For those in the ‘not-know’ club, here’s how I have come to understand the pronunciation of Ljubljana: ‘loob-lee-anna’. It’s a beautiful place, a wonderful townscape growing up around the Ljubljanica river, with its bridges sentineled by dragons, tarnished green over time. The Franciscan Church of the Annunciation sits in Prešeren Square at the entrance to the old town, and nearby you can try your hardest to get some laundry done, but it ain’t gonna happen; well, perhaps it could happen, but wandering around for an hour with a sack of dirty clothes got kinda dull. Instead of doing it myself, I’ll roll the dice and hand my smalls over to the laundry gods when we load into the venue.
For this hermit, the above constitutes the great adventure of a day off in Ljubljana; by 10.30am I was in my room munching on Spar-bought breakfast and deciding how long I could put off doing something truly constructive after finishing this diary entry. And I don’t want to hear any suggestions that involve ‘going outside’; after dark maybe. Perhaps I’ll delve into my suitcase and rearrange what clean clothes I have left.