South to Slovenia

On the train to Ljubljana.  Two rows up, there is a beagle.  The guy one row in front of me is drinking a beer.  So far, the police have not been called in to officiate.  Dogs are allowed on trains and the subway.  It’s very civilized.  Then again, people train their dogs not to annoy passengers or use the train as their watering ground, which is probably why it works better here, than in North America. 

Ten minutes outside of Vienna and we’re in wine country.  45 minutes out and I locate the Lindt factory.  It’s hilly now, all perfectly green and lush, with farms in the valleys.  On one hill, I spy a castle.  Next to the river, there is a herd of cattle, lazily drinking water, in the sunshine.  It’s like the Sound of Music without all of the annoying singing.  There cannot be any more beautiful place than the Austrian countryside.  I want to live here and wear a dirndl and sing to the sheep.  For a week, anyways.

I’m going to eat my bagel sandwich, but have to pick off the trinity of death, first – lettuce, cucumber tomato.  Not ready for that, yet. 

In case I sounded too perky about my day, I’ll follow up with the ‘switching trains in Maribor’ story.  Vienna to Maribor (deep Slovenia), no problem.  Arrive Maribor, have 4 minutes to switch trains.  Hop off train, hop on nearest train posted Ljubljana.  Cleaning lady yells at me, tells me to go to other track.  Some people are jumping across the tracks, in front of our former train.  Me, I got 40 pounds on my back and a 7 year old in tow.  So, down stairs, through tunnel, up stairs (this is not Austria, there are no escalators).  Hop on train.  Aisles are clogged with luggage and a youth group.  Oh good, my favorite.  Plop my butt in first class and wait for the fallout.  He arrives, in the form of a grumpy, middle-aged conductor who speaks not one word of English.  He does make it clear that because I have no reservation for a seat, JUST A TICKET, that I will have to pay him 6.8e.  I argue , he rolls his eyes, says something in Slovenian to other first class passenger who obviously sympathizes with him having to deal with non-Slovenian speaking foreigners.  I pay, but I pay with an attitude, bitches!  He’s now standing in the bar car, probably spending his ill-gotten gains on grain alcohol.  I cooled off a little when I saw he hit up other passengers, too.  At least I’m not alone.  45 minutes ‘til Ljubljana.  MUST all men snore so damned loudly?  I’m feeling anti-culture right now.  I may hit up the Ljubljana train station McDonald’s out of spite.  And hunger.