Today we had a driver take us to Zagreb. This is almost always a good thing to write I would imagine.

The northern Italian plains have been farmed for millennia and have been conquered by a host of rulers, most recently Burger King’s roadside cafes. A city like Trieste had changed hands a number of times last century alone, and it’s not even that appealing. (It’s little wonder no-one has attempted to resume Walloon or Thagoona as part of their empire in the last 200 years – Trieste is at least more enticing than those two as a prize of conquest. You can get a decent coffee in Trieste for one.)
The EU has pumped a great deal of money into the infrastructure of its newest members, and Slovenia has benefited greatly. The Slovenian freeway we travelled on was only two years old, built with German money and by Italian engineers. The countryside is stunning. The Slovenians say you know you are in Slovenia when, from wherever you stand, you can see 7 church steeples. Gattonians say, from wherever you stand, you can see seven relatives. I think the Slovenians stole the saying from Gatton.
A Slovenian driver some years ago recalled day trips from a very poor Slovenia to Trieste, where their parents would dress them in layers of western brands of clothing to take back for resale, and thus pay for a holiday at the coast. Only Slovenians could travel freely to Italy from Tito’s Yugoslavia, but they always had to leave one family member behind as security. Lucie, my TA from work, travelled from Prague to Italy in a suitcase allowing her family to escape Czechoslovakia during the cold war. She was the insurance, the one that was supposed to be left behind with the authorities.
We then arrived in ‘The Land Without Vowels’, and will spend the next 4 nights in Zagreb. Tonight we will just enjoy wandering and wondering whilst we search for a place to celebrate M’Lady’s birthday, so I’d better let you go Scotty as Zagreb beckons

Farley C-S