Ljubjlana
Slovenia is the fourth ‘new’ country I’ve been to in 2009, I started with Malawi when I bicycled a stage of the Tour d’Afrique. Then there were mid-year trips to Costa Rica and the Faroe Islands. Finally I walked across the border from Gorizia in Italy to Nova Gorica in Slovenia. I stayed in the Albergo Transalpina my last night in Italy, my room looked out over the Piazza Transalpina and back in the days of the iron curtain that’s where it was, right in the middle of the square. It’s new Europe, I left the hotel and strolled straight into Slovenia.
A bus took me to Ljubljana a remarkably pretty little city where I did all the Slovenian tourist things including climbing up (well I took the funicular up, I climbed down) to the castle overlooking Prešernov Trg, the town’s main square.
Looking down on the town centre from the castle tower
In the middle of the square is a statue of Slovenia’s greatest poet, France Prešeren.
Leave the square, walk a short distance up Wolfova ulica and you’ll find a terracotta figure of a woman looking out from a ‘window.’ She’s Julija Primic and she’s gazing lovingly across the square at the poet’s statue, although in fact the look should be in the other direction. He was the admirer, she never fell for him and he never got over the rejection. 
Presumably the restaurant where I had my very Slovenian dinner that night (pork knuckle) was named after her – Julija.
Ljubljana felt remarkably stylish and well off, an impression confirmed in a ‘post Berlin wall’ article in The Economist for 7-13 November, Slovenia has the highest GDP per person amongst the old Soviet bloc countries. Which still leaves it at only just over 60% of the Western European average.





I had to fly from London to Trieste in Italy and Ryanair were offering seats for £14.99, it was a no brainer. The flight left on time, I got a window seat, my carry-on bag fitted their strict limits, I’d brought along my lunch from Stansted Airport’s Pret à Manger outlet (cheaper than the sandwiches they flogged on board). I’d printed out my boarding card beforehand (Ryanair doesn’t offer airport check in, except for a premium additional charge). In the air I resisted buying a Ryanair €2 scratch card (to help you get rid of loose change of course) and I ignored the subway-style adverts plastered along the overhead bins. 

Over the years I’ve travelled in many malarial regions and taken plenty of anti-malarial drugs. Touch wood I’ve never had malaria, but malaria can take a long time to present, so my travels in Africa earlier this year could still effect me. I certainly know I’ve been at risk because I’ve travelled with people who were less careful or even less lucky and came down with malaria.
You couldn’t ask for a better introduction to the confusion and problems of modern Alaska than Seth Kantner’s Ordinary Wolves. Like the author Cutuk grew up in a sod igloo, leading a life more closely aligned to wild Alaska than the Eskimo population of the nearest settlement. Despite his Iñupiaq name he’s torn between two lives, unable to be at home with either. There’s an interlude in Anchorage, where he doesn’t fit in either, and at the end you’re left lamenting the wilderness purity, the land of ordinary wolves, which may be gone forever. It’s a magic book.
Once while Travelling: The Lonely Planet Story