I’ve been told it’s pretty wonderful, so I pack a small overnight bag, sling my guitar across the shoulders and make my way up to Lake Bled. Bled is a small town about an hours drive from Ljubljana, but I’m not in a hitching mood and the bus is only seven euro. It makes a change to ride in relative comfort and reliability.
The scene that awaits reminds me of home, with better weather and no midges. And no knife crime. It’s an absolute joy to sit by the mill-pond lake and strum a few chords, after a day hiking through one of the spectacular gorges in the nearby lower Alps. There is so much to do in the area that a few words here will fail to do it justice. I’m thankful it’s still the off-season though, as apparently it’s rammed come the summer. Forget about being single too; Bled and it’s surroundings are geared towards romantic getaways and gondolas. You can bet your bottom dollar many a proposal has been uttered in the shade of the stunning castle. Sitting by the water I’m not passed by a single…err…single…person. Everyone is arm in arm or arm round waist. It drives home my melodramatic, melancholic, lonely, woe-is-me, first world single problem; but somehow the beauty of my locale pacify’s the need to cry into the lake. Or indeed walk into it. Or pick a fight with a swan. Or with guys rowing their emotional property across the water. There is the unmistakable whiff of hope through the charcoal air. Or maybe that was just charcoal. Or my kebab.
I might meet someone tonight! Indeed I do! She waits five hours to tell me she has a boyfriend! Still it’s a nice place. I’ll be back when I manage to convince someone to love me.