I'm going to have to go back to Albania to earn some more if things carry on like this much longer.
My stay with Sabina has proven to be less lucrative than most when it comes to the garnering of hippie points.
- Gregor steals my hippie points. That coffee machine is a dreamboat capable of making sublime coffee in approximately 57 seconds.
Which is about as long as one should wait for sublime coffee.
- The bathroom steals my hippie points. This vagabond had herself a real bath this week. Complete with exfoliants (for face and body), bath salts and moisturizer.
- The fridge steals my hippie points. That guy is chocked full of tasty cheeses (a hunk of Parmesan the size of Southern Italy, which I'm still working out how to properly grate onto my salad), blueberries, eggs laid by special chickens, smoked salmon, prosciutto, vegetables from Sabina's family garden and wine from Sabina's region of Slovenia.
I'm generally so overwhelmed that I choose the cheese.
- Sabina steals my hippie points. That lady with her damn perfect gifts. To add to the toothbrush, chocolate, sunglasses and moisturizer, she's given me a light sweater, a bar of lavender soap and a nail file.
My nails are nearly properly filed.
She also gave me a canvas and told me that she loves trees, women, cats and ships. I managed to incorporate two into a painting I worked on for most of the night:
- Friday. Friday completely devastated, wiped out, demolished my few remaining hippie points leftover from sleeping on the porch of a semi-abandoned Albanian restaurant and in Macedonian Norwegian prison. The following blog post details how.
Gregor, I gazed at the robot fondly as it guzzled down the beans and burped out my coffee. I think I'm going to miss you.
We packed a small picnic of cheese and vegetables, picked up Dusha (our constant companion) and then sped down the road towards Lipica, a tiny village in southwest Slovenia.
As I described in a previous post, the national tree of Slovenia is the linden tree, but the word in Slovene is "lipa".
Lipica is named after the linden tree.
As fellow horse-girls will undoubtedly know, Lipizzan horses are the white breed trained in the fine art of rearing on command and the remarkably subtle movements that are the horse world's version of ballet. Or tap dance. Something of that nature.
I used to think that Lipizzan horses were from Austria (due to the large riding school/ center of classical dressage located near the Hofberg in Vienna). Then I thought Lipizzan horses were from Spain (when I learned that the school was a called "The Spanish Riding School").
But now I know better. Lipizzan horses are from Lipica, a small village in southwest Slovenia named after the linden tree.
Hippie points lost for visiting the birthplace of one of the most expensive horse breeds that competes in one of the most elitist sports my penniless brain can imagine: 6
No hippie points were lost in the Lady of Lourdes expedition.
The outdoor church located in the valley was constructed by Karel Grunne, a Viennese lord who managed the farm in the 1800s. Grunne became seriously ill during his stay in Slovenia and went to live in the valley whilst recovering. Once his illness left him, he built this church out of gratitude for his recovery. Since then, it has become a center wherein many have experienced miraculous healing and is now a popular destination for a pilgrimage from Trieste.
I'm not sure about its abilities to magically heal serious illnesses (or minor illnesses, for that matter), but I do enjoy the fact that it's outside.
I would go to church if the congregation got to sit outside.
But I would probably spend all of my time watching butterflies. Or snowflakes. Or spiders. Or wriggling my toes in the dirt.
 |
| Yes. I would definitely spend the entire sermon wriggling my toes in the dirt. |
This picturesque Slovenian coastal town is located in the southwest and is one of Slovenia's medieval tourist attractions. Before wandering into the city center, we climbed a wall for a picnic and a view.
Spending so much time with Sabina is teaching me a lot about pregnancy.
a) pregnant women are always hungry.
b) pregnant women are in constant need of the loo.
Sabina is a fabulous pregnant woman because --
a) she always carries snacks for everyone all the time (often in the form of dark chocolate).
b) she isn't afraid to pee behind trees or in bushes or just around the bend in the road.
By the time we'd finished gazing at Italy and at the naked Slovenes sprawled on the nudist beach below, I was also as hungry as a pregnant woman.
After Dusha and Sabina and I had devoured avocado, chocolate and leftover steamed veggies, it only made sense that we join the naked Slovenes below.
So we did that.
Sabina assured me that there were no sea archers at this beach, so I even ventured into the water for a minute or two.
No hippie points were lost whilst sprawled out naked on the beach.
I might have even won a few, especially as it was quite apparent that I was one of the hairiest women around.
Hippie points gained from being a naked hairy lady: 9
Not even this napping goddess (I'm the self-proclaimed goddess of naps. Just so you know. My places of worship are found in every preschool, kindergarten and Southern Italian home), so we folded our towels, hiked up the cliff and meandered into the main square of Piran.
Then we went to Portoroz to meet Sabina's brother at his place of work.
His place of work happened to be the resort town's 5 star luxury Kempinski Palace Hotel.
Are hippies even allowed into places with "palace" as part of the name? I feel like there should be angels with flaming swords guarding the gates against harem pants and hairy armpits.
Hippie points lost at Kempinski: approximately 7,382,569
There were no flaming swords. Instead, there was a perfectly charming butler figure named Ivan. Ivan brought us cheese with pepper, champagne cocktails, chocolate truffles and cappuccinos that would make Gregor question his reason for living.
I felt naked when we left Kempinski. Stripped of my final hippie points, it seemed like I had just cashed in my filled-out punchcard at Main Street Bagels Cafe, received my free Cuban Cremoso coffee and now needed to start all over again. The journey of ten cheap drip coffees before the reward of my free luxury drink.
Albania was my ten cheap drip coffees.
Kempinski was my Cuban Cremoso.
I need another Albania.
One of Sabi's friends (I'm beginning to lose track of them) kayaked out to meet us.
Sign of awesome people: when your friends KAYAK to meet you. They don't take buses or trains or bicycles. They grab their oars and put on their life vests.
Besides having perfected the art of perfect gifts, Sabina is also quite adept at awkward/hilarious questions.
"What do you think of Aimee?" she asked her friend as I dangled my toes in the sea, imagining another kind of church wherein the congregation could naked sunbathe whilst being preached at. "What is your first impression?"
"Well..." Sabina's friend looked at me, then said with his thick Slovene accent. "She seems... loose. A loose person."
"Loose!" I howled. "That might not be the exact word you're looking for.
"I mean that you seem relaxed," the friend clarified.
"Okay. 'Cos loose generally implies someone who's a bit sexually scandalous. Pants don't fit very well."
Sabina and Dusha shook with laughter. Sabina's kayaking friend looked more pleased than embarrassed.
These are the kind of people I want in my life forever.
We finished off the day at the home of Sabina's parents (missing two exits on the way). We got there so late (due to the two missed exits) that we had to gather vegetables in the dark. Prosciutto, wine and yoga followed.
Hippie points for gathering vegetables in the dark: 2
The wines in South Africa are abundant, excellent and cheap. Like about 1/2 to 1/3 what they would cost in Grand Junction. And because of the Dutch and English influence they have excellent sausages....you know the ones that tend to have a hint of the sweeter spices, nutmeg especially.
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