Winter Break: Phase IV

30 December 2008
Ljubljana, Slovenia

The bus ride from Florence to Ljubljana was nine hours. As we pulled away from the bus stop I watched a woman with thick black hair press her forehead against the window and spread both hands flat against the glass, sobbing silently. Looking out, I saw a man standing on the traffic island with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, and goodbye in his eyes.

For most of the beginning John and I sat on opposite sides of the bus. There were plenty of empty seats. The driver put "Rush Hour" on the DVD player, in English but with Bulgarian subtitles (thanks), and John decided it would be good practice for him to watch it. I took off my boots and settled against the window with my iPod and journal, looking up once in awhile to observe the afternoon sun settle on the passing mountains. The bus wound over highways that reminded me of the stretch between Mount Shasta and home, and I-70 (Colorado), and something from 2001. Ashland. Somewhere in the middle of the trip I realised that we were on our way from Tuscany to Slovenia - from Tuscany to Slovenia! - and that we were 22, friends, artists, graduates. Both simultaneously Lost, and Here. sunlight filters. 14,30. we go through mtns. looking at john. we're going to grow up and love people, and do things.

"Rush Hour" led to "Rush Hour 2" and, eventually, "Rush Hour 3." Late afternoon became evening, and then, night. I was moody because I could already feel the end, having to say goodbye to him. But it had been perfect, really, to absorb and unload, to give and take in equal parts. Helped ease the heartache that had prevailed over my last couple of months... eased, yet deepened.

We woke up with leisure the next day, as there was no one else in our four-bed hostel room. Ventured out around noon in search of the centralmost piazza, where we'd agreed to meet three Italian students who got onto our bus somewhere outside of Venice. Was deliciously bewildering to be in a country whose native language I couldn't understand. Found the center - called Three Bridges, on account of it being at the intersection of three bridges crossing the river(s?) - and had mulled wine for breakfast while we waited. The five of us wandered in the brisk noon, noting architecture, conversing in the easy way college-aged students often do, about where and what we study/studied, where we've been, where we hope to go. They wanted to head to Sarajevo, I think maybe Bosnia? I mentally considered going with them, but decided my stores of money and energy would suffer greatly on such a tour. No, this was my vacation, in which I had planned to relax, enjoy.

We came to a crossroads, looked at our watches and considered our next move: sight-see? eat? sit? We were hungry, wanted something local and warm, while they weren't so keen on a sit-down restaurant meal, so our motley crew parted ways for a bit. John popped into a restaurant through whose white lace curtains I could see topaz colored napkins two crystal glasses at each place setting, and after a couple of minutes beckoned me in: when the hostess told him they weren't open for lunch, he explained that we're only here for a day and would love to eat something real, something traditional to slovenia, and the cook offered to make us something special. Come in, he said, sit down. I will prepare for you some baked polenta roll thing with raisins, if you like? with a little salad, some spiced wine. (That was a recurring favorite, if you couldn't tell.) As I took off my coat and pulled up a chair, I thanked the stars that my friend was both charming and bold.

Later that afternoon, we wandered into and around Ljubljana's hilltop castle, from which we would later watch fireworks being launched into the sky to signify the end of one year and the beginning of another. Within hours I would forget almost completely the permeating cold and remember only the golden willows weeping out of the black sky towards the cheering crowd, and the weary joy of having made it this far.

in that last entry i should have said, deepens yet eases. after john left i moseyed back downtown to look at life, and found it as lively and charming as it had been the previous festive days. the lights were still up, a band on the stage, families strolling, vendors distributing vin brulée and hot dogs to mittened and scarved customers. i looked at handmade earrings, candles, hats, and considered the ten euro in my purse. turned away from the river onto a shopping street... classical music played across the snow and cobblestones on a PA system, making ljubljana's city center that much less real, and more like a disneyland town. i had a coffee and a bowl of chips with yogurt dip (had wanted something strange and maybe typical, but i think it was just strange) and wrote a long letter to john. long...winded, i think, in which i feel like i actually said very little. so nice to be anonymous and alone, unable to listen to anything.

I woke up at 5am the next morning to take a bus to Trieste, where I celebrated my re-entry into Italy by asking two crusty-looking locals if they could point out a few landmarks for me since I was only in town for about 90 minutes before my train left for Venice. Spent one hour in the Venezia station, tucked into the station's chapel to escape the dirty noise by silently praying a rosary in a grimy kneeler, duffel bag at my side. Sniffling old Italian woman in the rearmost pew. Four hours to Milano Centrale, another two to Torino Porta Susa, and concluded my long, solitary day of motion with a cup of spiced cider and some Dane Cook youtube videos at Aubrey's apartment (again).