A long tunnel separates Austria from Slovenia (see picture). It felt as if the curtains were dropped and then opened again. Enter bright sunshine, an empty highway and a new language. Enter Slavic Europe. The thought of going to Ljubljana - Laibach - made me smile. When I was younger and more subversive I used to listen to a band with same name. Unfortunately I couldn't play their tongue in cheek march music since it was somewhere deep down in one of the boxes in the back of the car. Ljubljana was smaller and quieter than I had expected. But it had squatters. And several falafel snack bars run by Egyptian immigrants. Just like in the Lijnbaansteeg in my neighbourhood in Amsterdam! This was definitely still old Europe.
The next day I paid a visit to the Skocjan caves. It was the absolute 'top of caves': in karst stone the Reka (which means 'river' - Slovenes are known for being poetic) has carved out an underground cathedral with a ceiling of 60 metres height. Completely covered with stalactites and -mites. Occasionally you had to cross bridges while the river was running 50 meters under you. A magnificent thing to do when you realize that the surface of the earth is 100 meter above.
That night I stayed over in Piran/Pirano. Enter Latin Europe. Enter good food: Piranese air-dried ham + gnocchi with shrimps + pepper steak in orange/port sauce + 1 litre local wine + grappa from the house. By the time I was finished I was pretty tipsy. Just like the group of local artist on the table next to me. This turned into a joint pub-crawl along the boulevard that lined the Adriatic sea. I fell on my bed drunk.
And woke up too late with a headache. It was damn hot (Why again had I been so determined to have leather seats in my car?). I crossed the Croat border at Portoroz/Portorose. This was the end of the European Union. And they made me realize it. I had to unpack my whole car (computer, printer, scanner, drives, suits, books and my complete wine collection). How to explain to a local customs officer that you are on your way to work in Kosovo for three years for the OSCE and that you need all this stuff? You can't. So I had sit with the secretary to make a list of all items, fax it to the Netherlands Ministry of Foreign Affairs to get it signed and stamped. Slavic civil servants LOVE stamps.
Two hours later I drove through Istria. My God what was this beautiful! Pine trees stood lonely in endless rolling hills dotted with compact stone villages. In Porec/Parenzo I visited a Byzantine church from the 6th century and had a fantastic lunch: giant mussels in tomato/cognac sauce. While digesting I realized it was time to make some kilometres. Kosovo was still 1.000 kilometres more south. I jumped into my car, pushed the throttle and left for Split.
