Slovenia

May 19–22, 25–26, 2009

At first glance, Slovenia looks like a quiet, peaceful, rustic corner of Europe.

Hay drying in special Slovenian vertical hay driers.

To use the national highways, you need to buy a season pass sticker, which lets you drive through toll booths without stopping (very much like in Australia).

Road workers are toiling away.

The road narrows properly (unlike in Russia, where the “lane ends” sign appears a meter or two before the lane actually ends).

Then, throughout the work zone, there are signs every kilometer, with a face that gradually transforms into a smiley: “4 km remaining,” “3 km remaining....”

If you take a wrong turn off the highway, you’ll see a big hand on a fluorescent background, just like in Austria.

It’s beautiful all around, like in Italy.

The schoolchildren are aptly portrayed as running past the bounds of the sign—they’re kids, after all, they never listen.

And this whole Euro-paradise lasts right up until you encounter anything involving the graphic arts. Here it is, a real socialist gene. People can drive Japanese cars and use American computers, but their illustration style unmistakably betrays their Slavic roots.

If we look closely, we’ll find other telltale signs of kindred souls (see also: Bhutan).

Other than that, yes, it’s Europe. Yellow stars on blue.

Maribor

The second largest, I think, city in Slovenia. You can see all of it on foot in an hour. Swans swim peacefully in the river here, and incorrectly parked cars are towed.

Beauty and parking violations don’t get in the way of each other one bit.

There are many different kinds of bike parking stands in the city.

A phone booth.

A typical trash can.

A regular mailbox. Compared to the other countries I’ve seen, this one bears the closest resemblance to the Soviet model.

A different mailbox model that’s also very common here. It has letter slots on three sides.

Some kind of wires run alongside the drainpipes—seems like they might be part of the grounding or lightning protection systems.

Here’s some real beauty: golden plaques indicating distances to nearby maintenance shafts.

The depiction of the main road on signs is as pleasant and plump as a one-pound coin compared to a ruble.

People in Slovenia love to block off random roads with electrically powered stumps, the radio key to which is owned only by those who have the right to drive through.

Ljubljana

The capital’s post boxes are slightly different from the ones in Maribor.

A phone both. A Siemens one, I think.

Utility poles have special ridges to protect the access hatches from downpours of water.

A picturesque and promising junkyard in the old city. I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure of digging around, but I didn’t find anything worthwhile.

Graffiti is still somewhat in its infancy here.

An unexpected and nice idea—a chandelier over an intersection.

The plaques indicating distances to maintenance shafts are the prettiest thing in the city. These would be a worthy addition to any wall.

It was extremely hot and muggy. A couch was standing in the middle of the street, and I didn’t feel like going anywhere else at that point. A few cocktails with lots of ice and a good book—that’s our idea of happiness.

And then hail the size of quail eggs began to fall from the sky.