Kurentovanje

Friday, we hopped on a train to Ptuj to catch the opening of Carnival, or Kurentovanje.  Carnival is a huge celebration in Slovenia, and in Ptuj in particular.  Apparently, the main celebration is this upcoming weekend, with masquerades on Saturday and the Carnival parade on Sunday, and about 50,000 visitors show up for it (Ptuj is a town of about 20,000).

For our speed, this past weekend was perfect.  There was a big parade on Saturday, but our impression was that the only out-of-towners were people that showed up to be in the parade.  So, we got to stand right on the curb as the parade went by.  And it was phenomenal...one of those experiences that you know you'll be talking about for years to come.

The parade started with a horse and buggy leading some orchestra groups...then came groups of men dressed as though they were being carried in baskets on the backs of women...then came the "big-head bands"...then came the men with whips...and then came the Kurents...group after group after group after group of Kurents...and finally the gypsies.  We heard that there were 600-800 people in the parade, but it wouldn't surprise us if there were twice that many.

The best part was that everyone in the parade was having a ball running down the street, interacting with the crowd, getting drinks and smokes from bystanders along the way (it was all in good fun, but it wasn't exactly G-rated: see the guy flipping our camera the bird).  A lot of them came over to shake the kiddos' hands, and one woman even picked each of them up for pictures.  Even after the parade was over, it continued informally, and there were still people in costume roaming the streets hours later.

The maitre'd at our hotel gave us some of the scoop on Kurentovanje.  The festival is meant to usher out winter and usher in spring.  The Kurents wear cow bells around their waist to scare off evil spirits and they wear feathers or horns on their heads to bless chickens and cows with fertility.  There's also a fertility bear that "blesses" women with fertility (our maitre'd said his wife got pregnant shortly after being "blessed")...we didn't see the bear, thank goodness.  Also, according to our maitre'd, there are only two people left in the villages around Ptuj who still make the costumes.

Our only regret was that we forgot the video camera, because the noise was unbelievable.  Between the Kurents' bells and the whips you couldn't hear anything at times.  Here's a link to a You Tube video that might give you some idea of what the bells were like:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAXu4R5OVpo

There were too many pictures to post, but you can look at the rest of them here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/53907857@N06/sets/72157626029220085/

Rosetta's Birthday

Something about a birthday in Slovenia must bring out the wolves.  The decibel level in our apartment was at an all-time high today all day long.  Given that we never hear any of our neighbors, we're expecting the deportation police to show up any minute.

Anyhow, our biggest little girl turned four today and she was very, very excited.  We ventured out this morning to pick up a package from Auntie Cheryl (it took two tries, as we went to the wrong post office first), went to the market to buy goodies for dinner (where Rosetta loaded up on birthday treats from the vendors who know us), then came home and watched Aristocats (Auntie Cheryl's gift).  Rosetta, Celia, and Sy thought it was very neat that the neighbor cat was sunning himself outside the window as they watched the movie.

Tonight, Chantelle made the best lasagna I've ever had, stocked with fresh buffalo mozzarella, ricotta, parmigiano-reggiano, and noodles from the market.  The wolves and I ate our weight.  We then had birthday cupcakes for dessert (check out the foot-long candles!) and opened presents.  Rosetta, ever the sweetheart, offered to let Celia and Sy each open one of her presents so they wouldn't be sad.

The kiddos are in bed now, although from the sound of it the birthday girl and her sidekick are still going strong.  Tomorrow we're taking a choo-choo train to Ptuj (that's Pa-tooie) for the kickoff of Carnival.  The kids will either have lots of fun there or it will give them nightmares.  Guess we'll find out...

The Interspar and Emona

Yesterday, we got two polar opposite cultural experiences.  We made the trek out to the Interspar in the western suburb of Vič (rhymes with witch).  The Interspar is one of the few places in Ljubljana to buy essentials like peanut butter, ice cream cones, and Hello Kitty birthday cards.  Think Yugoslav barrack on the outside, Super Target on the inside.  Toy Story 3, Cinderella, and Garfield (yes, Garfield) are everywhere, and there's an entire aisle dedicated to Nutella (but only two options for peanut butter...crunchy or creamy). 

On our way back, we came across a wall that bordered the south side of what was then the Roman city of Emona.  The wall was built in 14 A.D. and has been preserved along with several early Christian monuments and tombs.   Emona was a thriving city along the trade route between the Middle East and Western Europe until 452 A.D., when it was overrun by Attila the Hun.  The north road leading out of Emona is now Slovenska Cesta, probably the busiest street through the center of Ljubljana.

Tina Maze

National pride is a great thing, and we got to witness some of it in Preseren Square Sunday evening.  Earlier in the week, Tina Maze had become the first Slovenian to win a gold medal in world Alpine skiing.  Tina is extremely popular here and had won two silver medals at the last Winter Olympics.  So, a welcome home celebration was set up in the square with a performance by the most popular Slovenian rock band, Siddharta.

As luck would have it, we had lined up a babysitter for the evening and decided to walk across the bridge and check it out.  Talk about energy…the square was packed with people waving banners and flags, everyone knew (and sang) every word to every song played, and people ran down the street as Tina left to congratulate her.  I wish I would have had my camera along.

I’m a bit too old to be getting into Slovenian rock bands, but one of the guys behind me convinced me I needed to “check them out.”  So, I made that a top priority this morning.  Turns out, I like them.

Sundays in Ljubljana

Sundays here are truly leisure days.  Nothing is open...the market is closed, shops are closed, grocery stores are closed...so it is very, very quiet.  There's really not much that you can do.  For many locals, Sundays are reserved for family and they head out to the country or to one of the numerous parks around the city.

We headed over to Tivoli Park (pronounced TIV-uh-lee) for the first time today and spent our afternoon there.  Tivoli is a huge park on the western edge of the city center (a ten-minute walk from our apartment) that is as big as the city center itself.  I suppose it's a lot like Central Park: it has a ton of wide open space, trails through the woods, a zoo, an ice skating rink, and, of course, a playground.   

Today, we opted for the playground.  Sy must have climbed up the "hill of tires" and gone down the big slide fifty times and couldn't have been happier.  He made friends with a little Slovenian girl and her parents, none of whom spoke English, which was very amusing.  Rosetta and Celia were excited to see two little girls with Hello Kitty hats on and had lots of fun on the "Teeter Tottie".

The Hippest Bank on the Planet

Yesterday, our main task was to get a bank account.  I finally got a tax identification number on Wednesday (I started to head out again on Monday and realized I didn’t have my passport), and as far as I knew we were all set.  So, after waking up to our first Slovenian snowfall, we headed over to the bank on the corner.

The bank on the corner is like no bank you’ve seen.  It’s chic.  Smooth.  Swish.  Fly.  Chill.  In fact, for the first week we lived here I thought it was a spa, and I might still if Dad hadn’t said that he was cashing traveler’s checks there.

It’s filled with lights that change from red to blue to green to orange.  It has art deco furniture, with round plush chairs that hang from the ceiling.  It has LCD televisions and a slick coffee machine that brews up twelve flavors of espresso on demand.  And it doesn’t have any tellers behind a counter, just young, hip (really hip) guys and gals that hang out in the lobby waiting for customers.

Before we went to the bank, I figured there was any number of reasons that we might be declined for an account:  lack of address documentation, foreign status, language barriers, or something else related.  But when we walked in the door with the three munchkins in tow, me dressed in boots, jeans, and a beat-up Wisconsin T, I forgot about all of that.  I now assumed we would get turned down simply because we’re not cool enough to bank there.  And I would have understood.

But, either our uncool was cool or they took pity on us and forgave our intrusion.  Either way, they put a lot of effort into figuring out how to open an account for us and were very cordial about it.  One of them even remembered Mom and Dad… “I recognize you…were your parents here?  They were very nice!”  And they brought Chantelle coffee and the munchkins hot chocolate while they waited.

So, now we’re members of the hippest bank on the planet.  We’re very excited.

The Market

A few blocks from our apartment, there is a huge open air market where you can buy just about everything you might need, from fruit, cheese, bread, milk, and meat, to shoes, purses, clocks, and sheep skin rugs (yes, sheep skin rugs).  Since we have more or less a mini-fridge by U.S. standards and almost zero cupboard space, we make the short trek there just about everyday for food.  In fact, we are there enough that the vendors now recognize us, likely because of the three knuckleheads (some might argue there are four), and have started giving the kiddos cookies, apple slices, and pastries.

Today, we bought fresh basil ravioli from one of the pasta vendors, Toskana Delikatesa...it was melt-in-your-mouth, unbelievably delicious.  And cheap.  For eleven euros, we went home with the ravioli, a jar of pomodoro al basilico sauce (I'm not sure exactly what that means, but it sounds impressive), and a bottle of Chianti.  What else could we possibly need?  Other than a babysitter, that is, which we are aggresively pursuing.  And beer, which we also aggresively pursued.

Eighty-Five Steps

We lucked out in finding our apartment.  In all of Ljubljana, we found three apartments that would work for us whose owners would rent for a five-month period.  This was a bigger issue than we anticipated, because the UN is moving a division here this spring for the next five years and landlords don't want to miss out on them.

Our apartment has "old world charm":  Our building is in the walking district a few doors down from city hall (in the picture below, city hall is at the end of the street, just below the castle), the building entrance is through a stone archway, and we have a balcony that looks right out at castle hill.  It's completely quiet, except for the bells.

However, "old world charm" also means our building has no elevator.  So, we climb to get to our apartment...fifty-five steps to a small courtyard and another sixteen to our front balcony.  And we climb in our apartment...there's a spiral staircase (just like in Cinderella's castle), fourteen steps, that leads up to the bedrooms.  Needless to say, we're getting our exercise.

What's funny is that we worried about the steps with the kids, mainly the spiral staircase.  We were certain one of them would take a header down it (I guess I shouldn't speak too soon; there's still time).  But, they mastered it in all of twenty minutes.  Now, they spend the majority of their time in the apartment on the staircase, which doubles as an escalator, car, boat, waterfall, rocket ship, airplane, and train.

Church Bells

I realize I'm going to have to swallow some man points for putting this in writing, but... I have to admit that a surprisingly cool aspect of living in Old Town is the constant presence of church bells.  St. Nicholas Cathedral is just a block away from our apartment, so close that we can hear the bells ringing inside with the windows closed (in fact, we can see the bell tower from our front porch).  Every fifteen minutes, the bells chime, and every fifteen minutes all three of the kids get excited: "I hear church bells!"  I never thought about getting jazzed up by bells, but at mass time, noon, and six they ring with such vigor that it's tough not to.  We were out walking Saturday at noon and the bells actually chimed "Ode to Joy" (credit Chantelle for knowing what the tune was; I guessed incorrectly that it was a song played at out wedding).

As we're saying around here today, Vesel Valentina Dan!

One of the intricately carved entrances to the cathedral 

St. Nicholas bell tower from our apartment

The Beauty and Agony of Technology

It's a beautiful thing that we're half way across the world and were able to see the Super Bowl live (as well as a replay the following night).  But do we really need to have access to Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice?

Yesterday, We Were the Dog. Today...

After our positive, uneventful experience at the Tobacco Factory yesterday, I decided to run out quick this afternoon to get a tax identification number so we can get a bank account.  So, while Chantelle and Sy napped, I loaded up the girls in the stroller and walked to the Ministry of Finance building a few blocks from our apartment.

When we arrived, I realized right away it wasn't going to be quite as easy as the residency permits, as it wasn't obvious where we should go and there was no one around to ask who spoke English (this was a very vulnerable feeling...there's another blog coming on this at some point).  Twenty-five minutes later, they finally tracked someone down there who knew enough English to tell me I was in the wrong place and needed to go to another building "not too far away."

I figured as long as we were out, let's go.  So we started walking.  And we walked, and we walked, and we walked.  After twenty minutes, I stopped someone to ask directions and was told it was just a bit further.  So we walked and walked and walked some more.  Finally, we came to the huge building on the outskirts of town, walked all the way around it to find the right door...and learned that the office had closed at 1:00.

So, we turned around to head home, and Rosetta informed me she needed to go potty now.  It then dawned on me that I had forgotten to put a diaper on Celia before we left.  Great.  We stopped at a small cafe, the three of us went in, and Rosetta went potty.  I asked Celia if she needed to go.  "No."  "Are you sure?"  "No."  "Should we try anyhow?"  "No."  "Okay."  I turned around to grab my backpack.  "DADDY, I GO TINKLE IN MY PANTS!!!!!!"

Yes, the floodgates had opened.  So, there I stood, a thirty-minute walk from home with a soaking-wet kid and the prospect of having to head all the way out here again on Monday.  As the saying goes, some days you're the dog, some days you're the tree.

The Old Tobacco Factory

Today had all the makings for an great story, say your worst DMV experience times ten, but things didn't quite turn out as we expected.  This was good, but we apologize for the lack of entertainment...

Just outside of the city center is a maze of huge old tobacco factory buildings that have been converted into government offices, and it's where visitors get their residency permits.  Everyone I had talked to about going there responded with a knowing smile that said, "Wow, what an experience."  So, this morning, the five of us headed west prepared for the worst, thinking about the potentially day-killing combination of a formerly-Communist bureaucracy, our lack of linguistic capabilities, and the fact that no one had stamped our passports when we came into the country.

However, as it turns out, the most complicated part was finding our way to the tobacco factory complex, which was partly my fault (completely my fault if you ask my wife), and then figuring out which building to go to once we were there (thank goodness for nice, helpful Slovenes).  Once inside, there was actually a fairly efficient system for getting people in and out and we there less than a half-hour.  On top of that, the woman who waited on us was a little bit friendly and even smiled when the kids got excited to see their pictures on a sticker.  Crazy.

Cover Your Knees!

This morning we bid "adijo" to Grandma and Grandpa Ebben, so now we are really on our own here.  It was special having them here with us and we can't thank them enough for helping with the move and putting up with jetlag, sick kids, and three days in their apartment with no heat or hot water.  However, they did survive (and in reasonably good condition, we think) and they have some war stories to bring home.

After seeing them off early this morning, I decided to go for a run up castle hill and around the paths on top.  About halfway through, I was stopped by an older gentleman who was out walking.  He pointed at my knees and said something in Slovenian.  I asked, "Is it too cold for shorts?"  He responded in English in a matter-of-fact, everybody-knows-this-but-you tone, "You must cover your knees or it will be very bad.  Very, very bad to leave them open.  You need to dress yourself fully."  And then he continued walking.

I can't fault him for scolding me because I truly believe he thought he was doing me a favor (and who knows, maybe he was!).  We had heard about some traditions like this that Slovenes are very adamant about, such as never riding in the car with the windows open because drafts lead to poor health, and never walking around the house in bare feet.  So, maybe I'll have to change my ways.  As they say, when in Ljubljana...

Prešeren Day

February 8th is Prešeren Day, or the Slovenian Cultural Holiday.  France Prešeren, a poet who lived in the 19th century, is important enough to Slovenian culture to have not only a national holiday named after him but a popular square in the middle of Ljubljana as well.  February 8th marks the anniversary of his death and has been one of the most celebrated national holidays in Slovenia since World War II, when artists were forbidden to make public appearances.

So, people were out in full force today, and like the natives we were too.  We celebrated by having ice cream along the river and then walking to Prešeren Square to play ring-around-the-rosey and watch some street performances.  I would argue that our trio was as entertaining to the crowd as anyone else, although I'm not sure their shenanigans captured the essence of the holiday...

  

Super Bowl Follow-Up

Dad and I stayed up until 4:30 last night to watch the game (Mom and Chantelle opted for sleep)...I'm not sure when the last time either of us was up that late on purpose.  What I read about ESPN America not being able to fill ad space must have been true: except for a few ads for their own programming, they didn't air a single commercial during the game.  The bulk of commercial breaks were filled with Super Bowl flashbacks.  And Joe Theissman was the commentator.  And there were quite a few audio and camera glitches.

I never pictured watching the Packers win the Super Bowl with my dad in Slovenia in the middle of the night on a somewhat amatueurish telecast.  It will be tough to forget!!

PS - As my son would say, "Not today, Ben Roethlisberger!"

Superbowl Sunday on the Adriatic

It was sunny and 12 degrees Celsius here today (that's 54 Fahrenheit for the metric-challenged), so we rented a short-bus for the seven of us and drove down to the coast.  It was beautiful, but apparently a few other Slovenes, Croats, and Italians had the same idea and it turned out to be a better plan on paper than in reality.  Nonetheless, the kiddos had fun and we made it back in plenty of time for kickoff at 0:30 (that's 12:30am for the 24-hour-clock-challenged).  By the way, kudos to ESPN America for broadcasting a sport in the middle of the night that few people here pay attention to anyhow.  I read that they were having trouble selling ads for the game...

The More We See, The Less We Know

As we get more settled in here, it has occurred to us how astonishingly little we know.  Back home, most of what we do is relatively routine.  We go to the same grocery store, the same gas station, the same barber shop...we know what to expect 98% of the time and don't think much about it.  Here, we're novices at everything.  Literally.

For example... Yesterday, I took the garbage out at our new apartment for the first time.  That shouldn't be too complicated, right?

There's a really cool system here for separating glass, paper, containers, compost, and trash.  On the street outside of our apartment, there are underground receptacles for each of these.  People who live in the area get a card that automatically opens the bins.

By really cool, I mean once you know what you're doing, it's really cool.  Before that, not quite as much (it's tough to look cool when you're standing on the street staring at trash bins for twenty minutes with a bag of garbage in your hands as people walk by... it's even worse when you have the bin open and can't figure out how to get it closed).  In defense of the system, the bins are color-coded and clearly labeled, and I'm sure that works well for people who aren't color blind and/or know Slovenian.

Nebotičnik

Yesterday afternoon we had a drink at the top of the 12-story Nebotičnik (the Skyscraper).  We're not sure whether it was named tongue-in-cheek, but it pretty much sums up what's great about this city.  Wonderful views... old town and the castle on one side and the Alps off in the distance on the other.

In any event, we had some good laughs about our first weekend here, from our temporary apartment that "sleeps six" (two in the bedroom and four in the living room), to trying to figure out what medicine we were buying at the pharmacy, to showing up to the neighborhood grocery store three days in a row after it closed.  We have spent our time in about equal chunks devoted to searching for a permanent apartment, dealing with sick kids, looking for things in our suitcases, and figuring out how appliances work (washing machine cycles are sometimes thirty minutes and sometimes two hours, and dishes get progressively dirtier the more times they're run through the dishwasher).

Oh, and we're spending a lot of time correcting mistakes tzping on the Slovenian kezboard, where the z and y are reversed, colons end up as č, and the apostrophe is amayinglz difficult to find (I wrote at least ten contraction-free and possessive-free emails before I finallz found it...that's harder than it sounds).

But, we are managing.  Today, we found an apartment,  tomorrow we'll move in, and one of these nights we'll get some sleep.  Life is good.