It had been a long time coming. Throughout 2023 Martha and I had been discussing and debating our next overseas trip. Portugal? Greece? South America? Istanbul? But Martha's mother moved into a nursing home, house-sits popped up, or other obligations got in the way. Going into 2024, a trip was long overdue. We had to make some decisions. After more noodling, watching friend's trips and consulting our own bucket list, we decided on a tour of the Balkans along with a stop in Vienna, which I'd always wanted to see.
Travel, especially overseas, has become a foundational part of our retirement. As long as we're physically able, it's exciting, even challenging sometimes, educational, character building and helps decorate the passage of time; breaking up the routine and refreshing the appreciation of life.
To manage the expense involved, we charge almost all household expenses to credit cards that offer travel rewards, subscribe to The Points Guy to maximize the benefits and commit many to Avios, the British Airways partnership. The reward is that the flights to/from London were almost free, as were the flights we booked within Europe.
Over the years we've developed some principles that guide how we plan these adventures.
1) We travel in shoulder seasons. It's less crowded, the weather is milder and it's cheaper.
2) We're doing the more challenging trips sooner. We're 'younger-older' people and if there's a longer, more physically demanding trip on the bucket list, we should do it sooner. Hiking in Patagonia in the next few years.... river cruises and guided tours can wait until we're doddering.
3) We stay in places longer. Some people gallop through an itinerary spending one day in each location and come home exhausted. We prefer to spend more time in each place, soaking up the local vibe and chilling. We're not in any hurry, after all.
4) We try to mix up some of the big-city must-see tourist attractions with some off-the-beaten-path, smaller and more charming locations. Madrid, but then Seville and Granada….Barcelona, but then Sa Tuna, a small seaside town.
5) And less touristy locations. Toulouse, and then to Provence….but small towns, not Nice or Cannes (though we did visit Aix).
Those were the guides we tried to stick to in planning this next trip to the Balkans. The credit for the itinerary and planning goes to Martha. She researches locations and logistics and then we jointly put the pieces together. Lots of people go to Dubrovnik and Split in Croatia. It's now a mob-scene we decided to avoid. But other parts of Croatia looked enticing, as did Slovenia. And Vienna has been on my bucket list. So piece-by-piece, the puzzle started to come together.
Thursday/Friday, March 28/29
After seven travel modes - a friend's car, Greyhound bus, Washington Metro, airport shuttle, British Airways flight, Heathrow Elizabeth line and Tube, we arrived at our hotel, the Clermont at Victoria. Arriving about noon after 16 hours. Thank goodness our room was ready. Check-in is often not until 3:00 p.m. and after a long flight arriving in the morning, we're sometimes forced to wander bleary-eyed until then. This time we were able to take a nap and freshen up.
We went out for a bite at Travelers Tavern - a nearby pub - and walked. We wandered all around Belgravia and up to Knightsbridge. The charm and beauty of London neighborhoods - especially these - always captivates me. We stopped in a church where Good Friday services were underway. Then we made it down to Harrods, navigating through specialty pavilions. Vast, sophisticated, overwhelming, and crowded. There was even an art gallery where we ogled some Bob Dylan art and chatted up the local attendant. Then over to Hyde Park. Next, by Buckingham Palace then down the mall to Trafalgar Square, over to Piccadilly and China Town. The crowds were thick but with an energy and celebration. It was just exhilerating to be in and around such a hopping scene. Our aim was the Old Bank of England, a bank that had been converted to a pub. I'd seen it on Instagram and like others I'd found online it turned out to be loud and too crowded. Everyone has seen it on Instagram. Tired and foot-sore, a pit-stop at “The George” across the street was much better. Very old, charming and accommodating. Then the Tube back to Victoria where we looked for an available restaurant, but had to settle for another pub meal - the Shakespeare, next to the hotel. All in all, about six hours and several miles of walking. Then we just collapsed with a 10 hour sleep.
Saturday, March 30
The weather looked sunny and potentially warmer. And I couldn’t get into the British Museum until Sunday, so we decided to trek out to Richmond on Thames, the town our Richmond, Virginia was named after. A simple Tube ride almost direct from Victoria.
Just ‘terminally cute,' as we say in our family. I expected a short street of a couple pubs and a park. It’s a hopping town with loads of cute shops, restaurants and pubs along with parks and walks along the river and boat rides. It's recent claim to fame is as the location for the Ted Lasso television series. The housing and layout were so attractive we could easily see living there. Just walk out your door. Like so much of London.
We headed down an alleyway with shops where Martha spied a black cat in a jewelry shop. We admired the cat - Onyx - and the owner, Mo, a Palestinian, regaled us with facts about gemstones and sold Martha on a ring.
After wandering down around the river we found a Sicilian restaurant, which was a welcome diversion from pub fare.
Rather than go back downtown via the Richmond station we wandered up past Kent Mews and the Royal Botanical Gardens, but it was too late to get in. So we continued the hike to the next station up; Gunnersbury, where we caught a train back to Victoria.
We resolved to investigate house-sits in this area. Fortunately, the Brits are enthusiastic practitioners and Trusted House-sitters is full of them.
Evening held a quiet dinner at Jane’s Family Table, a farm-to-table restaurant with an emphasis on veggies, that Martha enjoyed. Then back to The Soak, the bar at our hotel for a nightcap. The Belgravia neighborhood this borders is classy, walkable, trendy and again makes me think this would be a wonderful place to live.
Except perhaps because of the cost and the crowds…..
Easter Sunday, March 31
On occasion Martha and I go our separate ways, as much to give ourselves some solitude as to pursue our own itinerary.
After breakfast, Martha headed off to the Tate Museum (art).
I happened on a procession of ceremonial guards marching out of Buckingham Palace. Then a stroll through St. James Park. I then hoofed it to the Royal Academy of Arts. There were some novel pieces, like a Michelangelo sculpture, but otherwise a sparse collection.
I happened on a distinguished part of London I’d never seen before - Pall Mall and Regents Street. Then over to Piccadilly and Trafalgar Square, which I had seen several times. In all previous trips I’d made to London/UK (which I’ve estimated at 7-8) I was generally in areas associated with my work at British Aerospace, so missed a lot of the more noteworthy sights.
My objective, though, was the British Museum, which I’d read was huge. The repository of everything the British Empire has pillaged for centuries. It did not disappoint. An incredible variety of artifacts from North American Indians (will we soon have to visit a British museum to see these?) to collections of rare books, Egyptian mummies and on and on. It would take days to cover. Especially fighting the crowds. Is it because it was Easter or is it always like this on weekends?
I made my way back through the twisting streets. Some mobbed, others quiet.
I hadn't eaten anything in my wandering, so parked myself at the Victoria Pub across from the Clermont Hotel, had a pint and some sausages while joining a crowd watching a futbol match. Much like any Sunday at home in a sports bar.
The mechanics of an English pub are unlike anywhere else, and I wish it was copied in the U.S. Customers go up to a bar and get a drink, pay for it and take it to a table. They can order food at the bar too. Pay for it then, and it will be brought to their table. It's fast and efficient. No waiting to be attended to or waiting for a bill. Leave whenever. Or go back to the bar for another.
Unfortunately, pub fare is not Martha's favorite. It's tolerable in a pinch, but mostly burgers, fish and chips and Shephard's pie type choices. Not too many vegetables.
Martha met me at The Victoria for a drink before we headed out to dinner. She'd found a swell Indian restaurant by Sloane Square (Kahini). Because of its history ruling India as a colony, there is a sizable south Asian population and a wealth of Indian food in London. This didn't disappoint. Somewhat fancy and pricey - and a bit on the spicy side for my tastes.
This was in an expensive part of London and we admired the beautiful row houses and lush, clean park in the middle of Eaton Square. It was a neighborhood and we could tell that this restaurant was a local spot for the upper crust residents.
As in past trips, I noticed the difference in atmosphere and in clothing between the U.S. and UK/Europe. While parts of London (or Europe) can feel gritty, I've never felt threatened or intimidated, as I would in the U.S. There is an element of slovenly thuggery in parts of America. It's a product of the gross inequities in the U.S. and I think aggravates our separation and alieanation from one another.
In a more amusing observation, I noted that men my age wore stylish, fitted clothing and fashion shoes. Generally, Brits and Europeans dress better than Americans; who often stand out in sloppy attire - sweatshirts, t-shirts, gym shoes, etc. Not that Brits and Europeans don't dress like that (and it's sometimes amusing to see a Frenchman with a NY Yankees cap). But they do it with style. You wouldn't usually mistake an American for a European. But you might mistake a European for an American (depending on how they wear their jeans and gym shoes). Americans wear baggy, ill-fitting clothes and those ubiquitous billed hats. You just don't see European men wearing those, or scruffy beards and certainly never any cami!
Monday, April 1
No sleep for some reason. And up at 6:00 to get checked out to take the Tube at Victoria Station to Paddington and then to Heathrow and a yet unknown gauntlet of security for our trek to Croatia.
Heathrow is broken up into several enormous terminals. We arrived from Washington in Terminal 5. Now we were leaving for Zagreb from Terminal 3. It’s a teeming mob of humanity. And so many shops, restaurants, etc, you’d think we were in a shopping mall.
I’m struck by a sense of egalitarianism here. People seem more on a common level than the US and seem to treat one another more kindly and equally. I'm a tourist, of course, so I can't be sure. But there doesn’t seem to be the racial or ethnic barriers we have. There is always this underlying tension or confrontation in the U.S. that I don’t sense here. A kind of caste system that amplifies inequalities and resentment. I may see it because I live there. But Brits at least are so used to people of different types and origins - at least in major places like London and other places we’ve been.
When we got to Zagreb Martha arranged for an Uber to the hotel. Zagreb struck as a dowdy former communist country; a bit beat up with way too much graffiti. The Hotel Jagerhorn was nice enough, though the room was tiny. We wandered up the steps behind the hotel to the old town and parked at an outdoor cafe for a beer, then back to the hotel. For dinner we settled on an Italian restaurant- Carpaccios - at an outdoor table under an enclosure. Just in time because it started raining and we had to run back to the hotel in a downpour.
Tuesday, April 2
Our day started with an adequate but sparse breakfast at Hotel Jagerhorn (we were spoiled by the London Clermont). Then we packed up and got an Uber to the car rental office. I was pleasantly surprised by a nice Mercedes. When I asked the rental agent if they get many Americans, she said "yes, they come here for one day and then go to Split and Dubrovnik." It reinforced our choice of Rovinj. With Martha navigating, I spent some anxious moments getting out of Zagreb. Once done, though, the drive was quite easy and the scenery beautiful. The topography reminded me of Pennsylvania. We made one quick rest stop and I was struck by the cleanliness of the whole facility. Like every location in the Balkans, the restrooms was spotless and modern. And these rest stops even had pots of fresh flowers at the entrance!
Pulling into Rovinj, we were guided to a parking lot and met a fellow from the hotel who had a golf cart and took us to the hotel, the Angelo d'Oro. The old town of Rovinj is on a peninsula with narrow, cobblestone walkways. No cars or parking. The town was another score for Martha. I had expected a small village, but this was a lively 'terminally cute' town filled with shops surrounded by the beautiful Adriatic. With a marina and scores of outdoor cafes. This perfectly fulfilled our goal of the smaller, laid-back, less touristed part of our itinerary.
Our room was on the top floor - a four floor walk-up - tastefully appointed with a stunning view of the water.
After getting settled we headed out to explore and caught a drink at a cafe by the marina. After a stop back at the hotel we tried for some of the recommended restaurants, but had to settle for a more touristy choice near the marina. Another lesson learned. Make reservations.
Over the next several nights and mornings I was the audience for seagull dramas on the roof and outside our windows, with a crowd of them engaging in haughty arguments, laughter, gossip and wooing with pecurliar sounds that could have been confused with other birds or animals. For some reason the concept of screens has escaped the Europeans. We've noticed this on previous trips. Why, we're not sure. It seems like a simple concept. But almost everywhere, open windows mean access by flys, other bugs and, I feared in this instance, seagulls. The windows stayed only partially open.
Wednesday,April 3
Much like we had in France, we used the car to take an excursion to some charming villages in the countryside. We had a nice chat and tour of our hotel the night before by a Croatian staff member who'd worked for a cruise line and had been to U.S. cities. She recommended going to Brijuni Island - a national park and Tito's old resort - but that would involve a long drive and ferry trip. Instead we went Groznjan and Motovun; small villages in the Istrian peninsula. They were cute but since it was early in the season, most of the shops and galleries were closed. We did, though, buy some local wine and truffle spreads, which the area is known for.
Having learned our lesson the night before, we made reservations for Scuba on the waterfront. Adequate, but no wine selection. They did, though, give us complimentary shots of the locally made Istrian brandy. It piqued my interest and we bought a bottle a few nights later. We finished the evening next door at the Hotel Adriatic for a nightcap and dessert - mine a large crème brûlée.
Our staff host the previous night gave us some interesting information about Croatia and Europe, generally. Almost all Croatians learn English - in school and just culturally. She had worked for Celebrity cruises, so had visited the States. She confirmed that they simply don't have the kind of poverty we have. They don’t have the extremes in Europe. Everyone is on a closer level economically - something that I began to notice.
Thursday, April 4
Our last full day in Rovinj and we’d already fallen in love with it. It was a beautiful sunny day and we’d decided to just hang out around the town. We walked down by the church and toured the inside. Stopped at a cafe for gelato and coffee. Sat by the water and watched some swimmers. Had a sandwich and beer at a cafe overlooking the water. Along the way we’d made reservations at Gracianos overlooking the water and shared a large seafood platter. Finishing with a return to Hotel Adriatic for TWO big creme brûlée’s. A delightful relaxing day and we’d come to love the town.
Martha and I have entertained the idea of finding a location in Europe where we could park for several weeks/month. Just try to live there more like a local and do some excursions. We may have found it in Rovinj. A comfortable location with nearby attractions. It's a two hour ferry ride to Venice, an hour drive to Trieste, Italy with similar towns of Pula to the south and Piran, in Slovenia, to the north
Friday, April 5
We were terribly disappointed to leave Rovinj. We’d both fallen in love with it and began plotting how we could return for that longer stretch.
But our next stop was back in Zagreb. So not only were we leaving an idyllic seaside charmer; we were going back to a city that we found on first impressions to be dingy.
We said goodbye to our beautiful room overlooking the Adriatic. The hotel staff took us in a golfcart back to our rental car. I made the somewhat anxious drive back to return it; though I actually enjoyed the driving. It was a nice car and the scenery was beautiful.
Driving in Europe can seem intimidating. But the anticipation is far worse than the reality. Once on the road it's no different than driving in the U.S. To be sure, driving in the cities can be teeth-clenching....but it can be in an unfamiliar American city too. Our modern, wiz-bang, GPS navigation systems with sultry audio guides also take a lot of the guesswork and anxiety out of the experience.
At the rental shop in Zagreb we dropped off the car and called a taxi and checked into our hotel, the Amadria Park. Like many downtown hotels. A mix of tourists along with some conference of European web-security geeks. There was a slight wait for our room. The building used to be a bank. They offered us a tour of the vault, which they'd incorporated as part of a lounge. Maybe it was a special vault. But I've seen bank vaults. You can see them anywhere. I wanted our room.
Once there, it was fine. I was reminded again of the techno-requirement of putting the keycard in an interior slot to turn on electricity in the room. It's not in all hotels; but in the larger or more modern. I've never (yet) seen this in the U.S. The concept is great. It saves energy and you're not as likely to misplace your keycard. But the downside is that you can't charge your devices left there while you're out-and-about. A small thing; but the Europeans have the right idea.
After getting unpacked, we wandered through the city to explore before dinner. It was bustling and had more to it than we first thought, though still seemed a bit dingy. Dinner was at Vinodol and, as I expected, most menus here were more Austro-Hungarian influenced, meat and starchy stuff. Rovinj had more Italian-Venetian influence with more vegetables - just like their histories and feel. We walked around afterwards to some impressive buildings. It was a Friday night so the streets were hopping with loads of people in shops and outdoor cafes.
Saturday, April 6
We’d really intended to take the bus. We asked the concierge about it. Looked it up on a map. Pulled up the timetables. Then walked to the bus station.
But we wandered from one teller to another of different local and regional buses and couldn’t figure out how to get tickets and how to navigate the system. This was the only instance of a language barrier we experienced. Some of the staff didn't speak English. Then I looked it up on Uber. $15. That’s it. Forget the bus.
Our days destination was Samobor, a cute older town with some history. The driver dropped us off in the center of town surrounded by the ubiquitous cafes and vendor stalls. We wandered up a walk along a creek intending to see some castle ruins on a hill. But it became obvious it couldn’t be done. Strolling back and around the back of the town we discovered there wasn’t much there. We just settled in a cafe with a beer and water. Then down the street for a gelato, eaten on a park bench.
Wanting to see the town church before leaving, we discovered a wedding going on, so waited - about an hour - for it to end and see the celebration outside.
Then a taxi back - with a BLACK guy - from Ghana - who played some great African music on the radio. Really made me feel a connection noticing the roots of that music with Caribbean and American music.
Martha had noticed a Lebanese restaurant the night before - Byblos - so that was the evening's fare.
Sunday, April 7
Before the news of the day, some observations about Croatia.
Language: we had anticipated having a language barrier. Even prepping translater apps. No worry. Almost everyone in Croatia speaks English. All the signs and ads are either in English or are in both languages. I’ve repeatedly seen the phenomenon that English is the default second language across Europe. When a Croatian speaks to an Italian, it’s in English. It’s the language of casual service everywhere. When we came down for breakfast, the staffer said “ can I help you guys?” When I moved aside for a woman pushing a stroller on a narrow street, she said “thank you.” Not “Hvalla.” Because she didn’t know what language we spoke, she defaulted to English. We’re lucky, and sometimes I feel a little guilty, that we don’t have to learn any other language to navigate this continent.
There are no minorities: The cabbie the day before was striking because there are just no people of color anywhere. No noticeable ethnic groups. In fact, we’d heard that this is a terribly racist region, and thought I’d noticed it with a rare Indian family being dissed by a passerby.
Dingy look: While Zagreb has the same features of other European countries and they are very hospitable, there is a dinginess to it as well. To be sure, as we’d been told by the staff lady in Rovinj, there is more “leveling” in Croatian/European societies - and I’ve yet to find a really poor or dangerous neighborhood - there are lots of gray ugly concrete buildings that seem left over from the communist era or just from lack of imagination. Zagreb also seriously needs to get a handle on graffiti. It’s everywhere and to American eyes is a blight, which the Croatians may not appreciate. It doesn't seem to bother anyone, but it seriously detracts and adds to the feeling of dingy.
Gaudy sense of style - There is an element of Central/Eastern European style that favors glittery clothes and gilded furniture that most Westerners of any taste find gaudy. It’s in the hotels and on some of the people and smacks a westerner as trying too hard. It’s no wonder that Donald Trump married women who were Eastern Europeans.
70s-80s-90s pop music everywhere!!: in shops, hotels, cabs, cafes. It makes me think they gravitate to it without any sense of novelty. That's why I was intrigued with the cabbie’s African tunes. You don't often hear jazz, classical or newer pop music.
Since many Europeans like American culture and clothing, you sometimes can’t really tell nationality. You’ll see New York Yankees caps and Chicago Bulls jerseys -- though they often seem to do it in a more stylish way. Americans have a grungier look about them.
On this day, we strolled through Zagreb with the intention of taking it easy instead of rushing around and stressing. Now, as retired old farts, we’ve decided to keep travel to a more leisurely pace. During our working lives we, like everyone else, had short breaks for vacations, especially with kids, and rushed around in those periods so much we needed a vacation from vacation.
On this day, we eventually aimed for quirky attraction called the Museum of Broken Relationships. We didn’t expect much, but it was surprisingly good. There were individual items on display along with plaques that told a story. Many were about failed love affairs, but others were about lost parents or body parts or dreams. A very touching exposition on human loss.
From there we sat at a cafe for a beer/water and the hung out in our room until dinner. Martha was frustrated at the lack of vegetables at restaurants, so we picked an oriental fusion place nearby called Yezi. Very good. Probably the best meal we’d had so far. Tender juicy short ribs for me! But still not enough veggies for Marth.
Monday, April 8
Martha was up through the night with a UTI. We were scheduled to go on a tour of the Plitvice Lakes, but she was not going anywhere. And she needed an antibiotic. I went to the front desk and they called for a doctor to come to the hotel. He was there in an hour, at 8:30. He wrote a prescription. He charged 100 euros and I had to run out to an ATM. From there, I ran over to the park where we were to meet our tour bus to Plitvice. I cleared with the tour driver that we could go the following day (whew!-$240). Then I ran over to a pharmacy at the main square for Martha’s medicine. The pharmacy had several numbered, staffed stations. I took a number which they called in, like, 30 seconds. I gave the young pharmacist the prescription. She went to a drawer, pulled out the box, gave it to me along with some instructions for use and charged me about $8. I was in/out of there in in less than three minutes. I was back at the hotel by 9:30. In that short space of time Martha had seen a doctor, gotten a prescription and had it filled. Amazing. In the U.S. this would have been an all day production.
Martha needed to sleep after taking the meds, so I took off and wandered around town, stopping at a cafe for coffee, then back to the hotel where I sat in the lounge scrolling. Martha eventually came down and we ordered some sandwiches in the lounge.
In the evening, neither of us were hungry. I went out to an “Irish Pub” but after watching "futbol" over a beer I wasn't hungry either.
Kind of an unplanned empty day - but we counted on some of those anyway.
Tuesday, April 9
Anxious about whether we could still get the Plitvice Lakes tour we’d paid for, we got over to the park in time to meet “Evan,” our driver and guide. There was a family of four from London along for the tour - parents with two teenage boys - but it was just the six of us.
During the two hour drive to Plitvice Lakes, Evan performed a non-stop dialogue about Zagreb history, language, geology, architecture and sports. It would have been worth the trip just for the lessons. He liked to hear himself talk and he was on autopilot with his spiel, though when he took a breath we took the opportunity to ask questions.
At one point we were talking about the trend of milder winters and we mentioned coming from Chicago. That lit him up. “I go to Chicago at least once a year. I have a bunch of friends there in Oak Lawn.” It made sense. Chicago has whole communities of Eastern Europeans so I wasn’t surprised.
The lakes themselves were stunning. Magical. Almost like an elfin fairy tale. I’ve never seen anything like it and might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.
The long drive back was spent hanging on for dear life with Evan driving way beyond any speed limit (are they just suggestions here?)
He gave us his email when he dropped us off in case we could connect in Chi.
Martha went to a nearby grocery to pick up a dinner to eat in our hotel room. I went to the hotel bar, but they weren’t serving food, so I defaulted to…..McDonald’s. I just couldn’t see sitting in a cafe being waited on. MickyDs is as widespread in Europe as it is in the U.S., though they are more automated with touchscreens. No clerks at counters. And they're mostly patronized by young people.
Wednesday, April 10
The day of departure from Zagreb. After checking out we hauled our bags to the train station - 15 minutes or so.
We figured out the right track and I was surprised to find an old-style train configurate with compartments that had six seats.
The journey to Ljubljana was beautiful as the train meandered along a rushing river and the landscape became hillier. On arrival we had some difficulty figuring out the confusing Ljubljana train station but eventually got a cab to Lesar Hotel Angel.
The hotel was lovely. A boutique in an old building in the pedestrian district, it was decorated very tastefully with enough artsy and antique knick-knacks to feel sophisticated without being cluttered. The perfumed smell, like the heated bathroom floors, as with all the hotels, made it a cozy and serene home base.
After getting settled we started walking around and were jaw drop stunned. Almost like a fantasy movie set. The Ljubljana pedestrian district, the central part of town, was lined with beautiful cafes, shops, restaurants, all along historic and stately buildings. Much of the style was clearly an Austrian/German influence. And our hotel was perfectly located. Simply walk out the door and choose from a variety of restaurants or cafes.
We wandered along the busy canal lined with shops and cafes and after consulting some menus decided on 'The Restaurant' (associated with 'The Hotel') It was marvelous. One of the best meals we had on the trip.
Ljubljana- April 11
Martha bought a tourist pass that entitled us to a number of local attractions. We made our first stop at the castle overlooking the city. Taking a modern funicular to the top we were somewhat disappointed. It was almost all modern construction with little, if any, of the original structure remaining. All very redesigned, rebuilt and tailored for tourists. Part of the explanation was that it had originally been simply a military outpost and had never been home to any royalty. It also featured a puppetry museum that illustrated the history and artistry that's involved.
Along the way we stopped in a beautiful cathedral. These are usually obligatory stops and we've seen so many they rarely seem distinctive. But this was probably one of the most ornate I’ve ever seen. With supplemental organ pipes on the sides, we made a point of passing along to Patrick, our music director/organ-meister son.
The tourist cards also covered a boat ride down the river through town, going to the outskirts, which was not too far. Other than one other couple, we were the only passengers.
Wandered through the various points in town just amazed at what a clean, walkable and livable city it was. Only 300k, but cafes, shops and a vibrant atmosphere. The city structure caught my curiosity. Richmond, Virginia is about the same population, but about 64 square miles. In contrast, Ljubljana is 27 square miles with large tracks of public parks. It illustrated the more efficient land management and development.
We stumbled on the university, which partly explained why there were so many young people. We even stopped in the library for a restroom and was struck by its style and cleanliness.
We split up for a bit and I sat in a central cafe for a beer and to watch all the people; again just amazed at the structure and casual ease of European life. Why can’t America get this right.
Another attraction included with our tourist pass was the House of Illusions - and Martha was determined to get our money's worth. Somewhat disappointed. It was just a collection of optical illusions. I had expected more magic oriented displays. But you have to expect the mediocre with the good and it did have some amusing moments.
Dinner was at a lovely restaurant maybe 100 yards from our hotel - Julija - where I had a fantastic veal with a truffle sauce.
Friday, April 12 - Lake Bled
No visit to Slovenia would be complete without a trip to Lake Bled, probably the biggest tourist attraction in the country. The tower on the island with the mountains in the background is an iconic image.
We were told we could get a bus there and walked down to the bus/train station - only about 15 minutes. It was easy to figure out with some help from the ticket window. It also helped that everyone else was going there as well. It’s a routine bus run. Short wait and time enough for a latte. They're everywhere.
An hour plus ride and we saw some pretty country along the way. In fact, in the area villages looked very comfortable, affluent middle class - like so much of the country.
Walked around part of the lake. Our ticket included an “electric” boat ride out to the island - where we got ice cream and walked around for an hour. It was a bit commercialized, but in a lower-level European way. In the U.S. it would have been obscene.
Then jostled with a crowd for the next bus and a quick return. Too tired for a long dinner, we opted for a pizza house near the hotel, surrounded with amusing gaggles of young people at adjacent cafes and sidewalks.
Saturday, April 13
Ljubljana
There were a number of museums and parks not far (nothing is) that our passes covered, so that was the goal of the day.
This whole part of town, with beautiful buildings, museums and what looked like the business part of the city, were, again, neat, clean and charming. I really can’t say enough how impressed I was with Ljubljana.
First stop was the Museum of Graphic Arts. Sparse, creepy and dark, though in a lovely park setting.
Next, the Museum of Modern Art, which was dominated by dark political, social subject matter - and some over-the-top progressive expression, especially feminist, nude topics. Martha even thought is was strongly anti-male.
Then the Slovenian National Gallery. Oddly empty - eerie. All Slovenian art. Nothing from other artists or countries, and most of it pretty old. And nothing really exceptional.
I was starving, so Martha patiently waited while I had a beer and bland pizza at the museum café. We were the only ones there!
After a brief ice cream stop, we went to the home of Plecnik, a celebrated Slovenian architect whose house was a museum. It was another attraction included with the tourist pass. He was sort of a Slovenian Frank Lloyd Wright and had some notable designs in Ljubljana. Interesting and quirky.
Then a brief respite back at the hotel and dinner at a Thai restaurant. Mapped at about 450 meters (a quarter mile) away. Everything is very walkable.
Sunday, April 14
Last full day in Ljubljana and we’re at a bit of a loss on activities - which is ok the way we’ve begun to look at it.
There are huge parks in Ljubljana and we wandered around the Tivoli park and checked out an old artist's building that had been restored.
Then wandered back through residential areas, government buildings then back to the hotel. I went out to get a t-shirt and dragon piece. Marth did her own amble and then caught me having a beer at a cafe in the town center.
This is such a lovely town. We had our last dinner in Ljubljana at a burger place called Paninoteka, just off the riverwalk.
Monday, April 15
The odyssey to Vienna. Anxious about this trip from Ljubljana to Vienna. After sorting through options, we'd originally made train arrangements for this segment. It seemed the old New England quip that “you can’t get there from here” applied. Nothing direct. There was a change of trains to buses, etc., no matter what. Then Martha started getting daily “Gutten Tag” emails from OBB telling us that because of construction we were going to have some additional detours, with what looked like tight transfer times. We asked an old friend of Jamie's who lives in Berlin to help us translate, but we were anxious about the connections.
The first train from Ljubljana of one hour plus was not bad - again in a compartment train. But the jump from there to the next train in Villach, Austria was not clear and we barely made the connection. After resolving the seat reservation/selection process we settled in and realized that everyone on the train was moving to buses and then back to another train - all to Vienna. It worked out.
We called an Uber and checked into Hotel Kong Von Ungarn. A stylish older boutique hotel by Stephensplatz and a very old cathedral. After Ljubljana the big city was a little overwhelming.
We’d been wonderfully lucky with weather so far. But our luck had run out and it was now rainy and cold. We meandered through the streets through the drizzle and chill and ducked into a wine bar.
Later that evening Martha selected a vegan restaurant for dinner, which seemed inadequate in portion size. So dessert was at a more traditional looking Italian restaurant for tiramisu and wine.
Tuesday, April 16
The weather was no better. Martha had wisely decided to get tickets to an all-encompassing “Vienna Pass” that got us into dozens of attractions along with the “hop-on, hop-off” bus around the city. The traditional tourist route made sense in navigating a big city.
We walked and shivered down to the Opera house where the busses staged and then went to the Palace complex and the Sisi Museum. An interesting story of a reluctant princess, then queen, who became a recluse and was eventually assassinated. A legend was born and the Viennese make the commercial most of it. The palace apartments and museum were crowded and I became frustrated in the lack of clarity in the direction and management of these attractions. We bought tickets, but then had to get other tickets for a specific entry time. No one tells you this, nor is it explained in the tourist pass site or at the museum. We had to wander around and piece it together.
After the Sisi Museum/Palace tour we found a diversion in a wonderful cafe that had a mid-century vibe. Vienna is known for coffee and chocolate and the cafes specialize in the theme.
We then went to the Albertina art museum that had a quirky photo exhibit by Joel Sternfeld about America in the 70s-80s. The photos may have been a cultural and artistic curiosity to European viewers. But to me, they looked like my childhood. How odd to see parts of your own lifetime reinterpreted as art. The museum also had some wonderful pieces of high art by Monet, Chagall and Picasso. Finally, there was a exhibit on Roy Lichtenstein, an American graphic artist.
I convinced Martha to go for a restaurant called Porterhouse for dinner, near our hotel. Not much better on vegetables for her. The Viennese food is very meat/starch heavy. But I had a delicious rack of ribs!
At the next table were two young couples, one of whom had a small child. It was clear that one couple was German, the other French. Most likely academics. Their conversation flitted back and forth from German, French and English, which, again, seems like the common denominator.
Wednesday, April 17
Getting better on the lay of the land, we aimed for the Schonbrunn Palace, which is a major attraction. The 'summer residence' of the Hapsburg monarchs. The weather was again cold with periodic chilling cloudbursts. We arrived and again had to navigate a confusing ticket system and mob of people. While waiting for our time slot we found a table at a café and a warming cup of java.
The Museum and imperial apartments were impressive, though much a repeat of what we'd seen the day before. Elaborate, over-the-top elegance in a gilded late 19th century style. In some ways, Vienna seems stuck in a time warp. It was their period of empire and glory that they relish and monetize.
We then got back on the bus but separated, getting off a different stops. Martha went to the Belvedere art museum while I went to the Military History museum. My visit was as interesting for what it didn't have as for what it did. It focused on the military up to/through WWI, but made very little mention of WWII when the Austrians were in lockstep with Germany. One interesting feature was the uniform Archduke Ferdinand was wearing when he was assassinated (starting WWI), complete with bullet hole in the tunic neck, and the car he was in. Otherwise, a quiet, uncrowded attraction. I met Martha walking back and she'd taken some great pics of a wedding couple.
Walking back we decided to visit Mozart’s apartment - which turned out to be right behind our hotel. There's little actually known about his life there. He and his family lived in several places while in Vienna. They did, however, have some handwritten scores by him.
Wandering is one of the great pleasures of tourism. You never know what you'll find. In this last meander we strolled thorough some cute squares and decided on dinner at a small Italian restaurant- Il Pennollo - we'd passed along the way.
Thursday, April 19
Last full day in Vienna and the trip is winding down. Hard to believe it’s been over three weeks. So much has happened. Travel has many benefits. It exposes us to new sites, food and attractions, of course. And it opens our eyes and our minds to new people, places and ways of thinking and living. Maybe most importantly, it breaks up the routine that sucks our lives and opens up everyday things in a new experience so that they're not so easily taken for granted. Faced with a return to that routine when this trip will become a memory, the final days usually take on more melancholy relish.
Martha made a reservation for us to see the Spanish Riding School with their famous Lipizzaner stallions. It was a morning practice session, which are on weekdays. Actual performances are done on the weekends. Again, the directions were not entirely clear and we had to hustle between locations and directions. Finally seated, the horses and riders came out for exercise and instruction. It was an elegant oval-shaped facility ringed with seats and a sand base. No photos were allowed. A request that was honored by everyone. There were two sets of trainings with five horses each with riders putting them through specific exercises. It was a fascinating institution. The Spanish Riding School has been around for 460 years. All the horses are stallions. The mares are kept at a breeding farm. Each horse learns very specific techniques and is not ready to perform them for 5-8 years (!) No one horse does everything. The riders also go through rigorous and long training. Impressive both in art and discipline.
Martha's sister-in-law told her about a novel architectural attraction and we took the bus to the general area and walked through the neighborhoods to find it. Hundertwasser House was designed by Friedensreich Hundertwasser whose focus was unconventional, non-linear creations. The building looked it. It reminded me of the Gaudi houses in Barcelona. A little cartoonish, but fun and certainly brave. It's enough of an attraction that there's a whole cove of shops - Hundertwasser Village - across the street dedicated to the founding concepts. And, of course, I bought a t-shirt.
We wandered back along the Danube, meandering towards the hotel and taking in the graffiti (sending to Jamie), restaurants and shops along the way. The afternoon was partially spent packing for the next day's flight to London.
Friday, April 20
Girded for a long day, we checked out of the Hotel Kong Von Ungarn with an Uber to the Vienna airport. Like most airports, it was a good distance from the downtown and those rides offer a glimpse of what the city is for residents. Apartment blocks, shopping centers, businesses and, closer to the airport, big industrial sites.
Check-in was remarkably easy, though the security was clumsy. Again, the Austrians may have efficient systems - but they’re not well explained. I kept muttering to myself “as clear as mud” about the directions for navigating anything in this city.
The flight up to London was cramped, but uneventful. We took the Elizabeth line to Paddington and then the Circle line down to South Kensington station and walked the few blocks to the Rembrandt Hotel on Cromwell Road. We were a bit disappointed in the place. Not bad really, but just a bit small and bland. Kinda Holiday-Innish and very different from the cozy places we’d been in so far. Whatever. It was only two nights; and the last two.
We were tired and starving, so got drinks and then dinner in the hotel bar. And just in time as the heavens opened up while we sat there viewing the rain pound the skylights.
Saturday, April 21
The breakfast room in the morning was a mob scene with tight quarters. So much more hectic than mornings over the previous few weeks.
Since it was across the street, we went to the Victoria and Albert Museum and marveled at how much was there. This was a testament to the depth and breadth of British history and conquest. I don’t think there is anyplace in the world that could possibly have similar collections. It, combined with the British Museum and others, really cover the scope of civilization.
As the clock reached the 24-hour mark before the trip home, we sat in the lobby and checked-in for the flight and seats.
Then we trundled over to Hyde Park and headed toward Kensington Palace. Again, it was chilly and the walk was somewhat aimless. Though it was attractive, walking along Palace Avenue and the embassies. Eventually, my target was the Churchill Arms, a renowned pub celebrated in Instagram posts. We found it. Predictably surrounded by tourists and packed.
Along the way I was dazzled by the charming streets and row houses in the Kensington area, like so much of London. We moved on and found a more conventional pub (another Green King version) where I had one beer.
Moving on, we ended up back near the Kensington tube stop where we split up. I went to another pub (not Green King) and Martha found someplace else to relax. Knowing we were about to go home, we were getting tired and unmotivated for any more site-seeing.
That evening we went to our final dinner abroad at a French place I’d seen in the vicinity that we both enjoyed. Especially watching an odd couple; a middle aged gentleman and his date (?), an only slightly younger woman in hot pants and leg tattoos that embarrassed us to even look at. Weird. Sometimes London is like New York. You see all kinds.
Sunday, April 22
The long complicated slog home was intimidating. It had multiple legs and was fraught with possible snags.
We grabbed an early breakfast in the lounge and beat the crowds. But while packing Martha got a notice that our flight was being delayed from 12.30 to 2:30. Ok, so we hung out and delayed leaving. We slogged down to South Kensington station and headed to Paddington; discovering part way that we’d gotten on the wrong train and had to switch. Then at Paddington we got a scare about construction on the line, eventually jumping on an Elizabeth line to Heathrow, only to discover that we’d once again gotten on the wrong train. My fault. But just had to wait at a station until the right one came along
Heathrow Terminal 5 is said to be the largest in the world. I believe it. Intimidating. Arriving at 12.00 we were terrified to see that our flight was still listed on the board as leaving at 12:30(?!?) And a British Airways attendant seemed to confirm it. We were panicked! Hurriedly got our bags checked and they had us rush down to security. After that gauntlet we confirmed that it wasn’t set to leave until 2.30, so we had time to sit in a restaurant for a lunch.
At the gate we discovered the flight was further delayed because it had arrived late from Houston. Then it was delayed further because of a broken air conditioning system. Finally we boarded and it was delayed with further air conditioning issues. When we finally pushed away it was about 4:30, some four hours after scheduled departure.
We arrived back at Dulles at about 10:30 pm, six hours later than scheduled. Patrick had intended to drive up from Richmond and get us, but it was now too late. We got an Uber and were driven back home - at the cost of $180 - and pulled up about 12:30 am
We hadn't thought to bring a key to get in our house. Martha had asked our nextdoor neighbor, Ricki, to put his spare key under our mat. He put the wrong key there, so I had to bang on his door and wake him up. An exhausing and slightly embarrassing end to a memorable journey.
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