It is morning in the small village of Bohinj. We have not yet planned our route, despite pulling out the map on several occasions and using our finger to trace several paths thought the green forests and into onto granite cities high above the valley.
We spent the night at a small roadside restaurant and hotel. The scenery is familiar, even if the native language is not. Gray haired farmers cut down alpine grass and lay it across frames to dry – food for the cows during the winter. Small yellow, white, and purple flowers are sprinkled across every field. Onion-topped churches with grandly exterior walls tell stories of past Slovenian heroes or saints.
Ahhh, real bread and cheese. There may be no culinary delight I miss so intensely as the simple pleasure of the hearty grained bread and fresh cheese of the Alps. There is no substitute in the US.
Paul and I saved a bit of cash by buying a small jar of pasta sauce and a bag of tortellini, which we prepared by the lake. Yum.
Oh, and the picture below of the locks? There is a bridge in Ljubljana where love struck couples come to seal their future. They attach a lock with their names to the bridge. Hundreds of locks were affixed to every possible place on the bridge.
Ok, well, we may not have cell coverage for the next 6 days. So, maybe just a SPOT update from there on out. bye!