Taking the plunge has new meaning after today's activities. Yours truly, the once ladder fearing, urinating in britches at top of stairs yabo leapt from bridge to river this afternoon. I skidaddled from Ljubljana yesterday evening for a weekend hiatus around the city,town,dot-on-map Nova Gorica. I thought that I would sleep there in hotel,campground,or small hole but luckily had the thought to call Blaz(the z of his name should have a special symbol above it and sound almost like sh) who is one of Jan's roommates from where I stayed last week. He said that after he finished work in Nova Gorica I could come to his home. Unfortunately he didn't finish work until the wee hours, meaning 1am. After a marvelous journey of relational chatting with two of Ana's chums from Ljubljana to the beloved dot-on-map I wandered about for 4-5 (hours that is) trying not to look like a drifting criminal with my poofy hairdo and oversized backpack clinging to me. Luckily the dot-on-map population was out for a concert and also the weather did not turn wet-and-wild until just before Blaz's arrival. After that we hit a country bar called "Saloon" with fury to meet some of his chums for a few (minutes that is as the bartender would not even serve us water) before heading to his home and dreams of midgets in yodelling costumes.

This morning we were up at the crack of 10:30am and off back to the "Saloon" on bicycles (new experience numero uno del dia) for capuccinos and croissants. This before heading to the mountains and the summer retreat spot of Blaz's family. The word picturesque would hardly do the place justice and it even came equipped with a volleyball court. 'Twas another of those spots that inspires weeks of frequent grunting in the work of building an old stone house with considerable veg garden accessories. After a fab meal, dessert, glass of local wine, some chatting with Blaz's wonderfully hospitable and welcoming family we were off to the river and the aforementioned bridge. When I first took a gander at said bridge I decided I would sooner soil myself in public than leap from it. A few minutes later however I found myself atop the diving board at its edge. Between stage one and two the only ponderance had been "Why don't I jump?" From board to hitting the water and nearly having the skin torn from my backside there was little thinking done. Lesson to be learned there is that too many thoughts, too much micromanaging of the future can cripple even the best of us. I spent my teenage years terrified of the unknowns and experiencing almost nothing as a result. If now I thought of all that is in entailed in choosing country, finding wife, having children, supporting family, purchasing toilet paper in Swahili, and all else by morning I would be out chewing grass with the nearest sheep and singing to the tune of "She'll be coming 'round the mountain." Lesson number two from this adventure is to enter the water straight rather than in the sitting position. It seemed to take millenia to hit the water and when I did my boney arse took the brunt of the impact. I am lucky that I can write this while sitting. My entrance to the river had had all the finesse of a one legged ballerina attempting the splits but my enthusiasm over saying "boo hoo, sucks to you" to my long held fears gave this Irish boyo some warm fuzzies let me tell ya'. When swim time was complete Blaz and I returned our companions to the retreat spot and then we were off back to Nova Gorica. I had my second look at the incredible Soca(letter c needing a symbol to make it ch) river and had recurrent visions of returning to it for a prolonged swim and exploration. Blaz is off to work now until late and I am enjoying the comforts of his home with plenty of further chatting and being fed like a king.

Last night a blossoming opportunity was presented to climb Slovenia's tallest mountain and so tonight Blaz and I will return to Ljubljana to grab some gear (that sounds cool though my "gear" is meant more for climbing carpeted stairs), sleep a few hours, and head to Bled and then to the mountain's base. I will return to Ljubljana Monday to tell my tale. I have added a new album to Lovable Quirks and three new poems to the Poems area (inspiring place this is). In the new album Benjamin and Karla are pictured who I spent most of the last week with wandering about Ljubljana (wandering major amounts in the attempt to find a Turkish restaurant I might add). Near the end are pictures of my companions from today. Blaz is pictured in the last shot. It is not I pictured jumping from the bridge but you can get the idea of the height that nearly ripped me a new one. So read the poems and take a gander at the new pics.

It has been a week of minimal yet marvelous activity. I have spent the time in nearly constant conversation which may sound like a nightmare for some but for myself is an ice cream and large bowel of porridge reality. Last Sunday afternoon I moved with disconcerting rapidity out of the dorms to a private student apartment beneath a fire breather's lair. My host there was Jan who is a friend of Ana. I was joined there also by his marvelous five roommates and with these and Jan I spend my hours conversing, munching, road tripping, delivering goods in midsize truck, and playing endless card games. On arrival there I had begun to think that my time in Slovenia was drawing to a close and had visions of gondolas and gnocchi dancing betwixt my ears but now I cannot imagine having spent the days anywhere else. Slovenia has been entiringly refreshing in the quality of experience in building relationships with others who have been so genuine in their desire for that.

I endeavored on two road trips in the last week. The first was with some of my new chums to the tourist capital of Slovenia, Bled. I would have liked to have more time to wander around the lake and see the less tourist populated areas but that will be for a further time. It is a spectacular scence with surrounding mountains and small island accessories. The perfect spot for spring time walks, short boating ventures, and afternoon swims. Apparently no visit is complete without the consumption of some of the region's specialty dessert whose name I no longer remember. It is pictured in the new album on Lovable Quirks and was certainly not to be missed. After Bled we ventured further into the mountains toward the Italian border and the village of Kranjska Gora. That is the hometown of Andrea, one of my companions on this venture. She gave us the grand tour of the area and introduced us to some friends. Kranjska Gora is another beautiful spot where the air is fresh, the winter skiing apparently marvelous, and the river water cold enough to freeze the petunias off of anyone with feeling left in their toes (we ran,walked,suffered through some of this river water in the attempt to take a gander at a trickling of water that had been described to us as a waterfall). I was very lucky on this venture to have a chap named Marco with us as he was the day's translator. When I flashed the look of one who hasn't the foggiest what is being discussed he was the one to frequently attempt to translate which is marvelous because as I have described, to be much of the time on the outside of communication is very debilitating and frustrating.

My second adventure of this sort was a four o'clock wake up and midsize delivery truck ride around the area northeast of Ljubljana. Peter, who also lives where I was staying, is the part time driver of this truck and invited me to go with and see some of the countryside. It was my first experience getting a glimpse of the trucker's life and gave me a new perspective on how I take for granted all that happens so that I can walk into a store and buy whatever I wish. The early wake up meant that I was nodding off after the first pick up. I enjoyed helping to load and unload the contents and the Slovenian countryside kept the eyes peeled but by mid afternoon I was exhausted from sitting and watching the road. I think I could only accomplish this work if someone was with me to chat to. The constant attempts to speak English meant that sometimes Peter began speaking to Slovenes in English. For instance when we had lunch I told him what I wanted and he started to tell the Slovene waiter what I had said but still in English and blank stares resulted. Luckily this was quickly remedied but as for many Slovenes and others he has had little practice in speaking English.

I mentioned earlier the fire breather and should explain. The collection of landlords where I was staying have none of what are termed the social skills and obviously feel powerful having students staying under their roof. They are not friendly to guests of their renters so I was obliged to avoid them as much a possible. My one conversation with the self proclaimed boss was enough to make me realize that I should not remain staying there long. I am so pleased of the time that I did have there though as it was so relaxed and I had much time to sit and know and enjoy the company of my roommates and their hospitality towards me.

I am back at the student dorms since Saturday spending my hours enjoying the company of Ana's roommate Karla and her boyfriend Benjamin. Being well fed and well taken care of. I have posted a new album from my latest adventures. The first pictures are all from the day in Bled, then more with friends from the dorms, and the last from the truck driving adventure.

Here is something that I have never posted before. A story written by the able hands of Michener in the brilliantly written "Poland" which I completed this afternoon. The quality of the script struck my heart and mind in so many places and this story below more than all. Don't forget to read my post about Slovenia below and the poem that I added if you are so inclined.


"The two men studied their brandy in a silence which was broken in a curious way: Bishop Barski clapped his hands and broke into a hearty laugh. Shoving his glass aside, he reached across the table and patted Szymon on the hand. 'It's really quite funny, Bukowski, that you should consult me about a Nazi monster whom you can't get out of your soul, because I have a little Jewish rabbi that I can't get out of mine.' He laughed again and poured Bukowski another drink.

'You may not know it, but in Auschwitz, which I prefer to call by it's Nazi name because it certainly had nothing to do with Polish Oswiecim, which was a placid little town before they came...Where was I? Yes, in Auschwitz the Nazis were particularly brutal with priests and rabbis, because they felt the need to ridicule and denigrate all religions except their own.

'This meant that priests and rabbis were often thrown together, and there was one horrible little cell with only one small window rather high up into which they crammed sixty or more men at dusk, expecting to find thirty-eight or thirty-nine of them suffocated by morning. Twice I spent a night in that cell, and if you told me know that I would have to do so again, I assure you, Bukowski, I would go screaming, hair-pulling mad. I think no one could survive that terrifying ordeal three times. I couldn't.

'I survived the first time--one of nineteen who did--because as I was about to be jammed inside, a little Jewish rabbie whose name I never knew whispered just four words: "Stand opposite the window." That was all. When I found myself inside, one of that scrambling mass, I saw what he meant, for all the big and powerful fellows were fighting for a place near the window, which allowed me freedom to take my place against the wall on the opposite side.

'Secure in position and tall enough to have my head slightly above the others, I learned two things. Such air as did come into the room drifted my way, and those struggling to intercept it at the window killed one another. There were fights for air, and stranglings, and bodies crushed when they fainted and fell to the floor. And there I stood, thanks to the little Jew, above it all, saved by the bits of air that came to me know and then.

'Toward morning, when it looked as if I might be one of the survivors, I began to look for my benefactor, but he wasn't in the cell. Of that I was sure, for he certainly wasn't on of those still standing; nor was he among the corpses piled on the floor. When I got out I found taht he along with several others had been at the end of the line and could not be pushed in. They would be held over for the next night.

'I saw the little Jew on the work detail next day, lifting great rocks when he'd had no food, not even breakfast soup, and I'd had no sleep. When he saw that I'd survived, his eyes glowed and he started to come over to speak to me, but guards saw him move and they kicked him to death. Before my eyes, they kicked him to death.

'As he lay there in the prison yard looking up at me, his face torn apart and covered with blood, I wanted with all the force in my body to rush over and comfort him, to take him in my arms, for he had saved my life and he deserved that consolation in the moments when he was leaving his. But I could not. I had no physical or moral power. The cell had been too terrible, and I stood motionless as they kicked my savior to death.

'What was the last thing he did on this earth? He smiled at me. Through the blood that dimmed his eyes he smiled at me, as if to say: "Be not afraid." I seemed to hear this little Jewish rabbi using the words of Jesus Christ.'

Bishop Barski lowered his head to the table, and whether he was weeping or praying, Bukowski could not determine, but it seemed certain that he was in communion with the rabbi who had saved his life. Later, when he had composed himself, he blew his nose and said: 'I am with this nameless little man three or four nights a week when I try to sleep. And if I am indeed sympathetic to the trials others, as some say I am, it's because of the counsel I take with him. He saved my life and and I was powerless to save his.' He studied his hands for a moment, then broke into laughter again. 'Have you noticed how I always refer to him as the little Jew? He was. I was this tall and he came only to here. But in the council of God he was so very big and I so very small.'"

Michener, James A. "Poland" Ballantine Books, New York 1983: 606-608.

I left off last after a mouth watering feed of velika riba in the picturesque countryside of south western Slovenia. The tranquil setting of the place and the frequency of the delightful cuisine made for a wonderfully relaxing time spent therein. The only potential disaster occurred on Sunday when whatever weight I gained about the midsection with the Poles came to haunt. Ana's brother Andraz (pronounced Andrash) wanted to spend some quality time with us playing soccer at the school playground and that being my favorite sport of course I complied. I picked for the outing my marvelous grey britches purchased last year in Poland. My seamstress Gram crackers had only recently repaired these from past tearing but I was confident that her stitches would hold. Well when I volunteered as goalkeeper and received one or two ferocious goal attempts from Ana and Andraz the britches decided they had had enough and split from crotch to mid thigh. I saw a few birds take flight at the sound of the tearing but took solace from my companions telling me that it wasn't very noticable. I soldiered on and with a few adjustments of the legs decided that there was no need for immediate change. It wasn't until a few young girls from the area arrived and the my continued playing revealed my britches desire to mimic a scene from "The Full Monty" by tearing to the ankle that I decided it was the moment for departure. On the walk home I held a basketball nervously over the offending area and apart from a not-brief-enough conversation with Ana's aunt in which I shifted and squirmed like someone with bowel troubles I got safely home with no request from a neighbor that I vacate the village.

Just as I had in January I enjoyed every moment in that village and with Ana's family. Whether sitting outside in the wonderfully fresh air listening to a plethora of song birds; playing "Man don't be angry" (Slovene translation of the game's name) or "Memory" with Andraz and sitting amazed at his ability to speak English without ever a lesson; or my favorite to have uninterrupted hours to chat with Ana, her parents, and on Monday night Ana's friend Miha who Andy and I spent time with in January. I think that those living in such villages do not realize how lucky they are to live in a place of such peace that promotes relationship. I was saddened to see while there that apart from the young who impressed me at their attempts to encourage togetherness there seemed to be very limited connection among the elders. Modern societies encourage each of us to create our own isolated world and one in which we are constantly comparing what we have to that of others. The result unless fought against is that in village or city people can become very disconnected no matter the proximity to one another. I am enlivened by the youth of Cepovan however in seeing the numbers who meet each evening at their youth club Catacombe and who plan to organize theater performances in the village come Winter. This attitude among the young is the rejuvination that must occur where past generations have been neglectful regarding community.

Since Tuesday I have spent my days here in the very manageable capital city of Ljubljana. Its small population and the ease with which one can in short distance escape to beautiful parks and forested hills make for another peaceful environment. For the first time in my life I am a dorm resident as a friend of Ana's offered her room for use during her abscence from the university. Throughout the past week I have been meeting with many of Ana's friends and schoolmates and each time was impressed by their openness and genuine interest in others. Much of this is a testament to who Ana is that she has found friends of similar character. I am enthralled to spend such time learning the hopes, goals, and passions of those that I am meeting and priviledged to share with them about my life and what I have learned since my student life ended.

On Thursday evening I attended salsa night at a bar on the other side of town (40 minutes walking, I love that). Salsa classes are offered here at the university and Thursday nights are a chance for informal practice and to watch the long term learners spin and twirl. Six of us went from here at the college and it was a marvelous chance not only to learn the basics of the dance but for me of course to meet a few new faces. I have never before attempted any pairs dance (to my regret for extreme past shyness) and am happy to report that I inflicted no major injuries in my first attempts. Ana's roommate Karla and Karla's boyfriend Benjamin were patient and encouraging teachers and that made the experience far more enjoyable than it might have been with the wrong bunch. I was concerned that my long steps might cause my partner to throw a hip in the attempt to match the distance or my forgetfulness about which arm was to be spun to cause some migraine causing wallops but none of that. It is something I would really like to learn but think for future that the guidance of a course would be the best option for really acquiring the ability. There were moments that chatting and dancing simultaneously became too complicated and for me the chatting wins out in priority so I think formal courses would have to be the ticket.

Since Friday the dorms here have become somewhat of a ghost town as it seems everyone returned home for the weekend. Ana also had to work yesterday so these last days have been spent alone but have been wonderful nevertheless. I've been wandering about the beautiful city center a stone's throw away, the enchanting public park and nearby hill, and reading the final pages of "Poland" by James Michener which has kept me riveted to learn the incredible history of the place my friends call home. I have added a new gallery of pictures and finally a new poem to the Poems section. There are only a few pictures from Cepovan, a few of Ana's friends, and the rest from my Ljubljana wanderings.

I am keenly aware that some serious posting needs to be accomplished and though my head feels as though lead weights have been inserted into my earholes I shall soldier on. Since last time I have spent two weeks of ecstasy between Croatia's sheets with a sizable group of Poles. Monumental brain energy was spent in attempts to absorb the Polish language and though I am assuredly confident that I can know ask "Do you like cheese?" I am realizing that I have still have quite a ways to go. In that regard I was fortunate again to have Darek (chap who spent hours in Bojano in February teaching me) as my teacher. Two days ago on the drive out of Croatia we two attempted quite a complex conservation to much success despite the end result feeling that my brains had been replaced by baked beans. He on his quest to learn English threw out some unforgettables like "I am onion" and other phrases that had me tickled. I am so grateful for the opportunity to see the country that most impressed me on my journeying through the eyes of others and to be able to share what I knew of its beauty with them.

The lead weights prevent my chronicalling the journey so I will instead give the high points a good walloping. Our first campground was a beautiful spot with plenty of trees and a thigh splitting walk down to the small yet wonderful rocky beach. Many an hour was spent on that beach allowing the sun to scorch my tender white flesh, swimming out to stranger's boats to lay for more scorching, and playing games on shore like "throw rock at bottle" while the sun scorched some more. I couldn't reach all the necessary spots with the sunscreen so ended up with a patchwork red and white back. Now that the peeling skin has subsided I have luckily come out with a bronzed look that mimics Guatelmalan goat herder or something of the like. In our time at that camp we explored the nearby gem of Dubrovnik. I of course had seen it before but never through the eyes of others and still I am awed to witness an ancient city still so intact and imposing in its grandeur. Time under the previously mentioned trees at our camp was spent in some hours of wonderful conversation and of course the consumption of our delictable army load of food. It is wonderful to be camping yet eating foods one could hardly expect well stocked homes to have at the ready. I with glee relish that vacation time away allows for moments and hours of conversation that the pressures of normal life neglect. Sadly there were moments of extreme frustration at my inability to communicate with everyone. I am so frequently reminded of this dynamic of being unable to communicate though I desperately wish to. There were a few times when it was easier to do something alone so as not to feel this inability to communicate to the level that I wished.

Our second point of stay was far out on a peninsula between Dubrovnik and Bosnia's measly portion of coast. No side splitting walks to the beach here. Instead four or five lengthy strides would have one knee deep in the cool clear waters of the Adriatic. Again there was plenty of swimming to be done, conversation to be had, wine and rakija to be sought after, and most especially and excitedly exotic foods to be harvested. Our most capacious discovery was the number of mussels which were collected with fury and eaten with ravenous appetite and garlic or horseradish sauce accessory. Five minutes of swilling down the contents of each mussel and hurling its shell to the table saw us through three feasts of the little delights. Another afternoon Tymek brought crabs of various sizes and though the portions of meat were nothing to close the pantry over the delight of eating what you or friend has discovered is quite marvelous. My crown jewel moment was the discovery, hacking off, and consuming of raw oysters. With machete in hand, googles on face and three metre depths to traverse we had a small feast of the little blighters at time's end. I dove deeper than I have ever and with the trusted machete hacked away at clinging oysters that needed more than a little convincing to break free. When I emerged from the water I had the look of a bear mauling victim with blood stains from an abundance of cuts on my hands, arms, and shoulders but that was meaningless compared with the thrill of the find and the harvest and of eating our raw treasures immmediately thereafter. The taste of the blighters was none to be soon sought again but with a tiny dose of rakija to follow and as I said the thrill the lot went down a treat. Catching, finding, making your own foods has a grace to the consumption that no purchase of food can scratch the surface of at least for me. Our Croatian voyage was a wonderful time of togetherness, of enjoying incredible scenery, and of new adventure. I am so grateful to have been able to return so soon and in the company of people who have become such an influence in my life.

I had wanted to immediately upload pictures to accompany this post but the lead weights have moved from ears to eyelids and I desperately need the ol' beauty sleep (boy do I need that). When they are up you may find some unrecognizables in the mix. Hopefully all remember Wiesieck, Nancy, and their kids David, Tymek, Hannah, and Paul and the other family then has Darek and Asza at the helm and Jacob, Ania, and Weronika are their children. I am safely stowed away in Slovenia once again. I went by train and bus yesterday through awe-inspiring, breath taking, and generally stupendous countryside to be here in Cepovan with Ana and her family who took such wonderful care of me and Andy back in January. Another velika riba was cooked and consumed this afternoon with great glee and satisfied lips. I shall write more of my adventures here in the next few.