Slovenian Quick Takes March 2019

I haven't posted on Slovenia for a while, but it's not because we haven't been travelling - just not in this part of the world. Our teen went on a school trip to Madrid, and I braved taking our three year-old to the UK by myself for a couple of weeks - but that's not the stuff this blog is made of. So, for the curious or bored, here's one of my occasional cultural catch-ups.

1. I'm still ploughing on with my weekly private Slovenian lessons. I'm much better at reading and writing Slovene, but when someone talks to me or I have to open my mouth, my brain shuts down in terror. Some days I am amazed at how far I've come; others, I still feel stupid. But I am officially half way through my textbook!

2. Did you know that tarot cards weren't made for divination? They were originally designed for a centuries-old card game, and Slovenia is one of the countries where it is still played (it's called tarok). We had a fun evening with a group of colleagues  trying it out - the rules are hideously complicated and full of exceptions. Strangely, just like the Slovene language.

3. We are at last cautiously optimistic that we can look for a new place to live, so we (okay, Ted, I'm too superstitious about it) are starting to see what's available. The market is small because Slovenes tend to stay put. Houses are also often for sale lock, stock and barrel (i.e. with all the furnishings). As Ted commented, some of the houses on offer look like the owner died and all they did was move the body.

4. I'm ready to move out of an eighth floor apartment, but I will miss our spectacular view. This past week, I could gaze out of the kitchen windows at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, framed by a topaz blue sky, while the spring sunshine glinted down on the sea, dotted with little white triangles of the sail boats in a youth regatta. No wonder we've never bothered to hang pictures.

5. We took a little break from official business for a few months, but it was time to get our drivers licenses changed before the one-year deadline (after which we would have to take about a gazillion hours of lessons). The steps involved are:
i. Queuing up at the administrative office (Upravna Enota) to get the forms.
ii. Taking a medical exam and getting the form to prove we are fit to drive.
iii. Getting official proof that our US licences are valid.
iv. Going back to the administrative office with forms from i, ii and iii and coming up with copious reasons to prove not just that we live here, but we have a life here, like our child is in kindergarten and we give up precious hours of our life to stand in line at the administrative office.
v. Waiting a month for the forms to be processed and to see if we have to go back for a further interview before we get official permission to take lessons.
vi. Actually getting to take lessons.
vii. Going back to the administrative office to register to take the driving test.
viii. Taking the test.
viii. Going back to the administrative office to get our licence and to 'give up' our American licences, which are sent to the Embassy to be 'destroyed'.
ix. Driving to the Embassy in Ljubljana to pick up our 'destroyed' licences.

We are currently at step v. Lord, have mercy.

6. Since Brexit is looming, I am doing... actually, I am doing nothing. I think I may be dead before we actually exit.

Slovenian Quick Takes: September 2018

A late summer evening in Koper

1. I have barely had time to read or write anything since I got back from the UK. At that point, everyone had finally received their residency papers, which is pretty much the golden key to everything, so it has been a final push on all aspects of living here, from boring but necessary ones like registering with a doctor (three doctors, actually, one for the adults, one for the teen and one for the toddler) to exciting ones like buying a car. And then the forms, oh the forms... the word vloga is forever seared on my brain with a red hot pen.

2. But at least the weather has cooled down. When we last lived here (arriving in sweaty August), I recall being told something along the lines of, "Don´t worry, the weather will break on September 3 at 2.30pm." And it did - then and now. So much better than Mississippi when you didn´t know if you would be perspiring into October.

3. The three year-old began kindergarten this week, and seems to be enjoying himself. He has already started saying "ne" instead of "no", so I think his language transition will be fine. Weirdly, his kindergarten is run by Seventh Day Adventists. I say weirdly, because as far as I (OK, Google) know, there is not even an SDA church in Slovenia. All it means in practice is that they say grace before their vegetarian meals.

We always have to stop by the canal for a spot of nutria watching on our way to kindergarten

4. Our teen began the new term at the International School Trieste, Italy. I would tell you all about her experiences, but she´s a teen, so all we get out of her is monosyllables unless it´s a demand for money to buy school supplies. Counting our eldest, still at MIT, this means we have three children in school in three different countries. Just colour us cosmopolitan.

5. As well as being the end of summer, September is known as one of the rainy months, so a couple of things we had planned to do were washed out by thunderstorms. We did get down to town one evening for an event called "The Street Revives", which was a hotchpotch of live entertainment, informational stalls (university, local businesses, associations etc.) and vendors, set out along the long, sloping street that runs from the central square to what was the old port. I got a free reusuable bag from a stall run by kids in return for taking their photo. When I said I would put it on my blog, they crowded in front of the camera, so, dutifully, here it is:

6. We are still haunting the Sunday morning flea market, and I scored with an almost new ladies bike last week. As soon as we get a kiddy chair fixed on, Alcuin and I will arrive at kindergarten quickly and in style via the extensive network of bike lanes here.

7. Breaking news: yesterday, I finally got Ted to swim in the sea. To me, raised on the icy coasts of Britain, it is luxurious here: cool (not freezing), calm (we are in a harbour), and more buoyant. To him: it is cold. But he went in anyway. This could become a yearly event.

And P.S. (official exoneration from plagiarism notice!), if any old readers are hanging around, yes, I borrowed the series title idea from Seven Quick Takes, first created by Jennifer Fulwiler, who found fame on Sirius radio and passed the baton to Kelly at This Ain´t the Lyceum.