Day 34 - Into Slovenia! - 100km

I'm done with vanity - my eyes are getting sore from the cold wind.

Ciao Italia, Živjo Slovenja!

As soon as I hit Slovenia I started into rolling hills, rural villages and thankfully, much less traffic. I had this 850m climb to look forward to and I wanted to get over it and out of the deep snow before camping. A lycra-clad cyclist pulled up alongside me for a chat. This was nice too, most of them consider themselves a breed apart. He assured me that Ljubljana was only a 4 hour ride away and all downhill once over the top. I was sceptical, I don't think he realised that I climbed at little more than walking pace. Even so, I decided to go for it because I had no front light for the bike with my generator problem.

This is Valter who I chatted too about his vines. I was interested in his comfy-looking trolley. He'd modified to raise his leg as he had a DVT recently.

Everyone is pruning something or other at the moment. I met Valter pruning his vines. We had a connection because his daughter was studying in Lisbon and had walked the Caminho de Santiago, north from Porto.He produces very fine wine but at 15 euros a bottle a little beyond my budget.

Valter and his wife, Ines.A lovely couple who invited me to stay for dinner and to camp. I can't believe I said I couldn't,  that I was in to much of a rush!! What's happening to me!

It was a laborious climb and I was feeling a bit jaded towards the top, running out of daylight too, so no option but to press on.

Climbing, climbing....A typical Slovenian village

I reach the summit, or so I thought. It went on yo-yoing for another 10km before deciding to head down. 

My room is a converted cell

After the descent, and now in total darkness I spot a bike shop still open where I bought a front light. The guy said it was only 35 km to Ljubljana and all downhill, so I relaxed, even stopping at a bus stop to munch my way through a sandwich. And so it was that I arrived at Celica which bills itself as the 'World's No 1 hippest hostel', and it probably is. It's a former political prison converted by a co-operative of artists. Suffice to say Tuesday night is concert and jam session night in the bar and it was rammed. Two beers and I was in the groove, my face glowing red from over-exposure to the elements. The jamming was absolutely brilliant,  best described as a Mediterrannean fusion of funk and jazz.

Tonight (Thursday) is all you can eat Mexican tortillas. That should set me up for tomorrow! I start the leg to Belgrade which is 593 km and 3,555 m of climb away, and I expect to be there around the 13th March. I'm half-way to Beirut now so feeling quite bullish.

Corollary:
My hands suffer a lot in the wet and cold, the skin splits, always has done. So, I religiously apply moisturiser to reduce the damage. I don't know if it was the beer or fatigue but last thing at night I meticulously massaged toothpaste into my hands.