131 days since my last post. Even for someone as lazy as me that's pretty slack. I guess the Spring was pretty uneventful, so none of you really wanted to read about my largely fruitless search for work, which nearly came to piling the whole family on the back of a truck and heading for 'Californie' in search of employment. I finished my Slovene course, and despite having improved greatly, I'm still not that hot at speaking the language, it's all practise I guess.

But, like buses, happenings vaguely of note all come along at once. May brings holidays to Slovenia, as it does the U.K. Tom, Christophe, Christophe's missus Kristina and I decided to head down to Croatia for the early May long weekend. Once the gents had belatedly crow-barred me out of bed, we got the chauffeur treatment in Tom's Beamer and joined the crowds on the autocesta cruising to Istria.

Our destination was just outside of Poreč, a kind of Butlins style holiday camp, but not as crap as it sounds. The first day was spent getting our bearings, essentially by getting pissed at the restaurant by the sea. We also met up with Brad, another Ljubljana fugitive, and his better half. Tom proceeded to imbibe most of Croatia's wine reserves by himself, and all sorts of silliness ensued. Even by the poor moral standards of this blog, I feel that a more detailed expose would be a breach of the first rule of road trips - what goes on the road stays on the road, for Tom's sake. As much as I can say is that I've now learned some particularly useful Croatian phrases, and that the Tom Furness scale of drunkeness has been adopted across the Balkans.

The next day I got up and made my way the few yards from our apartment to the beach for a swim. It as pretty cold, but an otherwise excellent cure for the mysterious bad head that I was dealing with. This does slightly tie in to some extensive scientific research that Christophe and I conducted: Slovene beer gives you far worse hangovers than those produced in other countries, fact. Drink Croatian beer and I can hop out of bed and do some mild form of exercise.

We travelled into Poreč and had a wonder round the town, it's a very nice place as long as you ignore the poor quality food that is subject to some sinister Albanian administered price-fixing cartel. I'll put some photos up when I've sorted my camera out. It voluntarily became part of the Venetian empire a few centuries ago, and as a result is a very attractive place.

As a result of deciding to have a quiet night, we got up reasonably early the next morning and went to lounge around by the sea for a bit. Despite the sun being very warm, the sea was still what scientists refer to as chilly. Due to being in possession of a pair of testicles I again went for a dip, but as my French colleague Christophe isn't so lucky he again stayed land-bound (for those interested in the unnecessary offensiveness of the above passage I refer you to the entry from last May)

That evening we were joined by some Slovenke in the form of Katka, Irena and Marina, three friends from Ljubljana. We travelled back into Poreč for some vino and pivo and then back to the holiday camp to experience the local 'culture' at the Nightclub on the road leading into the camp. Taking advantage of the cheap beverages we cut rug until the early hours before rolling back for a few hours sleep.

On the way home we got stuck in the inevitable traffic jams, so I took the opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep. We stopped off on the way back to have a wonder around the top of the hill overlooking Trst/Trieste on the Italian border, and to risk getting our ear-drums perforated by the world's noisiest frogs.

I had a few weeks of relative quiet after this, aside from getting my flowing locks chopped off. My hair had reached my shoulders, and in the hope of improving my employability it had to go.

At the start of this month Ljubljana braced itself for the Hooky/Chippy invasion. I was joined on the Tuesday by my old housemates from Oxford, Ben and Pinks. They arrived in town in the early hours of Wednesday, but I performed my duties by promptly taking them to do an Union v. Laško comparison at the bar near their hostel. The next couple of days were spent viewing the sights of the city, including the obligatory walk up to the castle (complete with being taught some Finnish by someone I'll patronisingly refer to as an 'old-timer'), and feasting on horse (that's the animal, not slang for heroin).

On the Friday Pinks was hastily escorted from the city in order to make way for the arrival of a crack force of my old school friends celebrating Charlie's stag-do. Ben and I were joined by Charlie, Fletch, Ollie, Adam (on his second tour of duty), Dan and Pete. The request had been made by Fletch in his capacity as best man to organise a kind of 'Fear and Loathing in Ljubljana'. I think I was successful.

The first night we stocked up on Pizza and Beer and I took the boys to Metelkova, despite the high-spirits most of the party decided to hit the hay for a bit of sleep, with the exception of Ollie and I who hatched a plan to go and find a coffee as the sun came up, big mistake. We found a beer outlet and carried the party on until my body gave up and I had to return to my flat for a bit of rest. I'm only an amateur at this, but Ollie has been hardened by London life.

On my return a few hours later the boys had established a base at Premier, the bar where my housemate Neja works. Accusations of blame were circulating regarding who exactly was responsible for Ollie, but all we knew was that he had disappeared. I reviewed mobile phone clips of his behavior during the day, and it was quickly established that he was on the wrong side of 'mental'...

Eventually he re-emerged from some fox-hole or other and we continued the party in slowly decreasing numbers of personnel. I lacked the energy to head back to my flat so I kipped at their hotel and escorted them to the station the next morning. It seems that despite some short-term memory loss and the misplacement of several items of clothing a good time was had by all. The wedding is in August, so hopefully everybody will have totally recovered by then.

We had been joined in our exploits by quite a few of my local friends, and I circulated the idea of having a week or two off the booze. The following Friday I headed out with Christophe and Jure to have a couple of quiet beers. Following our decision to go to Metelkova I thought I could stretch the number a little, but a definite early night was on the cards.

I first began to question my lack of self discipline as I crossed the Italian border on foot, and hungover, about 7 hours later. On leaving Metelkova at about half four in the morning we passed the station and just out of interest thought we'd have a look at the timetable, this was followed by a swift trip home to collect my passport and then bundling on the train to Sežana, a Slovene border town. We walked through the border and were luckily picked up by a bus and taken to a town just above Trst/Trieste, then we hoped on a tram and snaked our way down into the city.

Despite my slightly sore head, the city was beautiful. A cup of coffee and the bracing Burja (a savage wind that blasts down from the Alps) picked me up enough to happily do some sight-seeing. Everything was fine until we were making our way back and we stopped at a restaurant for lunch. Jure and Christophe order a huge plate of mixed pork and my stomach promptly went on strike.

After we made it back I slipped in a couple of hours sleep and then we headed to Katka's for a house party. Well, you're only young once... Last weekend we had a party just outside of Ljubljana to celebrate Irena's birthday, it was another late one, but I have been abstaining this week. The madness had to end sometime. Anyway, my travelling chronicle has been a bit of a piss-up diary this time round, but every man needs a hobby. Summer has hit Slovenia big time, and the weather is really hotting up. Hopefully I'll get some work in the very near future, and then there should be some more adventures. I'll be heading back to the U.K. in August for Charlie's wedding so hopefully some of you will be around then. Otherwise, I hope all is well with you all, Peace.

n.b. As my Dad has passed on the address of this blog to my grandparents in Australia, I should add some sort of disclaimer: Any similarities in on this blog to actual people, places and events are entirely coincidental...

Man, two posts in a month, and it's a short month too. Who'd have thunk?

Well, I managed to resurrect the old day-tripping spirit of last year. After a hardcore Tuesday night celebrating Pust last week (sorry Slovenes, I know you get upset at that capital 'P', but this blog is in English - it's a proper noun, go figure. For my English friends, Pust is the same as Shrove Tuesday/Mardis Gras, it's more beer than pancakes over here, that's a Catholic country for you..) I eventually recovered to peel myself out of bed at some ungodly hour and take a trip out East on Thursday. The trip was courtesy of the students I'd met during the pissed up/falling on my face debacle (see below for more information).

I travelled out to Štajerska and Maribor, Slovenia's second city. It was only a flying visit, but Maribor has a lot more of an industrial feel to it than Lj, and a proper sized river, unlike the brook that is the Ljubljanica which we have to be content with. It's where my former neighbour Senki was from, but despite being here for a year already, I hadn't made it there. I will investigate further in future. I was travelling three young ladies (wow, that's simulaneously patronising and very English...) Petra, Katja and Katja 2. The trip was intended to see a traditional Slovene folk shindig. Petra was performing with a Tamburica band. For obscure instrument fans out there, a tamburica is a type of guitar with four strings, configured similarly to a mandolin, so there are two big and two small strings. I think that lowest string is a G when played open. That's all I know, any music geeks should probably wikipedia it, or summit...

The concert was entertaining, fairly similar to the folk concerts that go on in England, but without men with bells tied to their knees waving hankies around. Afterwards we had a feast back at Petra's folks place followed by beer and board-games, civilised stuff.

The next day, when I eventually surfaced, we headed off on a tour of Eastern Štajerska, the highlight being the spring where Radenska mineral water comes from (come on, I was hung-over, this sort of stuff is relaxing...) Then headed back to Ljubljana. Where everything was shut, because some poet died once... It was Prešeren's day, I think I might have written about it last year.

This week I began my Slovene course. On Monday I went to the Faculty of Arts in order to take an exam and have an interview. The exam was in Slovene, but was multiple choice, so I was slightly concerned that there was a chance I'd get a really high score by fluke. Luckily the interview should have sorted that out. I was interviewed in Slovene, and I understood every question, but I answered mostly in English (for shame!)

On Thursday I went for my first lesson, and to see which group I had been placed in. I was immediately concerned by the fact that I appeared to have been put in an 'Intermediate' group and most of the students had Slavic surnames. The lesson went well though and I understood most of it, it seems that although my memory rarely helps me out by providing the words I need when trying to talk, a fair amount of stuff has actually lodged itself in my brain.

Well, that's about it for now, hope all's well out there. Keep it blah.

J

Well, well, it's been a while, I'll make no excuses this time. I should start by covering a bit of my return to the old country. I had nearly a month back in the U.K. and it was the predictable boozy, over-eating fest it always is for Christmas.

Despite giving myself three and a half weeks in order to be able to see everyone, I still didn't manage to catch up with half the people I wanted to, but them's the breaks. My old housemates Ben and Pinks had returned from their trip around the world, so it was good to exchange travelling tales and catch up with the two of them. We hit the traditional Chrimbo curry round at Murphy and Abi's (who are now to get hitched in August, although I imagine it's only Abi's way of vicariously marrying all of the Hooky boys, which isn't possible under current U.K. legislation)

We had the family over to the village on Christmas Day, and had a really good day eating, drinking, opening presents and watching dodgy T.V. Boxing Day was held in the time honoured style and was a real return to form. I think staying off the Twelve Days was a good idea, but we really got a party going this year, despite notable absences (poor form gents, you know who you are).

The drinking and eating carried on until New Year. We decided to spend it in the village this year, and it must be the first time we haven't embarked on a road trip and/or a house party since we started drinking, which by my reckoning makes it at least a decade away from the village. It was nice enough, and stress free, but next year I'll arrange something (unless I get locked into a morose rejection of the whole thing, something there's a risk of every year - I don't function so well when I'm obliged to enjoy myself!)

The night ended with a marathon poker session and a final cigarette in my back garden with my cousin Iain at about 6 am. As if a sign from the gods, the fiddling with my lighter in my pocket caused me to set fire to my hair as I lit the 'final fag'. A stark reminder of the dangers both of smoking, and of not getting your barnet trimmed for over a year...

Early January was used up catching up with people, ignoring nicotine cravings and trying not to drink alcohol. Dan, Joolz and I went snowboarding in Milton Keynes, which was some good practice. I met up with Emma and Rose in London and got trolleyed on cheap energy drink and vodka. It went a bit 'Fear and Loathing in London', apologies to anyone caught in the friendly fire. Anyway girls, it was great to see both of you again.

The next day, after prising myself out of bed and with a very sore head, I travelled into the centre of the big smoke to meet up with Jacqui and Rubens. Two people I see far too little of, we got the beers in and had a great time catching up and talking rubbish. Again, it was really good to see you both. As the Chippy diaspora continues it's shift to Lahndahn Tahn, I'm sure I'll spend more time there in the future. This is the main reason I have to enjoy sensible beer prices here in Slovenia...

I returned to Ljubljana in the middle of January. The translation agency gave me some work as soon as I got back, which was good. The Slovene Ministry of Finance had frozen my bank accountm which wasn't good. Apparently I need to get a bit of paper that my employers last year told me I didn't need, but actually I do, FFS!

I wouldn't mind so much, but Slovene burocracy is a terrible monster, and it's going to take me ages to sort it out. Oh well, shit happens. It's been traditional for me to have a detox in January, but that hasn't really happened this year, I'm trying not to drink too much on 'school nights', but every now and again I go a bit, well, ape-shit...

On the first Friday back we had one of those top, spontaneous nights out. Ian, Dave, Tom and I went to Friday Night Drinks (an expat networking thingy) and got some cheap drinks and free food in, before going to Gallerija and getting some more drinks in and meeting up with Joel and Andrea. Then the lot of us made our way to Metelkova and, it's fair to say, things got pretty messy. We hit the refreshments and partied hard until the sun came up. Wandering through the middle of a city gurning and sketchy whilst the normal folk go about their business is still a massively surreal experience...

Otherwise my time has been spent being a man of leisure since I've been back. A little too much booze maybe. A week ago on Monday Ian, Joel and I went out 'for a couple of pints'. Slowly the numbers were reduced until I was left by myself in Pod Skalco, at which point I started talking to a group of students, who in turn took me with them to KMŠ (a student club near to my flat). Again, I left as the birds were rising. Being a gentlemen (maybe that should read: 'being mullered') I decided to escort them to their bus stop, and promptly fell on my face - smooth. It's all good now though, and it was a valuable lesson learned...

Anyhow, I hope this satisfies all of those who give me grief for being slack at updating this. Thanks to everyone who got in touch to catch up over Xmas. Peace, it's all well weapon.

J

Art-noon all,

I'm celebrating having finally finished the editing/proof reading project that consumed most of my time for the past month, so I'm feeling pretty relaxed at last.

The work wasn't hard as such, there was just so much of it. The project was for a website (or some such thing, my god I'm professional!) and involved correcting computer translated text, which led me to have to edit lines such as: "Over or under accepting machine textile them her not concluded in class, such as fins, carboniferous, cellulose not for men tiles and sanitary towels". I had to do this day after day, lots of fun.

I can't complain though, the money was pretty good, and it will look good on the C.V. when I try to get more work here. When in the office I was generally entertained by sitting next to Joel, a co-drinker in Ljubljana, so it didn't end up being too boring. I've done far worse in Britain (loaves of bread, conveyor belts, disgruntled Banburians - I won't go into detail), but I still have the mentality that I'm 'travelling', so work shouldn't come with any stress.

The work put pay to any adventures in October, so I've been fairly quiet socially. I've been trying to keep off the sauce for a bit anyway before the violation of my liver which the festive period is sure to unleash. It's starting to get cold here, so hopefully I'll be hurling myself down mountains in the near future, I got in really good shape boarding last winter, so the exercise will be welcome. I also started Aikido a couple of weeks back, but the classes are at inconvenient times, so I need to be more disciplined with that. Friday night is never the best time to build up a sweat and get chucked around.

The nights have drawn in and I'm starting to get excited about returning to the U.K. for a bit at Christmas. I know it's November, but it's been a long time since I saw everyone, so I'm getting a bit like a kid before Christmas. The Slovenes are more reserved about the festive period, so the decorations aren't up yet. Unlike the early September insanity of the shops in Britain in the gear up.

That's it really for now, I should get out and do some stuff, so I'll get another post up when I've actually done something! I hope everyone's well.

Hasta luego,

J

Kve dogaja?

Not much traveling to report at the moment, as I've been busy dealing with all that 'real-life' nonsense.

Last Monday I moved into a new flat, swapping the relatively luxurious confines of my old pad for the more student style living of Dave and Neja's flat. I've had to get used to sleeping in a single bed again, but other than that all's cool in the hood. We have wildly varying working patterns, so it doesn't produce the cabin fever atmosphere that student life lent itself to. It's a shame for me to leave my old place, and I'm going to miss my neighbour Senki, especially for the evenings that began in the following way (there were many!):

Senki: Do you want to come round for a beer?
Me: Ok man, but just one, I need to get up early tomorrow.
*Lots of beer and spliffs, followed by some random spirit of dubious legality under European legislation*
(I look at the clock)
Me: Shit man, it's 3 o'clock in the morning
Senki (doing his evil genius grin): Ok, see you tomorrow (safe in the knowledge that there is no way I'll do anything productive in the 'morning')

Cheers Senki - one of God's own prototypes, it's been a pleasure...

Tako gre to

On the work front, I've been doing some training at a translation agency called Amidas. They've decided to take me on for a few week's work, so I've been stuck in front of the flat's computer, back on the treadmill of work. I'm pretty enthusiastic about the job though, as one way or another it should lead to other things. The main problem is the ad-hoc nature of copy-editing - it's unlikely to provide me with really regular work.

Any how, just a short one. I've got another day of sport to look forward tomorrow, bring on the frogs and the Estonians; it's Cheltenham v. Forest as well, so I'm slightly torn about that match. Big up yourselves.

Chilli Jaimski

Hey there,

Long time, no updates, yadda, yadda. An obvious highlight of the last few weeks was the 'International Day of Jaimie (and Matthew)', aside from the street parades and hoards of women breaking down in grief at my continuing status as a bachelor (both of arts and the eligible type), the 24th of August was your average piss-up. I cannily chose to be born on the same day as Paul and Katarina were having their leaving do, so the visual effect was that loads of people turned out to witness me stroll/stagger/crawl into my 26th year.

This month has involved a reasonable amount of travelling for me. At the beginning of September I made tentative arrangements to meet up with Jonny, a friend of mine from Hooky, in Budapest. I got up at 1 in the morning and bundled myself onto a fine example of aging Eastern European rolling stock. I folded my seat down and tried to get as much kip as possible in between the various border checks. I didn't get much. Senki had suggested to me that the trip would be ok as long as I had some attractive girls to keep me company, there were no bites on this score until my snoring reached such a volume that I was violently jolted back into consciousness somewhere in rural Hungary. The three goddesses who had arranged themselves around me didn't look impressed. I considered checking my person for sleep-dribble, but I was so far past making a good impression that I resolved to put my headphones in and study the passing countryside with super-human attention to detail.

I arrived into Budapest's Keleti station feeling in need of a walk and a shower. Before I got on with any of that though, I sat myself in a bar to wait for a call or text from Jonny which would let know when to expect him. I waited and drank, drank and waited, and then I drank and waited some more. Nothing. The sun was starting to go down, so I decided to cut my losses and find a hotel room. The friendly booking agents at the station told me how lucky I was to have secured their last single room, and that if I waited for a few minutes then a taxi would take me there. I was told that I could walk if I wanted as it was just past the next block, but as a taxi was included for free I thought I'd live the high life a little. I'm bloody glad I did, the taxi took me far away from the centre and I realised my hotel was pretty far from the action.

Never one to mope, I decided to get some food and use my journalistic skills to track down the elusive Jonny. As I have a Slovene sim card, and almost no U.K. numbers on my phone, this proved difficult. Special thanks to Stringer and Lofty for helping me out. Eventually I was in possession of a number. I got suited and booted and ready to hit the town. The phone conversation ran thus:
Me: Hey man, it's J, whereabouts are you?
Jonny: Sorry mate, I can't hear you, give me a few seconds.
(a few seconds later)
Jonny:Hey, you'll never guess where I am...
Me: Er, Budapest.
Jonny: No mate, I'm in a lap-dancing club in Krakow (Krakow is in Poland fo the non-geographers out there)
Me: Not Budapest then?
Jonny: No sorry mate, things got messed up. (It turned out that there was a little accident in Belgium involving a written off car - so Jonny was absolved in this incident)
Oh well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em I thought as I got into bed to read Robinson Crusoe. Rock and roll.

The next day I got up nice and early, hangover free, and hit the tourist trail in Budapest. It's a very historic city and I strolled around the castle in Buda taking in the views and the sights. After much searching I found a sports bar to watch a bit of British football before hoping on the train back to Ljubljana.

Hungarian is a really crazy language, it's debatable whether or not it is actually related to any other European language, although current linguistic fashion shoe-horns it in with Finnish. My Slovene has got to a point where I can operate quite well, but there are so many accents over the letters in Hungarian that you can't really guess how to pronounce things. My next trip was to take me to Serbia. Serbo-Croatian (note to any Serbs or Croats reading: I of course mean Serbian and Croatian, because you have some idea that they are completely different languages ) is quite similar to Slovene, so you can get by easily in Croatia. After a weekend not understanding anything in Hungary the Serbians decided to conspire against me by having a language I can kind of understand, but using the Cyrillic alphabet, which is impossible to read if you haven't learnt it. What joy...

The following Tuesday, Simon, Luke and I headed off to Belgrade. I'd never been to Serbia before, so it was a new experience. The train left at about 9 in the evening and didn't arrive until 6 the next morning, so we decided to pay extra and have some beds after my Hungary bound experience. I sunk a couple of beers before nodding off, muttering 'Don't mention the war' quietly to myself*. I was rudely awoken many times by various shadowy figures asking to see my documents. The sleep was far from sound and I questioned the payment of the extra fare.

We arrived bleary-eyed in Belgrade. One of the most striking things on the approach (apart from a man who emerged from a hedge after what I hypothesised was a session violating his dog, you had to be there) was the vast corrugated iron shanty town that spanned a great distance along the track. Recent past has created a large refugee population, which is still trying to resettle and I was later told that this was a huge gypsy township. We were greeted off the train by the ever bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Bethany, an American girl whom we had met when she was studying for her Celta in Ljubljana in January.

A breakfast of burek and a three hour power nap were the order of the day when we arrived at Bethany's flat. Upon waking refreshed, Luke and I hit the streets in order to find somewhere to stay for the next few nights. We asked at the central tourist information and we decided to head for a the hostel that was a compromise between distance from the centre and price. Because we couldn't read the roadsigns we asked random passers by for direction (profiling them according to being women and attractive). We were really taken aback by how friendly and helpful young, attractive Serbian women are (I'm sure this works with most Serbians, but our sample selection methodology was clearly defective from a statistical viewpoint) In most places if you ask directions, someone will point and explain using land marks you can't possibly be previously aware of. But the Serbian puncas took us all the way on foot, without doubt taking them far away from where they were heading, cheers ladies.

Locating the hostel proved difficult, and would have been so for a crack squadron of S.A.S. soldiers with G.P.S. and doctorates in finding-bizarrely-located-hostel-studies. After several laps of the area indicated on the card, Luke and I decided to go for a pint of the local brew (Jelen, beer fans) and get our thoughts together. We asked the barman about the hostel and on returning to the 'hood we eventually found it. Our problem in finding the place stemmed from the fact that in Britain we follow a convention of using a photo of our actual premises in promotional literature. This quirk clearly isn't followed in Serbia, and the use of a photo showing an entirely different building was merely some artistic licence in play. Great.

The hostel turned out to suit our needs perfectly and we chilled for a while before I, finally, met up with Jonny (remember him from earlier? Hooky boy, predilection for Polish lap-dancers). We hit downtown Belgrade for some scran and went on a session. Belgrade is heralded as the party capital of Europe in various publications, so we set out with high hopes of hedonistic abandon. In reality we walked, walked a bit more and then topped that off with a bit more walking. We stopped a few passers by (using the aforementioned pretty lady tour guide method) and the general consensus was that Belgrade on a Wednesday when the students were on holiday, is perhaps not the most happening time. We decided to call it a night at about 2am. Distance covered on foot: 6 miles, Pints drunk: 3

The next day we were determined to get on the session. Bethany showed us some of the sights and Jonny and I were using the Beer/spirits rotation method that has proved so reliable over the years. We found a bar full of nice young women and acceptable music. The bar was getting a little crowded so the others decided to find somewhere else nearby. Jonny and I thought we'd stick it out a bit, until we realised that the place had filled up with massive Serbian meatheads, and made a swift exit ourselves. Plenty of alcohol had flowed by now, so Simon, Luke, Jonny and I held a conference and decided the place to be was on one of the many party barges on the river Sava. We hopped into a taxi and hit the road towards the newly christened (by us) 'funky town'.

Upon arrival we made a beeline for the busiest, brightest and best looking club. I'm sure someone accidently asked in English if we had to pay or something, because no sooner were we mapping out the shortest route to the bar from the entrance than the security blocked our path and informed us that reservations were required. This was despite the steady flow of locals who were entering without even being looked at by the guards. It was entirely because we were British, and I've never been overtly on the recieving end of this sort of thing (not that the obscene taxi fare mark-up is exactly covert). Being petty, I would have quickly developed a grudge against the Serbs for this, but there's a lot of really heavy shit that they've gone through, and I can appreciate why they might not be the biggest fans of citizens from NATO member-states (there're still no excuses for you Austrians, the grudge will be borne until you issue an apology for your actions at the U.N., this was dealt with in a previous post...).

Feeling rejected we walked down the river a bit to take in some 'turbo-folk', I don't really want to talk about this episode, I'm too ashamed. This is possibly the worst genre of music ever created by Satan and handed down to impressionable youths. Distance covered on foot: +/- 2 miles, Pints drunk: Ouch...

I spent most of the next day recovering, the Hendersonian hangover is a terrible thing. In the evening we met up with Bethany and a few of her Serbian friends, which included a couple of really drunk lads. We managed to ditch them eventually and continued to break the stereotype of British lads abroad by being well behaved, witty and erudite (at least that's how I remembered it). We couldn't have too much of a session because we were catching the train at 6 the next morning back to Ljubljana in order to watch England play football (our priorities are in order, huh?!) This meant that Luke and I had to turn down to offer of escorting a couple of Serbian girls to a club, in hindsight, probably not the best move... But England managed to overcome the mighty Israel.

I've recently decided to look for work outside of teaching. I'm currently trying out at a translation agency in Ljubljana, the work is varied, and I get to search for stuff on the internet all the time, so it suits me fine. As long as I get the job...

Anyhow, that's about it for now, I'm moving into a new flat in a couple of weeks, so I'll have fun packing everything next weekend. I hope all's well in everybody else's world.

Take it easy, I know you will. J

* The situation in Serbia is very interesting, and we had many illuminating conversations with the young people who live there, there are lots of tales to tell which should be told. However, the scars are still very apparant. People were manipulated by politicians into hating neighbours with whom they previously had no real animosity. This is why I have neglected to discuss the war here.

As I am capable only of flippant observations and lazy stereotyping on this blog, I will let very lightly sleeping dogs lie.

Dober dan,

Apologies yet again for the lack of updates, I do appreciate everyone checking every now and again to see how I'm doing (largely to contact the embassy when I get arrested).

I now have an internet connection in my flat, and a lap top, so I can update more regularly without paying extortionate prices in the internet cafe.

The Summer has been rolling along here involving much drinking and various trips. A few weeks ago we traveled up to Bohinj to chill out by the lake and we were treated to a Sunday roast courtesy of Tom's mum who has a house in the village near by. The lake is so clean we had to go for a few swims, the water was gorgeous, if slightly cold after having run off the nearby mountains.

The weekend before last Matt and I took a trip to Zagreb. It was my first time in the Croatian capital. On the first night we wondered round looking for places to eat and drink, with little success. Dejected we returned to our accomodation (after a drink served by the mardiest barman you could ever have the misfortune to meet, in a pub with a Croatian covers band and softcore pornography being shown on the big screens) We decided that for a large capital city Zagreb is really devoid of social activity.

In the morning we got up (Matt wishing he hadn't as he was nursing a monsterous hangover - for once I was the clear headed one!) and went sight seeing, the old town was very quiet and the view wasn't much to write home about. The cathedral was quite interesting, but the impending start of the football season took us to a pub with a television. It was at or around this time that we realised that Zagreb has a large area of bars and restaurants that we would have found if we'd walked about ten yards further the previous night. After an obscenely large meal consisting largely of various meats we ended up in a cool little club in the park behind the Cathedral. The admissions policy clearly must have stated that hot women were the only sort allowed (I was tempted to drop a 'no dogs allowed' joke in there, but not exactly being Brad Pitt myself, I don't know if that sort of body fascism is acceptable...)

The next day feeling mildly delicate we travelled back 'home'.

On the Monday I was visited by my Mum and my aunt, I showed them the sights of Ljubljana on the Tuesday (this was revision for Mum) and on the Wednesday we headed down to Piran on the coast. It was pretty scorching day and we swam in the sea and ate a delicious (except the sardines!) sea food meal on the harbourside.

The next day we fluked a trip up to Bled with Matt and Marjorie, again there was plenty of sun and the lake looked stunning. This combination meant that we had to hit the water and we swam out to the island. It was such an amazing setting to take a dip, with the castle and the mountains surrounding us.

That about wraps it up for now. Ian has finally travelled back to the U.K. to earn some proper money. He can be spotted in the Oxford area, Thames valley police say he should not be approached by the general public. As is now traditional, here's a glass raised to you gospod Bearder, come back for some winter sports when the season starts.

Hope everyone's doing fine.

Jaimski

More photos at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/unsoundmethods/

Hey there,

Sorry about the radio silence, I've been all over the place recently, but haven't got down to writing, so here's an update.

Everything is going well over here, the teaching term crawled it's way out of existence, and we've been hitting the road in scorching heat. The week after we went to Laško we travelled up to Nova Gorica in the West of Slovenia. Nova Gorica is a pretty interesting place. It was built by the Yugoslavs after the Paris Peace treaty divided the area and gave the town of Gorizia to the Italians. Because of this the resourceful Yugoslavs planned a new town and in 1948 began the construction of Nova Gorica ('New Gorizia' - get it?!) right next to the old town. The effect of this is that today there is what appears to be one coherent conurbation which has an international border running right through the middle of the town. We met two of Ian's Italian friends who had previously lived in Oxford, and we were joined for the trip by Dave's friend Moggi - I'm sure in some small way his naval knowledge benefitted us...

Gorica je naša

Gorica is also where Ernest Hemingway was based during the first world war. Attempts to find the brothel he frequented proved futile.

The next Friday we hatched a plan to visit the Bosnian town of Bihac (kind of pronounced be-hatch, which has become be-yatch gangsta stylee for us. This is made even better by the fact that the local beer is called Preminger!) but the Post Office insurers shot our idea down in flames, they have some idea that there is risk involved in taking a BMW to Bosnia. I still havent made it to Bosnia yet, but that's a trip for the next few weeks.

In lieu of Bosnia we travelled up to a place called Idrija, on the edge of the Soča valley. Idrija was the site of a major mercury mine (we didn't go and visit), for pub quiz fans out there however, Idrija is one of the few places in the world where mercury occurs in both its elemental liquid state and as mercury sulphide ore - cinnebar, it says on Wikipedia. We ate the local delicacy žlikrofi which is a sort of ravioli made of buckwheat, and then visited a stunningly blue lake which forms at the end of Slovenia's shortest river. I'll post some photos when I've sorted my computer out.

On the Sunday we climbed up Šmarna Gora, a hill just outside of Ljubljana, it's quite a climb, but the views are well worth it. The climb was supposed to be preparation for climbing Triglav, but that isn't going to happen right now - weather, heat, lack of fitness etc...

The next week we decided to go international again and Ian, Christophe, Alenka and I headed down to the Croatian island of Cres, the weather on the first day was good enough for us to go for an evening swim (where I managed to get impaled on a sea hedgehog) and get drinking in the evening - followed by the early morning. We awoke with severely bad heads and cautiously made our way to a bay a few kilometres down the coast. I forced a typically Balkan breakfast down my gullet and then shuffled of to the beach to hide under a tree. Re-energised by the breakfast I decided to take a plunge, the hangover disappeared and the job was a good 'un. This might have been the sea water, but it could equally have been the thousands of tiny jellyfish that filled the water, they were like tiny soggy jelly beans, and I guess they might have some mystical healing powers, although that's almost certainly bollocks.

Istrija je naša

Then it was teaching, drinking, swimming, sun-bathing, chilling and socialising until I returned back to the mothership Great Britain for a week and a half. England was cool, I met up with lots of people who I hadn't seen for ages and we even had a couple of old school boy's nights. The family seem to be doing well with out my guidence and leadership (!) and everyone else was on good form. The weather however, was shit, but then the biggest national cliche about Britain depends on that. It was kind of wierd to go into smoke free pubs, but then it is probably the way of the future. Thanks so much to everyone who made an effort to catch up when I was back, to those who didn't - fuck you! ; )

On return to Slovenia it was more of the same from before. Last Friday we travelled to Laško again (surely twice in one life is enough) for the Beer and Flowers festival. Drank lots of beer, didn't see any flowers. We stayed at Matt's house in the country side and went swimming at a terme (spa) the next morning - again, hangover cured by swimming. On Sunday Ian and I went and chilled at my local swimming pool and on Monday we travelled down to the coast to chill in Portorož near Koper, my tan actually appears to be working again.

On Wednesday I travelled to Domžale with Paul to witness some red-hot Champions League football. By red-hot I mean the first qualifying road first leg clash between the titans N.K. Domžale of Slovenia and Albania's K.F. Tirana, scortching. Domžale ran out with a 1-0 lead to take to Albania next week. The domestic season starts here this weekend, so I don't have to endure the football drought for as long as my English peers (Did anyone see Argentiana get served by Brazil in the Copa America final - ha, ha, ha...)

That's enough, if anyone has made it this far, well done, you're either a true friend, mental or both. Answers on a postcard.

Props, J

More photos at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/unsoundmethods/

Wha's Up,

We've entered the autumn of the current academic term, and people are starting to anticipate their de-mob happiness. Ian, Christophe and I have started a Friday daytripping club (We were all canny enough to keep Fridays largely free of lessons).

Two weeks ago we headed down into Dolenska. We started off by following the river Krka from its source just south of Ljubljana and made our way down to Novo Mesto. It was a beautiful day, and we took the more minor country roads rather than the avto cesta. We stopped off somewhere for a sluggishly served lunch. I've forgotten the name of the place, but we soon hit the road again and cruised into Novo Mesto.

The day coincided with the high-school students celebrating their graduations. They do this by dancing in the street and blowing whistles, a lot, really a lot, almost non-stop. I don't want to hear anymore whistles, probably ever...

We had a look round Novo Mesto and basked in the sunshine a little before hitting the road again and travelling to a really cool little castle near a place called Očotec. We had a wander around and chilled out on the river bank as the sun began to go down. On the way back the frustrated photographer trapped inside Christophe decided that he wanted to go up on top of a hill to get some pictures. We took the road that appeared to go up the nearest hill and then drove for ages. We made our way up this small single track road, past bemused natives before arriving at a field and an abrupt end to the road. We were really well and truly lost in Dolenska. At least it was a nice night. We made it back to Ljubljana eventually.

Last week we decided to take a trip to Štajerska in the east of the country. Because we set off late, we set ourselves the modest target of reaching Pod Četrtek, going via Laško (where the beer comes from). We hit the road at about half one in the afternoon, and again decided to take the country roads rather than the avto cesta, where we'd have to pay tolls. En route we stopped off for a delicious lunch of cooked meets and chips in the middle of nowhere, but we soon hit the road again in earnest.

After four and a half hours of what can barely be considered roads, we finally made it to Laško. Had we taken the avtocesta, the journey would have taken about 50 minutes. Needless to say, we didn't make it to Pod Četrtek (this bizarrely means 'under Thursday'). But we had a Laško in Laško (nothing to write home about this town) and against my better judgement, we again ascended a hill in search of some good photos. This time we asked directions and actually made it up to a beautiful little church to watch the sunset.

On Saturday I made my cricketing debut playing for Ljubljana cricket club in Austria (I can't believe I went back, and to play bloody cricket!) We were up against a team from the Sri Lankan embassy. They batted first and scored 604 for 7. We only had nine players. We scored about 60. Cricket is shit. I have sunburn...

Peace, love, empathy...

J x

Dober dan vsi,

This isn't really a post with any news about what I've been up to (all good, thanks for asking) but some random observations about the Slovene language and my mission to get passably good at it.

1. Slovenščina je težek jezik (Slovene is a difficult language). One of my main aims in coming to Slovenia was to learn how to speak the language. I figured given total immersion, it might take me about 6 months to be able to have a proper conversation. There is more chance of me being called up to the England football team than there is of this actually happening.

The Slovenes seem to be natural polyglots and take pride in speaking other languages. It has happened on several occasions that I have been talking to a Slovene about some abstract concept or current affairs issue, where, due to not being able to remember the correct term for dialectical materialism they hold their hand up and say 'Sorry, I really don't speak English' (nb: the conversational topics outlined above are an exaggeration, I'm not that much of a wanker)

The fact that many of them can speak four or five langauges fluently means that they always like to practice their English and seem to do so at every opportunity (Hey, I'm an English teacher here, you don't get my 'skills' for free you scroungers...) The Slovene who can only speak Slovene is a rare beast indeed. But I gave my self heart by the fact that there must be some really, really stupid Slovenes - an assumption pretty much confirmed whenever you listen to commercial radio or observe the quality of car parking across Ljubljana.

So, there must be some. And at least all the guide books tell you that Slovenes will hold few things in higher regard than a foreigner who knows a bit of the language. The reference books say a lot of things which turn out to run counter to reality. An excellent example is my 'Teach yourself Slovene' book, which kindly informs you that the standard greatings are:
'Dobro jutro', 'Dober dan' and 'Dober večer' (Good morning, good day and good night)
According to the aforementioned book, these greetings must be given in full and it would be wrong to shorten them. A statement not borne out by the fact that everywhere you go people great you with 'dan', 'večer' or even for those for whom brevity is important, ''čer'. Predictably, I'm not normally around in the mornings, so I don't know what they say for 'jutro'...

Anyway, I've got to the point where I use all of the standard words and phrases as you do. But I've got to the point where I want to order things in Slovene and try to do the whole transaction in the language. 'Šest žetone prosim' is the grammatically incorrect but clear request for six tokens to use on the bus. This transaction always works because the lady at my local trafika can't speak any English. However, even the obvious and straight forward 'Eno veliko točeno Laško' (one large draught Laško) results in hysterical laughter from bar staff - all Slovenes we talk to tell us sympathetically that these people are laughing with us, not at us. Note to Slovenes: that statement is only of comfort if you are trying to be funny.

We have decided that this happens because of two main reasons:

2. Ne, je zelo, zelo, težek jezik (No, it's a really, really difficult language - this won't be right, see below to understand why!) Ok the first of these reasons is the grammatical complexity of the language. This issue has been covered elsewhere better than I have the skill to do, but here is a breif extract from 'Teach yourself Slovene':
"Slovene nouns are characterised by gender, case and number. There are:
* Three genders: masculine, feminine and neuter
* Six cases: nominative, genitive, dative, accusative, locative and instrumental
* Three numbers: singular, dual (!) and plural
Nouns (and numbers) are declined, which means that they change their form from one case to another, depending on their function in a given sentence."

Well, fucking great, thanks Slovenia. I'll try and illustrate the madness by using an extract from 'Teach yourself Slovene' again. I should stress that although this is very, very basic Slovene, the extract is taken from an appendix entitled '(declining feminine nouns with an adjective modifiying them)'. The example used is velika hiša, this means large house. In English it means large house and is written LARGE HOUSE whenever it is used. However, this would be too easy for Slovenians, so they do this instead:
Nominative : velika hiša
Genitive : velike hiše
Dative : veliki hiši
Accusative : veliko hišo
Locative : v veliki hiši
Instumental: z veliko hišo

You have to get this right for the fundamental meaning of your sentence. This is because Slovene doesn't use articles and rarely uses pronouns. We haven't begun to drop any verbs in yet, then things get really fun. For anyone interested in a better and more scathing treatment of this aspect of Slovene, I refer you to Michael Manske's excellent website (I don't know the link, why don't you just bloody google his name)

3. Oprostite Mate, ne razumen (sorry mate, I don't understand) Slovenes are very proud of their language and have developed a secret and exclusive cult based on it. This cult is designed so that unless a foreigner pronounces a word or phrase absolutely perfectly, then the Slovenian will look at them in the most profound confusion, mouth agape, scrathing their head. This first happened to me when I asked my neighbour Senki where Zelena Jama is (this is an easy one to pronounce, something along the lines of Za-lane-a Yama) Now, there is no other place in Slovene that is particularly similar to this (as far as I can tell) and there is nothing else I could have been trying to say. However after saying it a couple more times I conceeded defeat and explained to him which bus I had seen it on before he replied 'Oh, Za-lane-a Yama'.

This happens a lot, with most Slovenes. But we've now worked out a theory that may absolve them slightly. It works like this: Because English is a world wide language, we're used to people butchering it, but we know what their trying to say, so everything is cool. But, because Slovenes are so unused to hearing their language spoken with a foreign accent they panic and get confused. All they can think about is the awful pronunciation and they stop listening for the meaning, so in the end it just becomes easier to talk in passable English than poor Slovene.

This doesn't excuse those Slovenes who are clearly embarrassed/openly hostile/vomit when you try speaking the language, but then that's only around 20% of the population, so things could be worse. To stop being flippant for a second, it's been a real eye-opener to come here and see how differently you can structure a language. I naively thought that all languages were basically similar but with different words and sentence orders.

I was, and remain, a fool.

I'll get there eventually, vse je mogoče

Take care of each other, and don't have nightmares.

J x