Adijo, Mijo!

Thursday and Friday, we decided to drive to Piran to visit our friend, Mijo, and then to Lipica to see the Lipica Horses (more on Lipica in the next post).  So, we rented an Opel Corsa, which is slightly larger yet less powerful than your average go-cart.  With the kiddos packed like lemmings in the back and Chantelle and I knees-to-nose in the front, we putt-putted across the mountains to the southeast corner of Slovenia.

Piran is on a small Adriatic peninsula on the small piece of coastline owned by Slovenia (Slovenia got a bit hosed on territory after World War II).  It is a classic former fishing village, with the charm of old stone buildings, town squares, and streets that are far too narrow for cars. We had actually tried to visit Piran last year, but took a wrong turn somewhere along the line and ended up in Potoroz, which looks more like Jersey Shore.

This time we got it right, left the car at the top of the hill (they don’t let visitors drive into the village), and hiked down to see Mijo.  Mijo was one of the most difficult people for us to say goodbye to last time because he was such a presence in our daily routine.   He was a waiter at a café down the street and we made it a point to go there or walk by to see him pretty much every day.  The kiddos adored him (and vice-versa), as he would always lift them high in the air and give them cookies and gum, and they loved to say, “Adijo, Mijo!”  Unfortunately for us, Mijo moved to Piran three months ago and is no longer here, so we made it a priority to get down there to see him.

Mijo had a couple of hours off in the afternoon and showed us around, bought the kids ice cream, and then suggested we take the kids swimming.  We told him we left the swimsuits in the car, so Mijo, being Mijo, disappeared for five minutes and came back with brand new suits for them.  The kids were so excited they just about exploded.  Sy’s suit was a new venture in fashion for him (it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s…Euro-Sy) and he and his dad nearly blinded other beachgoers with their farmer’s tans (for the record, Dad swam in his shorts, not a Speedo).

It was only an afternoon, but it was one well-spent.  It will certainly be a highlight of our trip.