Koper's hidden sanctuary: Škocjan Nature Reserve

 This is technically a post of two parts, months apart because of the pandemic.

To be honest, I never knew about the wetlands reserve on the edge of Koper until a neighbour sang its praises. That is, I had heard the name, but confused it with the park area around the Škocjan caves, which is in a different municipality. Ted had heard of it, but never been in all his years coming to Koper. So, confined to our municipalities by lockdown, it seemed a perfect outing.

Signs of spring

Seemed. The first time, we walked through a sort of annex to the park, then traipsed to the main reserve to find it closed. I was flabbergasted - people can't walk safely in the open air? Then it became a bit of an obsession to follow the lockdown zones and restrictions to see when it would open. In February, we went into the orange zone, and hurrah, the reserve was open - but the first week, Ted had to work all weekend. The second, our son brought a horrible cold back from school and gave it to me. The third - our region was pushed into the red again and the park was closed. Fourth for the win!! 

To backtrack. For reasons I am not sure about, there is a shortish walk near the main shopping centre area of town that is part of the designated reserve, and we visited that back in October 2020. I'd never noticed it, though apparently my teenager knew all about it and had taken her little brother there unbeknownst to us. If you are going for the shopping/nature combo, or only some of the family can stomach shopping, I guess it's a nice outing. The layout is the same as the main walk, including a lookout tower, so I'll save descriptions for below.

The view from the short path

This past weekend was a coldish spring day in our shady town centre, but it turned out to be bright and sunny out at the reserve. There is a small car park, for maybe 20 or so cars. The visitor centre was, of course, closed. 

Near the entrance is a playground, and animal pen, which had one horse in it, though the reserve usually hosts several horses and native cattle. I suppose they were safely elsewhere for the winter/ Covid situation. The horse was pretty friendly - it gave me a horsey kiss then tried to eat my coat. There is apparently horse riding for children at certain times of the year.

Insect hotel near the entrance to the park

The wetlands are basically a lagoon, formed over the past century as the island of Koper was gradually joined to the mainland. It has enjoyed protected status since the late 1990s. According to their website, it is at various times home to around 60% of all bird species spotted in Slovenia, a nesting area for dozens of species, and a key stop on migratory routes. Apart from this, it harbours a host of insects and amphibians, and many mammals, small and large, from the Etruscan shrew to roe deer.

I have to admit, this is not a nature reserve as I am used to it. There is one, gravelled, circular walk around the perimeter, and most of the time you can't actually see over the embankment or through the reeds and rushes to the reserve area. Instead there are lookout points with information at frequent intervals. There is also an enticing observation tower which was still closed because of Covid restrictions. I assume all this is to encourage and protect the wildlife, particularly any nesting or migrating birds. 

(An aside: This is not a complaint about Covid measures in Koper or Slovenia in general, because I know the situation is similar in countries the world over. But why, in a time of health crisis, local and national governments are not prioritising opportunities to boost our physical and mental health, I do not know.)

It's far from barren, though. The perimeter is bounded by ditches and ponds (freshwater, from river channels), and planted with native species, which are labelled for identification (in Slovene, Italian, English, and Latin for the botanists). In our edge-of-the-Mediterranean climate, tadpoles had already become froglets, and Alcuin had the joy of trying to poke frogs with an endless supply of dried reeds. (Don't worry, we did not let him torment any frog for more than a few moments.) My nature spotting skills are not what they were in my youth, but among the species we identified were fritillary butterflies, damsel flies, coots, reed buntings, little egrets, and swans of course (resident here in Koper, you can even spot them off the coast).

The observation stations have clear information (in Slovene, Italian and English), which made the closed visitor centre redundant, at least when a child is in tow. Bright, illustrated field guides, scientific information and children's activities, not to mention welcome benches, invite you to stop and learn. It's strange to look out over the peaceful wetlands and see in the distance the multicoloured walls of shipping containers piled up at the port.

It took us 1 1/2 - 2 hours to meander around with a small child, during which, the same jogger lapped us five times. I would not go there in the summer - I imagine the lack of shade and probable swarms of mosquitoes would make it miserable, but it was very pleasant on the lion's end of March. We will definitely be back, and I'd like to bring my bird-expert Dad there. Sticks and water are pretty much all a small child needs for an afternoon's entertainment.

Note the port in the background

Touristy stuff: Here is the website, which they seem to keep up to date (and which, yes, I should have consulted the first time we tried to go). If you are feeling very fit, you can take a long walk there from the town centre, which we did the first time, but not the second. The path is all gravel, so I don't know how accessible it would be to wheelchairs.

I am Jane: On Re-reading Jane Eyre

 

'Reader, I married him.' 

Four words in English literature that never cease to send a thrill up my spine (and threaten a tear). I discovered Jane Eyre around the age of fourteen: I was instantly captured. Those were simpler days, pre-YA literature, at my all-girls' grammar school. Our surging adolescent emotions found expression in the Brontës and Georgette Heyer, while a few more daring readers devoured Mills and Boon novels. I fell in love with Mr Rochester, of course, and would have been off to France with him in a trice. When the BBC fortuitously put out a Sunday tea-time serial of the novel, my best friend and I watched it religiously. After the episode when Jane leaves Mr Rochester, we phoned each other and sobbed down the line, much, I suspect, to the amusement of our parents, who got to listen in because of course there was only the one family telephone at that time. (Timothy Dalton is, by the way, Mr Rochester. No other.)

Fast forward several decades. I had not re-read Jane Eyre for maybe fifteen to twenty years, yet I still cite it as my favourite novel. This began to nag at me – I should pick it up again. But fear held me back. What if, in middle age, it disappointed? Could I bear to lose those feelings? On the other hand, after a year of pandemic, what was left to crumble around me? I took the plunge.

Reader, I was not disappointed. Jane is still the archetype of every heroine for me. She possesses a fierce integrity that supports her whatever her outward circumstances, and she refuses to relinquish it for anything, even the love of another human being. It's a quality that one cherishes perhaps even more in one's fifties than teens, when time and the world has buffetted you on the outside, and got part way under your skin. As an adolescent, I may not have not appreciated the full import of Jane's refusal to be a man's mistress in the Victorian age, nor did I understand Mr Rochester's failing of locating his integrity outside himself (if that's not a tautology), in Jane, but her acute sense of justice spoke to my own.

But more happened as I plunged anew into Jane's world. I began to realise, with astonishment, and not a little shock, that Jane Eyre has been the blueprint for my life. How much was I drawn to a character that fitted me so perfectly, and how much is her influence? At this distance, I honestly don't know. As mentioned, the integrity at the core of her being has always been central to me, a childhood sense of justice that has not deserted me. On a less elevated level, my idea of romance has remained Brontëan: the brooding hero, the seemingly frail but inwardly strong heroine, gothic situations. And, my standard marriage advice for my daughter is, 'Make sure he doesn't have a mad wife in the attic.'

On a disconcerting note, the novel's style has apparently influenced my own. Though I recalled no specific scenes when writing my own modest novel, A Dorset Summer, I did reference the novel a couple of times, since my heroine is a governess. Apparently, that awakened a subconscious memory, because I can now see several passages that owe their style or content to Charlotte Brontë. Incidentally, it makes me wonder whether Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca, so clearly a rewriting of Jane Eyre, is also a subconscious homage. Du Maurier certainly never admitted it was a conscious decision.

Further embarrassing confessions. I married an Edward, although he has always been a Ted. And, yes, my son's two middle names are Edward St John, but, I swear, St John is also a name on both sides of my family, and I was honouring a favourite uncle, not a literary character.

Jane Eyre not a perfect novel. In my older years, I am uncomfortable with the fact that Mr Rochester must essentially be emasculated in order to learn his lesson. And, admittedly, some of the dialogue strays too far into Victorian dialectic. But oh, in these depressing pandemic times, my heart is soaring once again with Jane.

Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!–I have as much soul as you,–and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;–it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal,–as we are!

QuickLit March 2021

 Linking up with Modern Mrs Darcy as usual. Strange to recall that about a year ago, I was feverishly reading Anne's new book, Don't Overthink It. My son and I were set to fly to the UK to visit family in two days' time, and there now seemed every possibility that once there, we might be stuck. The advice in the book helped me think through plans that gave me the confidence to go ahead and enjoy my visit without being overwhelmed by anxiety. 

It may seem small in the scheme of things, but many readers will be looking back over a year of rather different reading lists or reading habits. Dark or emotionally harrowing books have been (mostly) off my list. On the other hand, finally purchasing a new e-reader after a few years of reading on a large phone screen (for frugality and practicality) refreshed my reading experience. I'm just sorry that I didn't fork out the extra money for a waterproof one now that we have a bathtub.

Oh yes, actual books: I tackled a couple of books for research this month, so my leisure reading list is smaller. Here goes...

Daphne Du Maurier - Myself When Young

Breezier in tone than I expected, but it soon drew me in. Du Maurier draws on the journals she kept from an early age to trace her life and development as a writer up to the point of her marriage. It's frank, and, be warned, includes an exploration of the emotional incest that infuses her later novel, The Parasites. MMD readers will be delighted to know she also shares the reading lists she kept from those years!

Alan Bradley - The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie

I'd read one of these Flavia de Luce mystery novels out of turn and, though I didn't really take to it, decided I would give another one a go. This is the first in the series, set around 1950 in Britain: eleven year-old Flavia finds a dying man in the grounds of her family's mansion - a man whom she had heard arguing with her father the night before. Blackmail, poison and a decades-old crime: just the excitement to feed the brain of a precocious, chemistry-obsessed girl. On paper, Flavia is a character I ought to relate to: intelligent, socially awkward, probably on the Asperger's spectrum,  but I just can't empathise with her. I think one of the problems is that, in both books I have read, the American author uses a British phrase or allusion in a way I would not, which throws the world of the novel off-kilter for me. Sorry, Flavia fans, but please, convince me to read on if you can :)

Corfe Castle, 1950s. Credit: https://www.dorsetecho.co.uk/news/features/lookingback/18850300.pictures-dorset-1940s-1950s/

Eric Benfield - Dorset

I'm ending with this, not particularly as a review, but as a little paean to vintage guide books. In researching Dorset in the first half of the twentieth century, my eyes have been opened to the charms of second hand books I would normally have passed over as pointless: old regional and travel books. I thought I'd be ploughing through outdated material, but ended up hooked - it's like time travelling from the comfort of your armchair. If you really want to get to the heart of a place, I recommend ditching the modern history and scouring the local second hand book shop for outdated guide books, written by a native son or daughter of the area. It's the first section I'll be heading for on my next trip.

Wishing you compassion and hope this anniversary, and books that will carry you through.

QuickLit February 2021

 Linking up with Modern Mrs Darcy as usual for quick book reviews. 

Well, having declared that my 2021 goal was to read fewer books, more mindfully, I clocked up a record seven for January. In my defense, one was begun in December, and one was a beta novel that I read during working hours (I loved it, I wish I could reveal all!). Here's the five that count as January's leisure reading:

Barbara Pym - No Fond Return of Love

I deliberately saved this to get the new year off to a happy reading start, because I am addicted to Pym's mid-twentieth century comedies of manners. Jilted Dulcie throws herself into matchmaking between her new friend, Viola, and the self-centred academic Aylwin, who is also arrogant enough to think he can enchant Dulcie's young niece. Amid the comedy of genteel stalking and the foibles of academia is a wry look at the attitudes emerging career women faced in the 1950s (and some fun internal references to Pym's other novels).

Charlotte and Mr Collins. Credit: https://thelongvictorian.com/2016/04/09/the-11-worst-couples-in-literature/

Molly Greely - The Clergyman's Wife

I'm not big on literary spinoffs, but I was intrigued by the idea of imagining how the Pride and Prejudice marriage of Charlotte and Mr Collins panned out. Charlotte has accepted the marriage of convenience that so disappointed her friend Elizabeth - until she meets a man who seems to be her soulmate. A sensitive, lyrical contemplation of the choices Regency women faced made this an unexpected companion novel to No Fond Return of Love.

Joan Lindsay - Picnic at Hanging Rock

Vaguely remembering the disturbing tone of the film version of this book from many years ago, I gave myself prior permission to put it down anytime it began to scare me - but I managed to get through it. On Valentine's day 1900, a group of schoolgirls and their teachers visit Hanging Rock in Victoria, Australia. Several of them vanish, never to return, and the story traces the ripple effect through the community. Hovering in the background is the sense of an ancient, aboriginal force that the 'civilised' British community is unable to suppress. Note: if you must have resolution, you will not like this novel.

The 1975 film. Credit: https://benefitsofaclassicaleducation.wordpress.com/2017/10/31/shocktober-review-picnic-at-hanging-rock-1975/

Dorothy L. Sayers - Murder Must Advertise and Have His Carcass

Two Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries in a row! In the first, Lord Peter goes undercover at an advertising agency to investigate the suspicious falling death of an employee. Sayers herself worked in advertising at one point, so a bonus is the insider's-view satire of the industry, that still has surprising resonance today.

Have His Carcass is the second Harriet Vane mystery. On a walking holiday, Harriet discovers a corpse on the beach with his throat cut. Is it suicide, as the police assume, the work of Bolsheviks, as his much-older fiancée insists, or something else altogether? I had already seen the TV version of this novel, but it still had me hooked.

The cold weather seems to be gripping both sides of the Atlantic, so I hope you are cosying up with some good books this month!

A P.S. After embarking on the fourth back-to-back reading of Bunnicula to my five year-old, I hopped on line and ordered the complete series. I hope this will keep him satiated for a bit.

QuickLit January 2021: Reading round up for 2020

 First link up of the year with Modern Mrs Darcy. I thought I'd share reading stats and my starred reads for last year, since I enjoy others' round ups as well. (Reviews edited from my original posts.)

It doesn't look like all those Pinterest photos, but I had a stab at a book tree this year!

I read 54 books in 2020, for a total of 17, 597 pages, deliberately fewer than in 2019. By the end of the year, I felt that I was beginning to make reading a competition with myself, and I decided to slow down. So my goal for 2021 is even fewer books, read with more attention.

Of those, 46 were fiction and 8 non-fiction. I think that is a by-product of my job dealing with copy-editing non-fiction, because when I first gave up my job teaching literature, I was desperate to catch up with non-fiction. 32 were e-books (since I don't have access to many books in English here in Koper) and sixteen were print, mostly bought second hand on trips to the UK. Only six were audio books. I pivoted to podcasts over audiobooks at some point, but I'll try to get in a few more next year. 

I rarely buy new books unless I know the author personally, because I prefer reads that have stood the test of time. (I know I should do better in supporting authors.) So, it's not surprising to me that two of my favourites were new publications (and non-fiction) that I couldn't resist: Square Haunting and The Salt Path. 

The women of Bloomsbury. Credit: NYT

Square Haunting: Five Women, Freedom, and London Between the Wars is a non-fiction debut by Francesca Wade.  In five linked biographies, she explores the time spent in the same Bloomsbury square by five notable British women: novelists Virginia Woolf and Dorothy L. Sayers, academics Jane Harrison (with Hope Mirrlees) and Eileen Powers, and modernist poet H.D. I especially recommend it for young adult girls, who should know about these women who paved the way for us, who dared to live, work and love outside the bounds of society's dictates, not afraid to re-imagine their lives, even, as with Harrison, when in their 70s.

I only reviewed The Salt Path by Raynor Winn last month, but here's the shortened version: In mid-life, Winn and her husband, Moth, lose everything, and in the same week, Moth receives a diagnosis of a fatal degenerative disease. With no home, little money, and nowhere to go, they decide to walk the 600-mile South West coast path of Britain, wild camping on the way. Beautiful nature writing, and some sobering insights into homelessness.

Raynor and Moth. Credit: Guardian

My three starred fiction books also unsurprisingly included two classic authors, Dorothy L. Sayers and Daphne Du Maurier, and one not-quite-new novel by Madeline Miller.

The Nine Tailors, a Lord Peter Wimsey novel by Sayers is quite simply, a truly grown-up detective novel. It's the best Wimsey one I have read, though I hear lots of people vote for Gaudy Night on that count. After crashing their car on a treacherous New Year's Eve in the Fens, Lord Peter Wimsey and Bunter are taken in by the local vicar, and Lord Peter helps the bellringers ring in the new year. But when a strange and mutilated body is later discovered buried in another's grave, the vicar calls him back to investigate. Hearing the local cathedral bells has now taken on a whole new meaning...

Du Maurier. Credit: Guardian/Hans Wild

The Parasites is a lesser-known Du Maurier novel, but I think it's one of her most accomplished. The Delany children - step siblings Maria and Niall, linked by Celia, half-sister to each - are the children of famous artistes. When Maria's husband bitterly announces one afternoon that they are nothing but parasites, they delve into their past to put themselves on trial. To call it a psychological drama might sound boring, yet it is anything but. Even the narrative voices are parasitic, feeding off one another and merging in and out of one unidentifiable 'we'. Absolutely read it if you have enjoyed her other books.

I loved Miller's retelling of the Achilles and Patroclus story in The Song of Achilles. It was right up my alley: classical, with spare but lyrical prose, and sensual (but not explicit). The story of the greatest Greek warrior unfolds through the eyes of Patroclus, an unloved, exiled child prince who becomes first Achilles' companion and then lover. Beautiful final chapters that I kept returning to.

What were your favourite reads of 2020? How do you track your reading? Here's a few other MMD reader round-ups for your inspiration:

Anne Bogel at Modern Mrs Darcy on her favourite books and audiobooks.

Linda Stoll at LindaStoll.net

Kendra Nicolle at Kendra Nicolle: My World in Reviews

Laura Thomas at Laura Thomas Author

Lisa at Lisa Notes 

Katie Gilley at The Cozy Burrow

  

Quick Lit December 2020

 

Linking up with Modern Mrs Darcy for QuickLit as usual. I rarely read memoirs, and this month I squeezed in two. Retrospectively, I'm not sure it was a great idea because I was feeling emotionally sensitive during a second lockdown, and real-life pain is much worse than fictional pain. But both were worth reading.

Helen Oyeyemi - Gingerbread

The best way to describe this quirky novel is that it's a Brothers Grimm story in a modern setting. Going back and forth in time, it tells the story of how the Lee family women, makers of seemingly magical gingerbread, came to the UK from Druhastrana, a country most claim does not exist, and for Harriet Lee's quest to reunite with her childhood, changeling friend Gretel. Weird, but I enjoyed it.

Raynor Winn - The Salt Path

This was a memoir I simultaneously felt drawn to read and dreaded reading, because I knew it was going to be harrowing. In mid-life, Winn and her husband, Moth, lose everything, and in the same week, Moth receives a diagnosis of a fatal degenerative disease. With no home, little money, and nowhere to go, they decide to walk the 600-mile South West coast path of Britain, wild camping on the way. I picked it up for the Dorset connection and nature writing, but ended up learning a lot about homelessness. Although the ending was positive, it still left me drained and disturbed - but in a way that a deep book does. Highly recommended - one of my top books of 2020.

Raynor and Moth. Credit: Guardian.co.uk

P.G. Wodehouse - A Pelican at Blandings

I had to read something lighthearted after The Salt Path, and knew this wouldn't have any hidden surprises. Poor Lord Emsworth just wants to be left in peace with his prize pig, the Empress of Blandings, but he is plagued by the arrival of his overbearing sister Connie, star-crossed lovers, and wrangling over a nude painting. Enter his unflappable brother Galahad, as usual, to sort all out and make every ending happy.

Lawrence's lyrical chapter on the joy of riding his motorcycle reads painfully ironically

T.E. Lawrence - The Mint

In 1922, worn out by fame and broken by PTSD (which of course was not recognised back then), Lawrence, aka, Lawrence of Arabia, took an assumed name, and managed to enlist as a common airman in the RAF, hoping to be erased and made anew. This is his memoir of that experience (published after his early, accidental death) - raw, concise, painful and quite a departure from the sprawling, genre-defying Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Part of the fascination of this book is that Lawrence could never have got away with it in our digital age. Language warning - you probably did not know that people swore like this in the 1920s!

If you want to read more about Lawrence, check out my account of visiting his grave in Dorset. Oh, and one of the characters in my novel, A Dorset Summer, is inspired by him. Considering that I am not interested in either politics or the military, my obsession is a little odd :)

Hoping that Father Christmas brings you all you wish to read!

The Three Good Old Men: Slovenian Christmas

 Slovenian children are particularly lucky in the Christmas period, because they get visits from not one but three "good old men" bearing gifts. Of course, books could be, and are, devoted to each, but here's my summary, with my favourite facts. (I wrote a quick Grandfather Frost blog last year, but didn't have time for more. I guess 2020 cleared my calendar.) The usual festivities will be quieter this year, but the three good old men will not be abandoning children in Slovenia - or anywhere in the world.

Is this a rap battle for supremacy? (Credit: dnevnik.si)

December 6: Saint Nicholas Day

One of my favourite days in Advent, celebrating one of the most-beloved saints. The original Saint Nicholas was a third/fourth-century bishop of Myra. Legend says he came into the bishopric very early, hence the tradition of selecting a boy bishop in some places on this day. His main association with gifts comes from the legend that he secretly saved three poor sisters from being forced into prostitution (the cleaner versions say he helped them get husbands) by secretly dropping coins into their stockings hung up to air at night, to provide them with dowries. For this, he is the patron saint of prostitutes. He also reputedly came to literal blows with Arian at the Council of Nicea over the latter's heresy - not quite the jolly old elf of modern times. 

In Slovenia, he is known as Miklavž and appears in his bishop's robes. In parades around the country, he is often followed by angels who help to give out gifts - and by devils ready to scare the bad children. Back at home, Slovenian children follow the tradition of leaving out a shoe, or maybe a stocking, for the saint. In return they get small gifts of chocolate and dried fruits. I can only imagine the reaction of most American and British children on getting dried fruit for Christmas. Actually, no, I can really imagine it, which is why our remaining little one gets chocolate and a mini panettone. We picked up this tradition before coming to Slovenia as part of our Advent observance, and it's a lovely precursor to Christmas.

Ok, this is from our trip to Zagreb, but it's a favourite memory - this St Nicholas was roaming the streets spreading good cheer and gifts. I won't forget his kindness towards the mentally disabled young adult behind him

Last year, I took Alcuin down to the old salt warehouse in Koper to greet the saint, but it turned out that there was such a long programme prior to his arrival that we had to give up, as it was beyond a small child's patience. This year, we are still in a strict lockdown and it was bucketing with rain most of the day, but he was happy tucked up at home with the above, plus a bonus Christmas book.

December 25: Father Christmas/ Santa Claus

A relatively later comer, the gift-giver of the Anglo world has managed to sandwich himself between two more traditional figures on the calendar. According to friends, celebrating December 25th, and Saint Nicholas' Day for that matter, were not encouraged during the Tito regime. For this reason, while Saint Nicholas has been welcomed back to this culturally Catholic country,  the more protestant, and commercial, Father Christmas/ Santa Claus tradition has not gained the traction it has elsewhere. I recall that the first time we lived here, nearly twelve years ago, there wasn't a hint of Christmas stuff in the shops until we were into December. Not quite the case now, but still not a frantic period. The 25th is a religious holiday, and the 26th is Independence and Unity Day, less family days than public holidays. Here in Koper, you'll find people thronging the streets and cafes, or skating on the winter rink. Father Christmas is known as Božiček here (božič is the word for Christmas). He is still the main gift-giver in our family, of course.

December 31: Grandfather Frost

The origins of this ancient figure of winter are many and tangled, but he was promoted during the times of communism as an alternative to the Christian saints. His names include Father Frost, Grandfather Winter, and Grandfather Snow. In Slovenia, he is known as Dedek Mraz (Grandfather Frost). He is associated with slavic pagan figures, and his identity has morphed and merged over time. He is alternatively, and simultaneously, Morozko, a Russian spirit or wizard of winter, a hero or smith who chains water with his iron frosts, a being who kidnaps children for ransom, as happy to freeze bad children to death as to reward good ones. At one point recharacterized as demonic by the Orthodox Church, he was eventually adopted as a propaganda figure by the old Soviet empire, by which path he made it to Slovenia. However, by the time the Yugoslavs decided to abolish Christmas, they had also split from the Soviets, so Father Frost had to be Slovenised.

Leaner than fat old Santa and tougher than heretic-punching Saint Nicholas, here Dedek Mraz appears in a leather coat and a hat made from dormouse fur. He is said to live under Mt Triglav, the country's highest mountain, from whence he emerges at the end of the year to bestow presents from a traditional Slovenian woven basket. In the capital of Ljubljana, he rides through the streets in the last days of December, in a carriage drawn by Lipizzaner horses.

In saner times, we have enjoyed attending the little Dedek Mraz celebration the University puts on for children earlier in December, but that of course has not happened this year. I don't know if Father Frost will visit us, as I always give a final gift on the last day of Christmas anyway (Epiphany, January 6).

A nice summary from the Slovenian perspective can be found at Total Slovenian News, where you can also find an account summary of how Dedek Mraz came to be. Merry Christmas! Vesel Božič!