Late morning - though perhaps not too late; the night lifts later as we sink further into the rainy windy cold fall weather, so that now it get lighter around 0700. And we remember a time, two months ago in the blistering summertime heat on the Iberian peninsula, when the sun would rise promptly at 0500 and usher us out of our tent to beat the midday sun - but those days are no longer. We have started to rely more and more on our warmer clothing, and must keep one or more long-sleeved shirts at hand at all times...
...but fortunately for us, today is neither rainy nor cold; it is rather quite nice out, and we have agreed to stay on in Sežana an extra day so that Aleksander can take a much-needed break from work and study to show us around the surrounding countryside. It is also Sunday, that dreaded day of rest when nearly all of Europe grinds to a restful halt. Supermarkets, post offices, even some restaurants are firmly closed...
...and so there is nothing for it but to join Aleksander on this, his final day before starting work a few kilometres away for a video gambling outfit, on a wonderful afternoon-evening excursion about the Kras wine region and its nearby mountain ranges. We start off with a ride over to nearby Pliskovica, where Aleksander's favourite vineyard is located; he exchanges a few words with the owners, who usher us in past an old bicycle and row upon row of slowly rusting farm tools to a room that looks as though it might double as a restaurant in more meal-appropriate hours - but for now, it is the site of their direct-from-the-producer store, and we are treated to glasses of rich red wine bearing a richly fruity yet not-too-sweet taste unlike anything else we've tasted on this trip; they say that the unique taste derives from the mineral-rich soils in these parts, tucked away in the folds of the mountains that wash their nutrient-rich deposits into the valleys year after year. Aleksander picks up three bottles: one larger bottle for drinking tonight, one smaller which we are to deliver to a couple they met on the coastal Croatian road during their previous travels down to Dubrovnik, and a bottle of liquor made from the grape remains after first fermentation for wine. The owners insist we try some of the liquor as well - which is equally fantastic - and show us down into the cellar, where they have giant 1000L tubs of freshly harvested grapes fermenting for this year's production run. The process is surprisingly simple: pick grapes, crush grapes into tubs, ferment grapes for three days, filter, transfer to large bottles for controlled fermentation, bottle once the sugar and alcohol concentrations reach desired levels, take grape remains for further fermentation and distillation into liquor. In this way, they get maximal use out of the grape harvest, enough to more than support themselves for the coming year; they sell some directly at the farm, while the rest goes to local markets in Trieste and elsewhere for sale at higher market prices. This is the lesson of true small-scale agricultural business: waste nothing, sell as high up on the value chain as possible, and above all remain honest...
After that, we head next door to a 400-year-old building that has since been converted into a rather prosperous hostel. Today they are hosting an exhibition of local mushroom varieties. The kitchen is full of pots and frying pans, all being frantically employed in the manufacture of several mushroom-based delicacies: mushroom spreads, mushroom rolls, mushroom pancakes, mushroom fritters...all delicious, but the sly woman heading the kitchen disregards the menu posted outside and overcharges for the plates. As we eat a mixed plate of mushroom-based foods, an old couple from Russia starts talking to us. The wife has a most refreshing philosophy of life: she spends as much of her money as possible on travel without particular regard to saving for the future. In this way, she has avoided the fate of several of her friends, who lost substantial sums of saved money in the recent economic debacle. As a resident of the region, she speaks several languages on a daily basis: English, Italian, Slovenian, Croatian, sometimes even German or French for the tourists streaming in from the rest of Europe. They wish us good luck for the remainder of our travels, and we head down the stone path to the old stables next to the rooms where the central table is covered with labelled boxes of mushrooms. Some are edible, others poisonous, and some even deadly so; even worse, some of the edible and poisonous varieties resemble each other so closely that an expert eye is required to distinguish them. A lesson, then, for aspiring hunter-gatherers on budget travels: don't pick mushrooms you don't know! Safer by far to stick to berries, nuts, and fruit from the frequent trees and farmers' fields than to risk hospitalization or death...and speaking of figs, there is a fig tree still bearing ripe juicy figs outside the stables, so we pick a generous portion of figs to complete our meal and call it even on the price.
After that, we head up along a mountain ridge towards the home of someone who helped Aleksander on a previous day cycle around the area; the terrain is arduous, and will make short work of anyone whose training is not up to snuff. Fortunately for us, we are travelling by car for the day, and are therefore able to appreciate the beautiful view without the hard climb that usually precedes it. On the way, we stop at an old cemetery with the remains of Austrian and Hungarian soldiers from WW1, interred in peaceful rows whose stones and hedges have slowly integrated back into their natural setting. An older couple are picking mushrooms in one corner of the cemetery, and they offer several of them to Aleksander who in return points them in the direction of the wine cellar and mushroom festival over in Pliskovica. Something delicious and fresh for dinner tonight! We continue down towards the border where we first crossed into Slovenia, but stop short to veer up a steep road into the aforementioned ridge; there is no one at the house, but Aleksander manages after some effort to secure a pen with which to write an explanatory note. This he attaches to the bottle - and we are off along the ridge again, driving through the afternoon to the relaxing organic lounge-house sounds of Buddha Bar V...
...we arrive in this smallish town built into a hilltop, portions of the fortress and castle still overlooking the mountains beyond. There is some kind of minor festival going on, with vendors set up around the base of the hill selling books and trinkets that are hardly of use to two cyclists for whom every bit of added weight had better be justified - so we bypass the vendors and instead walk up the path around the back of the hill, stopping every so often to profit from the magnificent views across the valleys to the peaks in the distance. Once we complete a half-tour of the hill by this path, it opens up into a flatter portion with stone staircases and this old bridge across an ornamental pond that is clogged with local tourists out for some quick scenic photos of their respective Sunday drives. We then walk up into the town, passing an old-style well as we stumble along the coarse gravel and overgrown roadsides in our flip-flops - up into the town and then down the other side, back towards the car. From there, we speed off in directions unknown to us - Aleksander says merely that it is a surprise, offering no other explanation. We are hardly in a position to complain, not knowing the roads around here...
...so it is a welcome surprise indeed when, roughly an hour later, we reach the coast of the Adriatic just above Trieste. There is a jogging and hiking path etched into the cliffside that affords an unparalleled view of the sunset across the bay, the golden Sun-orb sinking into the water as a host of cargo ships dotted about the harbour wait for the evening shift change, Trieste bathing in the warm fading light as, up here on the rocks, amateur climbers practice with their equipment on the out-leaning faces by the path.
It has been a full day by the time we retire to Aleksander's place, where we cap off our short trip with a delicious meal of freshly-picked mushrooms in cream sauce on pasta served with fantastic Kras wine from the cellar we visited earlier. Quite the way to end our stay in Slovenia, and a fine way indeed to rejuvenate ourselves for the ride tomorrow into Croatia. The Adriatic beckons; though we are but weeks away from Istanbul, there are still the not-inconsequential stretches through Croatia to Dubrovnik, along the coasts of Montenegro and Albania, and around Greece by Athens - or perhaps Kalamata if we are feeling ambitious; who knows? On a trip like this, splitting hairs over a matter of 200 km is futile. Best to ride and see what happens, for there is no telling where those we meet might take us...