9 days in Slovenia and a taste of Trieste

Welcome back for another installment of my travel blog. I've been writing this for long enough that I probably should be an 'influencer' by now. But for some reason there aren't any companies getting in touch asking me to flog products for them on my Instagram account with 200 or so followers. Must try harder.

This trip took in Slovenia, starting in Ljubljana, where we hired a car and headed to lakes Bled and Bohinj for a bit of hiking. Then northwards to the Vrsic Pass, an amazing mountain road that reaches an altitude of 1,611 metres. Back down the other side of the mountain to Bovec for a bit of white water rafting, followed by the Skocjan Caves, Portoroz and Piran. Then home from Trieste.

Joining me for most of this trip was my parents' second-born, Jason (also known as my brother). Other than a trip to Bruges for our mum's 60th, we've never really been on holiday together, so it was time to put our sibling relationship to the test and see if we could handle several days on the road together.

Highlights of the trip included:

• Wandering around Ljubljana and it's pedestrianised Old Town, stopping for a coffee here or a beer there
• Eating a horse steak in Lubljana. Very tasty and barely distinguishable from beef, so I can see how that whole horsemeat "scandal" happened in the UK a few years ago. The only scandal is that I didn't know how good horse tastes until now
• Exploring the area surrounding Lake Bohinj despite a day of nearly non-stop rain. It's much less crowded than Lake Bled, which has built a lot of hotels and restaurants around the lake
• Driving over the Vrsic Pass in Triglav National Park. Non-stop incredible scenery for a couple of hours. Saw a few people cycling it too, crazy bastards
• The Skocjan Caves in south-west Slovenia. Enormous cave network with a giant canyon running through it. Looks like something out of Indiana Jones or that place the goblins live in The Hobbit. They won't let you take photos down there, which is actually quite refreshing and it's so dark they probably wouldn't come out well anyway
• Renting an e-bike in Portoroz and cycling along Slovenia's small stretch of coast to Izola and Koper
• Exploring Piran and getting caught in a massive hailstorm while at the top of the town's clocktower

If you're thinking of visiting Slovenia yourself, I'd definitely recommend it. Ljubljana is ideal for a long weekend break and if you have the time to go further afield, the lakes at Bohinj and Bled are only about an hour's drive away. If you go in April like I did, it helps to have flexible plans if rain makes exploring the great outdoors more challenging!

Ljubljana Castle sits on top of a big hill overlooking the city. It's free to have a wander round the castle and its walls, you'll only need to pay if you want to see the museum inside.

The slightly terrifying door of the Church of St Nicholas. Looks like the bishops are coming out of the door at you.

Continuing the theme of doors, this one caught my eye in the Old Town, just by the river. Ljubljana's a great city to wander aimlessly around if you're in a picture-taking mood. 

Multi-coloured buildings on the northern side of the Ljubljanic River which dissects the city.

Bled Island in the middle of Lake Bled. This is about as close as we got on a very drizzly day, although boats were taking plenty of umbrella wielding groups out to the island. In my opinion, Bled's a bit too built up with hotels and various ways to extract money from tourists, whereas Bohinj is a bit more relaxed and nature-y. (Don't try and tell me nature-y isn't a word, I'm a journalist.) 

It's hard to get that 'hey look at me in front of a waterfall shot' when the waterfall is running so powerfully (caused by snow melting and rainfall) that you get soaked standing anywhere near it.

A fisherman trying to catch some dinner on the shores of Lake Bohinj. We got so wet that day we might as well have joined him in the lake. 

Jason goes for a wander near the top of the Vrsic Pass in Triglav National Park. I do have a photo where he's facing the camera but I'll spare you the horror in case you're eating dinner while reading this. 

 The Russian Chapel on the way up the Vrsic Pass, which was built by Russian prisoners of war during WW1.

With the steel cables and metal posts you'd think this bridge was pretty solid but you'd be wrong. Some of the wooden planks looked like they'd give way to a heavier man than myself. Pretty though.

This is the small town of Kanal, which spans the Soča River, about an hour south of Bovec. Don't know if there's much here other than a photogenic river and bridge. The milky-blue colour of the river was certainly something I hadn't seen before.

Salt flats at Strunjan near Portoroz. Back in the days of the Romans, Piran and Portoroz made their money exporting salt and are still doing so today. There's also a much bigger salt farm at Secovlje with a museum, spa and shop if you're a big salt enthusiast.

Nice little courtyard in Izola on the coast of Slovenia. It's a small town that probably gets overlooked in favour of Koper or Piran by a lot of tourists, but definitely worth a detour.

An olive grove near Portoroz. Some areas of western Slovenia are covered in vineyards and olive trees, which makes sense as it borders Italy and shares a similar climate. It also means that in some places you can get a glass of good wine for €1. Yes please. 

The town square in Piran. If I'd visited in the traditional summer months, I'd have got a lot more blue sky in photos but then it would also have been heaving with visitors, so on balance the mixed bag of weather probably wasn't such a bad thing.

Climbed the clock tower in Piran to get this photo just before a full on hailstorm kicked off. Thunder, wind, the lot. Made for some very dramatic views until the weather got so bad I had to abandon my position and head back down to shelter.

A video illustrating just how much rain and hail there was. According to Google Translate,  Slovenian for 'raining cats and dogs' is 'dežujejo mačke in psi'. (Chances are it doesn't actually translate into Slovenian and that phrase is gibberish, but I'm trying to educate AND entertain).

Old guy fishing on the end of a small pier in Piran after sunset. In case you can't see his fishing rod and it looks like he's just staring wistfully out to sea, I can assure you he was fishing.

Piazza Unita d'Italia in Trieste. Only got to spend a day here but it seemed like there was plenty to do if I'd had more time. Loads of good restaurants for a start, plus museums, galleries and the nearby town of Prosecco.

The famous Irish writer James Joyce lived in Trieste twice back in the early 1900s, so he must have been charmed by it. The city claims he wrote part of Ulysses here, but then every cafe in Edinburgh will tell you JK Rowling wrote part of Harry Potter there, so believe what you want to believe.

Fun fact: Slovenia was my 52nd country. I use an app called Been to keep track of where I've been - you can get it for Android here or iPhone here. Because, for some unknown reason, I'm still not an influencer, I won't be getting any money for telling you about Been but you might find it helpful too.

Euro Man Voyage 2011

Day 1 – Belgium and Holland

So, setting off from Chandlers Ford at about 9.30am on Sunday, the world was our oyster. Or at least Europe was. The channel tunnel to Calais was our first destination.

Having crossed into France and got to Belgium, we needed somewhere to stop for lunch. The choice was between a town called Diksmuide, and a town with a much less amusing name. An easy choice was made.

In the evening we stayed on a Botel (Boat-Hotel) in Maastricht, Holland, run by a man who kept a large basket of eggs on the reception desk. In case of some egg based emergency perhaps. Despite it being a Sunday night, we managed to find a blues bar that was populated mainly by chain smoking old men.

Day 2 – Luxembourg and France

Leaving the Botel behind and off to Luxembourg for lunch. And whilst there we picked up Alistair Gill, aka the International Gentleman Traveller. He's a man that the Horton clan like to meet up with in foreign lands. And it's a good job we did, because an unscheduled stop in Strasbourg was necessitated by a stone putting a bloody great crack in the windscreen of our chariot.

Happily, Strasbourg turned out to be a lovely place. We ate in a restaurant that had it's own microbrewery, with a Russian lady named Anya. Then we went to a bar and played pool. We left the bar when a small Algerian man started waving his pool cue at us in a suggestive way. I'll leave to your imagination.

Day 3 – Interlaken, Switzerland

This was the first time we noticed the decadent ways of Phil. Over lunch the next day, he ordered foie gras for lunch. It cost at least twice as much as what the rest of us had. And then he decided he didn't like foie gras. So he didn't even eat it. A quite awesome lesson in extravagance, from someone who has seemingly managed to leave the student lifestyle behind them with little regret.

After leaving Strasbourg and our hotel on the unfortunately named Rue de Bitche, it was off to the picturesque Interlaken in Switzerland. Where we were staying in a kind of semi-permanent tent. The first of two tent-type places that we stayed in on the trip. Quick word of advice: Tent hostels are not a good idea. Four walls and a ceiling is a much warmer and more sleep-conducive idea.

Whilst Nick and Chris went canyoning, Phil and myself took the novelty cave exploring option and were treated to a history lesson about a monk who defeated a dragon with only his walking staff. We also found some good animatronic puppets, which is always a joy.

Day 4 – Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland

The second time that Alistair came into his own as a renowned International Gentleman Traveller, was to suggest that we go join him in Lauterbrunnen, just half an hour outside Interlaken, up in the mountains. So we went to stay at the Matratzenlager Stocki, run by Frau Graff, a friendly old Swiss lady who has been taking care of patrons since 1966!

Now, Lauterbrunnen is quite literally one of the most picturesque places I have ever been to. In the middle of a grassy valley, there are mountains either side, with waterfalls cascading out of them and a bigger snow-capped mountain in the distance. It's like a giant orgasm for your eyes. Not that that bears thinking about.

Also in the same chalet as us were some Base-Jumpers. They are lunatics. If they see beautiful mountains, the first thought that goes through their head is whether there's a good place on it to hurl themselves off of. Different strokes for different folks I guess...

Day 5 – Breakfast in Switzerland, lunch in Lichtenstein, Dinner in Austria. And bed in Munich. Phew.

So, this was the day we visited Lichtenstein. I wouldn't call it a life-changing experience, but hey, when will I ever go to Lichtenstein again? Chris bought the most expensive fridge magnet of his ever-increasing collection; expensive because of the crazy exchange rate and relative wealth of the tiny principality. And we visited the Post Museum. Oh the dazzling array of letter openers they had. And that was Lichtenstein.

We weren't sure if we really had time to visit Innsbruck after our unscheduled stop in Strasbourg, but we had planned to have dinner in Austria from the beginning, so why not stop off in Austria en route to Munich? Seemed like a reasonable and in no way extravagant idea. So, we had dinner in Innsbruck, in the middle of some kind of Medieval festival while Innsbruck did it's best to convince us not to leave.

We arrived in Munich by 11pm, and were greeted by the sight of the second tent-hostel of the trip. This one was worse than the first. Imagine a giant refugee camp full of rickety bunk beds. It was essentially a massive tent that slept 160 in bunk beds.

The only saving grace was it only cost €10 for the night. But, cheap accommodation tends to attract the weirdos. Hence I heard one American ask a Dutch guy the following question, in all seriousness: “So, what is there to do in Amsterdam other than smoke weed and bang prostitutes?” Classy.

Day 6 – Munich

In Munich we managed to have one of the most German days you could have really. We had history with a walking tour of Munich about the beginnings of the Third Reich. We had food, eating more currywurst and bratwurst than you could shake a meaty stick at. We had fashion, in the form of trying on some rather fetching lederhosen.

And of course, in the country with the highest beer consumption per person in the world, we had beer. Would have been rude not to. Needless to say, the evening gets a bit hazy.

Day 7 – Heidelberg

After a slow (read: hungover) start to the day (entirely Munich's fault for selling beer by the litre!) we took a trip to the toy museum in Munich. Then, it was off to Heidelberg, a place we chose based on the advice of some of the locals we spoke during the previous night's festivities. Oh, and because it had a castle, and what could be manlier on a Euro Man Voyage than checking out a castle? Nothing.

We also took a moonlit walk along a bridge that had a lot of couples kissing on it. Possibly some kind of lovers bridge? Either way, it reminded me a bit of when myself and Nick accidentally walked through a gay cruising spot in Kuala Lumpur. These things happen. Honestly.

Day 8 – Trier and back home

Back in the old days, Trier was the Roman capital for Western Europe, so it's got a fair bit of history. The last destination on our trip, Trier saw the Euro Man Voyage winding to a gentle close, before we covered quite a few miles on the drive home. But we still had time to go to the Karl Marx museum, which was originally the house he grew up in, until the age of about 17, and we also squeezed in a cheeky Roman amphitheatre. We may or may not have pretended to be in the film Gladiator.

Distance covered in car: 1984 miles!!

Charlie Don't Surf

"Charlie don't surf" Well we do. But not very well.

Halong Bay, Vietnam

Also Halong Bay, some kind of hawk-type bird.

Top of a mountain at Cat Ba Island. The camera probably does not do justice to just how sweaty we all were.

"So, you reckon this boat will hold three people and two bikes? Ok then"

Water Puppet Theatre, Hanoi.

Check out my massive dong

Anyone want to try the dog?

As you can see, before he buggered off back to England, me and Tom went surfing in China Beach. It used to be popular among the American GI's when they were given leave as a place to surf too. These days it's not exactly Apocalypse now with all the helicopters flying overhead as we rode the waves (or tried to) but it still allows us to say "back in Nam when I was surfing" and that's all that matters. Obviously.

You may have noticed my reference to Tom leaving, yes he's gone as well now, leaving me forced to talk to Haya for the forseeable future. Although for the next three days I am killing some time in Hanoi as I wait for my Chinese visa. Why do I need a Chinese visa? Because next on the list is Tibet, possibly at the same time as the Shoton Festival aka Festival of Yoghurt. There's a good chance that I'll be going to the Mount Everest base camp where I can walk in the footsteps of the great one, Brian Blessed. He just climbs it for fun every now and then apparently. So this Monday I leave Vietnam for China. I can't leave any later than this because my visa runs out, something I didn't realise until the other day and then thought, 'hmmm maybe I should actually plan where I'm going next as I have to leave the country'.

On top of the surfing, China Beach, near Danang, was one of my favourite places so far in Vietnam. Somehow it was still pretty undeveloped in terms of hotels, restaurants etc. although you could tell it will be unrecognisable in a couple of years time by all the building work in its early stages. Only downside of the place was a very big angry looking dog wanting to eat me when I tried to have a look round Marble Mountain but hey, he'll probably be sweet and sour on a menu next week anyway.

Having not really had any problems so far travelling through Asia, and doing the odd group tour here and there, it was inevitable that we would see how things can go slightly wrong sooner or later. Basically we went on a 3 day, 2 night tour to Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island, which were beautiful places themselves, it's just that everyone involved in the tour from the booking agency, right through to our tour guide were completely corrupt! I won't go into massive detail but - long story short - we ended up having to go to the police to try and get them to do something about an agency that has obviously been scamming backpackers for a while. The "police" weren't remotely interested as they must have been suitably bribed a long time ago. But the tour did unite our group in a pretty sturdy hatred of our "tour guide". I think he flipped a coin each time before he spoke to us: heads he lies, tails the truth. Oh we had a lot of names for him, most of them four lettered. You hear plenty of stories about other people getting shafted, so once in a trip isn't something I'm going to worry about. Although I would like to see the receptionist of the Cat Ba Plaza tied up and bent over in an enclosure with an especially randy bull...

One of the best things about backpacking is the random experiences that are competely unplanned but utterly welcome. One such event was a few nights ago when we were celebrating the birthday of an Irish friend, Leanne. After we had hit a couple of bars we needed a new one and were walking along a road in the old quarter of Hanoi. When a large group of Austrian exchange students come along and tell us their Vietnamese/german guide is taking them for a lock-in at a bar called Half Man Half Noodle. As our friend Dave put it, a bar with a name like that sounds too good to be true. But it did exist and a lock in with a load of Austrian economics students we had.

Finally this week, I'm slightly worried. I need a haircut, but I'm in Vietnam. I need to find a barber shop that can speak the level of English I need to be able to tell them how I want it cut. This seems unlikely so I may just print out a picture of myself from two months ago and point to that. Next time you see a picture of me, I may have the haircut of an eighties footballer. Eeeek.

P.S. The picture format of the blog is a bit screwy again because Vietnamese computers think they know best. Wouldn't know best if I took a hammer to them...