Wouldn't it be Ljub-erly?

Well it may be among the hardest city names to pronounce, but Ljubljana (Slovenia) does seem truly lovely.

Despite my good intentions to give my body some downtime these past few post-Budapest days, I gave it quite a thrashing. First, there was Revfulop, a tiny hamlet on the shore of Lake Balaton. I planned to read and swim and relax there but this wasn't entirely to be. It seems I landed myself in a "party town", complete with hostel whose downstairs bar felt compelled to play loud music till 5 a.m. nightly.

Sleep deprived, I moved onto the Schneider family's vineyard near Tapolca, Hungary. Needless to say, with wine and German cuisine in abundance, my liver had to endure quite an assault. What's more, I was joined at the winery by fellow backpacker Carl (N.Z.), and we somehow managed to get up to more talking than sleeping for two nights.

Thus, today I set my sights on Slovenia whilst mildly hung over and very sleep deprived. This proved to be a challenge in and of itself! Due to the frustration that perpetually ensues from trying to switch currencies every few days, I'm working on perfecting the art of taking out just enough cash to get me through my stay in a country. Evidently I fell short of this goal today, when I had 2000 too few Forints (around $10) to buy my ticket to Ljubljana. Further complicating matters, the train station doesn't accept credit cards. With the awkward translation help of a fellow traveller, I learned that I could withdraw cash from the nearby post office. Leaving my bag to the trusty eagleeye of a German traveller, I set off for the post office. En route, it began to rain. And then I walked right past the post office and had to double back. And then I discovered that I couldn't use my Visa card to withdraw cash because I was always being prompted for a PIN which my card doesn't have. And then I discovered that my bank debit card wouldn't work there. And then I discovered that there was no payphone nearby to contact Visa. And then I discovered that the nearest bank was in the next town.

I think you would all understand if at this point I broke down and cried a little. But I didn't; I just barely maintained my composure, long enough for the women to ask if I had any euros handy. And yes I did! So I was able to get enough cash (and then some) to fund my ticket. On my return to the station, I realized that my bag (and the German) was AWOL. Once again, I (barely) supressed a panic attack, and then discovered that the ticket agent had put it in her office for safe keeping when the German had taken off.

That's about all of the exciting bits! Every day is an adventure, to be sure. I now have less than a week left before my return to Canada. Brace yourselves!