Since I managed to get to Ljubljana before midday, it’s actually taken me about two hours to see it, which means I’m free to attempt some busking in the late afternoon. It’s yet another glorious day and this has got to be one of the prettiest capital cities I’ve ever been to. It has a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it centre, with a charming square, unique bridges and the castle overlooking the friendly natives. It’s all very romantic, and there are certainly a few musical types out to get your money. I avoid the Hare Krishnas like the plague, taking up a decent spot with kite-high smiles, banging a drum and tinkling a cymbal. There’s a decent chap cranking out some Mozart on an old fiddle, and two old dudes with an accordion and a kazoo. I get the impression the accordion player has allowed his talent-less mate along to buzz out a couple of tunes to get in on some of the action. Finally in the last decent spot is the inevitable hapless looking girl on her knees begging for her crime syndicate. I opt for a quieter street and test the water.
It’s a poor showing for two hours compared to Maribor and I’m not reaching above the mopeds that are chugging by, or the general bustle of the street. They have these cute motorbike things that are actually just a bicycle with a small engine on it, but they’re easily drowning me out. It becomes more a struggle than anything else, and when Radiohead’s Creep doesn’t pull in so much as a bean, it’s time to call it a day.
After wandering the centre again however, I found a nice little spot and decided to play just for myself. If I make anything it’ll be a bonus, so I start rolling out the repertoire again. Once again nobody is biting, but two younger girls have settled opposite me to listen, and they keep cheering every tune. Eventually they’ve come over to present me with a delicious looking chocolate, whereupon they ask to “touch me” in case I become famous. After complimenting me on my voice, they wish me good luck and giggle off into the next square. Singing like a screaming cat and I still get the teenage girls. This must be how ‘One Direction’ feels.
I look down onto my guitar bag and I’ve got enough for a pint. That’ll do to wind down the day.
Ljubljana
Since I managed to get to Ljubljana before midday, it’s actually taken me about two hours to see it, which means I’m free to attempt some busking in the late afternoon. It’s yet another glorious day and this has got to be one of the prettiest capital cities I’ve ever been to. It has a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it centre, with a charming square, unique bridges and the castle overlooking the friendly natives. It’s all very romantic, and there are certainly a few musical types out to get your money. I avoid the Hare Krishnas like the plague, taking up a decent spot with kite-high smiles, banging a drum and tinkling a cymbal. There’s a decent chap cranking out some Mozart on an old fiddle, and two old dudes with an accordion and a kazoo. I get the impression the accordion player has allowed his talent-less mate along to buzz out a couple of tunes to get in on some of the action. Finally in the last decent spot is the inevitable hapless looking girl on her knees begging for her crime syndicate. I opt for a quieter street and test the water.
It’s a poor showing for two hours compared to Maribor and I’m not reaching above the mopeds that are chugging by, or the general bustle of the street. They have these cute motorbike things that are actually just a bicycle with a small engine on it, but they’re easily drowning me out. It becomes more a struggle than anything else, and when Radiohead’s Creep doesn’t pull in so much as a bean, it’s time to call it a day.
After wandering the centre again however, I found a nice little spot and decided to play just for myself. If I make anything it’ll be a bonus, so I start rolling out the repertoire again. Once again nobody is biting, but two younger girls have settled opposite me to listen, and they keep cheering every tune. Eventually they’ve come over to present me with a delicious looking chocolate, whereupon they ask to “touch me” in case I become famous. After complimenting me on my voice, they wish me good luck and giggle off into the next square. Singing like a screaming cat and I still get the teenage girls. This must be how ‘One Direction’ feels.
I look down onto my guitar bag and I’ve got enough for a pint. That’ll do to wind down the day.