I went for a Hike. No, seriously.

Last week James and I decided it was time to do what all Slovenians seem to spend their free time doing, namely, trudge up an Alp. So we caught the two hour bus ride to Bohinj, an Alpine valley in north-central Slovenia, which just so happens to be one of the most catch-in-the-throat pretty places I've ever seen. We were somewhat ill-prepared for said hiking up a mountain (case in point: I was wearing black ballet flats, which do not have such good grip at a 45 degree angle). But we were perfectly prepared for the more important part of the trip, namely, swimming in the lake, and so after working up a sweat walking along Mostnice Gorge for two hours we tripped back down to the turquoise blue waters of Bohinjsko Jezero and grabbed us a spot on the (pebbly) beach, amongst the perma-tanned Slovenian mums and althetic looking stari papi.

When I say we went hiking along Mostnice Gorge, I have to clarify and explain that we got lost looking for Mostnice, and only really found it 15 mintues before our descent to the lake. That said, our amble in search of the gorge was pretty nonetheless, particularly as we started hiking up Mount Vogel (an actual Alp) which we only abandoned due to its increasing strenuousness, probably a good thing as otherwise we would have ended up half way to a ski resort. I was once again reminded of how intense Europeans are when it comes to outdoor pursuits (my black flats were to be compared with other hikers big brown boots, hiking poles, state of the art backpacks and special sweat absorbing band thingys flung all over their bodies) which was amusing and intimadating in equal measure. Once we found the gorge, we were disappointed to discover we couldn't get down to the emerald green water running through it (that said, I guess precipitous depth is the point of a gorge really) but we did have an awesome picnic by one of the crevices, and the strolled along it down to where the water flattened out and we could get close. Unfortunately, this just happened to occur in the middle of some poor Slovenia farmer's field, which we willfully trudged through, only realizing our mistake when we came across a picturesque looking Alpine farmhouse. At that point we hightailed it out of there, afraid of a pitchfork weilding farmer or worse, a cow, and ended up in the village of Stara Fuzina, home to the Slovenian Alpine DairyMuseum (which we resisted going in to with difficulty, as I'm sure you can imagine). Luckily, Stara Fuzina was only 10 minutes from the shores of Lake Bohinj so deciding it was time for a swim, we headed down and plunged into the pleasantly warm and incredibly picturesque waters of the valley.

Apart from adventures with cows and lakes, Slovenia has lived up to its reputation of being somewhat sleepy for us, which is perfect as I want to absorb as many zen relaxation vibes as possible before plunging back into hardcore work mode in a few weeks. Highlights of the day continue to be going out for coffee or wine (even better when its catching up with a friend, as we did last night with the lovely Carolin, a fellow graduate student here doing research) and wandering around the old town, up to the castle, and back via the gorgeous baroque churches that are so numerous you basically trip over them going to the corner store. On the weekend James and I hit up the Slovenian Museum of Modern Art which, while no MOMA, was pretty cool, particulary if you have an interest in Yugoslav cultural history, which luckily James does. So he was able to explain the significance of the crazy performance art videos we saw from the 60s and 70s (lesson: Marina Abramovic totally came out of a Yugoslav scene that was rather packed with people doing even cooler stuff than her) and I was able to admire the socialist realist sculpture from the 40s and 50s and compare it with the Soviet stuff I've seen in the marvellous New Tretiakov in Moscow. Visting the Museum of Modern Art also inspired familiar irritation with the author of Lonely Planet guides - the Slovenia guide dude is clearly a philistine, as he described the beautiful modernist building which houses it as 'ugly and bleak' or something. Perhaps compared to the same old Habsburg confections that surround it (not that theres anything wrong with them...) but the building was a gorgeous example of mid century architecture and just the kind of cool, soothing, white-walled and open-spaces environment you go to a modern art gallery for. Humph. Rant alert: I don't know why guide books employ people to write on post-socialist countries who have not an inkling of interest in the artistic and cultural legacy of the twentieth century in Eastern Europe and just want to seek out vestiges of the imperial past. Which is fine, but kind of one sided. Just sayin'.