Slovenija | Part Two | Say "no" to gipsy sauce.

So you are like: "What the hell is the 'J' doing in Slovenija?" And I am like: "That's totally how the locals spell it and I am kind of trying to think/act like I am a local because this place is BLOWING MY MIND and I may not want to leave - now, considering it is now the 29th of January one would be safe to assume that never became a reality.

After a couple of days in Bled, drooling all over my camera, the Volvo was starting to winge that its gut full of anti freeze was not getting the required amount of stirring necessary to sustain safe day to day driving and hence it needed to be driven. It was the only excuse needed to find a road that headed east out of town and enjoy all that the country side had to offer.

There will never be a day like that expressed in the first Slovenian post (the whole restaurant meal scenario) however, before I left Melbourne I dreamt (that might not be a word) of shooting in fog, with grey skies, up to my knees in snow with the ground/trees/etc, all covered in white and trust Slovenia - the capital of the EU as far as I am concerned - to deliver the dream.

OK, enough verbal diorrhea about this place, you get the idea, it's superb. I will though just say this: There is this pizza place, right near that design sort of shop, above the sex palace, up the road from that place where the 'Vanilla Cream, Custard Cream Cake' (yeah it's real) is not as great as the one from 'Panorama' down the road, but I digress. The pizza shop, if you happen to order the Super Supreme, unless you have a mouth lined in silicone and a stomach strong enough to hold a stray H Bomb, do not, sorry I mean, DO NOT eat the Gipsy Sauce (not Gypsy). Get fucked it was hot. I stupidly took a mouth full of the stuff straight up and I saw colours I never knew existed and felt pain equivalent to that of birthing a large child. You have been warned.

Oh, and here are some photos of white! Xo
























Nick Found