Chasing Ideals

Here's a post that is a little unorthodox in nature and perhaps more suited to the poems sections. This afternoon my heart was full to overflowing with love for my creator and with the testing of a new font it brought out the creative juices that inspired these few lines:

What great joy, what incalculable peace and contentment to know the heart of your true father and in his tender arms to escape to the richness and beauty of complete surrendrence to his will. What is man without the creator of his soul, without He who endowed within that soul the wonder of new birth, the awe inspiring grace of a life filled with purpose. Grant me oh father eyes to see the wondrous gifts that your unfathomable heart has prepared and bestowed upon my life.

Oh father underneath your gaze I grow stronger, my countenance is lifted to heights that I never knew to seek after. I feel that all my being is in your tender grasp treasured, wept over in tears of joy, looked upon as buried treasure at first discovery when excitement and fascination over each and every facet is peaked. Where might I go now, to whose arms might I turn but yours? In yours I find my true love, a home for my heart, a place of refuge amidst the storms that rage, and the knowledge that forever I am yours.

More bizarre occurences to report from my days in Wesseling. Tonight the fam and I sat down to sup upon what could affectionately be termed a German version of fondue. Considering the abscence of any vats of hot cheese for dipping or 70's attire I'm not sure the name suits but I can compare it with nothing else. At some point early in the meal the aforementioned parrot, Fay, was set free from her cage to wander about the room. Fay's immediate goal was to get up close and personal with yours truly. One could hardly blame her for the attraction but I was a bit disconcerted by her constant movements behind my head. She first swung Tarzan style from the side of her cage to the back of my chair. I'll never know exactly how that task was accomplished but seemed to involve her clamping down on the back of the chair with her beak then hurling herself over into the perched position. She then began a constant pecking at my back presumably to get a taste of my jumper. It became apparent later that her intent was to perch on my shoulder but I hadn't gotten the hint. She became fed up with the pecking after some time and in a flurry of feathers and wing to the side of my face landed herself on my shoulder. The numbers of feathers shed by the sudden burst was tremendous and added an interesting flavor to my fondue later.

Her previous pecking inspired little or no confidence on my part and so for a few minutes I sat as straight and steady as a man with a rabid and hungry squirrel attached to his crotch. I looked over to her at regular intervals however to attempt to judge whether her look was one of fury or playfulness. Anyone who has attempted such will know that a parrot's face tells nothing. A swift and sudden movement and sharp pain to the right ear cleared up any ponderings however. Then another flurry of feathers and away she was back to the cage. I thought at first that 'twas only a scratch but my hand revealed the swift bloodloss. I retired to the toilet area for further inquiry and was luckily able to cease the flow quickly. Cathrin then applied the customary massive bandage to the area. The reasoning being to prevent that later a sufficient quantity of beard hair be removed by the disapplication of the bandage. I wasn't quite sure of the logic behind this and so left the toilet with the look and feel of one who took a gunshot to the head.

Upon my return to the feather-tasting fondue I wondered at the reasoning behind the sadistic and brutal attack upon my ear. I have established three possible motives. In my formative years I endured such grief for my Dumbo sized ears (name such as "Aer Lingus ears" was one of the favorites) and perhaps the bird was so enticed at the sight of the enormous beauties that he had to have a taste. Motive two calls into question the birds literacy as when I made bread this evening I misspelled the name Fay as "Faye" on the top of one of the loaves. Motive three is centered in my failed attempts to get Fay to say the words "Koko Kusarece." I have achieved "Koko Ku" and perhaps the pressure my repetition of the phrase has placed upon her led to this vengeful rebuttal this evening. Whatever the reason I will spend at least the night and then some looking like a war veteran. It would be nice to have a story of courage or chivalry to explain away the bandage size rather than one of vengeful attack by talking gray bird. If you click on the picture you can see a few more shots of my bandaged noggin. In case you can't see the picture here is the link.
Vengence during fondue consumption

I have said that I am currently in Koln but for the more technical sods out there I am actually staying in a suberb called Wesseling. I am not sure why I mention this now expect for the sake of unnecessary clarification. My days here have been spent doing as little as possible apart from a fair amount of reading and general lolly-gagging. I have produced three loaves of bread in a week so I guess it can't be considered a complete waste. Most afternoons I was thorougly absorbed in my book "I Claudius." I had begun reading said book in Turkey but lost it after a particularly rough(constant nausea and co-passenger lying on top of me) bus trip. My replacement copy came with the arrival of Floyd to Ireland but until my time here I hadn't the opportunity to continue it. As is prone to happen I was inspired by my read to learn all and then some of the history of the Western World and begin teaching tut-sweet. I had discovered on this journey that I have a noteworthy penchant for historical fiction and this book was perhaps my finest example. It spurred my interest in Roman history tremendously because it was written in the style of a diary as opposed to a list of facts and dates. In spite of my loathsome attitude toward high school students, occasions such as this remind me that I must never rule out the thought of one day being a teacher. I will never forget courses I took in which the teacher made a subject like history come alive and commanded the interest of the student. I would sit in awe and admiration for such as those

Now that I have clarified that my local is Wesseling I must bring to light some of the area's quirks. Yesterday while going to retrieve my photos I passed a window advertising a local photographer. I had never before seen such a frightening example of a studio's work. One of the headlining photos was of a girl with a massive purple mohawk and a smile that might scare off a grizzly. The haphazardly hacked style of the mohawk had the immediate result of nearly bringing up the last seven meals I had consumed. I don't fault the girl for desiring some glamour shots but for her picture to be used for advertising purposes brings into question the business expectations of the studio. Cathrin informed me today that that picture has held that spot for the last ten years. She too seemed not just a little disturbed by the sighting of it.

Reports here also indicate an increased number of cats being snatched from streets and gardens alike. I went with Cathrin today to a pet store and the employee there warned that cat theft was on the rise and that especially her beloved black cat Fussel is at risk. Apparently black cats are the key targets of this mayhem. The pet store worker was not the first to mention this new threat making it all the more believable despite the seemingly ridiculous nature of it. These warnings also coincided with a dream Cathrin recently had of Fussel being taken as fodder for the local Satanist group's communal rituals. In her dream she later rescued hers and other unfortunate pets from the clutches but certainly it brings a shudder to one's bed time thoughts. I have now decided that Wesseling is perhaps the key Satanist stronghold of the area and will be on close daily watch for any and all suspicious goings-on.

I have added a gallery of photos to Lovable Quirks that includes shots of our adventures from Bulgaria to Koln though sadly in reverse order. I want to also quickly remind that the comments link at the bottom of each post is working and have decided that all of you know this and just couldn't be bothered leaving any. Gracias for that with forboding cherries on top.

Not a whole lot to say about the activity of Vienna. The journey into and out of said city was fairly uneventful though I will say that I couldn't recommended driving there. The maze of roads in and around the center provide more than its fair share of headaches and I hadn't the energy for it. Lack of sleep the previous night and the emotional tiredness resulting from saying goodbye to more treasured relationships and experiences were the culprits. After driving round and round until all were dizzy I started stopping at the mere sight of "Hotel" until eventually we found one that provided the goods. Each time we had stopped Andy would head off into the night with plenty of questions for the hotel owners and I sat in the car trying to stay awake by reading about the histories of different languages. Needless to say I was bordering unconscious by the time he returned. It was sweet relief when finally the thought of bed and dreams of dancing dwarves became possible.

Our full day in Vienna was spent doing a bowel-bashing amount of walking that resulted in three days of moderate to "oh-shite this hurts" type foot aches. As usual we attempted to see all and then some that the city had to offer. Luckily the sites to see are all concentrated in a fairly small area when compared with the Sahara Desert or Amazon rainforest. The city was quite beautiful and the architecture grand but sadly my energy and motivation for sight-seeing has reached an all time low. It is a place best viewed when one's interest is peaked to ungodly levels because their is enough history there for further days of exploration and enjoyment. Even the ducks of Slovenia in all their splendor didn't get the type of photographic coverage from Andy that Vienna's finest received. He has studied copious histories and that provided a frame of reference for him to be able to enjoy it to a much greater degree.

When evening came and tiredness was heavily upon me it was decided (Andy being thrilled with this and I wanting dreams of dancing dwarves) that the Vienna Opera was the place to go. We had been told that standing-room tickets were a mere two euro and that was enough to get the wobblers going(at least early in the day). We made our way there and at the door were greeted by a scalper selling apparently "cheap tickets." I have never seen such a well dressed scalper but this was for the opera so I guessed that the usual bearded and beer-breathed scalpers of rock concerts had stayed at home. His "cheap tickets" were bordering the 40 euro mark and though some old lady next to us got giggly at the sight of the them it didn't inspire me and Andy compared with our 2 euro brand. We instead went in around the back to where some low-life and high-life students were already waiting in line. I say high life to describe some wearing shoes and clothes normally worn in yacht clubs and low-life for a chap nearby in his torn jeans and a girl in sprayed-on blue flowery britches. What a marvelous thing stereotyping is. After a long wait of standing and sitting (rather collapsing in my case) the booth sprang to life and we got our tickets and entered. Some more waiting and then we were brought to our standing bar(that is bar to lean against and rear-end-intruding step to sit on behind). A clerk then repeatedly explained to Andy in German that we had to take our coats and bags to the cloak room. The stunned and confused look on his face eventually cued her attempt at the English translation and so away we went to the cloak room.

The performance itself was worth the mustard in my exhausted state. I stood for as long as my quivering legs could manage and then plopped down on the rear-end-intruding step for the remainder. The sit down proved challenging as an old lady with considerable head size was blocking my view. She seemed to enjoy waving her head about in semi-circular motions so as long as I followed the motion I got to witness some medium percentage of the on stage events. Andy, though seemingly filled with boundless energy, missed one important aspect of our opera experience. He failed to notice the swivel translator next to his hands and so spent the entire time confused as hell regarding the plot of the story. I had seen and made use of the translator when standing but he apparently never noticed it. Though mesmorized by the show he hadn't the foggiest why the two large woman on stage were wailing and gesticulating and why their loves disappeared and reappeared in various attires. After Act One we decided to vamoose as the full extraveganza had another two hours on the way. It wasn't until after our departure that I understood Andy's dilemma in not understanding a feckin' thing and clued him in to the handy translation device. Two euros well spent all in all despite the long term results of that step where I spent the majority of my time.

The next morning after a fab sleep we said goodbye to this old town and began the trek toward my current local. We spent that night in Bamberg, a city I visited in the early days of this voyage. Our minds and hearts were set toward Koln and my fam here however so neither of us had a lot of energy for the place. It still remains perhaps my favorite of German cities for its culture and manageable size. One last thing I thought to mention here is a dilemma that Andy may not soon forget. I on many of these long drives and late evenings was prone to the giggles as only a teenage girl watching Justin Timberlake videos could match. I'm not sure if 'twas the result of exhaustion or enjoyment but at times I could hardly contain the laughter save preventing us driving off the road. Between the "disinfections", Serbian border cavity searches, and burek soups I'm hoping that it was a result of enjoyment but at times I wasn't sure. I'm certain that Andy began to think his travel companion a bit of a lunatic in these moments. The incident I hope I don't soon forget is of driving into Plovdiv in Bulgaria singing over an over line 1 of "Hello" by Lionel Ritchie. The line that goes "Hello, is it me your lookin' for" seemed to spring to mind at the mere sight of St. Cyril's wondrous alphabet. I remember at the time getting the most ridiculous enjoyment out of that song especially as Andy tried to sort out where the blazes we were. Now that I have put the driving to rest for some time I'm hoping the sanity returns but that is yet to be seen. Anyone looking to hear a classic shite song should get a hold of that tune and play it over and over.

No luck as of yet getting the parrot to spout that phrase but this week I shall double my efforts. I figure the parrot should be multilingual by the end of my stay. After our burek soup and velika riba (big fish in slovenian) from behind experiences ourselves and Ana meandered back to the small and welcoming capital, Ljubliana. I say meandered because though the distance was short from her house, we took a day to get there. On the way we stopped to take a gander at the famed local river. The entire duck population of Western Slovenia was out and Andy couldn't get enough saucy pictures of 'em. I never knew the chap had such a penchant for the billed creatures but after this day I shall never wonder again. You never know where some fellows will get their kicks. The river itself was stunning(see pictures on Lovable Quirks). The color of the water matching that of Plitvice in Croatia. Unlike Plitvice it is possible here to take a dip wearing the necessary mentionables and the water beckons one to do just that. I look forward to returning when the trees are arrayed in their mid year splendor.

After freezing our a's off for a few hours (that being the only draw back of the outing) while Andy did his "A duck's life" photoshoot, we continued our journey to the capital and Ana's university therein. A communal effort at the dorm resulted in dinner for the three of us followed by a marvelous chit-chat with some of the other students. Anita (the other Slovenian I had met in Istanbul) and a friend of hers joined the occasion also. Normally to encourage conversation among a group of the size we ended up with, copious amounts of alcohol must be consumed but not so in this case. At the beginning it was of course necessary to work through the awkwardness of surrounding strangers but after some time group conversation happened freely. I am still impressed that we sat for some hours talking about society and about education. When it was over I asked myself if I had ever had that group experience. I still cannot recall a time. I have in the past been so frustrated by attempts to talk in groups or with individuals about subjects that affect our lives so will remember this experience with hope that it can occur.

We stayed that night in the hostel I have previously pictured. It is a converted prison with cell like rooms and oddly positioned beds. Certainly an experience when compared with the drab motifs of others where I have stayed. Our final morning in Slovenia we were back at the dorms in crepe making heaven with further conversation accessiories. In terms that don't border the ridiculous I mean to say that we ate crepes at Ana's dorm and chatted the majority of the afternoon away. The time then came for our lamentful goodbyes before we headed sausage side at top speed. The journey to Vienna was of a greater distance than anticipated so it is good we vamoosed when we did. Up now on Lovable Quirks are pictures from Bamberg, our overnight stop on the way to Koln, and our last toursitic venture to the cathedral of Koln. Andy returned to London yesterday afternoon. He'll be in London until tomorrow before returning to everyone's favorite city in Arizona. I had to say yet another goodbye but am encouraged that I myself am heading there in just over a month God willing.

I am two countries behind still but have plenty to say and so will give it a go. I want to try to describe some of the many high points of the time we had in Slovenia. Koko Kusarece means something similar to "How do you say" in Slovenian and it is the phrase that I most remember from my time there. I am trying now to teach it to the parrot belonging to my friends here in Germany. Slow going but I'm sure the parrot will know it after two weeks of repetition. Needless to say we are safely stowed back where it all really began for me. On arrival day a birthday cake had been prepared as my German mother here was sad that she couldn't be there on my birthday to bake one for me. Thoughtful things like that are the type to knock the socks off me. Whenever I had thought of returning here and of the care they had for me my heart felt overwhelmed to tears. I shall want to describe more soon but for now Slovenia is the name of the game.

On day two in the country we went with Ana to the Slovenian coast and the town of Koper. There we met with Ana's friend Snezka and Snezka's mother. We were treated to a marvelous luncheon feast and the preparations allowed us to feel like honored guests. It is so wonderful to experience such hospitality on the first meeting with someone. After feasting and chatting we went to visit a town further along the coast but not before receiving gift bags filled up with treats. It is difficult to describe the warmth and welcomeness generated in such hospitality but I can assure you the feeling is wonderful. We spent the rest of the evening wandering this other town which I have currently forgotten the name of. Andy got a complete history lesson of the place from Snezka and otherwise we all had marvelous conversations. Conversations that didn't have to end at "What kind of work do you do" or "Rough weather we are having, huh?" Rather about life, the passions that drive us, and the importance of close relationships with people.

Our next two and a half days were spent at the home of Ana's parents. Throughout the day at the coast there was frequent mention of a massive fish being prepared by her parents for our arrival. There had been much concern and debate over the best method of preparation. The type of talk again that warms the heart of the visitor to know that there is excitement and preparations being made. Sadly we arrived too late the first evening to sup upon the beastly mastadon (huge fish) but the next day our bellies were filled with it. Never in our time there were we allowed to go hungry and most that we ate was either made or grown by the fam. Ana and her parents allowed us to feel so comfortable and welcome there. There was a geniune and undisguised interest in our lives and our families. I am always amazed at the gift of God that I can have met such people on this journey. I only hope that in the future I will be able to replicate such a welcoming environment in my own home. After nearly a week of travel this was the refreshing time that I know I needed and received. I hope the number of days is short between now and my return to my new friends.

I will have to continue these musings later but don't want to forget this. The drive from coast to Ana's house by misty night is one that I shall not forget. The exceptionally winding roads and the forcefulness with which Andy was clutching the dashboard was intense. I never could see the major bends in the road until just before impact and each time the lives of at least two or three people seemed to flash before Andy's eyes. When he wasn't clutching the dashboard he held my burek (Slovene fast food that we procured along the way) with such intensity that the thing was more like soup on arrival at her parent's house. I am lucky that I seldom panic and Ana is lucky that she could seldom see out the window. Andy on the other hand got the full story, poor chap, but survived without soiling himself and for that I and my passenger seat are pleased. I had tried for sometime to hold on to the burek and munch upon it but the thing was a bit more than greasy and so my hands were skating on rather than gripping the steering wheel. I had to drape a person sized napkin on the steering wheel just to be able to hold it adequately so Andy was given the job of clutching the burek. It was inedible on arrival in its soup state but I guess better than me holding it and my greasy paws resulting in death or dismemberment. Didn't want to leave this part out but as I said I have more to add and will do so shortly.

The excitement of our Serbia to Croatia border crossing pales in comparison to that of Croatia to Slovenia. We thought that the quiet road and warm smiles would see us through but were sadly mistaken. The guards took one look at my list of visited nations and needed ten minutes discussion to decide what to do with us. We were told to park off to the left and then stood as all border guards huddled together and spoke in hushed tones. Eventually two chaps came over to calmly inform us that everything had to come out. A big table was rolled over to the back of the car and the latex gloves were fitted. Emptying the front of the car to the table posed few problems. The guards took a look through our suitcases and seemed to give the nod that each was well packed. There was a delay then which neither myself or Andy understood until a scrawny and mangy dog emerged. I had not previously seen a drug sniffer that had such an appearance of malnourishment but was hardly going to complain. The dog was shown a nice toy and then allowed to jump around inside the car. It sniffed, it bounded, it tried briefly to chew on the seats but apparently found nothing. It was then led around to the table of baggage and allowed to jump around on top. A bottle of wine was knocked over and came open and a clothes bag was bitten repeatedly but again apparently nothing found of interest.

I hoped that to be the end of it but sadly no. We had yet to empty out the trunk and it was obvious that the guards would not be satisfied without that. It should be noted that that trunk has not been emptied in 7 months and was no small task to accomplish. My mini library, my collection of foreign wines, foods from at least seven nations, and car care devices all ended up on the table of goodies. I was sure that even without the presence of drugs that the dog wouldn't be able to keep his paws off the food stock. Especially the homemade items that I had received from my Polish friends after the Greece venture. When the dog returned and gave all a once over with the nose he was completely disinterested however. Seems that none of the foods I've got suited him. At this point the border guards seemed confident that we were indeed clear. I began then the long process of putting everything back into the trunk of the car. I was glad of this actually as I really needed to reorganize the lot and had not had an opporutunity previously. Another border guard came to us and presented us with a form stating that we were drug free after thorough search. He said that we could use this in the future to prove that we were cleared though I'm not sure that a form written entirely in Slovenian would be of much use elsewhere. Nevertheless we accepted the form with a smile.

We then asked our new chums if they knew the way to the university in Ljubliana where we were set to meet Ana that afternoon. The border guard immediately smiled and said that that was his university and ended up giving Andy the full speel about where the university was and showed the way on the map. There were smiles and handshakes all round when we finally were packed up and heading off. As always outwardly difficult situations can turn out to be marvelous adventures. In this case we left the border with a newly organized car and complete directions to our destination.

Take a look at the two new galleries on Lovable Quirks from our day today in Austria and more of Slovenia. The first in the Slovenia album pictures me with Ana and a good friend of hers, Sneska. Somewhere in the middle is a picture of Ana and her family who were our hosts for three days. Right after the family shots is a picture of another friend from Ana's village named Mijha (I hope I spelled that right). Tomorrow we head to Germany with plans to be in Koln with my adopted family by Wednesday. They are already making preparations and excited for our arrival. I cannot express how overwhelmed I am to know that my visit is awaited with such excitement. I'm still convinced that I am the luckiest chap to have such people in my life. The gifts from God never cease, I only need to be able to see them. I will try to share about the marvelous experience of Slovenia in the next day or two at the latest. There too we were greeted with such warmth and hospitality that I long for the day that I can return to those that I met there.

Envision the scene of myself and Andy driving the backroads of Croatia toward the house of my friends. Andy has been asked to prepare a few of the best with butter and cheese accessories. I am sitting in the driver's seat laughing my head off at the ridiculous nature of his preparations. The first problem he faced was the cutting of the bread while the car was in motion. More of the bread ended up on him and on the floor than any that was to make it to our mouths. I have never witnessed bread being sliced with more difficulty. One might think that pre-sliced had been the name of the game up until this point. Next came the spreading of rock hard butter to what was left of the mangled bread. Needless to say even less of the actual bread remained after futile attempts by my fearless compadre to spread (looked more like mashing) it on. His attempts were hardly assisted by my weaving and braking to handle major bends in the road. He is lucky that neither the useless bread knife or a sufficient quantity of butter ended up inserted into his person. The final step was for him to lather on the spreadable cheese but because of the rock hard butter he instead mangled the bread even further and pushed all butter to one end of each slice. I sat throughout nearly driving off the road as result of my laughter. When I finally got my piece of what no longer looked like bread it was consumed quickly and the poor fellow had to start another. At this point him being covered from torso to feet with bread crumbs and the like. He had the look of one who has been through quite a tustle. I'm not sure what led me to share this but I hope that some of you enjoy reading my tale as much as I enjoyed witnessing it.

In case you haven't read them take a look at the next two posts first. Never in these last 13 years on earth have I gotten to really witness and experience the changes that take place in winter. Some are thrilled at the thought of a place like Phoenix where the sunshine never ends but I must tell you that after so many years I was and am bored of it. I had never the chance to see the sycamore and acorn leaves fall to the ground and to hear the sound of them crunch under my feet as I walked home from school. Never did I wake to see the sheet of pure white snow covering the earth and be overjoyed at the thought of racing out into it. I relish the chance to once again witness the dynamics of those seasonal changes firsthand on my travels. I believe the seasons of the earth hold powerful analogies for the periods of our lives and was reminded of this the other day during a visit to Plitvice (see recent and first gallery from here) for the second time.

When we arrived to the park I was shocked to see that the lush green was replaced with the dull brown of leafless trees. The moss and the grass also had turned dull brown as result of the frosts of the season. In comparison to those breathtaking moments first witnessing the beauty of the place now I was dissappointed to see the place in such a state. I believe that God was revealing something to my heart in those moments however. I thought back to my teenage years and how at that time I was as one of these trees. From the outside there was little or no life in me. To see my life at that time was to see brokeness, barreness, the scars of crushing experiences. Something similar to the look of those trees without their leaves. That which made them beautiful from spring to autumn lay in heaps on the ground around them. God revealed to me that in that time of my life he did not see me as I was but that he was looking forward to the spring. Springtime when leaves burst forth from the branches transforming dull brown to lush green. Springtime when dormant seeds burst from the ground producing flowers whose colors and designs no artist can fully mimic. So often we look at our lives and the lives of others from the winter perspective. We see only the current state and despair. I am thankful to know a God who had eyes to see the beauty that my life could become. He knew that through Christ and reconnection with him that my life could and would become so much more than any eyes but his could comprehend. Winter has its downsides but I am thankful that it causes me to much more appreciate the spring and the renewed and incredible life I have found through Jesus Christ.

I have added another gallery to Lovable Quirks from my time here in Slovenia. The first picture is of my friend where I stayed the first time around in Croatia and this time. The next few are of our hostel in Ljubliana. An old prison converted to a stellar work of architecture. The rest are from today and a visit to the castle in Postojna. I will continue to get you all up to speed as to getting to Slovenia and what we have been up to hopefully in the next days.

Make sure to read the post below if you have not already. I hope that you all have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. I had promised some info about Bulgaria and will attempt to satisfy the curious. Showing up in the country was an odd venture that included "disinfection" at the border crossing. Compared to the ridiculous longevity of later crossings it was a breeze but more strangely in this case there were so many forms to be paid for. One would guess that Bulgarians are lovers of booths as every 50m was another offering exciting new ways to spend your money. I expected on arriving at the "disinfection" booth that we would have to leave the car and be hosed down with some of Pfizer's finest but no such luck. Instead "disinfection" was a matter of paying some Euros and receiving a snazzy form which claimed that we were clear I imagine. For Andy it was quite an experience of all this as he had never been through a border inspection. Little did he know what was to come as some of you have now read about. We arrived at the final border check inundated with forms and had no clue which to offer for our exit so gave all and received almost all back. A love for glass booths and paper work is the only thing I can figure as I said.

I had planned on a complete "St. Cyril the Gobshite" post but shall instead present my comments here. I'm not sure that any of you have first hand experience of driving with only St. Cyril's alphabet to guide you but it is no picnic. How and why he came up with and decided on the letters of the cyrillic alphabet I shall never now. As a tease some do match there Latin counterparts but the sound of those is entirely different despite. When we arrived in Plovdiv all attempts to establish some bearings was thwarted by the fact that none of what we saw made any sense. One driving to the region should make valiant attempts to learn this alphabet before having a hope of finding your way. We wandered more than an hour searching for a bridge and was it not for an angelic sign with the words "Centrum" on it we may never have. Even then discovering our hostel was a task and a half that only sheer luck and some absurd driving accounted for.

On arrival at said hostel we were greeted by the sound of three man eating dogs. They barked and yelped and licked there lips for some time before a slight woman emerged and somehow inspired them toward calmness. Though the name on the front clearly indicated B&B the woman there said there was no breakfast to be had thereby knocking this down to a legendary one B. It was late however and sweet dreams were calling are names. We were quoted a price and decided to stay. Our following question was whether the car would be safe outside the place to which the answer came quickly as "no." She then told us that this area was one that thieving teens frequented but that we could park our car under the surveillance camera in the front and hope for the best. Hardly words to inspire confidence but again we had no desire to head back into the confusion that St. Cyril the gobshite had created for us. There room was nice and the two sleeps therein profoundly restful at least for me. Andy seems to have acquired consumption, black plague, cholera or the like somewhere along the way so recent sleeps have not been the most pleasant.

Perhaps the most pleasant aspect of a short stay in Bulgaria was an abundance of cheap and tasty culinary delights. Nearby restaurants served sheep liver, head, intestines as well as pork tripe, intestines, liver, head and much more to tantalize the ears. All that we choose in fact was marvelous and the prices were lower than any I have yet come across. I normally hate to eat out frequently while journeying but in Bulgaria it was a budget friendly treat. There also was much more to the menu than what I mentioned above including marvelous potato dishes, crepe dishes, and salads so we happily indulged. As you have seen from the photos some of the architecture of the place was colorful and interesting but unfortunately the communist styling of the majority put a major damper on it. In Plovdiv and later looking from the outskirts of Sofia the drab and dreary architecture of that time ruins the look of a place. The lack of creative expression of the time will take years to either destroy and replace or attempt to update. I am glad to have had the chance to see the country in this developing stage but without having a friendship there in the future or an area of nature to witness I think that I shall not soon return.

I realize that there is much more to tell as I am now in Slovenia enjoying every minute of the time with my friends here. I hope in the next days to keep the posts coming but know for now that we are in safe and hospitable hands and that for those of you who have sent emails yet feel neglected by the lack of response I have read all but had no chance to respond.

What is it like to be stared down by the Serbian border's finest? Myself and Andy have lived to tell the tale. I'm exhausted at the moment but sniffing Olbas Oil in order to stay awake and share our story. We set out from Bulgaria Saturday morning with plans to reach Croatia via Serbia. Little did we know that all of Western Europe's ski enthusiasists and then some had planned on doing the same. Our first crossing was Bulgaria to Serbia, a two hour extraveganza complete with demands that we pay for "low cost" insurance. I have had to buy special insurance in other countries but never for a full thirty days and never for 125 euro. I hadn't enough folding money of the local currency or the euro so had to drive into the country without my passport and search for a bank machine. Luckily enough there was one not far from the border but it was a new experience having to wander about passport-free. The condition of the town we had to enter to find a bank machine only added to the ridiculousness. Collapsing houses and only partially existing roads make one wonder what one is doing being allowed to drive to such a place without this special insurance. We returned to the border and paid for our "low cost" and then I finally had my passport returned to me. The border chap seemed quite dissapointed to have to relinquish his prize. I was worried I might have to wrestle it from him but no such luck and we were got on our way again.

Serbia itself turned out to be a rather bleak destination. While some of the mountaineous regions were picturesque, the towns and villages were dilapadated with no sign of repair. The shock came when we reached Belgrade and discovered a city of bright lights, tall buildings, and massive highways. It seems that all of the country's recent spending has gone toward that city and the motorways taking tourists like ourselves from east to west. The aformentioned ski enthusiasts certainly showed there best colors on this day. At border crossings and motorway exits families were cutting one another off and horns were being honked with ear shattering regularity. I'm not sure that I have ever before seen so many parents with young children in the back seats weaving and dashing and shouting at one another in attempts to gain five seconds in the long lines. Adds to the madness of our scene needless to say.

I'm so glad now to have had that 30 day insurance for all of the 4 hours that we spent within the country. 125 euro well spent. I had hoped to arrive that evening to the family that I had previously stayed with in Croatia but as we approached the Croatian border all thoughts to that end were snuffed. Lines there were of a length that seemed to make pitching a tent the next logical action. An action we might have considered were it not that the cold might have shrivelled us both to an indeterminate state. We did instead join the fray. Our passports were checked once and then upon the second glancing the guard sent us over for "inspection." His instructions made as much sense as a geography class to an American high school student but eventually we understood where this inspection would take place and had to cut across about 10 lanes of cars to reach it. There a burly border guard was having his wicked way with two other tourists. Their bags were out on the road to be gazed upon by all in the area and the two had that post-cavity search look upon them. Twas an awfully cold night for such things but these border guards must be thorough one would guess.

After he was finished with them and they escaped with what dignity they could muster our new friend turned to us. The chap had a look that Arnold would be proud of. Two inch waist about but shoulders like a redwood tree. Even his voice had that "I will crush you" ring to it. He eyed Andy and I up like a pair of oatmeal cremes and then set to work examining the car. It became clear from his questions that it was my previous jaunt through Montenegro that resulted in this search. The fact that my jaunt had occurred months before didn't seem to matter compared with the fun he hoped to have. He started to work doing little bangs on doors and rooves and then began looking around at the inside of the car. Something "blue" caught his eye underneath the passenger seat and he began asking repeatedly "What is blue?" I was unable to see this "blue" as I was in the driver's seat and was unable to bend my head so ridiculously far as to see underneath the other seat. He started asking that all in the back seat be removed until he could get his hands on this "blue." When all was removed he grabbed the deadly "blue" in triumph only to realize it was the case of my mp3 player. I could see the dissapointment shrouding "Arnold's" face so he quickly turned his attention to our suitcases. He immediately wanted mine open and began the thorough search of my underwear. Some pairs after these seven months may have been toxic but were obviously not was he was after and so he instead turned his attention to the trunk of the car. Strangely enough when I opened the trunk and he saw how full it was he seemed confused of what to do so didn't bother looking in it at all. Very strange though I was glad to not have to pull out my tea bags for him to sniff. Instead he decided that I and Andy needed a once over. He signalled to me down at the hood of the car and I thought he meant for me to put my hands on it as you see in "Cops" before the usual frisking followed by cuffing. I was hardly to argue with "Arnold" so began to do the honors before he stopped me and demonstrated that I should empty my pockets onto the hood. I did so and then he examined my coins and tissues before deciding to frisk me anyway. I can still remember "Arnold's" warm hands on that cold night to this very hour. Gave "touch me tender" brand new meaning. He then turned his attentions to my fearless companion whom I was hoping had not soiled himself already at this point. Andy did not receive the customary frisk but did have the assortment of medicines in his pockets thoroughly examined. When I saw the medicine chest emerge from his pants I thought we were doomed. Took some convincing on his part that the unpackaged Advil's were indeed only that. I was a little unsure myself after witnessing the quantities. "Arnold's" final act was to return to me with a questioning look and say "Marijuana?" In such situations I imagine the culprit is then to say "Oh is that what you were looking for. Here let me show you where I keep it." I was unaware of that normal protocal and just said "NO" and for "Arnold" it was the final dissapointment. He returned our passports (which first passport checker had kept) and headed toward some unsuspecting Austrians with smiles on their faces. Andy and I did not hang around for the next victimization but instead joined the long lines once more. When we finally reached the Croatian side of the border one glance at our passports saw us through and we went to find a hotel close to the border. With the feel of those warm hands and Andy's medicine chest safely re-stowed we were on our way. We found a hotel after no small amount of searching before heading the next day to inner Croatia and the B&B of my friends there.

Two new galleries are up that first include pictures from Plodiv where we stayed in Bulgaria. It was a nice town to spend a night and a day wandering about in. Supposedly the best city that Bulgaria has to offer. I will post some comments about that short venture in the upcoming. The second gallery is of our two days in Croatia. We traveled back to Slunj and to Plitvice National Park (See earlier galleries from Croatia). It was strange to see them in Winter as the lush green trees had shed their leaves and the number of tourists there was three including ourselves. We've now arrived to Ljubliana and my friends here. As I said I will try to fill in the details of the past days more thoroughly soon enough. As I wrote in the last post check www.grandtoureurope.com for some brief daily or sometimes daily updates.

In case any of you were wondering what the heck happened to me I am now safely within the border of Slovenia with Andy in toe. I have wanted and tried to post updates in the last few days but to no avail. Hopefully later today or in the next day or two that can change but internet has been scarce. I have plenty to share however and will be glad to be able to inform.

Tomorrow myself and Andy will leave Turkey on our journey west. We will stop first in Bulgaria and though we had planned to see Romania as well have decided against it. This is really not the time of year to best visit both of those countries and if we skip Romania we can continue west through Serbia toward Croatia and Slovenia where we are wanting to go. After 7 months of travel I really haven't the energy for "seeing the sites" and so would rather journey to some places that Andy really wants to see and also try to make some visits along the way. I want to visit the first family I stayed with in Croatia and to see that area once more. Also we'll try to visit my friends from Slovenia that I met in Istanbul. I know that I need to fill all two or three of you in on the goings on of the past few days but I also need my rest for the journey ahead. I hope that in the next few days I can get some decent posts up but we shall see. For now there is a new gallery up from our days in Istanbul. Tonight I am in Can. We spent the day today visiting my chums here and thoroughly enjoying some last moments with them. I am overwhelmed at how many wonderful people I have met in my time here and how much I was able to relax and enjoy this little town. I hope that before too long I can return to this place and these people. I also need to inform that on the main page of www.lovablequirks.org at the bottom of the screen is a link to Grand Tour Europe (click on europe map) and Andy will be updating that page from time to time on this venture. Love to all and pray for us that these next days of traveling will go smoothly as the distances are long.

Myself and Andy have arrived safe and sound in old Istanbul. After a month of jabbering away in my own language and of non stop visits it feels strange to be back on the road. Though we traveled plenty in Ireland the comfort there caused me to forget the obstacles of my previous journeying. Now to be thrown back into it I at first felt inept to handle those obstacles especially the language barrier. A good long sleep the first night and another this last have aided in now feeling more prepared to continue. There is more I would like to say but for now have not the time. Tonight we will vamoose from here back my chums in Can and my car. We'll spend a day there probably before the venture west. I've added two new galleries to Lovable Quirks the first of which I had forgotten to add so is a bit dated and the second being from our last days and the airport seperation (sounds terrible and didn't feel the greatest).