than three Australian dollars. A thoroughly enjoyable night was had by all, perhaps apart from Dan, an young, rowdy, Aussie travel agent with dreds who fell over at the bottom of the stairs and rolled his ankle so severely he couldn’t walk. Despite the late hour and a blood alcohol level which in any other country would preclude any kind of Doctoring, we strapped up the ankle and sent him off to bed. Adam was missing, and it later became clear he had joined an unknown Russian sailor and driven around in a taxi until it was abundantly clear nothing else was open. A quick visit to the local Doc the next morning and Dan returned with the words, “I’ve broken some bone in my foot”. Despite being unable to spot the break from his xrays we all concluded a bit of plaster wouldn’t hurt and so he continued the trip on crutches.

Wonderous Wadi Rum and Aqaba, Jordan

Back on our trusty truck again, we headed for Wadi Rum, the obligatory Jordanian desert stop. Boarding old landdrovers we headed off into the desert with our (decided young looking) local drivers. Another distinctive environment, the rock formations and sand dunes kept Lawrence (of Arabian fame) captivated here for years. After some sand boarding, some dune climbing and a fair bit of driving we were off to Aqaba, our departure point for Egypt. Being on the red sea, we were able to squeeze in a quick dive (the Cedar Pride wreck) between sitting by the pool and sipping cheaper Egyptian beer. Easily in the top five dive sites in the world, the red sea did not disappoint, especially when I found a 500 Saudi note, worth around $150AUS, ten meters down next to a piece of coral!

In theory, that night we were to board an overnight ferry that would carry us (and our truck) over the seas to Egypt. Egyptian transport and customs being what they are, a 40 km journey became a 11 hour epic as we waited for Egyptian customs to clear the truck for at least 5 hours. During the wait we treated the locals to a game of backyard cricket, utilising the parking lot as the pitch. Finally the man with the correct stamp had been located, showered, and driven leisurely to work, where he could use his stamp on the trucks paperwork. A new set of numberplates for use in Egypt had arrived and we had completed our medical by walking through a room occupied by one guard and an Egyptian official. Egyptian customs satisfied (and educated on the finer points of cricket), we headed for Dahab, our splendidly relaxing location for the next 3 days. (Photos - Wadi rum)

Well Kept with Kumuka (Amman Jordan)

The long road home started in Amman, Jordon when we joined a Kumuka tour of Jordon and Egypt. We flew from Istanbul into Amman and met up with Adam and Pasquale, who would join us on the tour. Most of the group we joined had already been together through Syria thus knew each other quite well. Two other Aussie guys joined the group with us in Amman taking the total to nineteen. We loaded up our own custom built truck the next morning and headed off for the dead sea. Yo, our Afrikaans driver and Neil, our Irish/English tour guide completed the group. The truck makes life a lot easier in countries with poor public transport as the group is completely independent. Having our own transport and our own accommodation (in the form of tents) meant we could go and stay virtually anywhere. It also meant you could stow your big bag underneath and stop lugging 17kg everywhere! (Photo below - floating the dead sea)


First stop was the dead sea with is incredibly salty water. Thirty percent salt, the water here is so dense it is impossible to sink. You can stand upright in water 4 meters deep and you’ll float with you head and shoulders out of the water. We spent a couple of hours enjoying this phenomena which included some rather comical impersonations of bicycle riding and running on water. Next is was off to Wadi Moses, a small town near the ancient city of Petra.

Photo right - The Siq, Petra.

Having featured in Indiana Jones and the last crusade as the resting place of the holy grail, Petra was the main reason I was keen to visit Jordon. That famous facade of the treasury (which is not in fact a treasury but a tomb) has featured on my list of things to see (the so called ‘bucket list’) for a few years now. And contrary to some other ruined cities (namely Machu Picchu) it surpassed expectations. Sometimes it seems the more you know about something and the more photos you’ve seen of it, the less impressive it seems when you finally glimpse it in the flesh. Machu Picchu looked just like the photos, nothing more, nothing less. But Petra, being slightly less popular is much less extensively photographed, leaving a few surprises for those who make the trip. The monastery, for example, up around 700 steps at the other end of the site to the treasury, while a big effort is another huge, exquisitely façade caved directly into the rock. After some amusing photos utilising odd angles to make it appear Adam had fallen off a huge cliff, we headed back to the hotel for a few well earned, but over priced Jordanian beers.



Photo - The Treasury


















The monastery

Istanbul (or was it Constantinople)

Having read Orhan Pamuk’s “I am red” while travelling around Turkey I had an idea what 15th century Istanbul would look like. Pleasingly most of the sites described in the book are still there and, for a fee, open to the public. Walking around the old town felt like I had hoped into the pages of the book. Women still wove carpets behind half closed doors, men still sat on the street or in coffee hoses smoking shisha. The rest of Istanbul, though, has moved on and the city is now an eclectic mix of old and new, secular and religious.

A bit of haggling, a few of the big sights and two good nights on our hostel’s terrace and that was our time up in Turkey. We had so far been unable to find anywhere to serve us some Turkish bread and dips but luckily on our first night, found a great little place that did both. Turkish food in Turkey is definitely not what it is at home. For instance a kebab is meat on a plate, not in bread as in the rest of the world. For the supposed home of the kebab, theirs are not really up to the standard available pretty much anywhere else. Good local food though, was fantastic, just not what we expected.
Photos
1: A bus passes in front of the famous Blue mosque at night.
2: Shopping anyone? The Istanbul markets
3. A million scarves to choose from
4. Kel picks up some cheap bread

Galliant (or Galling) Gallipoli

An unquestionable essential for any Aussie in Turkey, Gallipoli was nonetheless a highlight. We found a fantastic hostel appropriately named Crowded House, run by the super friendly Pauly. The hostel played only Aussie and Kiwi music, and its ground floor bar was ably run by Pauly each night. The hostel tour of Gallipoli was amazing; mainly because it was guided by a university professor who had led people like Bob Hawk around the various sites. Much has been written about the experiences of Aussies visiting Gallipoli and suffice to say its hard to walk amongst the gullies, beaches and headstones without being moved. Our guide gave us such a realistic picture of the battlefield you could almost see the boats coming ashore at Anzac cove, or the boys going out of the trenches, bayonets fixed, at The Nek. For Australia it will always be the first major conflict we were involved in as a nation, a conflict that brought us together. But for the Turks it is just one in a long string of wars fought either under the guise of the Ottoman empire, or independent Turkey. Until recently Turkish interest in Gallipoli wasn’t that high, there weren’t many cemeteries or memorials and the burial places of thousands of soldiers were still unknown. But slowly, after watching thousands of Aussies wander the battlefields and cemeteries, the Turks have erected their own monuments and cemeteries, often close to Australian ones, but always in a spirit of peace. It wasn’t always like this. The first Turkish memorial was erected in 1916 on Anzac Cove and visiting Aussies found it so unacceptable they photographed it, blew it to pieces with TNT and then sold the pieces in Sydney as souvenirs. Now, the whole battlefield is a peace park, and ANZAC Cove has been officially recognised by that name by the Turkish government. (Photo - Lone Pine cemetery)

After the tour of Gallipoli we finished off our stay in Eceabat with another great night with Pauly and his all Australian (and NZ) music. Next we were bound for Istanbul, our last stop before leaving the trials and tribulations of independent travel behind. (Photo - Near ANZAC cove)

Pretty Pamukkale

Quite a way off the beaten track that runs from Olympos along the coast of Turkey to Istanbul is the sparkling white pools of Pamukkale. Often featured in tourist brochures on Turkey, the pools are pretty amazing. Sparkling blue water runs over a series of perfectly white rock pools, made by the deposition of calcium from the calcium rich water. The ancients obviously appreciated the spot, the Greek and Roman ruins of Hierapolis sit just behind the pools. The ruins, excavated by the Italians, are splendidly signed and can be easily explored without a guide or guidebook. Right in the middle of the ruins is a new hotel, whose pool is fed from a nearby hot spring. The pool is also full of Roman columns and other ruins. The end result, if pricey, is quite amazing. Swim alongside fallen Roman columns and the ruins of streets etc. in 35 degree, “healing” water. Kel, having had her fix of ruins for the trip, spent the afternoon by the pool while I sped around the ruins. Although most people believe Ephesus to be a superior Roman site I found Heliopolis much nicer and easier to explore. Sunset over the pools was stunning, with the still water taking on all the colours of the setting sun.

Obliging Olympos

Arriving in the seaside village of Olympos after what would be our last overnight bus we checked into Bayrams hostel and got ourselves a tree house. The town is on the backpacker route for 3 reasons, funky tree houses, a great beach and an amazing natural phenomena where fire burns continuously from holes in a nearby mountain. Despite having a few days in Goreme to rest, the overnight bus completely wrecked us and a few days in hammocks and a treehouse was required. Turkey was fast moving out of tourist season and the town was almost deserted. Compared to a month earlier when Pasq was here (and five thousand or so others) the two hundred odd people in town now made for a quiet few days. The plan was to catch a boat cruise from here around the coast for a few days but due to the lack of tourists there weren’t any running to our schedule. Not that a few more days relaxing in this incredibly chill out place would do any harm.

Kel’s birthday fell on our first night here though, so celebrations were in order. We managed to find two young Brits willing to stay up and party with us, so the little group of four ate, drank and were merry late into the night. Several shopping expeditions had failed to find anything worth buying Kel for her birthday so she got a limerick and a poem, both of incredible wit and intellect. Unfortunately she didn’t see it that way. Probably the inclusion of one of Kel’s childhood nicknames “smelly booger” didn’t help the cause. Even the offer to buy her a washing machine when we got back home failed to improved the situation. Sometimes you just can’t win!

To have a break from lying on the beach, or lying in a hammock we walked the couple of kms to the fires of Olympos. Apparently burning for as long as anyone can remember these small fires appear out of the rocks on the slopes of a nearby mountain. Methane from well below the crust seeps up to the surface and escapes through small holes in the rocks. It then ignites spontaneously according to the locals selling tickets at the bottom of the mountain. Spontaneous or otherwise, it makes for an amazing site at night. A Turkish family obliged with a lift back into town and after a good nights sleep we were on another bus (but this time during the day) and bound for the brilliant white pools of Pamukkale.

Turkey: Gorgeous Goreme

After the rather taxing week at Oktoberfest we parted company with the rest of the group to spend 2 weeks in Turkey. We had a flight booked to Jordan in 2 weeks and would meet back up with Adam and Pasq there. So to increase the fatigue we flew into central Turkey, arriving at 3AM, then caught a series of buses over the following 7 hours to arrive in Goreme, completely exhausted. A truly individual area, Goreme is famous for the millions of dwellings carved out of the rock over the last two thousand years. Christians seeking protection from various raiders build their homes and churches into rock faces or underground. In fact huge underground cities capable of housing 10,000 were built and are still being excavated. After a few days exploring these fascinating villages and recovering from the possible swine-flu outbreak we headed off on another overnight bus. The food in Goreme had been another highlight, tasty lentil soup and pide bread going for a couple of dollars.

Oppulent Oktoberfest

After the adrenalin fuelled week in the Dolomites we loaded up Hilda (our 9 seater VW Van) and drove north out of the mountains and into Austria. After a few unexpected traffic jams we dropped off the car (just in the nick of time) and jumped on a train bound for Munich. We had booked an apartment for 6 people all the way back in February and over the next 7 months the number interested in staying had risen to 12. There would be people coming and going all week, which would no doubt add to the enjoyment. In the end we had the original group of Kel, Adam, Ray, Rach, Pasquale, and I, plus extras Cardo, Lisa (Adam’s girlfriend), Chantelle, Sarah, Avik, and Rahul. All except Lisa and Sarah were friends from university, Sarah being a friend from Geelong hospital and Lisa being Adam’s new girlfriend from Mildura. Some of the group were arriving midweek, when some were leaving, so there would always be someone new to share a stein with.
Six nights accommodation meant five days to experience Oktoberfest and the best Munich could offer. Oktoberfest, essentially an enormous carnival which includes massive tents for the consumption of specially brewed beer, is an age old Bavarian tradition which started as a wedding celebration for a Bavarian king. Munich loved it so much the king decided to do it yearly and then moved it into September for the better weather. A massive park is converted every year in mid-September, and with typical German efficiency the festival runs for just over 2 weeks. Contrary to popular opinion, much more area is taken up by rides, food outlets and other amusements, and during the day a family, carnival atmosphere reins. Children abound (even in the beer tents) and prices are very reasonable, except for beer which sits at 9 Euro 40 cents per stein all day.The plan was to visit a different beer tent each day, led by the Oktoberfest veterans Ray, Rach and Adam. What ensued can only be described as thoroughly enjoyable bedlam. Who ever knew that drinking beer by the litre, in a huge tent while singing German songs played by a brass band could be so much fun. Each day was essentially the same and followed the following formula. Whoever rose the earliest would head off on the 15 min walk and secure a table at a tent of their choice (this had to be done before midday or there would be no tables left). They would be joined by the rest in dribs and drabs throughout the early afternoon until we had 10-12 people squeezed around the table, all drinking litre steins of tasty Bavarian beer. The afternoon would progress into the evening with much frivolity, dancing on seats, eating of chicken and bratwurst, the occasional ride outside and much clinking of beer steins. Eventually everyone in the entire tent would be dancing to the brass band and attempting to sing along in German. The fun would conclude at the civil hour of around 10:30, then after nights sleep we’d start all over again. Apart from a possible swine-flu outbreak on the last day (where at least 6 people went down with a mysterious flu-like illness) the week was a complete success.There was at least a couple of thousand photos taken of the week so these are a quick sample. Thanks to the photographers Cardo, Chantelle, Ray and Adam, who managed to get at least 5 good photos from every night. Photo credits to Cardo for the above images.

The Daring Dolomites

The Dolomites, a stunningly beautiful mountain range in the north east of Italy, was to be our next destination. They may well be the most beautiful Mountains in the world, but their history reveals a much darker past. Being the frontline between the Italians and the Austrians during WW1, they are awash with relics (some very useful) from that immensely difficult and pointless struggle. In order to allow troop movement through this very steep mountain range, a huge number of “tracks” were built, some of which are more like rock climbs than bushwalks. These steep, sometimes vertical routes all follow a metal cable, to which a climber can attach themselves via a harness and some simple rock climbing gear, thereby preventing serious injury in the case of a fall. These Via Ferratas (’The Iron way”) as they’re know was why we were here. Nowhere else in the world can you go rock climbing with such little equipment, still be absolutely safe, and enjoy views of such amazing beauty. After seven days last year with my uncle I was already making plans for a return visit. And this time I had convinced 5 friends to join me. (Photo - the gang on the way to our 1st Via Ferrata)

The original plan after Slovenia was to get to Venice where we’d hire a car and drive to the Dolomites. This proved difficult as we wished to drop off the car (on a Sunday) somewhere near the Austrian boarder and catch a train to Munich for Oktoberfest. In a stroke of genesis I can’t take complete credit for, we realised we could pick up and drop off the car at either ends of Austria and drop down to the Dolomites in between. After some discussions about drivers and insurance it eventuated that I was to be the only driver. Either people couldn’t drive manual cars, didn’t have international drivers permits (completely unnecessary we later found out) or weren't keen on driving without comprehensive insurance. So after a quick train over the boarder to Villach we met our new companion Pasq, and picked up the 9 seater VW Van that would hence be known as Hilda (photo above, credit to Ray).

A brand new turbo diesel, it drove like a dream. And just as well considering the conditions we’d meet getting to the Dolomites. What should have been a relatively easy 4 hour drive to Arabba, our home for the next 6 days, turned into quite an epic journey. We faced rain, snow, ice, freezing temperatures, windy mountain roads, wild gazelle, Austrian towns without strudel, Italian drivers, music from the Eurovision song contest and Pasq’s incessant finger drumming. But thanks to some great navigating by Adam and the traction control on Hilda we made it to Arabba, if alittle late. A fantastic dinner awaited us, cooked by our Chalet host for the week, Mike.

Over the next 5 days we had sunshine, rain, snow, sleet, wind and mist, weather crazier than even Melbourne could have provided. But despite this we walked, climbed and tunnelled our way around the Dolomites. We walked to the Ranch hut refugio and got some skiing practice on the way down as the path was covered in snow. We climbed 3 Via Ferratas, including wandering over the longest swing bridge in the Dolomites (featured in that classic CliffHanger). We even explored some WW1 tunnels to avoid getting wet on a rainy day! The highlight of the week was Piz de Lech, a more difficult climb with a few exposed sections that got the blood flowing. A particularly scary section involved two twenty metre long vertical ladders then an overhanging section at the top. “I’m freaking out up here”, was heard from a certain member of the group as they attempted the difficult exit from the ladder. (Photo - Adam on a snowy section of the VF Marino Bianco)



We reached the end of the weak intact with quite a few new experiences for everyone. Rach had seen snow up close for the first time, Kel, Pasq, Adam and Ray had climbed a Via Ferratta and I’d seen the beautiful Dolomites covered in snow. It wasn’t a typical week of the trip but it may well have been one of the best.

Photos - 1 Kelly on our 1st VF Cir Spitz. 2 The group explores the Lagazuoi tunnels)

Majestic Mostar (and Majdas hostel)

This post is a little late. It was sitting, unbeknown to me, as a draft waiting to be published on the blog. Despite being well past Bosnia Herzegovina, this post deserves its space, as Mostar gave us a much deeper look into the recent conflict than the more glossy Sarajevo.
It's now in order, further down the page, but you can skip straight to it by clicking here:
http://ryanandkellystravelblog.blogspot.com/2009/09/majestic-mostar-and-majdas-hostel.html

Luscious Lake Bled

Nestled away in the north of Slovenia, in the foothills of the Julian Alps is the lusciously green Lake Bled. With its fairy tale beauty the lake has been attracting visitors for hundreds of years. Surrounded by lush green forest and overlooked by its imposing castle the lake appears like a postcard from every angle. Sometimes shrouded in mist, the small island at the centre houses a monastery from which a bell can often be heard ringing. Small paddle boats (no power boats are allowed on the lake) ferry tourists out to the island to tour the monastery and ring the bell, just as they have for the past two hundred years. This would be our last stop before the Dolomites, and some preparatory exercise was in order. Obligingly, the lake provided a perfect environment for walking and bike riding, with plenty to look at along the way.

Continuing the hostel theme we occupied a 5 bed dorm and within minutes of arrival Ray, as always, had discovered and connected to the nearest Wifi internet connection. With 3 small laptops between the 5 of us, we often resembled a group of travelling computer geeks, never letting ourselves get too far from that eternal source of all knowledge, the internet. But leaving the computers behind we explored the small town and booked some outdoor activities, for which Slovenia is becoming so famous.

Day 1 involved a morning canyoning, more aptly described as sliding down a fast flowing river and jumping over waterfalls. The occasional abseil added to the amusement and gave everyone a great introduction to basic rope work that would be invaluable for the Dolomites. Adam, preferring more sedate activities chose to sit out of this adventure, but promised to float down a river in a tyre tube, beer in hand, instead. We were joined on the canyoning by some older Brits, whose only female member produced the funniest moment of the day. After jumping off the first waterfall (proceeded by much hesitation) she surfaced and remarked, “I wanted to go kayaking!”. The whole group was a lot of fun and quite a few of us overcame our fears of jumping of high ledges into water.

The next day, in keeping with the active theme, we headed off on bikes to Vintgar gouge. Even more beautiful than Lake Bled, the gouge is the type of place you could take a couple of hundred photos without any trouble at all. Steep high walls covered in thick verdant vegetation flank a rushing stream that crashes over rocks in scenes reminiscent of all those rainforest prints peddled in Queensland. Adam, in a developing trend, missed out again, preferring to wander around the lake in Bled. He did however organise another activity for us all, tobogganing down a dry ski slope on a custom designed track. Much fun was had hurtling down the steep slope on little yellow toboggans, attached to a single rail that wound its way down the mountain.

To finish our stay in Slovenia, we splashed out on dinner in the Castle overlooking Lake Bled. With stunning views out over the lake and its solitary island, the restaurant is THE place to eat in Bled. The food was delicious and company fantastic, and with a little bit of a ‘last supper’ feel we discussed the upcoming adventure of the Italian Dolomites.

Left-Field Ljubljana

From Rovinj we hopped over the boarder to Slovenia, to visit its vibrant capital, Ljubljana. A former prison, now hostel had been recommended to us several times on the way up from as far south as Albania. So we swapped from our beloved apartments to a dorm room, and a fantastic hostel. (Photo - The group climbing the castle tower for views over the city)
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Slovenia is an amazing place, and being only 20,000 sq Km with a population of around 2 million, its really an amazing little place. Half covered in forest, with beautiful lakes, rivers and mountains it’s fast becoming Europe’s adventure capital. In Ljubljana though, you get a small city atmosphere, with old cobbled streets filled with café tables and street musicians. Just north of the city a vibrant street art scene exists alongside a homeless slum which becomes a group of run down bars and live music venues at night. The beer is cheap and the dress code is optional and our hostel was right in the middle of it. As a truly alternative venue, it seems the art is taking over the buildings as the creativity of its residents is revealed on every available surface. A few days exploring the sights and a few nights enjoying the music/art and we were bound for a greener Slovenia, the spectacular Lake Bled.