Days 7 & 8 – Sometimes you just click . . .

It’s how friendships are created. A moment of broken ice. A mutual warmth between. An unconditional acceptance. A desire to get to know the other. Forge a link. Have some fun.

Day 7 – A 299K squirt, finds us pitched up at Campsite Ljubljana Resort. A work in progress. Literally. Aiming to live up to its ‘Resort’ title. It’s almost there. High quality tiling and fixtures in the still to be completed shower block give a sense of ‘hotel’. However, with no doors in place yet, the wind inside spins around one’s exposed nether regions like Whirling Dervishes who’ve spent far too long lost in the Siberian Chara Desert.

Day 8 – With no sign of a change in the weather, we use the opportunity to continue our rush south. Like a couple of stoic starlings in search of warmer climes. Wings frantically flapping, just to keep warm. Happy to leave Slovenia’s capitol to its 4C and bone chilling rain. By the time Croatia looms, that Cs doubled and more than tripled upon reaching Campground Zelen-Gaj, Lonja. A small and perfectly pretty site of eight pitches, set within the Lonjsko Polje Nature Park.

The run in, and subsequent walkabout, has the feel of being in an open air museum. It turns out that this area is famous for its traditional timbered houses. Sadly, many barely standing, as one generation passes and the next head for the city, in search of euros and the 21stC. Even at €25,000 a pop, with acres of land, there are few homegrown takers.

For how much longer will the few remain occupied?

There are hundreds of properties lying to waste with acres of land. Desperate for some TLC. Our leg stretch passes mostly deserted worn down types. All from another era. Romantic reminders. No longer viable. Who wants to work the land from dawn to dusk, when the local mini-market can supply everything?

Set in a superb national park, these would make fabulous summer houses. But who’s got the cash?
The village war memorial looking sadly abandoned.
We loves rural . . .
So does Beastie . . .
Next door – the site owner’s house – typical of this area.

One week on the road. It’s time Mrs S has a break from cooking. Restaurant Svratiste, a camp-site add-on, to the rescue. Nikolina and Josip cook up a storm. Home made food at its best. All downed to satisfaction with the largest glass of local fruity red ever. Mrs S can feel a ‘hic’ coming on . . .

We clicked . . .

Mrs S (& Mr) not impressed with Josip’s background music. The gentile jazz influenced piano-forte, has been replaced with a more traditional vibe. Is he trying to impress? Drum up an authentic ambiance? It’s a sound which hasn’t been heard since the days of the 60’s Eurovision Song Contests, when each eastern European country really did think that their homegrown music was top of the pops. We request a change from these Croat rhythms that are creating an offbeat feeling. He obliges. Calls up another playlist. Switches to Blues and some Pink Floyd – that’s more like it. Reveals he has a Fender in the back room.

Desserts and coffee are by-passed. Complimentary brandy and liqueur offered. We don’t mind if we do. Seconds follow. We don’t mind if we do. (Did I already shay that?) Spirits raise spirits. Banter flows. Smiles widen. Laughter loudens.

It’s what life is for – living in friendship