ballin with curls & octavia my gurl

Bonjourno, ciao ciao, what's up, I'm in Italia!

It is spectacular here, and spectacularly hot. I got in a few days ago, and arrived into Trieste on a mad winding downhill mountain slope. Drivers aren't so considerate here, to cyclists, and neither are the mosquitoes. Seriously, they are like devil missiles. They lull one into a false sense of security and then BAM, they plummet down with full force and rip you to pieces. They have a whinier drone than others I've come across, and suck blood with a vicious voracity. Truly.

But Trieste is nice! My first time by the sea on this wee odyssea of mine. Unfortunately there were no beaches there, but there was a lovely piazza with humming cafés, gelaterias and American tourists. The town is apparently inhabited for the most part by pensioners and children, and boy do they know how to sunbathe. This, I learnt not only from trundling round the place, but more definitively from my star host for the night, fab Sean! He is an American science writer, who massively digs science fiction. We had delicious pizzas and a litre of white wine to share, got merry and talked various talks. He recommends Octavia Butler. A cracking fellow. Thanks Sean, for your hospitality.

This here is the part of town where the bathers go to catch the sun (as if its penetrating rays aren't ubiquitous enough). The local folk bring a towel and portable radio, and set themselves up for the day.

I left Trieste feeling relatively fresh, on a road that hugged the coast for some miles, and was immediately unrefreshed. I made it just over half way to Venice, to a town called Portogruaro, having sweated my own eyeballs out my arse, and wandered about a bit. Barmy place, got a leaning tower and all the rest. Then, having discovered the local area to be fairly unaccommodating to travelling tent-livers such as myself, I sent a few requests out, in search of a couch or garden. And lo, a man accepted. Daniele picked me up from in front of the church in Tiglio Veneto at around 9pm, and led me over to his place. I was expecting to camp in the garden, as that was the condition of his acceptance. When we arrived, however, his partner welcomed me into the house with a grin and open arms, showed me upstairs to my ROOM with double bed, the bathroom with delicious shower, gave me towels and an air conditioning unit for my room, and offered me pasta. I accept! I said. We feasted - pasta, tomatoes, aubergines, Italiano ham, salad, scrumptious cheese, wine, etc. Then, oh then, she gave me a cherry flavoured lolly and made us coffees, and THEN dished out giant, voluptuous bowls of watermelon and dark chocolate. Heavens above. I know. It was like a dream. We talked about Italian and British politics (all of Europe is pissed off with the Brits for our blindingly stoopid blunder, and rightly so), watched a bit of telly and then I went to bed. Spent, happy, overflowing with gratitude and wonder. What champions.

Oh, breakfast was a joy as well. Jee bus.

So then I left, feeling chipper as you like, for Venice. Here is the giant bridge which crosses to it!

I found Venice to be a labyrinthine sprawl of winding, cutesy streets and an impossible network of never-ending canals. It was fun to gambol around, getting lost amidst the columns and bridges, but really it was too hot and heavily inundated with tourists to be purely enjoyable. Obviously I'm just one of the crowd myself, but they don't half grate when there are a trillion of them.

The palace was stunning, as expected, though it took a while to find. You're not allowed to sit on the floor in the main square, apparently. People spit there so it's forbidden.

Like I say, very pretty, but overwhelmingly busy. And I got the feeling that everyone there was thinking the same thing. A whole crowd bitter with itself. And selfie sticks, everywhere, held by singles and couples and sticking out of walls and spewing in streams from the sea.

However, yes it was very pretty.

I camped in a park just across from the old town, in quite a lovely spot. At 7am I was rudely awakened by the dustman I mean torrential downpour, which persisted in fits and spurts until nearly one o'clock. This slowed me down somewhat, as the morning is by far the best time for cycling. It steadily warms up until about 2pm, from which time it is scorching (33-37 degrees usually) until 8 or 9. However, (irregardless) I managed to make up time, and continued to zoom intermittently until evening. Reflecting on the week's adventures thus far, I had to conclude that I had been ballin.

I saw a mighty garden, for instance - though wasn't allowed to touch.

I was gawped at by this grey-haired loser.

And set foot in two of the most stupendously majestic buildings I've ever seen. Both in Padua (or Padover), which really is a gorgeous place. The basilica there is a monumentally awesome construction, and the other big building there is also very big and very special. One didn't allow photos, so I didn't push my luck. There was a liturgy happening, all serene, atmospheric and saturated with a really grandiose feeling of religiousness (...to be expected). The alcoves there, each the size of a small house, are adorned with incredible paintings and murals. Very good walkabout.

After Padua, I slept in an alright place with a magnificent view, of a regional park with lovely big hills and many a sunset. Here I drank my wine and ate bread and cheese.

Getting into Verona was a challenge - I had to engage two oversized knights in a vicious battle. Fortunately, I emerged the victor, but I wasn't left unscathed, no. I've got a bit of a cut on my left shin.

The Colosseum there is mega, and the whole city is a wondrous sight to behold. No wonder Marlowe wrote a play set there.

The streets are kind of a bit like Venice's (sorry if that offends any Italian street-connoisseurs), but are wider and less flooded with hapless tourist energy. The people there lounge with purpose, converse with vivacity or beautiful whimsicality. The aperol spritz is well tasty.

A picture of picturesqueness, no doubt.

I headed out of the city towards evening, in order to secure for myself a swell camping spot. I loaded up on brioches and nectarines at a hypermarket , in one of the most intense shopping experiences of my life, and followed the river north. In a wee town about 10km from Verona, I stumbled upon another summer festival! A young rock/cover band played a brill setlist, which included Suck My Kiss, Another One Bites the Dust and Come Together. Well done them. Vino was 50 cents a beaker and so I had plenty. I slept next to a rather sinister looking abandoned house, and woke up this morning with cream cheese on my pillow. Hmm.

Today, in the way to Trento (where I am now), I was promised 500 million boobies straight ahead. I knew it couldn't be that easy.

And I was right. This honker was in my way.

And this lot (today has been a fantastic day for cycling).

The combination of green river meandering like a giant grass snake through mountains jutting from the earth like another metaphor, really hit the sweet spot.

And Trento, too, is tres bien. Great job Italy! Couple more days of you and then I'll be in Liechtenstein. Now, though, I'm going to go and find a place to swim.

Arrivederci!

Slovenia is Paradise

Greetings from (now) Slovenia! But first, let me tell you how I got here. That sign is in fact for Croatia, so if you got that then you passed the first test. For those of you who dig on a pub quiz, Croatia's country code is HR. Maybe you all knew that. I didn't.

Now, I know it's been longer than usual since my last post. I have lots of photos and places and experiences to get through right now so here goes.

Cycling through Croatia really was stunning but it also really was a hot slog. One might even call it a long teng. However, I knew I had about 100km to go from Letenye (on the border) to Zagreb, and I wanted to keep to my rather whimsically and carelessly constructed schedule, so I put my head between my legs and brummed.

Eventually, after many twists and turns through glorious hills and mountainous dales, weaving between mammoths on either side, I arrived in Zagreb by about 5pm! I was feeling quite chuffed, and was very hungry, so I did what at the time seemed like the most sensible thing to do - I drank a beer and explored the hilliest, most steepest part of the city. And it was beautiful!

There's this expansive cemetery, lined on one side by giant archways and historical corridors. I swerved swiftly, yet sensitively, through its gangways, marvelling at its sheer size. Check out the foliage on that!

From up in the more touristy side of the city, all old, worn and full of character, I could see almost the whole city. There was an old gentleman twiddling away on a guitar up there too, which lent the scene an idyllic serenity that one really wants when one arrives at a place.

Coming down from the old town, delirious with hunger, I stopped off in the first groovy looking eatery I could find, and ordered a Quattro Formaggi pizza. It was literally the biggest pizza I'd ever seen! Probably 50cm in diameter, maybe more. Didn't even nearly fit on the plate. I gulped it down and felt morbidly full, so bit the proverbial bullet and nipped over to the cheapest hostel in town. Hostel54!

On the way I struck architectural gold, with this beauty:

And then slept soundly, though sweatily, on the top floor. Breakfast was brilliant. So, to Slovenia!

Slovenia has been a dream. I didn't know what to expect, as I'd been pleasantly surprised by Zagreb (I thought it would be very industrial and not very green, for some reason - how wrong I was!). I was welcomed by luscious pine hills and fabulous sunshine. True, these both were plentiful in Croatia, but the sun felt slightly less oppressive here, and the hills less knee-buckling. Views were invariably spectacular, the roads largely smooth, and occupied with many a joyful cyclist!

I'd seen lots of these signs throughout the Czech Republic and failed to take any photos of them. So, here's for you, Brod.

My first major stopover in Slovenia was by the Krka River, which I have come to love oh so much. This dear little village, by the humble name of Kostanjerica, is perhaps the most perfectly self-contained and joyous settlement I've spent any time in. The river's tributaries are lined with wooden boats, and crossed by lovely timber-stilt bridges. The whole river is safe swim, refreshingly cool and full of families! So many smiles.

I bathed/swam twice in this village, and decided to chill a bit. I got well stuck into Laurie Lee too, whose adventures are ruddy well stunning, enrapturing, and make me want to write better.

Here, the sun set, and I slept just around the corner.

Then I was back on the gorgeous roads for a gentle morning, and then stumbled across Zuzemberk! which is one of my favourite place names.

It also has a SWEET castle, which you can stroll around to your heart's content. Here's what it looks like from the bottom:

And here, conveniently, from the top! What a cute little town! Nestled neatly in the Slovenian pine hills, without worry nor qualm.

Back on the road that afternoon, I found a bit where it was necessary to walk. This was a bit of a joke really, but I found it quite satisfying, huffing and puffing away.

Once at the top, though, I found a place to rest my head, and really the most picturesque view. Here, I decided it was time to tuck into THIS Slovenian beaut:

After all, it's traditional, and I felt in need of protein. It's oddly textured, somewhere between ham, pátê, mousse and jelly. As far as I know, you're supposed to cut right into it, and slice it into sandwiches. So that's what I did! Thumbs up for cheap sustenance. I also discovered the next morning (this morning) that these pseudo-sausages come in monstrous proportions. In big supermarkets, you can get them about two feet long and a foot in diameter. I know. It's ridiculous. But some people must get through a lot.

This was my 7am alarm today, completely dry of dew and ready to enter Ljubljana.

On the way I passed a walkway which only admits parents of children who have the head of a duck, beak trained on the blistering sun. Hmm.

I also found that there is a town called Ig! (another one for the fam)

Entering Ljubljana was less stressful than eating a banana. And residents here seem to have the right ideas.

There's also a honking great castle here, so I had to go up that. Here's the view out one side.

And again, as if by magic, the view from the other side. What? What's that down there in the main plaza? Is that what I think it is -

a GIANT WATERSLIDE??? Yes it is. It's Ljubljana Festival time - all summer - and this thing's blasting out summer bangers to a crowd of bewildered revellers, each more intoxicated with happiness than the last.

I've found Ljubljana to be a bit of a dream city. Bumbling by in its modest way, its river is lined with luverly outdoor cafés and market stalls selling trinkets, souvenirs and plush fruits. The centre's entirely pedestrianised, and everyone here seems to be at peace. The cool jives with the historical, and ain't it sweet.

There's a zone which produces its own rain, Ljubljana's own micromicroclimate. Here, a man is racked with a totalising desire to let free all those pent up emotions. He bops to his own rhythm.

Even the mannequins are enjoying themselves!

And it's good to see the Slovenians selling their wares more confidently than the citizens of Brno (there's one to see who's been with me from the beginning).

Slovenia is a member of the EU, uses the euro, and recycles like a hero, all over the country. Half the city is taken up by humongous Tivoli Park, which actually has more trees than there are grains of sand in a unicorn.

For this reason, among others, it was awarded Europe's Greenest City, 2016! Congratulations Ljubljana, you evergreen paradise.

See you later, yeah?